#particularly the number of words i wrote???

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun Facts of the day☺️!!! Have you ever wondered who talks the most from the main cast in Re:Kinder?? Well, I did😊. Today I'll be answering this question with some graphs and as a bonus telling you what words each character uses the most! I will warn you, this will be a bit long and I don't know how to be less verbose so, yeah!!!

First, I've made some basic rules as to what I counted regarding how much the characters speak. Not all lines really count as speaking, after all.

Any of the incoherent screaming lines don't count. There's a lot of screaming since the characters die a lot (as expected for a horror RPG game), but I don't really count that as speaking unless they're saying proper words. In that same vein, I didn't really count any of the panting or sniffing and such that are conveyed through words. Again, I don't really see that as a character actively speaking their thoughts!

If I cannot tell who a line belongs to, I will not give it to anyone. This happens for certain lines, so I felt this rule was important.

I won't be counting repetitions of the same line if it's on a variation of the same scene. This may sound a bit strange, but when a character dies, the game goes on to the same next scene it would regardless (unless the scene that follows it is an ending), with variations and new lines here and there to account for the dead character, but a lot will be reused and placed in the exact same beats it normally would have been in originally. So, this rule is here for that. Oh, and also the scenes with bits of Yuuichi's backstory that appear in Shunsuke's head won't be counted twice, because some appear twice line by line.

Of course, the "..." lines won't count. I am so sorry Aya!!!!😞

Now that the ground rules have been set, there's just one thing I want to mention. Though I will count all the total lines for Takumi and Yuuichi like any other character, I just want to mention that first I will have two separate counts for them! Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart respectively.

Takumiel is separate because I was curious about how much Takumi spoke as an archangel compared to when he was alive. Yuuichi's Heart is because he speaks so much he feels notable enough to be given his own division, even if he and Yuuichi at the end of the day are one person

(I count the silly mind telepathy where Shunsuke is being directly spoken to [and being told things normal Yuu would avoid saying at that point] and the comical theater as Yuuichi's Heart. I clarify in case one assumes he only starts being counted the moment he's directly labelled as Yuuichi's Heart. Any line that can't be distinguished between Yuuichi's Heart and Yuuichi will be given to Yuuichi by default.)

With nothing else to be clarified let's get to the numbers!!!😊😊

First, the line counts with Takumiel and Yuuichi's Heart counted individually!! Here are the rankings:

Shunsuke (With a lead of 535 lines over second place!!)

Yuuichi

Rei

Yuuichi's Heart

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

You may be thinking— woah, does Shunsuke really speak that much?! You could say that, for a good chunk of those lines are from how he describes interactable points around the map and his inner thoughts, so they aren't all exactly said out loud. The benefit of being the protagonist, I suppose ww

Funny enough, Yuuichi's Heart has almost as many lines as Yuuichi does for not having that much time in the game, being on the higher end between the characters that don't get the benefit of being a protagonist (lol)!

Admittedly I had expected for Rei and Hiroto to have a more similar amount of lines given their nearly equal amount of presence, but for what it is Rei surpassed Hiroto by 51 lines! I also had expected for Takumiel to speak a little bit more than Takumi but turns out the opposite is true.

While the lack of lines of Takumi and Takumiel are to be expected due to their short time on the game, what stands out is Aya not even reaching triple digits between her other peers who are in there for most of the game. This is because a good chunk of Aya's lines in game are silence!^^" And thus weren't counted. If ellipses were a word, she surely would have reached triple digits, but unfortunately they're not.

Now the line count with combined sums of Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart!!!

In here, the ranking isn't affected, with Yuuichi remaining second place and Takumi being last place. But the disparity of everyone's numbers compared to Takumi's feels a bit more clear to see when Takumiel isn't individually counted.

With Yuuichi's line counts combined, Shunsuke remains 318 lines ahead of him, but it also means Yuuichi has a 59% the amount of Shunsuke's lines; and impressive feat for someone who doesn't get the benefit of being the point of view for everything you press... Although he does also have an upper hand over everyone by essentially being the plot of this game ww

But maybe line counts do not suffice to tell how much a character speaks. Yes, Shunsuke has a bunch of lines from everything he interacts with, but is it really reliable to say he speaks all that much in all those lines? A good chunk of those could easily have 3 words each! So with this in mind, let's do a word count.

Even in a word count, Shunsuke has the lead, having a lead of 2,247 words over second place. But we'll see about that when we combine Yuuichi's numbers. Anyway, here's the ranking!

Shunsuke

Yuuichi's Heart

Yuuichi

Rei

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

This time, Yuuichi's Heart is the one at second place!!! It's pretty funny that he speaks more than his physical counterpart ww. I genuinely didnt think he'd out yap himself that way when I chose to count for him individually 😭!!! He has a lead of 63 words over himself, but a lead nonetheless.

In here, Rei and Hiroto are more even than in the line counts, with the difference seeming more minimal when put into words. But it also showcases that despite Rei having more lines than Yuuichi's Heart in the line count, those only get to have a bit over half of the amount of words he talks (To be fair he does get to infodump a lot in his section of the game).

And here's the combined word count!!! Suddenly Shunsuke's lead is only by a mere 55 words! So Yuuichi speaks about as much as he does with 318 less lines.

I must admit that I genuinely did not expect it to be that close. When I chose to count the lines for when you interact with things for Shunsuke, I thought he was granted to speak an absurd amount more than anyone else. But turns out that Yuuichi speaks about the same amount out loud when most of Shunsuke's are his own thoughts ww. But it does make sense! He is still the plot of this game.

So, after all those charts, here's the average/middle point of lines and words for characters to have, because why not, it's fun.

Average Line Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 197 lines

Average Line Count (When combined): 247 lines

Average Word Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 1,333 words

Average Word Count (When combined): 1,666 words

So there it is. That's how much the characters in Re:Kinder speak!

But wait!!! I am not done. I will share with you an additional fun fact... Did you ever want to know what word each of these characters said the most?! This one will be quicker, I do promise.

When it came to counting these words I did not count stop words, that being common words that are used all the time by everyone in English. "I, you, me, the, to, a, my, your, yes, no"... Words like that! Otherwise everyone would have one of those as their most said word and it'd be rather boring to look at. With that said, here are the words these characters say the most!

Shunsuke: Yuuichi - said 40 times! (this genuinely confused me so much im sorry he uses interjections so much I had expected it to be something like "huh" or "um" but no i dont know how this passed by me as i was rounding up all the lines he says or proofreading or writing all of those lines WHAT?!?! its been two days and it still takes me out)

Ryou: Shunsuke - Said 14 times

Sayaka: Murderer - Said 7 times (All in one sentence!)

Takumi | Takumiel (counted in one for how little he speaks.): Takumiel - Said 3 times (That name is so important, he said it thrice.)

Aya: Sorry - Said 5 times

Rei: Hell, gonna, look, Yuuchi - said 8 times (Most of the repeated words she says are stop words for she doesn't tend to speak about the same things repeatedly.)

Hiroto: Shunsuke - Said 17 times

Yuuichi (separate from YH): Problem - Said 17 times

Yuuichi's Heart: Mama - Said 24 times

Yuuichi (Overall): Mama - Said 31 times

So that is finally it. That is the fun fact of today.😊😊 Use this to woe your friends at parties!!!

I am aware Mami speaks about enough to be counted in, but this is pretty time consuming to do and I'm not sure anyone is invested on her enough to count her in. But if there's enough curiosity regarding that, I'll try counting her in. But for now this suffices.☺️ Thanks for reading!

[afterglowsainz]

i'mgonnagetyouback | max verstappen

part 2

summary: after you and max broke up you released an album about it and when you go on tour, you didn't expected max to be there front row after being dragged by his new girlfriend's daughter

warnings: none

word count: 877

a/n: this is kinda told in max's pov (?, also heavily inspired on taylor's eras tour and i slightly changed the lyrics of the song to relate it a bit more to max

the tortured athletes department series

the lights were out in the stadium but there was barely any darkness. the lights of flashes from phones and twinkling colored light bracelets illuminated the allegiance stadium in las vegas, every person there waiting for the one and only y/n y/l/n.

if you would’ve told max months ago that he was gonna be at her ex-girlfriend’s sold out concert the same weekend he was racing in vegas, he would’ve laughed in your face. but here he was, waiting with the other 69,000 people for her to show up on stage and sing all her hit songs, including the ones that she wrote about him after their breakup.

he had to remind himself that the only reason he was doing this was because of his new girlfriend's daughter, who begged them for weeks to take her to y/n’s concert or she would simply die. she was y/n’s biggest fan because, of course, karma had to do that to max. so there he was, in the vip section of the stadium without y/n’s knowledge, next to his new girlfriend and her daughter.

the lights on the bracelets turned off and the stadium went a bit darker than before, announcing the start of the show. when a huge clock on the stage came up and it reached the number zero, y/n came out singing the first song of the concert and the crowd went wild. max was immediately mesmerized by her. she hadn’t changed much since they broke up, that much he noticed, and she was as beautiful as ever.

he had to control himself not to sing along to her songs to not give his girlfriend a bad impression, even though her daughter was singing all her songs by heart. he just nodded and move along with the rhythm, avoiding the gaze of his girlfriend who was very well aware of her boyfriends history with the singer on stage.

y/n was singing her most famous songs and a few that were more lowkey, and when they reached the acoustic set of the concert, she was carrying a wide smile while playing a few keys on the piano. max smiled at the sight of her.

“hello, vegas!” she shouted at the microphone, making the whole stadium scream. “welcome to the acoustic set.” she smiled. “i’ve been meaning to sing different surprise songs every night, some that i haven’t played in a while, some others brand new. this one particularly is from my new album, i hope you enjoy it.��

max stopped breathing for a second. it was very well known with the public that y/n’s new album was about their breakup and she hadn’t sung any of those songs until tonight. he didn’t know what to do with himself or how to behave, so he simply crossed his arms and stood a bit further into the vip section. in the location he was he had a perfect view of her, but she hadn’t seen him all night.

soon enough y/n start singing one of the songs from the new album that max new for a fact was about him. he hadn’t listen to the whole album because he just didn’t want to relieve the breakup. in his defense he did try to give it a listen, but it was just to overwhelming for him so he had to stop listening mid-album, but this one he knew.

Lilac short skirt / The one that fits me like skin

max submerged himself in the lyrics and y/n’s incredibly familiar voice. only now she wasn’t singing just for him, but for thousands of people.

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or / Gonna smash up your car, I / Haven't decided yet / But I'm gonna get you back

a rebel smile appeared on his face, incapable of hiding how much she meant to him, how much he had missed her. seeing her there, singing her heart out on stage for a crowd of people who were crazy about her, god, how could he lost her?

I can feel it comin', hummin' in the way you move / Push the reset button, we're becoming something new / Say you got somebody, I'll say, "I got someone too" / Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you

the smile on her face while singing the song she wrote made his smile even greater. he didn’t know the song fully like his girlfriend’s daughter, but he knew; he lived it, just as much as she did. in that moment in time, he felt connected to her in a level that no one in the stadium was.

I hear the whispers in your eyes / I'll make you wanna think twice / You'll find that you were never not mine / I'm gonna get you back

when the song finished, the multitude exploited in praise and y/n’s smile grew on her face. max completely forgot about everyone else and joined the crowd, screaming for her and applauding. y/n stood up from the piano and did a small bow before leaving the stage for her next set of songs.

it was as clear as day for max and it struck him like lightning. he was gonna get her back.

[p0orbaby]

A Drop in the Ocean

summary: you buy barça for alexia

warnings: none

a/n: requested on the back of a similar one i wrote

word count: 1.5k

-

You don’t even think about it anymore, the money. The commas and zeros stopped meaning anything the moment they started adding up faster than you could count. You don’t remember exactly when it happened, just that it did. One day you were checking the balances on your brokerage account religiously, watching the stock tickers on your phone at breakfast, and then at some point—probably after that second meeting in Geneva or maybe the fourth trip to Dubai—you stopped caring altogether. The accounts became endless, infinite, numbers that only existed on a screen and held no weight in the real world. You could buy anything, do anything. You do.

You’ve bought Barcelona FC. For Alexia.

It wasn’t a particularly difficult purchase, and that’s what bothers you, how easy it was. You’d made a few calls, orchestrated a few backroom meetings with men in navy-blue suits who wear Patek Philippe watches but don’t know how to spell "integrity," and within weeks, it was done. The club—one of the most storied institutions in world football—was now, for all intents and purposes, yours. They were failing in every department that mattered, so it wasn’t hard to make them see reason. The board was crumbling under its own corruption and incompetence anyway, the men in charge having long ago stopped caring about anything other than their own salaries. They saw the numbers you offered and couldn’t sign the dotted lines fast enough.

You’re sitting in the back of your Bentley Bentayga—the V8 model because the W12 felt too much, like gilding the lily—watching the city of Barcelona pass by in blurred streaks of sunlight and shadows. You don’t drive yourself anymore; it’s not that you’ve forgotten how, but why would you bother when you can pay someone to do it for you? You’re sipping on an iced Americano from a local coffee roaster that isn’t La Colombe but isn’t Starbucks either—because Starbucks is for tourists and people who don’t care what real coffee tastes like—and tapping your thumb against the cool glass, counting down the minutes until you get home. Home isn’t the place you grew up, or even the first penthouse you bought in Barcelona—God, you’ve already sold that one off—but the sprawling villa in the hills that overlooks the city like a predator watching its prey.

You’d bought the house because Alexia liked it. You had taken her to see it on a whim, even though you knew you’d buy it regardless of her opinion. But she’d loved it, her eyes lighting up in that way they do when she’s genuinely moved by something, not when she’s just being polite or trying to please you. It’s rare, that reaction, and you’ve noticed it only happens when she’s either on the pitch or somewhere quiet, somewhere she can breathe. It makes you feel something, a tightness in your chest, almost a panic, like the world’s collapsing in on itself, but in a good way. If there even is a good way for that to happen.

Your phone buzzes, vibrating against the buttery-soft leather of your seat. You glance at it and see it’s a text from her.

Training's over. Home soon?

You smile, the kind of smile that makes the people around you uneasy, because they never know if it’s genuine or not. It is, but it’s small, fleeting, like everything in your life that isn't Alexia.

On my way. You send the reply quickly, almost too quickly, like you’re not supposed to care that much. But you do. You always do.

You met Alexia when you were young—stupid young—back when you still believed that success was something you had to fight for. She was everything you weren’t: grounded, focused, humble. Even now, with all the accolades and the Ballon d'Ors and the fanfare, she still feels *real* in a way you don’t anymore. She still eats cereal for breakfast sometimes, not some overpriced organic granola shipped in from the Swiss Alps. She’ll sit on the sofa in her sweatpants and watch trashy reality TV with you, her feet in your lap, like the world outside doesn’t exist. Like she’s not the face of women’s football, the woman everyone wants to be. You want to be her too, sometimes.

But then you remember: she’s yours. And you’re the one with the power, the one pulling the strings now. You’re the one who’s going to fix everything for her.

You think about the RFEF, the Royal Spanish Football Federation, and how utterly revolting they are, how they’ve mishandled everything about the women’s game. It makes you angry, but not in the way normal people get angry, not in that quick, fleeting way. Your anger is cold, calculated, the kind of anger that doesn’t make itself known until it’s too late. You’d called in favours—favours you didn’t even know you had—and now you’re restructuring the whole thing from the inside out. The old guard, the men who’ve spent years belittling and undermining women’s football, will be gone soon, and they don’t even see it coming. You’ll replace them with people who actually care, people who understand what’s at stake.

Alexia doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t need to. She already carries enough weight on her shoulders; you see it in the way she moves, the subtle slump in her posture after a long day. She’s been fighting this fight for years, but you can take it from here. You’ll make sure she never has to fight again.

When you finally pull up to the villa, the sky is turning that particular shade of burnt orange that only seems to exist in Spain. The driver opens your door, and you step out, the sound of your Louboutins clicking against the cobblestone driveway. You’re wearing something understated but expensive—a cream-coloured silk blouse from The Row, tailored trousers that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, and a watch that could fund a small country’s healthcare system for a year. You’ve always preferred quiet luxury, the kind of wealth that doesn’t scream but whispers, softly, in the background. Alexia likes that about you. At least, you think she does.

You walk through the front door—minimalist, custom-made, imported from Italy—and the scent of jasmine fills your lungs. Alexia’s perfume. She’s here.

You find her in the living room, sprawled out on the sofa, her legs up on the coffee table, still in her training kit. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, strands falling loose around her face. She’s scrolling through her phone, probably reading up on whatever the media is saying about the latest match, and she looks up when you walk in. There’s that smile again, the one that makes everything else disappear for a moment, just a moment, but long enough to matter.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft, like it’s only meant for you.

You cross the room and sit next to her, pulling her legs into your lap, your fingers automatically tracing circles on her shins. You don’t say anything for a while, because neither of you needs to. The silence between you is comfortable, familiar, the kind of silence that only comes when two people have been through everything together and still come out on the other side.

“I bought the club,” you say, casually, like you’re talking about picking up milk from the store.

Alexia looks at you, her eyes widening for a second before she catches herself. She’s good at that, at pretending nothing surprises her, but you know her well enough to see through it.

“You did what?” she asks, her tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“I bought Barcelona,” you repeat, leaning back against the cushions. “They were fucking it all up, especially with the women’s team. I’m fixing it. For you”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you can see the gears turning in her head, trying to process what you’ve just said. It’s not that she doesn’t believe you; she does. It’s just…a lot.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says finally, but there’s no conviction in her voice. She knows as well as you do that you don’t *have* to do anything. You want to.

“I did,” you reply, your voice firm. “Because they don’t care about you. Not like I do”

She looks at you for a long moment, and you can see the conflict in her eyes, the push and pull of wanting to argue but knowing there’s no point. You’ve already made up your mind. You always have.

“Thank you,” she says eventually, and the sincerity in her voice catches you off guard. You’re used to people thanking you, sure, but it’s always perfunctory, transactional. This is different. This is real.

You lean in and kiss her, slow and soft, and for a moment, everything is perfect. You don’t think about the money or the power or the corruption you’ve spent years navigating. You don’t think about the board meetings or the backroom deals or the restructuring of the RFEF. You just think about her, and how she’s the only thing that makes any of it worth it.

When you pull back, she’s smiling, and it’s that smile again—the one that makes your chest tighten and your heart race in a way that nothing else does. Not even the money.

“Let’s go fix everything,” you say, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you already have.

[superhaught]

Gym Class Heroes (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: homophobia

Word Count: ~2300, Part 2/?

Part 1

Regina pursues her interest in protecting reader as she recovers from the basketball to the head.

Turns out, you did indeed have a mild concussion from the basketball incident, so you took the weekend and the following Monday off of school to rest and recuperate.

You were napping when your mom knocked lightly on your bedroom door and then came in. You woke up and saw that she had an armful of things.

“One of your school friends stopped by and brought your homework from today plus a card and some snacks, how sweet!”

You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, “one of my friends? Do you know who?”

“Oh I don’t know, sweetheart. She was blonde and tall and pretty.”

You couldn’t help your face from lighting up, “gimme the card!”

Your mom handed you everything and you tore open the envelope. It was a simple “get well soon” card but what you were most interested in was the handwritten note. The writer’s penmanship was exquisite, not that you were particularly surprised by that fact. The card smelled like her perfume, as if she had spritzed some on. She’s unreal, you thought. Fragrant notes of orange blossom and rose filled your nostrils and it was addictive. 

The note read: Hey you, I hope you’re doing okay and aren’t too worried about getting behind on schoolwork. If you need help getting your homework done, I know a guy. Anyways, Shane got three days of suspension, which isn’t enough, imo. Text me if ur bored <3 R

She wrote her phone number at the end. You giggled and reread it in full, going as far as kicking your feet excitedly under your blankets. 

“She seems like a sweet girl,” your mom pointed out.

Her voice brought you back to reality. You cleared your throat, “mom, my head is kind of hurting, can I go back to sleep?”

“Oh yeah, of course honey! Get some rest.”

“Thank you,” you set the card down next to you and laid back down as your mom left and once she closed the door behind her, you grabbed your phone and began typing a message to Regina’s number. 

“Hey, ‘R’” you wrote. 

The message delivered and the little typing-indicator dots showed up right away, then her message back came through, “I’m glad you didn’t keep me waiting ;)” then she sent a second message, “how are you feeling?”

[Text Message Transcript: Reader: I’m feeling okay. I got a concussion like you thought, but I should be back tomorrow. Thank you for the snacks, btw. How did you know cheez-its are my fav? | Regina: My lips are sealed | Reader: You must have gone to a lot of effort to discover my favorite snacks and my home address… | Regina: It’s nothing someone with my social power can’t handle. | Reader: Well, I owe you. For this and for taking care of me yesterday. | Regina: You don’t owe a thing | Reader: Come on, you’ve gotta let me repay you somehow. | Regina: I won’t allow it | Reader: -_- | Regina: :P | seriously. don’t worry about it. | Reader: But why are you being so nice to me? | Regina: because | Reader: That isn’t an answer | Regina: must I have a reason?? | Reader: People usually do | Regina: cynical of you | I guess I feel bad. MY idiot ex gave you a concussion and was an asshole | also | I think ur cute | Reader: It’s not like you own him. | Regina: are you just gonna ignore that last part | Reader: I was getting there! how do you type so fast when you have acrylics?? | Regina: ... | i blame your concussed brain | Reader: You thought about making a dirty joke, didn't you? | Regina: no | maybe | Reader: So... you think I'm cute? | Regina: Not anymore. I take it back because you embarrassed me. | Reader: No take backsies | Regina: Well now I really take it back because that was dumb | Reader: I don't believe you! | Regina: good | you're going to have to see through my bitch act if we keep going along this path | Reader: "if we keep going along this path" meaning...? | Regina: meaning... if you let me take you out on a date | when you're all recovered of course | Reader: Like... a date date? | Regina: yeah dumbass | what other kind is there?| Reader: Sorry!! I've just... never been asked out before | Regina: okay well... I am asking you out | End of transcript]

Being stunned, you didn’t respond to Regina’s text right away. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t believe that Regina, the queen bee of the school, the most popular girl, the previously-believed-to-be-completely-and-totally-straight-girl, was asking you out. 

Another text from her popped up, “well don’t leave me hanging”

You decided that you wanted to call her. Maybe you felt like you needed to in order to confirm that this was actually real. You called and it rang twice and then you heard her voice through the phone.

She chuckled as she spoke, “hi…”

“Hi…” you said back, suddenly forgetting what words were. 

“What did you want to say that couldn’t have been sent over text?”

“I just… you really want to date me?”

“Yes. I do. Is that really so shocking?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Well listen, I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. And, as I’m sure you are aware, I’m used to getting what I want.”

You shuddered and then replied, “Regina… I’d love to go out with you.”

The two of you continued to talk on the phone well into the night. It was Regina who insisted that you hang up and go to bed to get some good sleep before coming to school tomorrow. The blonde also offered to pick you up in the morning and drive you to school herself. You, of course, accepted. 

You went to sleep feeling lighter than air. 

In the morning, you got ready for school with more zeal than you ever had in your life. Your mother wondered out loud whether you had been replaced overnight by an entirely different person. You just smiled and said that you were happy and feeling better. 

There was a car horn honk from your driveway and your mom kissed your cheek goodbye as you left your home. 

Regina was sitting in her black Jeep, using her mirror to fix her hair. She smiled at you as you came out of your house and approached the passenger side of her car. She leaned and reached over, cracking the door open for you and then offering you her hand to hold as you stepped up into the car.

You sat down and tossed your backpack into the backseat. 

She smiled again, looking you over, “you look so cute!” Regina then gently caressed her thumb over the bruise on your forehead from the basketball, “and this is looking much better.”

You looked her up and down as well and smiled, “you look incredible…”

“Thanks, baby.” 

She had called you ‘baby’ on the phone the night before as well. The affection made your heart flutter.

She continued, “get buckled, let’s go.”

Regina drove you both to school and parked in her spot in the student lot. It wasn’t an assigned parking spot or anything, it was just the closest spot to her preferred entrance and it was hers by way of having scolded anyone who had ever dared to park there.

When you got out of the car, Regina walked over to you and took your hand in hers. 

Surprised, you said, “you know, we haven’t actually gone out yet…”

“I know that. Do you mind if I hold your hand anyway? Do I have to wait before I can show you off?”

“I don’t mind,” you smiled. 

Regina walked you into the school and immediately, all eyes were on the two of you. You half expected Regina to drop your hand but she didn’t. You glanced over at her and she was proud. Beaming even. 

She squeezed your hand a little tighter and looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded your head, “I am.”

Regina went with you to your locker and leaned against the adjacent locker while you put your backpack away. Then Regina noticed that you had a small magnetic mirror in your locker and she came up behind you and wrapped her arms around you from behind and looked into the mirror.

“We look good together, don’t we?”

You looked at the image in the mirror and thought she was right. With her bright blonde locks draped over your shoulders, her manicured fingers touching your neck, her cheek pressed against yours, it was a dream come true. 

“It’s way too easy for me to get lost in you…”

“I feel the same way, baby.”

At that point, Gretchen and Karen approached, locating Regina as if they had a homing beacon to her. Gretchen flashed you a polite smile and said, “you look mostly recovered!”

Karen stared at you with wide eyes and said, “don’t worry, I’ve been knocked out by a basketball too! It happens to everyone.”

You thought about objecting to her statement in some way but then you just nodded. 

Regina grabbed your hand again and touched your cheek, turning you to face her, “you’ll sit with us at lunch, right?”

“Oh sure! If you want me to…”

“Of course, silly! Well, you know where to find me, then. I’ll see you later.” Regina pulled you into a hug and squeezed you tightly against her chest. And for the first time in your life, you felt genuinely wanted.

The next two days went by fast. Regina took over driving you to and from school and your mom thanked her profusely for giving her a break. You joined Regina, Gretchen and Karen for lunch, sometimes you were also joined by Cady, Janis and Damien, now that things had gotten less tense between those two trios in the aftermath of the junior year dramatics. 

Regina was extremely attentive to you. You naturally fell into habits of taking care of each other, Regina looking out for you as you continued to recover from your concussion, and you paying attention to her chronic pain flare ups and making sure she was monitoring her POTS symptoms. 

You and Regina agreed to go on your first official date together that weekend, but she certainly was not hesitating to claim you as hers in the meantime. In those 48 hours, there was already an instagram and twitter account dedicated to shipping the two of you and you overheard a lot of talk about your sudden closeness and Regina’s obvious protection over you. 

It all came to a head the day that Shane Oman was back at school.

At lunch, Regina showed up to the table a few minutes later than what was typical for her, and she was dragging Shane by his shirtsleeve until she shoved him right in front of you. 

You set your lunch down and looked at him, then Regina, who shoved him again and said, “well, go ahead.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “fine… I’m sorry…”

Regina’s arms were crossed but she smirked a little, clearly proud of herself. 

“Sorry that you’re a disgusting fucking carpetmuncher!” Shane finished, yelling loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear and immediately cease their conversations, turning all of their attention to your table. 

Gretchen covered her own mouth in shock. Janis and Damien's jaws both dropped open. Karen was staring at something on the ceiling. Cady whispered “oh my gosh” under her breath. 

You just froze and stared. 

Regina lurched forward and gripped the back of Shane’s shirt collar, pulling him backwards by it in a swift motion and basically choking him with the fabric, “what the fuck did you just say?” she growled.

Shane coughed, “I… I… said… carpetmuncher… and I’m not sorry… and I don’t believe for one second… that you’re falling for this… this… dyke!”

“Oh? You don’t?” Regina pushed Shane down to the ground and he collapsed to his knees and rubbed his neck as Regina let him go. Regina walked over to you and took your face in her hands. One second, her face was red with fury, but when she looked down at you, she immediately softened. She pulled you close to her and then pressed her lips to yours.

It wasn’t how you imagined how your first kiss with Regina would have gone, but you wouldn’t have changed anything about it. 

She kissed you so tenderly. Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the softness of her lips, the taste of her lip gloss, the smell of her hair, the feel of her tongue just teasing your bottom lip. Regina held the kiss for a long time and you held her waist. 

You knew everyone’s eyes (and cameras) were on you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You had Regina, and that’s all that mattered. 

When Regina pulled away, she kept eye contact with you for a moment and smiled, assuring you that she kissed you because she wanted to, not just to prove a point. She came back to give you one more quick and gentle kiss before returning her attention to the pathetic man on the ground. 

“Next time you want to say anything derogatory to my baby here, you better be fucking prepared to say it to me, too, Shane. And I don’t think I need to spell out the absolute shithole you will find yourself in if you do that.” 

Shane stared at her with wide, terrified, eyes.

“Now get the fuck out of my sight.” Regina added. 

Shane scrambled to his feet and sprinted out of the cafeteria as Regina took her seat next to you with closed eyes and exhaled a breath through her nose to calm herself.

You leaned your head on her shoulder and whispered, “thank you, Gina.”

She turned her head and kissed your temple, “of course, baby.”

[amazinglyashy]

hi! First of all - i love the way u write omg😭 i basically went through all your posts last evening and today hahah (procrastinating at it’s finest😌) Second - i wanna request a prompt, but i dunno if it’s too close to the one where ‘reader tells the lads boys that she’s too heavy for them’? if so, just ignore this!🫡💗

If not - could you write something about the boys finding out that reader/mc used to have bulimia(/or unspecified ed) and that she’s quietly struggling again, but not telling them? Maybe something angsty/comforting?

Trigger warning - This involves talk about eating disorders. Please use discretion when reading! Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! That means so much, because I used to write a lot years ago but stopped for a long time. I only got back into it recently, so the love I've been receiving has really done a positive number to my confidence. Thank you, lovely <3 I don't think it's possible for me to NOT write this request, because I'm a long time ED sufferer, and I am currently experiencing a harsh relapse unfortunately... You read me like a book, because 'Too Heavy' was a direct reference to that. It's hard, because it's such an invisible problem that oftentimes you suffer alone. Thank you for the request, hopefully I did it some justice, and for you or anyone who may relate to this post. (Also wrote this while listening to Lullaby - Jhameel on repeat. Give it a listen!)

Love and Deepspace Li's find out about your ED (and your current struggle)

Zayne -

The moment he finds out you live with an ED, he's down at the library finding any books he can, and researching as much as possible throughout the hospital and his old college's database.

He's also finding patient testimonials that have been released, so he can find the most compassionate approach that would help you without causing you any more harm than you already are experiencing at the hands of your own mind.

"I found a new restaurant I want to try. Apparently, they make a certain dish really well, I think we should try it together while we go over the latest mission you wished to tell me about."

He knows what you like, so it makes it easy for him to order things to share together places and ensure you're eating.

He will go out to eat every single day if he needs to, that's not any issue to him. Neither is sharing foods or cooking meals that he knows you love, even if they're not particularly his favorite.

He tries not to talk to you much about it, but does his best to be encouraging and nothing more whenever the subject of professional help comes up.

When you start opening up even more to him, he's all ears, and he's exceedingly careful about his choices of words, like he always is, but even more so now. The last thing he wants is to speak a trigger, especially when he's so focused on helping you get better.

He knows it never truly goes away, your disorder. But that's not an issue. It's more... a fact of being with you. And just like you take his problems and disabilities, he will take every single one of yours as well.

In stride, and with love.

Xavier -

He caught on, mostly because he found it strange that one moment you had eaten every single snack in the cupboard, and the next he heard, you hadn't eaten anything all day. He was wondering if it was something he was just unaware of, but-

Quickly finds out what exactly is going on after a few times of this happening. He was worried it was some strange habit, and now he's even more worried finding out it's been something you've been dealing with for quite a while.

He's upset, to say the least. But he'll keep that to himself.

He just wants to help you now.

He'll ask if there's anything that you feel like sharing with him on how to best help you, and there's definitely a note somewhere on his phone with a list of things you told him. If he can do any of them daily, he will. Anything else is always on his mind.

He doesn't let it get in the way of your day to day, though. You still play games together like normal, read together, and go the arcade whenever you both have the opportunity to win some more plushies for your hoards. He's always conscious about his own comments and behavior, but he doesn't ever let it seem like he's keeping an eye on you or trying to supervise you.

The tightrope of trusting you and helping you deal with your disorder is a thin one, and Xavier dances along it with grace.

No matter what, being around him is a comfort. Whether you're having a good day, or a bad day.

Sylus -

He's pretty internally frustrated when he first find out about it, but he doesn't let it show.

It has nothing to do with you or anything you did. He's just used to... having everything under control. For every problem to have a solution solved easily with money, force, or some compassion.

This is something he can't control.

And he hates it.

Aside from that, Sylus is like a light in the dark.

He had a list of trusted professionals to help you, should you want, and multiple of them at that- just in case you don't feel comfortable with the first one or three.

Any food you genuinely like to eat is available at all times, it does not matter if it is three in the morning. Are you wanting it? Nice, it's right there on your plate.

The frequency of which you see him increases, including the twins, despite both situations being... vastly different.

Where he takes you out for dinners at new and gorgeous restaurants, including ones feature in your favorite media or having special events for a game you like- the twins are throwing bags of snacks at you and yelling at you to throw pieces into their mouths and so they can do the same to you.

You will learn Sylus did not ask them to do this, in fact he explicitly told them not to do that.

It's pretty obvious though, they were worried about Sylus. And not just him, but you too.

Probably because of how much Sylus has been concerned about you, even if just in secret.

He doesn't want his feelings to make you feel anything but loved, so prepare for a speech the second you feel any kind of guilty. You're not getting out of this one.

Not until you know how much he cares about you, no matter what.

Rafayel -

The way he treats it is extremely encompassing. The way he sees it, is if you're sad or not doing too hot mentally, it's going to affect every part of your brain, including the parts that make you feel the way you do with your ED.

Driving you somewhere? He's playing upbeat music pounding out of the speakers of his sports car, singing along goofily or making up new words. You haven't eaten in a long time? Too bad, suddenly he's hungry and wants a snack. In fact, he wants a snack every couple of hours. If you binged and feel like dying, he'll be offering you water and any distraction he can to get your mind off of your appearance or the guilt of your binge.

He will spend more of his own free time at the gym if he needs to to work off any extra weight he gains just to help you eat, if eating with him is what helps you and he doesn't want you to see him change and feel guilty over it. He doesn't care.

Constant, constant praise with him. It is not about your appearance, unless it's something you can change. Clothing you picked out, the way your makeup looks today, a hairstyle you did to yourself, etc. So many compliments on your achievements or work, all with a sweet smile across his face.

If it's really bad, he'll paint you gorgeous works in different sizes, that are conveniently perfectly sized to display directly over any mirrors in your apartment.

Whatever you need, he's on it.

He'll be there for you no matter your highs or your lows.

[moonxytcn]

Hellooo, here is my request! We are a new upcoming artist in the industry and we attend the grammys for the first time. Some guy is interviewing us and asks a really inappropriate question which makes us uncomfortable. And before we could even attempt to answer the question billie so happens to notice how uncomfortable we are and steps into the conversion saving us just on time. This is the first time we ever meet billie, and some how by the end of the night billie gives us her number in hopes of being able to see us again 🫶🏻

rescue on the red carpet

| Billie Eilish x fem!reader

summary – Billie saves you from an uncomfortable interviewer question

tags & warnings – just fluffy

a/n – hiii <3 it's been a while since I wrote anything hihi, but I'm back, and thank you so much for the request anon!! and I'm sorry it took so long to post, I hope you enjoy this <3

| English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

| Masterlist —✽— Pinned Post

   ㅤ✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

–––

The lights of the Grammy Awards shimmer and sparkle like nothing you've ever seen before. You're standing on the red carpet, the air electric with excitement and anticipation. It's your first time here, and the grandeur of it all feels almost surreal. You're a newcomer in the music industry, and being nominated for Best New Artist is a dream come true. Your heart races as you take in the dazzling sea of celebrities, flashing cameras, and enthusiastic reporters.

The crimson carpet under your feet seems to stretch on for miles, lined with eager fans and journalists clamoring for a glimpse of the stars. You feel like you're in a dream, walking amongst giants in the music industry. Your dress, an elegant blend of shimmer and sophistication, clings perfectly to your form, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at once.

As you make your way down the carpet, a charming interviewer from a popular entertainment network beckons you over. His smile is wide, his demeanor polished, but something about his eyes makes you uneasy.

"Welcome to the Grammys!" He exclaims, holding the microphone out toward you. "How does it feel to be here tonight?"

You smile graciously, taking a breath to steady yourself. "It's truly an honor to be here among so many talented artists. I'm just grateful for the opportunity."

The interviewer nods, then leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if to share a secret. "You've had quite a rise to fame this year. Many are calling you the next big thing. How are you handling all this attention? And." He pauses, his grin turning a shade sharper, "there have been rumors about your personal life. Care to comment on any of those?"

The question catches you off guard. Your mind races as you try to think of a polite way to deflect. Rumors? About your personal life? You’ve tried hard to keep your private life out of the spotlight. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you feel your confidence begin to waver.

Before you can find the words, the interviewer presses on, his smile now verging on predatory. "There's a particularly juicy one about a certain collaboration turning into something more... intimate. What do you have to say about that?"

You freeze, acutely aware of the cameras zooming in, capturing every moment of your discomfort. You can hear the crowd's murmurs, feel the eyes of countless onlookers on you. You’re cornered, and the vulnerability is almost paralyzing. Your pulse quickens, and your rehearsed poise starts to crumble.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, a voice cuts through the tension.

"Hey, I think that's enough of the tabloid questions, don't you?"

You turn to see Billie Eilish stepping forward, her iconic green hair and bold fashion sense unmistakable. Her expression is calm yet commanding, her gaze steady as she addresses the interviewer.

The interviewer falters, momentarily taken aback by Billie's intervention. "Oh, Billie! Of course, it's great to see you. I was just asking about—"

Billie interrupts smoothly, her tone firm but friendly. "I know what you were asking, but tonight's about celebrating achievements, not spreading gossip. Why not focus on her incredible music instead?"

Her words hang in the air, a lifeline thrown your way. You catch Billie's eye, and she offers you a reassuring smile. It's like a wave of relief washes over you, the tension easing from your shoulders.

The interviewer, now visibly flustered, clears his throat and shifts his attention back to you. "Right, right. Apologies for that. So, tell us about your album and the inspiration behind it."

You take a deep breath, grateful for Billie's timely intervention. With renewed confidence, you talk about your work, your passion for music, and the journey that led you here. Billie stands by your side, her presence a comforting shield against the prying questions that had threatened to throw you off balance.

As the interview concludes, you thank the reporter and turn to Billie, who is already flashing her signature grin.

"Thank you." You say, gratitude evident in your voice. "I didn't know what to do back there."

Billie chuckles softly, shrugging off the praise. "No worries. I've been in this industry long enough to know how these things go. You handled it well."

Her words are genuine, and they bolster your spirits. You find yourself smiling back at her, the tension from earlier fading away.

The rest of the evening passes in a whirlwind of excitement and celebration. You watch performances that leave you awestruck, rub shoulders with artists you've admired for years, and even manage to snag a selfie with a few of your musical idols.

As the night draws to a close, you find yourself once again crossing paths with Billie. She's surrounded by a small group of admirers and friends, but when she spots you, she waves you over.

"Hey! How was the rest of your night?" She asks, her energy as infectious as ever.

"It was incredible." You reply, feeling more at ease than you had at the start of the evening. "Thank you again for stepping in back there. It means a lot."

Billie dismisses your gratitude with a wave of her hand. "Seriously, don't mention it. I've been there. And besides, we're all in this together, right?"

You nod, feeling a connection with her that goes beyond just the shared experience of the industry. There's something genuine about Billie that makes you feel seen and understood.

As the crowd around you begins to thin out, Billie leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a more private tone. "Hey, if you ever want to hang out or need someone to talk to about the craziness of this industry, here's my number."

She hands you a small card with her number scrawled on it, the gesture both casual and meaningful. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of having a direct line to someone as renowned and talented as Billie Eilish.

"Thank you." You say, tucking the card safely into your purse. "I’d love that."

Billie gives you a nod, her eyes twinkling with sincerity. "Great. I hope we can catch up soon."

With that, she waves goodbye, disappearing into the remaining crowd, leaving you with a newfound sense of hope and excitement. The night may have started with uncertainty, but it's ending with the promise of friendship and the potential for so much more.

As you make your way out of the venue, you can't help but smile. Your first Grammy night has been unforgettable, not just because of the awards and performances but because you've found an ally in one of the industry's brightest stars.

And as you step into the cool night air, you know this is just the beginning of an incredible journey.

[whyareyouhere66]

Thinking about….

Various! Boyfriend x fem-coded reader

Cw: not really anything. Chubby reader friendly- in fact I sort of imagined it that way. Was thinking about shinsou while I wrote it (and it’s probably obvious). Fluff, modern, 2nd person pov. 

x

Thinking about laying in bed with him one particularly lazy evening, cuddling and watching reels together on your phone. You’re both cozy and tucked against each other’s bodies, his chest to your back, arm hooked lazily over your waist, a few pillows supporting your head while he rests his chin on your shoulder. 

As you scroll mindlessly, he watches from his perch next to your head and laughs at some of the funny videos, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt softly. And then, you come across one of those “pick an outfit videos”. 

There’s a few dresses photoshopped onto the screen, below them are corresponding accessories, shoes, bags, each with a symbol/letter/number to mark each one. 

You stare at it for a second, in your mind skimming over each of the options to see which you like best. You aren’t really sure though…

The low rumble of a hum comes from your boyfriend’s throat next to you, grabbing your attention.

“D.”

You pause, glancing over at him.

“Huh?”

“D.” He repeats himself, nodding towards the screen. You blush a little as you connect the dots, looking back at the dress he chose. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. ‘S pretty, good color.”

You give a small hum of acknowledgment as you process his words- cheeks a little warm at the sentiment. You weren’t expecting him to give his own answer- but since he did, you can’t say you didn’t find it endearing, the little moment attractive. 

Before you can scroll again, he speaks once more.

“Do another one.”

Your lips curl upwards a little, almost a bit flushed. You didn’t think this would be something he would care about- but nonetheless, you swipe onto the creator’s profile, met with several more videos in the exact same format. Clicking on a random one, you tilt your screen so he can see better. 

He leans in, eyes scanning the screen as he puts an odd amount of thought into it, a certain something soft glimmering in his eyes. As he thinks, you feel his hand slowly caressing your stomach, a warm palm smoothing over your skin gently, affectionately. As if he’s mapping out exactly how the dresses would fit on you, envisioning it in his mind. It’s not an unusual touch, but it could still give you butterflies any day, any where.

“Mmmm. B. With those shoes.” He uses his chin to gesture to the ones he means,  the pair with the “&” symbol right above them. 

“Y’think?” You ask, glancing at the dress and continuing to flush a little at the image of wearing it- at the thought of him imagining it on your figure. 

He nods. “Mhm. I like that color on you,” he tucks his head further into the bend of your shoulder, “…and the fit of it looks nice.” 

You start to smile a little bit, stomach all fuzzy as he speaks. The simple act of being known- of him having a favorite color on you (one of your favorite colors, to say the least), his hands gently running down your stomach and hip, warm cheek pressed close to your neck, makes you feel all warm inside. Beneath the blanket, your free hand rests on top of his forearm that’s slung over your waist.

“Thanks” you mumble softly, smiling at your phone screen as he simply nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Mhmmm…” he mumbles again- and you can feel his small smile against your skin. 

.

.

P.s:

Whenever you’re watching reels together after that, and those kinds of videos pop up, he again gives his own opinion- thinking over each option and answering with a small quirk of his lips. And you love it almost every time. 

.

.

Characters:  Eijirou Kirishima / HITOSHI SHINSOU / Shoto Todoroki / Denki Kaminari / THEODORE NOTT / Mattheo Riddle / Steve Randle / Dean Portman / Adam Banks / Daichi Sawamura / Keji Akaashi /  more?

[up for interpretation, aka some characters also vaguely match the scenario, but would have their own little behaviors added/emphasized in this type of scene that were not included, but can be imagined.]

[abarero]

"Magia Record Puella Magi Madoka Magica Gaiden" Review Dialogue | Director x Main Scenario Writer

This is a quick overview of this article featuring a dialogue interview between Taguchi, Director (COO) and Director of f4samurai, and Mori, who served as the main scenario writer for MagiReco.

- MagiReco has been in development since 2015. Some of the staff have worked on it for 9 years.

- Originally, only 3 members were assigned to work on it. This included Taguchi and Mori.

- Taguchi continued to work on the project up until the release of Last Magia / the end of Arc 1. Mori continued to work on it until the end.

- The first Azaleas event (our first branching event that had “bad ends”) was not planned at the start of release. This event type was developed in the 2 months prior to appearing in game.

- Arc 2 (which completed in 2022) was something they’d been working on for three years.

- Roughly speaking, the total of MagiReco is 8,390,000 characters. Mori probably wrote about 3 million characters directly, including events and Magical Girl Stories.

- That word count is estimated to be about 70 light novels (80,000~120,000 character books) worth of content for the entire game.

- In regards to Puella Historia, Mori said, “I started with the idea of portraying magical girls who appeared in history as they appeared in the original work, but in the end it became a completely new approach to portraying magical girls from other past eras, which was fresh and interesting as a scenario writer. As expected, it was not possible for one person to do the historical research alone, so it was great that we were able to share the scenario with everyone.”

- They remark that given the nature of gacha games, it’s uncommon to write about character death. Mori notes it made Main Story a little more predictable since they were limited by this to some degree.

- Including spin-off characters, there were more than 150 characters represented in MagiReco.

- Mori notes that there were fans who supported each character, so when he could he made an effort to explore them in events.

- Taguchi asked if there were any scenarios that Mori thought had a particularly strong response. Mori noted, “The storyline with Sena Mikoto, the last boss of Part 2, received a great response and left a strong impression on me. As some users may have noticed, Mikoto was originally not intended to be the last boss at all. We were very excited and happy when we were able to show her off at the event.”

- The two comment that the release of Ultimate Madoka for first Anniversary did so well and got them number 1 rank on the App Store in sales at that time.

- Mori notes that the final story had a lot of influence from the publisher (Aniplex) on how it should play out.

- In regard to Magia Exedra, they note that MagiReco will be tied to it.

- Mori was responsible for the design and scenario behind Namae and the Lighthouse, but will be working on other projects. However, there are people on from the original scenario team who continue to be involved in scenario production for Exedra.

[hanasnx]

❝ incendium. ❞

── stephen glass x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control. NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au" WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.

When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered. 

You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar. 

It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list. 

Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company. 

Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession. 

It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment. 

“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”

STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken. 

Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening. 

Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?” 

“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips. 

Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?” 

A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away. 

It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys. 

Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap. 

You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears. 

Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for. 

The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with. 

“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.” You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?” 

It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact. 

Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared. 

Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck. 

Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it. 

When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were. 

“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup. 

He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.

“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?” 

Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him. 

Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.” 

One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.” 

We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral. 

All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance. 

He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well. 

He never expected that it’d turn out like this. 

Never expected he’d be summoned to your office. 

“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text. 

You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.” 

She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.” 

You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him. 

This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself. 

He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt. 

“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it. 

Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–” 

At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”

Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.

“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”

He shakes his head.

“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.

“An NDR.”

“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”

“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”

Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”

“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”

He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.

“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”

A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit. 

[yikesmary]

BEDTIME ROUTINE — jeon wonwoo x reader

summary: where you loved times like these with your boyfriend, wonwoo.

notes: book boyfriend wonwoo is back! i wrote this completely out of the blue so apologies for any mistakes. also this went into a direction i didn’t expect it to go to, but i love it so much. it might be my favorite fic i’ve written so far on this blog.

join my taglist!

“You’re staring at me again,”

“Can you blame me? I have a beautiful man as my boyfriend,” you teased, enjoying the pink blush that was developing on Wonwoo’s cheeks.

“I’m not even doing anything, I’m just reading a book,” he told you.

“To look this good and still be doing something so simple is incredible!” You overexaggerated, throwing your hands in the air dramatically.

Wonwoo playfully rolled his eyes, but pulled you closer to him, your body practically glued to his. It was nighttime, and your usual bedtime routine consisted of Wonwoo either reading a book or playing a game on his phone and you went on your phone.

But there were moments when you and Wonwoo felt particularly clingy towards each other, and sometimes you found yourself falling asleep to Wonwoo’s voice as he read aloud the book he was reading while cuddled up to him. He didn’t mind whenever you fell asleep as he read, because he knows how much you loved his voice, so he takes it as a compliment.

“How’s the book so far?” You asked, resting your head on his chest, recognizing the book as the one you gifted to him on his birthday.

“It’s good, I’m glad I finally found the time to read it,” he smiled.

“I was worried whether or not it was a good book. I didn’t know whether or not you were going to like it,” you said.

“It could’ve been a book that had the same word printed on the pages hundreds of times and I’d still read it because you gave it to me,” Wonwoo said.

“Don’t be silly,”

“I’m serious! I keep everything you give to me,”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged.

“The bookmark you made me on our first date, I still use that. The letter you wrote me on our first anniversary, and the bracelet you made with Joshua for me while you were drunk,” he recounted.

“Really? You’ve kept all of those things?” You asked, and he nodded.

“We live together, how have I not seen these things in the house?”

“Because I hide them in places you’d never think to look,”

“Like where?”

“There’s a reason why I haven’t told you! It’s a secret,” he said, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“It also helps that you’re small and there are places I can reach that you don’t,” he teased.

You gasped and said, “I would move if you weren’t so comfortable,”

As if to ensure you wouldn’t move, Wonwoo moved you even closer to him, if that was even possible. In the middle of the conversation, you didn’t realize that he closed the book and put it on the nightstand that was on his side of the bed.

Silence fell between you, neither finding a reason to say something. You just enjoyed the moment between the both of you while Wonwoo was fiddling with your fingers with his hand, in deep thought.

“Do you have anything from when we first started dating?”

“I do, but since you won’t show me yours so I won’t show mine,” you said, playfully twisting your head away from him.

“How about this, I’ll countdown to three and we both get the stuff from our hiding spots. That way we don’t reveal our locations,” Wonwoo negotiated.

“Deal.”

“One... Two... Three!”

At the final number, the both of you tried leaving the bed, but because of how close you were cuddled together, the farthest you were able to go before falling was the floor of your bedroom. It wasn’t a far drop, but it was funny enough that both you and Wonwoo erupted in laughs and giggles.

You had struggled so much trying to get up with laughing and trying to detangle yourself from your boyfriend that by the time you had managed to stand, you were practically out of breath. But that didn’t deter you from your mission, so you tried moving to where you hid your stuff.

Spotting the box that was labeled with your name, you grabbed the box and dashed back into the room. Wonwoo would never look through something that had your name on it, since for the most part, neither of you felt the need to mark anything as your own since you guys knew whose belonging belonged with who. 

So, if it was labeled, there was a purpose and Wonwoo would never violate your privacy like that.

By the time you arrived in the bedroom, Wonwoo was already on the bed, his legs crossed and waiting patiently with his box. You got on the bed and sat right across from him in a similar position as you.

He moved back so you had enough room to put the box in front of you and that was when the both of you exchanged looks and then without saying anything, switched boxes.

You opened the box and were both happy and touched to see the exact items that he had described beforehand, with more things that weren’t mentioned and you didn’t realize he kept them.

When you looked at him, you saw that he looked a bit confused about the items, so you decided to refresh his memory. “That ticket was from we went to the aquarium together, the picture is when we went to that one petshop and you couldn’t stop playing with the cats,”

He smiled at you, remembering those moments. You were about to say something else before a tiny, brown, leather book caught your attention inside of Wonwoo’s box. You took it out and showed it to him asking, “What’s this?”

At the question, Wonwoo turned sheepish. Then he said, “When we first started dating, every time we went out somewhere to eat or drink, I’d write down what you ordered so the next time we went there, I could order for you. Eventually, I memorized everything so there wasn’t a need for a book,”

You felt like you were in school again, feeling like your middle school crush just confessed to you and love was everything at that age. Putting the stuff to the side, you moved to kiss him and your hands were on his shoulders.

When you pulled away, you decided that the kiss wasn’t enough so you peppered him with kisses on your face. “That was so thoughtful and sweet of you to do. I love you so much,” you said, placing one final kiss on his lips once more.

He was only able to smile like a lovesick fool in response, which he was.

You looked at the clock and were surprised to see how late it was. “We should go to bed, it’s late and we should’ve been asleep an hour ago,” you told him.

“Maybe we should make this a part of our nighttime routine,”

taglist (crossed out means I wasn’t able to tag you): @belladaises @smileyneos @xuenihao @winterpaos @wonhuiful @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @itsrachelsplace @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @minghaossv @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @yoonzinoooo​

[void-wolfie]

It's Hard When I Hate Myself

summary: those bad thoughts in your head get a little too loud one day, and you can't take it anymore...

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: self-harm, depression, suicide attempt (if any of these topics are triggering for you, please do not read)

words: 1.88k

a/n: i wrote this for @nofreakinglooseends, hope this lives up to your expectations bub...

*** if you have experience with depression or suicidal thoughts, or if you find any of the above topics triggering in any way - please do not read, these topics are written about in detail below (you have been warned) ***

No one cares.

No one likes you.

You're just a burden.

You paced the bedroom floor, hands gripping the sides of your head as you wondered why your brain hated you so much. You knew the thoughts weren’t true, your friends really did care, they had told you so themselves. Yet, it all felt like one big lie.

In the midst of your pacing, something caught your eye. You looked up only to spot yourself in the bedroom mirror. For a moment, you were caught off guard; you didn’t look like yourself anymore. Dark circles under your eyes, hair that hadn’t been brushed in days, pale skin, and lifeless eyes. You looked like a shell of your former self, barely even recognizable.

When had it gotten this bad?

The floodgates opened. The thoughts came barreling back. Too loud to ignore this time.

Stupid.

Mistake.

Failure.

No one cares.

No one gives a shit.

Better off dead…

You started pacing again, a bit faster this time, praying that the voices would all just go away.

Your mind slipped to your girlfriend. She always seemed to know how to help. What would she say right now? Your mind was blank, you couldn’t think of anything. Then again, it was impossible to think at all with the voices shouting in your head, screaming about what a burden you were.

Jenna doesn’t even care. Why would she?

She only stays with you out of pity.

She doesn't care.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you muttered to yourself, tears beginning to slip down your face, “Just shut up already!”

Call me if you need anything. That’s what Jenna told you earlier before leaving for work. You could sense the full-blown breakdown on the horizon, just minutes away. But you shouldn’t call her, right? She doesn’t need your problems right now. She already has enough to deal with at work as it is, she doesn’t need you making things worse…

She doesn’t love you.

She probably wouldn’t even pick up the phone if you called.

Lies. It was all lies. Jenna told you she loved you every morning and every night. She was there for you all the time. Of course, she cared… right?

“Fuck it,” you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, finding her contact and hitting the call button.

You sat on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing up and down anxiously as you listened to the dial tone.

Once… Twice… Voicemail.

“Fuckkkkkk,”

You redialed the number, hoping Jenna would pick up.

She doesn’t love you.

You don’t deserve her.

She can do better.

“Come on, go faster…” you muttered, your knee bouncing faster as you waited for someone to pick up.

Voicemail. Again.

“Fuck!”

You shot up from the bed; anger and panic flooding your mind. Not even realizing what you were doing, you threw your phone across the room. You didn’t particularly care. Your mind was on autopilot.

Tears rolled down your face and you could barely see through the blurry vision.

Maybe the voices were right. Maybe your mind didn't hate you, maybe it was just telling you the ugly truth… Your friends don't care about you. Your girlfriend doesn't love you. You’re just a worthless nobody.

Maybe it would just be better if you weren’t around anymore. Maybe it would be better if you were dead.

Dead. It was terrifying how much the thought of being dead didn’t bother you. The idea was almost welcoming. You wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, just peace… Peace sounded nice.

"Fuck!" You couldn't take it anymore. The voices were too loud, you couldn't think. Everything hurt. You needed to do something.

You rushed to the bathroom, the tears running down your face made it hard to see. You yanked open the cabinet drawer, digging around for where you hid it. Your fingers brushed against the cool metal, you raced to grab it without caring how it dug into your hand, nearly drawing blood.

You sunk down to the tile floor, rolling up the edge of your shorts to see the fresh cuts. Red lines spanning an inch or so long, each one scabbed over and bruised. You eyed an untouched spot between two red lines, before you could think you pushed the blade in, dragging it across the skin.

Blood trickled down the side of your thigh and onto the tile floor below, but you didn't care. Your mind was finally at ease.

It hurt like a bitch. But at the same time, the pain was comforting. Just for a while, it distracted your mind, easing your racing thoughts.

You looked down, eyeing the cut, the long trail of blood that cascaded down the side of your thigh.

Looking at it seemed to make it hurt worse. It made the voices come back. The cut was just a looming reminder of what a failure you were. But that’s all you were anymore. A mistake. A failure. A nobody.

You eyed the razor blade in your hand. Part of you knew you shouldn’t, it was a bad idea. But the voices were so much louder, so much more convincing. Your head was spinning…

Fuck it.

You dug the knife into your wrist, dragging the blade up towards your elbow. It had to be close to three or four inches long, the blood seeping out nearly instantly. It hurt worse than the ones on your thigh, but you didn’t care. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t be able to feel it soon anyway.

You did it again, taking the blade and dragging it up the other arm. Blood was dripping all over the floor, all over yourself, but you couldn't care less.

Her stomach twisted into knots; her hands shook as they gripped the wheel. She only left her phone for like ten minutes, maybe twelve at most, and in that time, she somehow had two back-to-back missed calls from you. She tried calling you back but to no avail. That’s when the panic set in. You rarely ever called her, and you never missed her calls.

She drove like a madman trying to get home. She was definitely breaking more than one law. Other people were honking, even flipping her off as she drove past, but she paid them no mind. The only thing she could think about was you.

Jenna fumbled to unlock the door; her hands were shaking. It took her longer than she would’ve liked to admit to get the key into the lock. Her mind was a wreck, her head was spinning, and all she could think about was you.

The second she was over the threshold she was calling out for you, praying for some sign that she was crazy and that you were fine.

Unfortunately, her prayers went unanswered.

She checked the living room first; it was closest to the front door. No luck, you weren’t there.

Then she checked the bedroom. She immediately noticed the dent in the wall; your phone lying on the floor underneath it, the screen completely shattered.

Just as quickly as she found your shattered phone, she noticed the light from the bathroom. The door was wide open.

Her stomach dropped; her heart was in her throat. She just knew something was wrong.

The first thing she saw was you sitting on the bathroom floor, unconscious. Then she noticed all the blood. It was everywhere. You were practically sitting in a pool of it.

The razor blade was still lightly clutched in your hand, the cuts going up your arms were an angry shade of red. Your shorts were hiked up, showcasing a sea of white scars and a slew of new cuts.

She wanted to puke.

She knew you were struggling, but she never knew it was this bad.

She took a deep breath, swallowing down the bile in the back of her throat and suppressing the tears that threatened to break free.

Everything hurt. Your head was pounding, and the dim lights felt too bright against your eyes. The bed underneath you felt stiff and uncomfortable. All your muscles ached.

Despite the way your muscles protested, you pushed yourself up on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

The first thing you noticed was that you weren’t home, you were in a hospital room. A rather small one. There was the bed you laid in, a small bathroom off to the side of the room, and a TV hanging on the wall. But most importantly, sitting in an armchair underneath the window, was Jenna.

She was lying sideways on the chair, her head draped uncomfortably over one arm of the chair while her legs dangled off the other, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Even from a distance, you could see the dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in days.

What was more worrying to you though, was how you got here. Why the hospital? Did you get hurt? Was Jenna hurt? What happened? The last thing you could remember was going to sleep the other night, with Jenna curled up in your arms under the covers.

You looked down, trying to look for any obvious injuries. You quickly spotted the big gauze bandages covering the length of your forearms.

“Hey,”

You jumped. Your head shot up and over towards the window. You must’ve accidentally woken her up somehow.

Jenna was sitting up in the chair, looking over at you tired and worriedly. She looked exhausted.

“Hey,” Your voice was hoarse. Your throat was dry and sore, and it hurt to speak.

“How’re you feeling?”

“What happened?” You asked, dodging her question. You felt like shit, but you weren’t going to tell her that.

“You don’t remember?” Her eyebrows furrowed, confusion taking over her features.

“No…”

You had an idea of what might’ve happened. But you were hoping it wasn’t true.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“You came home from work. We ordered takeout for dinner and watched a movie, then we went to bed.”

Her face dropped. A bad feeling washed over you.

“Babe, that was a week ago…” Her voice was soft and quiet. You couldn’t tell if she was sad or scared, maybe both… Most likely both.

“Oh.” You weren’t sure what to even say.

Silence filled the room. It was painfully loud, nearly suffocating you in the tiny room.

You didn’t want to ask the question sitting on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t really need to; you already knew the answer.

Before you knew it, tears started streaming down your cheeks. You’d actually done it. You couldn’t believe it. You tried to kill yourself… You were at a loss for words.

You felt the bed dip next to you, Jenna sliding onto the bed next to you. She gently wrapped her arm around you, bringing you closer to her. You rested your head on her shoulder, the tears streaming silently down your face.

Jenna didn’t say anything, she just held you close while you cried. Comforting you in the only way her tired mind could think of.

Neither of you knew what was going to happen next. But Jenna was sure of one thing; whatever it was, she was going to be there for you every step of the way.

[justaparsec94]

Reunion

Summary: After being sidelined for weeks by an injury in the field you're finally reunited with your favourite snarky sniper and the rest of your squad.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Word Count: 7,246

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors be gone, Explicit

Author's Note: I wrote this as second part to my one shot "Sniper" but I think it stands well enough on it's own if you haven't read that one!

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Walking into 79’s was like walking into a wall of sound and heat. It was visceral and made you pause on the threshold, shucking off the jacket you had been wearing to keep the cool night air at bay. You definitely weren’t going to need it as a sudden clamminess, the byproduct of all of the bodies in the place, latched onto your skin.

It was more crowded than you could ever remember it being on any of your previous visits. Though considering you had watched the 501st and 212th arrive on Coruscant earlier you really shouldn’t have been that surprised at the crowded nature of the bar. A quick look around at all the white, blue, and gold armour in the place confirmed that thought.

You slowly began making your way through the throngs of people. The very first time you had come to the bar you had been surprised by the number of non-clones that seemed to frequent the place, and as time went on that number only seemed to grow. You supposed it was a good place to get cheap drinks and meet handsome men. Kriff, that was the reason you were there after all, except you were looking for 4 very specific handsome men, as usual. A quick sweep of the place didn’t reveal any signs of the distinctive squad which likely meant they hadn’t arrived yet. Generally, when The Bad Batch arrived somewhere, everyone knew about it. They didn’t really blend in, no matter how hard they tried to.

You paused as you finished your lap of the bar, fishing your comm out as you tried your best to move away from a particularly loud group of clones.

“Hunter!?” You called into your comm over the chaotic noise surrounding you. You pressed your comm up to your ear and covered the other to try and drown out the thumping music, “Where are you guys?”

The sergeant’s response was barely audible over the noise of the bar, “ETA 10 minutes.”

You groaned, “Any chance you can hustle and cut that time down?”

“Negative,” Hunter responded with a hint of laughter in his voice, “Crosshair is in a mood.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t new. What was new was the fact that you were currently alone at the bar. Usually, when you attended you were with the Batch or with your friends but tonight had you flying solo. You sighed knowing that even over the noise Hunter would be able to hear you, “Alright, I’ll try and find a table.”

You disconnected your comm, tucking it back into the form-fitting bodice of your dress. You tugged once on the hem somewhat self-consciously before you started picking your way through the crowd. Your dress wasn’t even anything overly fancy, a simple black strapless body con dress that ended just above your knees. In fact, compared to a lot of the outfits currently in the place it was quite tame but it was very different from the scrubs and clogs you usually rolled up to the bar in, and that made you fidget. But as you had been getting ready that night you had thought a special occasion called for a special outfit. And you may or may not have been thinking of a particular silver-haired clone when you had pulled the dress from your closet, but no one needed to know that.

A night out at 79’s with the Bad Batch was rare for several reasons. One: because they were stationed on Kamino and were rarely called to Coruscant and, two: because they often received temporary bans from the bar for inevitably ending up in fights every time they entered the place. But this trip in particular was special because you hadn’t seen your squad in ages. A horrible ankle injury on your last mission had left you sidelined for weeks. It had been a long and hard recovery after multiple surgeries. And even after all the rehab you’d had you still had only just managed to squeak out clearance to return to the field. You had missed your squad desperately during that time. They had checked up on you throughout your recovery, some of them more than once. Wrecker because he was kind and Tech because he was convinced you were not receiving proper medical treatment. But it just wasn’t the same as being with them nearly 24/7.

Even Crosshair had reached out to you, which you hadn’t really expected. He wasn’t the most sentimental type so when a message popped up from his frequency you had honestly been surprised. You might be harbouring the galaxy's largest crush on the snarky sniper but you were fairly certain your feelings were not returned. Though it truthfully was hard to tell considering his outwardly expressed emotional range was rather limited. You knew there was a lot more going on inside of him than he let people think but it was easy to miss if you didn’t look close enough.

A part of you had hoped that after your ordeal the two of you might have grown a little closer, it had been Crosshair after all who had tended to your injury before fully carrying you down a mountain. But the message you had received from him had been a typical Crosshair quip. Are you still alive?

You had been so high on pain medication that you couldn’t remember much about the incident but you did remember Crosshair. You remembered the concern on his face, not the exact words but the reassuring way he had spoken to you, the way he had held you, stayed with you, and comforted you on The Marauder. You knew you had said things to him but for the life of you couldn’t remember what. You just hoped it hadn’t been anything too embarrassing or anything that might have jeopardized the tenuous friendship you seemed to have with him. You ached every time you thought of how surprisingly gentle his touch had been but it seemed that it had simply been the action of one teammate looking out for the other.

You put aside the thoughts of anything that may or may not be happening between you and Crosshair as you continued your journey around the bar looking for a place to sit. You stopped every once and a while to say hello to familiar clones and non-clones alike but still did your best to stay focused on your mission.

“Hey beautiful, do you need a seat?” A large, handsome Devronian male called out to you from a nearby table, halting you in place.

You felt your face flush slightly as he smiled at you, there was no denying he was handsome, and if you hadn’t been completely smitten with a certain emotionally constipated sharpshooter you might have even considered his offer but as it was you simply shook your head politely and continued on your search for a table.

Two laps around the place had you abandoning that mission, every booth was full already and you knew you weren’t about to convince anyone to give up their spot for you. That was a job for the Batch, they could clear a room like no one else, a skill that often came in handy on your nights out.

“Doc!” A familiar voice called suddenly. Your head whipped around towards the source, smiling brightly at the sight of Wrecker towering over everyone else in the bar, waving enthusiastically at you as he muscled his way through the crowd.

You met him halfway, laughing as he scooped you up into his arms, squeezing the air out of you with one of his signature hugs, “We missed ya Doc!”

“I’ve missed you too,” You replied once he had set you down and you had managed to catch your breath once more. Your heart was brimming with happiness at the sight of him, and the sight of his brothers as they pulled up alongside him.

“Good to see you Doc,” Hunter said with a small smile as he reached out to grasp your forearm gently.

Tech shouldered past his brother, cutting off the words you had been about to speak, “Yes, though this reunion is rather premature. Your medical records indicate you are still suffering from the injury to your ankle and would benefit from more time off to fully…”

“Good to see you too Tech,” You replied drily, cutting off his rambling speech. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that he had been accessing your medical records.

Hunter laughed as he clapped a hand on Tech’s shoulder, “What he means to say is that excited to see you too.”

“That is not-“ Tech protested as he looked between you and Hunter, “Not that I am not excited, I am, Doc is an integral part of our team…”

Whatever else Tech was saying was lost to the hum of 79’s as the one person you had been waiting to see the most finally stepped into view.

Crosshair looked the same as he always did, arms crossed over his chest, toothpick in his mouth as he shot a dry look at his brothers before his attention focused on you. Your heart kicked up a notch as you looked at him, you hadn’t realized just how much you had truly missed him until this moment.

The slow sweep of his gaze traveling over you felt like a physical touch, his eyes lingered over your chest, the curve of your waist, and hips for the barest hint of a moment before moving on. It made you feel molten inside.

He paused once he reached your feet, one eyebrow canting up minutely as he met your eyes once more, the barest hint of a smirk gracing his face.

“Sensible,” He snarked, his eyes flicking from your eyes down to your shoes. You had chosen a very comfortable pair of leather and cork sandals and while they were not the most stylish they were comfortable. And after nearly snapping your foot right off comfort was key.

You laughed, shaking your head in mock annoyance, “Oh stuff it Cross. I need the arch support!”

“Ok, Grandma,” He teased as your eyes tracked the toothpick in his mouth as it swapped from one side to the other. His dark eyes were shining with amusement, “Do we need to have you home to bed by a certain time too?”

“This is already past my bedtime so you should consider yourself lucky that I’m even here,” you teased right back, smiling brightly up at him.

He took a step towards you, crowding into your space. He was suddenly so close that you had to tilt your head up to maintain his gaze. You felt like a live wire in his proximity, your pulse raced in your veins. You felt his breath whisper against your skin as he spoke, his eyes sweeping over you once more, “Hmm, lucky me indeed.”

His dark eyes were swimming with something that made your heart pound against your ribs. If he kept looking at you like that you honestly felt like you might melt into a puddle of lovestruck goo on the floor.

“Are you two done?” Wrecker asked in his typical booming voice, causing the two of you to jump apart in surprise, “I want a drink!”

“Then go get one,” Crosshair snapped, glaring at his brother. He hadn’t moved away from you though, if anything he had only gotten closer as though to shield you from his brother and everyone else in the bar. You felt overheated as his hand gently brushed against the small of your back.

“I’ll have a Fuzzy Tauntaun,” You replied, tipping your head back to look at Wrecker. The rest of the Batch took your lead and gave Wrecker their drink orders, much to his disappointment.

“Awe man,” He grumbled, “I hate carrying drinks.”

“I will assist you,” Tech supplied, “The others can find us a table since Doc was unsuccessful.”

“It’s busy!” You protested as the two brothers headed off towards the bar, calling after them, “I tried my best!”

“You’re just not intimidating enough,” Crosshair said lowly, still closer than what was likely considered professional for two members of a squad, but you didn’t care. Having him this close to you was something right out of one of your fantasies.

You looked back up at him, a smile growing on your face, “Yeah, that’s your job.”

He let out a soft bark of laughter before he finally moved away from you. You frowned at his sudden absence but did your best to mask your disappointment. With a soft sigh, you followed after him and Hunter in their search for a table.

They were able to accomplish what you hadn’t in under five minutes, scaring a batch of shinies out of a table near the back wall of the bar. They preferred places where the lights and sounds of the dance floor weren’t so overwhelming and the shadows gave Hunter more of the anonymity he preferred and the perfect vantage point of everything going on that Crosshair liked.

“How have you been feeling, Doc?” Hunter asked as you slid into the booth after him. Crosshair slid in beside you, leaving very little space between the two of you as he settled. He casually leaned against the back of the booth, his arms spreading out along the back of the seat on either side of him, toothpick hanging out of his mouth like usual as his long legs stretched out beneath the table. He wasn’t technically touching you but it almost felt as if he was. You did your best to ignore the feeling of his long and lean body beside you as you looked over at Hunter who had settled himself in the curve of the booth leaving the other side open for Tech and Wrecker.

“Better. I can’t say that was the most fun I’ve ever had but it definitely could have been much worse,” at this proximity you didn’t miss the way Crosshair tensed slightly at your words but he relaxed once more before you could even so much as sneak a look at him.

“Well, we’re just glad to have you back,” Hunter replied with a nod, “Tech’s bedside manner really leaves something to be desired.”

You laughed at that but any further response you might have had was interrupted by Wrecker and Tech returning with your drinks in hand.

“Drinks!” Wrecker exclaimed happily as he set his handful of glasses down on the table, the contents sloshing about before he clambered into the booth.

Drink in hand you relaxed back against the booth as the boys began regaling you with everything you had missed while you had been away. You smiled and laughed as you listened to them, your heart warming in your chest. Being there with them it suddenly felt as if no time had passed at all. A sense of home washed over you as you sat with them. You had truly missed them so much.

Time easily slipped away as you all fell into your usual pattern of reminiscing and people-watching. There was always something entertaining going on at 79s, but thankfully it seemed the batch was intent on avoiding shenanigans tonight. The combination of alcohol and mild pain meds you were still on for your ankle made you feel pleasantly bubbly inside, laughter and smiles slipping from you easier than usual as you enjoyed the time with your squad. Though the presence of Crosshair at your side, leaning over every once and a while to whisper in your ear as he pointed out whatever ridiculous thing he had spotted going on in the bar, his hands casually brushing against you each time, might have also had something to do with the slight giddiness you were feeling.

As the night wore on Hunter had been tempted away from the table by a beautiful Twi’lek and Tech and Wrecker had gone to grab the third round of drinks for the night leaving just you and Crosshair left in the booth.

Suddenly feeling bold, likely the result of the two drinks you had had, you looked up at Crosshair, leaning into him just ever so slightly. Your voice came out huskier than you had intended when you spoke, “Did you miss me, Cross?”

He tilted his head to look down at you, one eyebrow raised. The same something as before was swimming in his eyes again making your pulse race. He didn’t say anything though, only made a soft humming noise before picking up his drink and taking another sip.

You frowned, a sudden wave of embarrassment rushing through you at your brazen question. He probably thought you were an idiot for asking such a thing. The relaxed feeling you had been feeling before was completely gone, your body tensing as you berated yourself internally.

Thankfully, Tech and Wrecker returning to the table gave you something else to focus on. You grabbed the drink placed in front of you, downing nearly half of it in a single go in an attempt to chase away the feelings that had suddenly rushed up inside of you. You could feel Crosshair’s eyes on the side of your face, but you steadily ignored his gaze, focusing on the story Tech was currently telling instead.

Crosshair suddenly leaned towards you, his mouth a breath away from your ear, “What’s-” he started but was cut off by the sound of a new voice at their table.

“Hey there handsome,” All four heads at the table shot up to look towards the source of a voice. A beautiful young Pantoran woman had appeared at Crosshair’s side, her gaze focused entirely on him, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You were no stranger to witnessing this type of thing, the boys were handsome and they garnered a lot of attention everywhere they went. It wasn’t even the first time you had watched Crosshair pick up company for the evening but suddenly the thought of being present for this was unbearable.

“Excuse me,” You said shortly, moving before the words were even fully out of your mouth. You heard Crosshair hiss as you accidentally kneed him as you climbed over him to escape the booth. You looked at the woman who was suddenly looking at you with interest, “You can have my spot if you want.”

And with that you fled from the table, beelining towards the opposite side of the bar where the washrooms were. Thankfully one of the few single occupant washrooms was open and you rushed into it, leaning back against the door with a sigh as you locked the door. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You weren’t sure why you were so upset. Well no, that wasn’t entirely true. You were upset because it seemed that what you had thought was just a silly crush on Crosshair had become something much deeper than that and having to potentially watch him leave with someone else was literally cleaving your heart in two. You shook your head as your eyes stung, trying to get rid of the emotions bubbling inside you with the motion.

“Get it together,” You whispered to yourself as you pushed yourself away from the door. The washroom was tiny, nothing more than a small box with a toilet and sink but you were thankful for the privacy as you turned on the sink, splashing your face with cool water. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment trying your best to school your features into something more neutral before you left the confines of the washroom.

A sudden knock on the door startled you and you turned off the sink, “Just a minute!” You called as you grabbed a towel to dry off your hands.

You gave your head one more shake and took another deep breath before you pulled open the door only to be met with a completely unexpected sight.

“Crosshair what-?” You started but weren’t able to get anything else out before he crowded into you, pushing you back into the bathroom and closing the door quickly behind him. The sound of the door locking behind him echoed around the room.

“What are you doing?” Your voice came out as a squeak as you looked up at Crosshair with wide eyes.

“You’re upset.” He stated matter of factly, his gaze was dark as it racked over you. You had always felt that Crosshair had a way of just knowing what you were thinking and feeling and this time was no different. Sometimes it annoyed you how observant he was.

You shook your head, not willing to admit the truth, “No I’m not. I think I’ve just had too much to drink. Pain meds and alcohol don’t really mix…”

“Stop lying,” Crosshair hissed, pressing in even closer to you. You hadn’t even realized you had backed up until your back hit the sink counter behind you. He had you cornered, with nowhere else to go. You knew that Crosshair would never hurt you, if you told him to back off he would in an instant. But you realized with a flush it wasn’t fear that was suddenly pooling in your stomach, it was desire.

“I’m not…” You replied but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Crosshair’s sharp eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything. His eyes dipped down towards your lips momentarily before they met your gaze once more. That same look of something that had been pooling in his eyes all evening was back.

His voice ghosted across your skin, sending a shiver through your body as he spoke, “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?” You asked the heat pooling in you was growing by the moment. He was so close and you wanted nothing more than to pull him closer. The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable.

“What you said to me that day, what I said to you,” His voice was barely above a rumble in his chest. Suddenly it clicked, he was talking about the day you had been injured.

“Cross, I don’t…” You started, shaking your head as your pulse raced beneath your skin. You had tried desperately to remember that day but the pain meds had made everything fuzzy.

“Hm,” He mused as he closed the final gap between you, the entire long length of him pressed up against your front. Your body felt as if was on fire at his proximity. He moved his hands to rest on the counter on either side of you, fully caging you in as his head dipped down towards your face. His voice was a purr as he spoke once more, “I can remind you if you want.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, you didn’t know where this was going but you desperately wanted to find out.

“You told me that I was your favourite,” He whispered as his hand came up to cup your jaw. A smirk bloomed on his face that made your heart pound even faster, “You told me I was sexy."

You felt your face flush slightly in embarrassment and a laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “How cringe of me,” You said before you bit your lip shyly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, “It is true though.”

Crosshair chuckled lowly as his hand slid down your neck, his thumb settled against your pulse point making you gasp softly at the touch. The two of you simply stared at one another for a long moment. You couldn’t quite believe that after months of longing, he was finally touching you. All of the nights you had spent imagining this very scenario didn’t even come close to the real thing.

Emboldened by his touch you tipped your head up, your noses nearly brushing together as you looked at him, “And what did you say to me?” You asked softly.

He moved impossibly closer, his knee parting your legs as his other hand moved to trace the curves of your body. Desire was throbbing through you with each touch.

“I said I would always stay with you,” He rumbled, “I meant it.”

You felt as though you were going to burst, every nerve ending lit up, oversensitive with every touch of his hand. You were completely lost beneath the weight of his words and his gaze. You had never felt a desire like this before.

His head tipped forward once more, his cheek grazing against your own, “Let me show you just how much I missed you, Sunshine,” He whispered, nipping lightly at your earlobe and sending shudders down your spine.

“Please, Cross,” You managed to squeak out. Your voice sounded desperate and needy but you found that you couldn’t care less as he pulled back slightly and his hand returned to your face once more. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze was liquid fire as it traced the lines of your face.

He was kissing you then and everything else around you faded away into nothing. There was only him. There had always only been him.

You were unable to stifle the soft groan that escaped you as his lips captured your own. He gently nipped at your lower lip before his tongue soothed over the spot. He only stayed there for a moment before his tongue was pressing through, tangling with your own. It was needy and demanding and everything you had ever dreamed of.

You separated with a breathy moan, your eyes still closed, head tipped back as he moved his mouth down the line of your neck. Kissing, licking, and nipping a trail down to your collarbone. Fire was racing up your spine as he ravished your skin. It was all at once too much and not enough.

“Crosshair,” You murmured as your hand reached up to his head, your fingers scraping through his short silver hair. You didn’t miss the way he shuddered at your touch. It filled you with a sense of power, to know he was just as affected by your touch as you were by his.

He placed one final kiss on your neck, sucking on your skin in a way you knew would leave a mark before he was moving again. His hands slid to the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter behind you with ease. You let out the tiniest squeak at the movement before he was settling in between your thighs. You could feel the way his codpiece was bulging against your core and you were desperate for more friction. You wrapped your legs around behind him, pulling him closer until there wasn’t any space left between you.

“This dress is dangerous, mesh'la,” He whispered as his hands once again trailed down your curves, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake, “Didn't you see how everyone was watching you? Most beautiful girl in the room.”

You moaned as he palmed your breast overtop of your dress, your breath coming out in ragged pants as you met his gaze, "I wore it just for you.”

He made a deep sound in his throat before he kissed you again, more urgent than before as your own hands bit into his shoulders. He didn’t stay there long though, your eyes widened as you watched him kneel on the ground in front of you. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he hooked his hands behind your knees, pulling you right to the edge of the counter.

“Crosshair,” You whispered again as his hands caressed your thighs, slowly making their way up and under the edge of your dress. He looked up at you, a smirk on his face, his dark eyes burning as his long, delicate fingers hooked around the edges of your panties. In one smooth motion, he had them off of you and in his hands. The look on his face was completely wicked as he stuffed them into one of the pouches on his utility belt.

“Cross,” You protested with a huff, that was one of your best pairs.

“What?” He asked before he bent his head to nip at the soft skin on the inside of your thigh, effectively rendering you speechless. His breath sent another shiver through you as he spoke again, “I want a souvenir.”

Any further reply you might have had was cut off as he reached up to hook one of your legs over his shoulder. The soft flesh of your thigh brushed against the sniper mount on his shoulder bell and you knew you were never going to be able to look at that thing the same way again. He kissed his way up the inside of your thigh, his mouth sending sparks up your spine. You were absolutely aching for him and you flushed slightly at the thought of him being able to see just how wet and ready you were for him.

You saw stars as his mouth pressed suddenly to your cunt, vision blackening around the edges as you were nearly overcome by the wave of sensation rushing through you. Tongue stroking your folds slowly, tortuously. You gasped, your white knuckle hold on the counter increasing as his tongue circled your clit, his hands biting into the flesh of your thighs as he pressed his face into you even further. You let out a soft cry, your head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut as his tongue breached your entrance. He groaned against you, his hold on you tightening even more, the sensation of it sending waves of pleasure through you. You were hurtling towards a release, all of the tension coiling in your belly as your chest heaved.

You hadn’t even noticed that one of his hands had moved, so caught up as you were in the feelings of his mouth on you, that you let out a soft yelp as two of his fingers pressed suddenly against your core. He moved his mouth back to your clit, tongue circling it as he pushed his fingers inside of you. You let out a string of curses, your walls clenching around his fingers as they crooked and found that spot inside of you that had you turning into a whimpering mess as he massaged it. You were so achingly close, months of longing suddenly coming to a boiling point as your body completely melted beneath his touch.

“Cross..” You whimpered as his tongue pressed hard against your clit, his fingers finding a smooth rhythm.

He pulled away just slightly, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.

You felt his voice against your skin more than you actually heard it, “Be a good girl. Cum for me.”

That’s all it took for the band inside of you to finally snap. You came with a shout, thighs squeezing around his head as you rode out the waves of your pleasure. It was better than anything you could have ever imagined. Your orgasm burned through you and every coherent thought left you as you drowned in the sensations coursing through your body.

You didn't even have a moment to catch your breath before he was moving again, the sound of armour clattering to the floor filled the room. You managed to focus your gaze on him once more, still flushed and overheated but your desire raged through you once more at the sight of him. He had removed his codpiece and you could see the outline of him straining against his blacks. You reached out for him, pulling him towards you again in a single motion with one hand while the other found the waistband of his blacks. He was hot and heavy against your hand as you finally freed him, his erection flushing prettily against his stomach as you stroked him once, twice. He let out a low growl in his throat, his entire body was taut, as though he was about to explode at any moment. Even as wound up as he was he still moved with the same lethal grace he always did, a snake waiting to strike. Before you could even comprehend it he had closed the distance between you. Your legs moved to wrap around him instinctually and you let out a soft cry at the feeling of the head of his cock pushing against your entrance.

“Stars, Cross,” You groaned as your hands clutched at his shoulders, your legs pinning his hips to you as he rubbed his erection through your soaking folds, “I want you so badly.”

He didn't require any further encouragement, the look on his face was completely ravenous as he entered you with a smooth thrust, stretching you and filling you so completely in a way you never had been before. You were completely unmoored, a whimpering mess in his arms as he gave you a moment to adjust to his size. Your gaze was hazy with desire as you met his own. He was all angles and sharp lines, brow furrowed in concentration but there was something soft lurking in his dark eyes that did more to you than anything else that night had. He kissed you then, swallowing your moan as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you.

You thought for a moment that you must have died, that it was all just a dream as his mouth moved down to your neck once more sucking on your skin as his hips picked up the pace. You could feel the bite of his armour against your skin with each thrust but if anything it only made you burn more. The pleasure was building inside you rapidly once more as he pulled himself almost all the way out before thrusting back into you roughly, the tip of his cock hitting you in that perfect place each time.

“Oh gods, Crosshair,” You panted as his pace increased, his hips rubbing against your clit deliciously with each thrust. His hand came up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back just slightly to give him better access to your throat as he sucked against your skin. You knew you were going to be covered in marks later but you couldn't find it in yourself to care as the heat in your body continued to build.

Suddenly he let go of you completely, pulling all the way out of you. You whimpered at the loss but before you could even comprehend what was happening he reached out and pulled you down from the counter, spinning you around to face the sink, his back pressed up against you. One hand was on your hip, holding you close, while the other slunk up between your breasts to rest at the base of your throat. In one smooth motion, he thrust back into you causing you to cry out at the feeling of being filled once more.

It was almost too much, at this angle, he was filling you so completely, hitting that spot deep inside you with each thrust. Your head tipped forward as you were overcome with the feeling of him, just trying to focus on meeting his thrusts as you rapidly approached another high. The hand that was on your hip was suddenly moving, pulling the hem of your dress up even higher.

“Look at me,” He hissed in your ear and you were unable to ignore his order. Your gaze met his in the mirror over the sink and if you had thought it was too much before it was nothing compared to this. The sight of the two of you flushed, joined together as you both chased your highs. It was beautiful and almost enough to have you tipping over the edge once more as he continued to pound mercilessly into you.

“Look how good you take my cock,” Crosshair grunted, his eyes trailing down in the mirror. You followed his gaze to where you could see where the two of you were joined, could see the way he was thrusting in and out of you, filling you so completely, “Such a pretty little thing. Like you were made just for me.”

“Cross-“ You groaned, you were so close it was agony.

“You’re going to watch yourself cum on my cock,” He whispered, nipping at where your neck and shoulder met as his hand moved to your clit. You moaned, your eyes once again following his directions, unable to disobey a direct order. You couldn't look away from where he was pistoning in and out of you. It was lewd and so sexy that you feel like you might combust from the sight alone.

“Who else can make you feel like this? Make you feel as good as I can?” He hissed, mouth against your ear as he maintained his brutal pace.

“No one Cross,” You cried. Your eyes were burning, overwhelmed by the emotions and sensations rushing through you, "Only you.”

“That’s right. You’re mine,” He hummed, breath ghosting against the shell of your ear before he nipped your neck once more, “Only mine.”

His thumb circled your clit once, twice and that’s all it took for you to shatter completely for a second time. Crying out his name as you came on his cock. Your head tipped back against him, eyes finally shutting as you got swept away by the ecstasy of your release. You felt weightless, the sensation of your high overwhelming you completely as you sagged against him. His strong hands kept you upright, biting into your flesh enough for you to know for certain that there would be marks left in their place tomorrow.

He groaned as you squeezed around him, walls clenching and pulling him deeper into you with each wave of pleasure. His thrusts became erratic before he came with a grunt, holding himself as deep as he could as he spilled himself inside of you.

You were both motionless for a long moment, breathing ragged as you came down from your highs. You had literally never felt like this before in your life. You couldn't help but smile softly at the idea that he had ruined you forever, in the best way possible.

Once your breathing had finally evened out somewhat his hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close again, pressing gentle kisses along your neck and shoulders, his tongue soothing your flushed skin. He pressed a final kiss to your cheek before he pulled away, slipping out of you.

You turned, bracing yourself against the counter, flushing slightly at the feeling of his release running down the inside of your thighs. You moaned softly, tipping your head back to shake your sweaty hair out of your eyes. Your legs felt like jelly and you had no idea how you were going to make it out of the bathroom without wobbling.

You lifted a hand to run through your hair, trying to tame it into something that looked less like you’d just been ravaged, as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you. You watched as he quickly wiped himself off before tucking himself back into his blacks. His gaze met yours and the smirk on his face had fire licking in your belly once more. You chuckled softly, shaking your head as he stooped to grab his discarded codpiece, snapping it back into place with a practiced motion.

You were distracted by the thought of just how truly kriffed you were, both literally and figuratively, and missed him moving about the room. Suddenly he was kneeling before you, cloth in hand as he diligently cleaned between your thighs. His touch was achingly gentle and when he looked up at you from his position on the floor there was something completely new swimming in the depths of his eyes. A look so soft that it had your heart pounding in your chest for a completely different reason. Kriffed.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he stood, disposing of the towel before he tugged your dress back into place, delicate hands smoothing out the wrinkles as best as possible. His touch left goosebumps on your skin and you couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you.

His eyes were still soft as he raised a brow at you, “You good?” He asked as his hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you into him once more.

“Mhmm” You nodded, “Great. Better than great actually.”

He smirked, amusement lighting up his eyes as he ducked his head to capture your lips with his own once more. Thankfully, he pulled away before you could get yourself too worked up again. You grumbled softly at the loss of contact but he didn’t go far, arms still caging you in as he looked down at you.

“I think it’s about time we get you home,” He purred, his eyes molten, “Considering it is past your bedtime after all.”

You laughed, pinching him in a gap between his armour teasingly before you sobered and looked up at him, “Alright, but I might need some help taking this dress off.”

His grin was almost feral before he leaned down to kiss you once more. His voice sent shivers down your spine as he pulled away, “I think I can manage that.”

He didn't give you another moment to respond before he laced his fingers in your own and started to pull you towards the door but you planted your feet, forcing him to turn back around to look at you.

His eyebrow was raised expectantly, eyes narrowed slightly as you spoke. Your heart was racing and you felt yourself flushing but you couldn’t let the moment pass without saying something.

“Crosshair, I really care about you. Like a lot,” it came out more awkward than you intended and you felt yourself flush further, “Just wanted to tell you when I’m not all doped up. Wanted to make sure you knew that you really are my favourite...”

He smirked but his eyes were swimming with emotion, his voice was rougher than you’d ever heard it before, “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now.”

You laughed, brimming with happiness at his words. You were beginning to think you still might end up as that lovestruck pile of goo on the floor before the night was over, “I think I can live with that.”

He chuckled softly before he pulled you out the door, back into the loud chaos of 79’s. Neither of you bothered saying goodnight to the rest of the boys on your way out. A part of you had a feeling they knew where you'd gone off to anyway. Crosshair tossed a smirk back at you over his shoulder as he pulled you through the crowd, the look in his eyes though was so soft and warm that it had your heart pounding in your chest. You’d been privy to this part of him a few times before but nothing quite like this and you were suddenly smiling at the thrill that ran up your spine at the thought. This was only just the beginning. You couldn’t help but think, as the cool night air brushed against your skin as you exited the bar, that it had been a perfect reunion indeed.

[taibhsearachd]

The number of people I have seen in the past week telling me "NaNo was put in November specifically to make it harder, because if you can't make it happen at the worst time of the year, are you even trying? The pressure helps! Real writers write even when things are stressful and they're busy!"

...maybe you should be able to participate in a thing that revolves around a community of people doing the same thing as you at the same time without having to be THE MOST HARDCORE at all times. Maybe real writers are also able to give themselves time off at parts of the year that are hard for them, and November is a particularly hard time to be productive for a lot of people. Maybe this should be accessible to people who are not able to push themselves that hard.

Just... there's an inherent ableism in this rhetoric defending NaNo and its choice of month that is so funny, given that NaNo as an organization is now calling people ableist for being opposed to *checks notes* using AI to write for you in a challenge that is about making word count for a thing you wrote yourself.

[eyesthatroll]

my love, mine all mine | quinn hughes

pairing: qh43 x fem!reader

warning(s): kissing, established relationship, nothing else i think. barely edited

summary: a lil somethin’ i wrote while listening to my love mine all mine by mitski

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: i am the most tired i have ever been right now and i have to get up in an hour or two for a ten hour shift 😔 but i hope you enjoy this lil number, it’s my first time writing for quinn n i hope i did alright. as usual, sending my love. go canucks! —mari

Yawning softly, you nestled yourself deeper into Quinn's warm embrace, allowing your eyelids to gently shut as you turned your back to the crackling fire. The animated conversation among the boys continued, the sound providing a soothing backdrop to the peaceful moment. Quinn's right hand moved in soothing circles on your back, while his other hand held onto a half-finished beer, the cool glass a stark contrast to the warmth you found in his arms.

During the sporadic lulls in the conversation, the mellowness of country music, Jack's choice, enveloped the space. The soulful chords of "Tennessee Whiskey" by Chris Stapleton, dominating the atmosphere. As you rested against Quinn's comforting presence, he quietly hummed along with the song, his voice adding a subtle layer to the music just low enough for only you to hear. Your fingers aimlessly toyed with the drawstring of his gray sweatpants, a futile effort to battle the creeping fatigue that had been amplified by the day's events. You were determined not to squander the night by retiring early, as the impending end of summer loomed overhead, casting a bittersweet shadow as it heralded the departure of everyone you loved, including your boyfriend of nine months.

Lowering his head, Quinn tenderly places a kiss on your forehead, his affectionate gesture infused with fondness and adoration. His hushed voice carries a gentle suggestion as he speaks to you, "Why don't you go up to bed, Baby-Doll?"

In response, you lightly shake your head, brushing aside his words. "I'm okay."

He doesn't press further, recognizing that your decision to head to bed will likely come only when he joins you. Nevertheless, he doesn't mind this compromise. Every moment in your embrace is precious to him, particularly with the imminent knowledge that in a week, he'll be heading back to Vancouver while you remain here. He keeps his inner turmoil hidden, unwilling to burden you with his feelings, but the strain of a long-distance relationship is slowly taking a toll. With your final year of university on the horizon, he hopes that you might consider moving to Vancouver with him, yet he's well aware of the magnitude of that request and the challenge it poses to both of you, so he's yet to bring it up.

Quinn spends the next twenty minutes or so caught in his head, his thoughts consumed by you and the possible future you might share. He absentmindedly nods at whatever topics the boys are discussing, their voices blending into a background hum as he drifts through his contemplations. In his mind, he envisions the two of you sharing a home, the two of you building a family together, and he can't help but smile at the idea, even if it remains unsaid in the midst of the casual banter.

"What do you think, Q?" Trevor asks, raising a beer to Quinn from across the flickering fire pit, where the warm glow dances in the darkness.

Quinn blinks, momentarily drawn from his reverie. "Huh?"

The group shares a collective chuckle, their laughter adding to the background melody of the evening. "Another beer, you want one?" Josh offers, extending a cold bottle towards Quinn.

A sudden hush fell over the group as they waited for his answer, emphasizing the gentle, rhythmic snores that escaped your lips. You looked utterly enchanting, cocooned in an old, oversized Michigan sweater of his, your delicate features half-hidden beneath your tousled curls. The dancing firelight painted your silhouette with warm, flickering hues, casting a soft, otherworldly glow around you.

In that poignant moment, as he looked down at you, all Quinn yearned for was to steal you away to your shared room. Just the two of you, wrapped in the comforting embrace of the warm duvet. He offered a tired smile. "No, actually, gonna call it for the night." The murmured words sounded like a gentle promise to both himself and the alluring vision before him.

You had always been a notoriously light sleeper, a trait Quinn found endearing. It was, therefore, a genuine surprise to him that you didn't stir the moment he scooped you into his arms and began carrying you into the house. However, as he carefully closed the screen door behind him, its echo resonated through the stillness of the house, and you stirred to consciousness. Blinking your eyes open, an expression of confusion graced your features as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Your voice, soft and laden with sleep, slipped through your lips. "Quinn?"

"Goin' to bed, Baby-Doll," Quinn replies simply, his gaze momentarily fixated on you before he turns his attention to the path ahead, ensuring a safe ascent up the stairs with you in his arms.

He gently sets you down on the bed, and you flop back dramatically, savoring the comforting embrace of the sheets against your back, releasing a contented moan. Quinn chuckles at your playful display, beginning to shed his day clothes. And as much as you admired his physique, you spring out of bed, heading towards the en-suite bathroom, your intention to quickly wash your face and brush your teeth.

Soft footsteps echo through the bathroom as Quinn follows you inside, his tall and muscular frame comfortably settled in nothing but his boxers. The intimate setting feels soothing, and he joins you at the sink, standing side by side as you begin to brush your teeth.

You sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye, and a playful glint in your eyes prompts you to initiate a playful toothpaste battle. Quinn's eyes widen as you start flicking tiny drops of toothpaste toward him, and he quickly retaliates, with laughter filling the room. Soon, both of you are playfully dueling with your toothbrushes, smirking and giggling like teenagers.

After the impromptu skirmish, Quinn doesn't put up any resistance when you give him your best puppy-dog eyes and plead for the privilege of conducting your nighttime skincare routine on him.

A comfortable silence envelops you both, the bathroom's soft lighting casting a warm, intimate glow. Perched on the bathroom counter, you have Quinn standing between your legs, your feet just barely wrapped around him. With gentle motions, you apply moisturizer to his flushed skin, your fingers caressing his cheeks with care.

Quinn's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes locked onto your face with an intensity that doesn't go unnoticed. As you work the moisturizer into his skin, you can't help but sense a subtle tension in his furrowed brows, a hint that something might be bothering him. You break the tranquil silence, your teeth grazing over your bottom lip, a nervous habit surfacing. "Are you okay?" You ask, your voice tender with concern, your eyes searching his for answers.

His response comes swiftly, as if he's been waiting for the right moment to share his thoughts. "You graduate this year," Quinn replies, his voice carrying a mixture of pride and a touch of uncertainty.

Your smile beams at him, and you gently place your hands on his strong shoulders, a gesture of reassurance. "I do," you affirm with a nod.

Quinn lets out a deep, contemplative breath, his hand instinctively moving up to run through his unruly, dark brown hair. His lips part and close a couple of times, as if he's grappling with the words he wants to convey, caught in a moment of indecision.

Your sudden, sweet kiss catches him off guard, his initial surprise giving way to a warm, affectionate response. Before he can fully process the gesture, you've already withdrawn, leaving a subtle, bashful grin dancing on your lips. "What's on your mind, My Love?"

He exhales another sigh, his tongue moistening his lower lip in contemplation before he voices his admittance. "I can't stand this long-distance thing."

Your lips contort into a pained frown, and an instinctive retreat pushes you further away from him, your back connecting with the mirror's cool surface. "Are you breaking up with me?" Your voice quivers at the fear of Quinn ending things so suddenly.

His eyes widen in alarm, a rapid motion closing the gap between you as he firmly grasps your waist, pulling you back into his comforting proximity. "No, no, baby, I'm not saying that at all." He emphasizes with a reassuring tone.

Relief floods your entire being, a soothing balm to your anxieties as the erratic thud of your heart settles back into its regular rhythm.

"What would you think about moving in with me, in Vancouver after you graduate?" His head tilts to the side, a distressed look on his face as tries to gage your reaction.

You crush your lips against his once more, the fervor of your kiss matching the intensity of your emotions. A delighted grin creeps across his face as your hands weave their way into his hair. Your mouths mold together in a harmonious dance, each movement executed in perfect synchronization. A subtle exploration ensues as you lightly trace your tongue across his bottom lip, coaxing it between your teeth, which elicits a throaty moan from him. With his defenses down, he grants you access, and your tongues engage in a sensual tango, his fingers pressing into your side involuntarily.

Breathlessly, you break apart from him. "I thought you'd never ask."

[rockyteriyaki]

i wasn’t quite able to finish my other halloween fic in time for the deadline, so i dragged out a carcar snippet and wrote a little bit for a tumblr fic! 1.5k words, guardian angel au 🪽 @motorsport-halloween

The first place they steer him after a race is the guardian angels tent.

It’s small, made of slippy plastic tarping and held up by thin aluminum, cheap like everything in F3. Water slides off the top and pours down the sides in a clear curtain. Today, there are more guardians than usual: a dense cube of feathers packed together to avoid the worsening storm. Probably because everyone and their mother was sliding around the track just now. Perilously.

Oscar stands on his tiptoes from his spot under an awning, trying to profile the crowd before running out in the downpour. He’s seen his angel exactly one time before- when he’d gotten into a particularly nasty collision and had to retire from a race. He remembers dark wings, dark eyebrows, dark eyes. An accented voice not that much older than his own.

“That was stupid. Do not- like that, you shouldn’t. Be smarter.”

Oscar had just stood there, gaping. Hadn’t closed his mouth until his angel had sort of huffed and turned away, back to the tent. The sparkling rip in the atmosphere was starting to stitch itself up, by then, swirling plastic cones into it like a vacuum. Saved by the bell. It hadn’t been until after he’d left that Oscar realized what he’d really wanted to say was fuck off.

Now, Oscar watches the rest of the grid flock to the tent, skittering in under the rain and finding their angels. He watches them idly recount their race stories to various levels of enthusiasm, subject themselves to pat-downs and wellness checks and lectures as needed. There’s genuine affection in their touches, especially in those whose drivers lost control of their cars or locked up in the rain. Who maybe got a little bit closer to the edge. When he gets to F1, this part won’t be televised, but it’ll be more thorough and more often. Because he’ll be closer to the edge, every single race.

But Oscar was pretty damn close today and his angel isn’t here, so. Maybe not.

Halfway through the F2 season, Oscar decides he officially hates his angel.

Whenever he feels his tires start to slip, whenever he clips the barrier or botches a turn, the adrenaline that rises in his throat is partially because he thinks that maybe his angel will have felt it. That he’ll be waiting for him under the tent or in the cooldown room, this time, and his dark eyes will be filled with something other than cool indifference. Like, a shred of concern for Oscar’s life, maybe. But he’s not, and he never is, and Oscar kind of really hates him.

The next time he sees him is in a bland conference room with Mark, his legal squadron and the team principal of Alpine who’s name Oscar can never remember. His black hair catches the shitty fluorescent-looking light of his halo and Oscar almost walks right back out.

“What is this,” he whispers to Mark. It’s not a hiss. “Why is he here.”

“I have to be here. To make sure your life is not ruined,” his angel says, at full volume. Oscar dislikes him so much.

“You are so—“ Oscar starts and doesn’t finish, which is a tactic he uses when he’d like to say something rude but shouldn’t. “Wait.” He turns to Mark. “Is my life about to be ruined?”

Mark inhales, reaching for his manila folder. The Alpine people wince. His angel waggles his incredibly thick eyebrows.

Oscar doesn’t sign with Alpine. He gets a text from an unknown number that says “See you should listen to me yes?” and he thinks about doing something crazy like throwing his phone against the wall. Instead, he shoves it under his sweatshirt and lets it rest against his stomach. It goes up and down as he breathes.

The issue is that his angel doesn’t leave.

Apparently he has to stick around until the ink is dry on Oscar’s contract, now that he’s waded into this whole mess. He has a little phone-like thing, sleek and rectangular, that lights up every once in awhile with indecipherable notifications about the state of Oscar’s life, or whatever. Oscar is 99% he has it on whatever the all-seeing equivalent of “do not disturb” is. He’s the worst.

“What’s his name again?” Oscar asks, around a mouthful of eggs.

“Carlos,” Mark says.

“Carlos,” Oscar seethes.

“You’re gonna have to nut up, mate,” Mark says. He sounds tired. “It’s standard procedure.”

Oscar wants to ask if it’s standard procedure to be concussed and have the doctors at the track refuse to take you to A&E without guardian angel signoff, and for that signoff to never arrive because your angel can’t be fucked, but he doesn’t.

Carlos is never around unless it’s to steer Oscar away from people and look smug. After the seventieth awkward handshake with the shadow of Carlos looming over his shoulder like an overgrown, disapproving hawk, he pulls him into a corner.

“Can you just tell me what I’m meant to do?”

“What do you mean,” Carlos says. It would have sounded sarcastic, if he hadn’t physically flopped his head to the side as he said it. Something evil settles around Oscar’s heart.

“My fate. My destiny, God’s plan, whatever the fuck, I just—I can do it myself. Please.” It comes out a little bit more desperate than he intends, but still north of begging, so he chalks it up as a point.

“No, I cannot,” Carlos says. “This is my job. Sorry,” he adds, because Oscar has the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes.

“Okay, so what if I—I dunno, disobey you?”

“Then you are making a big mistake,” Carlos says, so solemnly. His wings twitch a little bit, rising and flexing through his shoulder blades. Oscar swallows.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I can. This is my job,” Carlos repeats. His wings flare even further. The tips of the darker feathers almost block out the light, closing Oscar into the corner.

“I’ll sign with Alpine,” Oscar challenges. He doesn’t really want to do that, but there’s some kind of rabbity panic jumping around in his chest and making him stupid. “I could. They want me.”

“They don’t.” Carlos’ eyes are blazing the same neon as his halo. He could be seeing all possible futures right now, for all Oscar knows, and yet he still sounds like a moody toddler, shooting down everything Oscar says.

“I’ll show you the contract, mate, they definitely do.” Oscar is no better than him, apparently.

Except maybe he is, because Carlos steps forward until they’re practically chest-to-chest. All Oscar can see in his periphery are reflections of halo-light and Carlos’ heaving chest, his aquiline nose. “You don’t even—“

Somewhere, an alarm starts going off.

Carlos says something in Spanish, short and sharp. His eyes are wide. He fishes his angel-phone-thing out of his jeans. It’s angry red, flashing and beeping and buzzing all at once. An instinctive panic rockets through Oscar, far away from the warm anticipatory one from a few seconds ago.

“Isn’t that,” Oscar says. Clears his throat. “Um, is that bad?”

“Shit,” Carlos says in English. He does something weird, after that: like his whole body flickering, disappearing for a few milliseconds and then popping back in. “Shit. Oscar. We just—you just made a mistake.”

His accent makes it sound more deliberate. Mees-tek. “What? No, I didn’t.”

You’re not supposed to, like, try to kill your angel, but if Carlos thinks that’s what just happened then he’s even more delusional that Oscar had thought. Actually, it had been sort of exactly the opposite. Carlos had been so close, it was like—Oscar was worried he might—forget himself, or something. Try to do something crazy. Like grab Carlos’ hair and shove his head down and feel his nose against his throat.

Carlos shows him his phone screen. The text, in some archaic angel language, unscrambles before Oscar’s eyes. IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION REQUIRED, it says, scrolling across the top. Then, in bolded lettering in the middle: This message is for CARLOS SAINZ regarding OSCAR PIASTRI. Oscar’s eyes skip around the paragraph, can’t quite take any of it in. They’re not going to let Carlos leave. The angel system—fate, destiny, whatever—registered a god-tier fuckup on Oscar’s part, and they won’t let Carlos leave until he fixes it.

“What did you do?” Carlos asks, his voice annoyingly even as his phone wails and shakes in his hand. “Oscar, what did you do? Did you really sign with Alpine? You take it back and I will be gone, I promise.”

Oscar wants to say it’s just as much Carlos’ fault as it is his, but he can’t quite get the words out around the sudden, vicious longing to have Carlos squared up against him again, ready to fight, so he can watch it all drain out of him. He wants to take him apart, enact his revenge, put him back together again better and more tolerable than he was before.

MISTAKE, Carlos’ angel-cell cries. MISTAKE.

[leviscolwill]

sanctuary

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: after an eventful singapore gp, the only thing you can think of is your comfy bed but your body has another plan and your boyfriend isn't happy about that. [wc: 1,6k]

req: Ferrari driver reader x jude where she feels a bit dizzy after a race and kind of faints when they get at the hotel, like just fluff with him taking care of her + CAN YOU WRITE JUDE ANGST THEN FLUFF IDC ABT THE SCENARIO JS JUDE ANGST IN JUDE X DRIVER READER 🙏🙏

contents: established relationship, charles is reader's teammate, ferrari being good au (impossible ik), reader faints, jude is a worried bf, barely has angst ngl 🏃‍♀️, nothing else i think

note: i have no idea how to write about fainting and it probably shows. ALSO, i wrote most of this at 1am so i hope it makes sense (probably doesn't but we move😪)

now playing: sanctuary by joji (nectar)

usually you would say you absolutely loved singapore. the track was one of your favourites on the calendar and you practically counted down the days to this race. but this week was probably the most difficult of your entire career in motorsports. of course, marina bay had never been an easy race, and the weather conditions in singapore were only making it harder to handle. but this year, no number of ice bath and cold shower could appease the dizzying headache that plagued your weekend.

and to add to that, everyone at the team has been stressing you out about the championship. obviously, you were grateful that you could finally fight for one, ferrari had built the perfect car this season. but this came with a price, fighting against charles for the title. you were great friends with your teammate but you had to admit your relationship took a toll with the constant tension between the two of you throughout the season. anyone wearing a bright red kit kept reminding you that you needed to be careful on track, that if you crashed with anyone, but especially with charles, you'd be in great trouble.

thankfully your boyfriend joined you after qualifying, and made your weekend instantly better. he noticed something was wrong right away. of course, you told jude about your struggles but he didn't expect to find you in this state.

"maybe you shouldn't race tomorrow..?"

you took a glance at jude, laid down on the hotel room bed, to check if he actually meant what he just uttered only to find a very serious look on his face.

"yeah, i'll just call fred to tell him i'm feeling sick and don't care about the championship anymore, that's definitely the best choice i have." sarcasm dripped out of your words as jude rolled his eyes.

"just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you have to give me an attitude." it was your turn to roll your eyes. you quietly got under the sheets and muttered a barely audible 'goodnight', clearly not having the energy to argue with him tonight.

as you closed your eyes you felt jude turn around to wrap you in his arms around you.

"i'm just worried for my girl, that's all." he said, softly kissing your hair. you turned around to face him, having to trace his face before finding his lips because of the darkness of the room, and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

"i appreciate your concern, i really do. but this race is so much more important than a silly headache. i'll be okay." you kissed him again for good measure. "you're gonna have to trust me with this one."

"i always trust you." the two of you talked some more before falling asleep in each other's arms.

—

the only thing you could think of when you stepped out of your car was your bed. as expected the race had been particularly draining and truth be told, you didn't know if you would be able to stand on the podium in your state. you managed to score a satisfying p2, well it would have been more satisfying if charles wasn't standing on the highest step of the podium, with a 4-point difference before catching on you in the driver's standing.

when the whole team congratulated you on your results, it felt like you were in a fever dream, barely making out what was real and what wasn't. you didn't even notice jude talking to you before he snapped his fingers in front of you.

"are you okay ? should i take you to the medics ?" he asked in a worried tone.

"i'm alright... just need to get through the podium." which did not happen. you ran off stage as soon as the italian anthem stopped ringing in your ears. it was all too much, the heat, the noise, the exhaustion, the pressure. all too much to handle for you.

when you joined jude, he was already talking with your pr manager, telling her you wouldn't be able to do any media work right now. it was the truth, not a petty lie to get away with it. you genuinely felt even more lightheaded (if that was possible) at the sole thought of having to go through a dozen interviews.

seeing you barely standing straight must have conceived her, so soon enough you were on your way back to the hotel in a cab jude called.

you quietly laid your head on jude's shoulder. he barely said a word to you since the podium incident, only asking how you felt, if you drank enough water, and how many hours of sleep you had. you watched him as he typed things on his phone in total silence. you wondered if he was mad at you for putting yourself in such a situation or only worried. regardless, you felt a pang of sadness in your heart thinking about it before drifting off.

—

as soon as jude opened your hotel room's door, you felt your legs giving up on you, your hands found the wall to steady yourself. you could hear jude's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying, like you were underwater.

you tried making it to the bed, but you fell down on your knees and just propped your back against it, waiting a minute before getting up, to get your head to stop spinning uncontrollably.

"y/n. are you okay ?" you felt your boyfriend kneeling down next to you and could finally understand his words, but it felt like they were resonating in your brain, only worsening your headache.

"i'm fine, i'm fine... i just need a moment." you didn't want to worry jude more than he already was, although the weak tone of your voice alarmed him more than anything. you felt him shift around you, and caught a glimpse of him coming back from the bathroom before your eyes shut.

when you woke up, you were laid on the bed with a wet cloth on your forehead. and the first thing you saw was a wide-eyed jude handing you a glass of water.

"i thought about making you drink when you were... asleep? but i didn't want to drown you. so i waited for you to wake up." he was talking fast, too fast for you to fully understand his nonsense.

"hello to you too." your voice was still weak but you felt much better than at the race track. you quickly took a few sips of water before jude tried drowning you for good.

"what's that ?" you asked pointing at the cloth still laying on your face.

"some website said that's what you're supposed to do when your irresponsible girlfriend faints." you hid your face in your pillow at his accusatory words.

"no, but seriously y/n. do you have any idea of how worried i was ? imagine if something wrong happened. god, i knew i shouldn't have let you race..." his words had an angry tone to them and you were confused as to why jude was mad at you over hypothetical scenarios.

"but nothing wrong happened, i even got points. are you not proud of me ?"

"are you being serious right now ? you know i'm always proud of you, points or no points. but you think i'm gonna clap for you after putting yourself in danger like that ?" jude's tone got somewhat angrier but he kept going.

"fuck, when you fainted i already saw myself explaining everything to your mum. you can't take those risks, especially when you drive a fast car for a living. you can understand that right ?"

you felt tears well up in your eyes at his words, thinking about how worried he must have been this whole time.

"i'm sorry, it's just... i've been thinking about the championship a lot. i guess that clouded my judgment." you wiped away your tears quickly, before jude could notice them but it was too late.

"hey, hey, hey... you shouldn't be saying sorry to me, you probably spent a worse weekend than i did anyway. i'm not mad at you but at the situation, alright ?" his fingers stroke the wet spots under your eyes, wiping what was left of your tears away. "i'm proud of you, and happy for your points. but you're not winning a championship by making your dangerous job even more dangerous." his voice and his eyes were soft and you felt your chest get significantly warmer.

"you're right..." the room got silent for a couple seconds at your words.

"what was that ? i couldn't hear you babe" jude had a shit-eating grin on his face and you knew exactly what he wanted, and it almost made you physically sick to give him this satisfaction.

"i said... you'reright." you tried getting those terrible words out as fast as you could, but he wasn't happy with that.

"mmh mmh, that won't do... say it nice and loud for me love." you felt your face heat up, both in fluster and embarrassment at his words.

"you're right." your words had a defeated tone to them, but jude decided that would be enough by the way he didn't taunt you anymore.

he moved and got under the covers with you, even though you were gonna have to get up again as you were both still dressed. he just wanted to share this little moment of peace with you.

"you know, it's crazy how you drive the fastest car in the world but can't survive singapore's heat for a weekend." you playfully elbowed jude's ribs at his teasing.

you were grateful to have someone like jude to support you and your intense lifestyle, but also someone to talk about silly little things, legs tangled under the sheets.