#seriously I’ll defend her with my life

[gamerbearmira]

I am president of the Alma fan club

Looking 4 members

We have free snacks, canon and AU drawings and t-shirts

[cetoddle]

some people are truly just miserable like. it snowed last night so everyone has been tracking in i would guess 5,000 pounds of sand and rocks with them when they enter the building maybe more and it’s just been so exhausting to deal with all night especially considering management refuses to hire an actual floor tech and my vacuum doesn’t work 75% of the time (which they also refuse to do anything about <3). anyways i finally got the back entrance vacuumed and was mopping up all the mud and dried dust on the tile when this absolute cunt of a woman comes in and, while smiling and maintaining eye contact with me, stomps as hard as she can all over my nice clean floor and walks away

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter three. boobs and beers

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 4.7k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, mention of a panic attack, boobies lol, uhmmmmm shopping as a fat girl, Scarlett should be her own warning, daddy issues, mentions of alcoholism.

authors note ⇢ heyyyyy….. im sick and i am soooo fatigued but i wanted to release this, i’ve been spoiling the kildare nights readers and i needed to give fearless some attention. sorry for any mistakes queens, love you guys! gimme ur thoughts!!

“Why are we here?” You ask as he plops down onto the seat across from you at the mall food court. He slides over a cup of fro-yo at you. A frown falls to your lip when you take a peek in it. “You get plain fro-yo?”

His eyebrows furrow, shrugging. “Yeah?”

You scoff in pure disbelief as you glance into his own cup. Plain chocolate. “That’s… like… a crime.”

Getting up off your cold metal seat, you pick his cup as well and walk back into the frozen yogurt shop. The cute worker behind the register has a bored expression on her face until she spots you. A bright smile falls onto your face, as does hers, as you meet each other. “Heather.”

“Gorgeous!” She squeals happily as you walk over to the register with the tall guy trailing after you, watching the two of you curiously.

“My friend here, he doesn’t know the art of fro-yo. Is there any way we can add some toppings? Promise I’ll pay for every cent.” You ask her sweetly. The red head nods happily, ushering you to go on in.

You can feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you walk over to the toppings station. A wave of embarrassment flushes through you as you realize something. This makes you look fat. You are. You are a big girl but you try and hide it. With big sweaters, baggy jeans, eating small portions when out— not showing others that you come to the fro-yo place so often that the cashier knows you by name.

“My dad and I come here all the time.” You don’t mean for your words to sound so defensive but it’s what you’ve had to do most of your life. Defend yourself. “It’s the one thing he can afford.”

His eyebrows furrow, head tilting gently. You realize he’s not one for many words but his looks say a lot. He’s curious about you. And confused. “Isn’t your dad rich?”

You take a quick peek at him and feel a weight lift off your shoulders when you see his eyes have moved to scour the toppings. “Anthony isn’t my dad.”

He nods, ahh-ing. “Right, he’s your step-dad. What about your real father?”

You shrug lamely, not really wanting to talk about him. “Nothing. We just like fro-yo. Are you seriously putting Graham crackers in your fro-yo?” You ask, eyes wide and with a glint of disgust at his choice.

His eyes squint with annoyance as he looks up at you. “What’s wrong with Graham crackers?”

“Everything.” You reach over the toppings and scoop up a spoonful of gummy bears. “Graham crackers are like… green peppers on your pizza.”

This gets a reaction out of him. “You don’t like green peppers on your pizza?”

You scoff out a laugh, “I don’t know how we’re gonna get along with all these differences between us.” Your tone is playful as you speak this. You reach over and grab a few maraschino cherries and plop them on your fro-yo.

“Now that, I can get behind.” He scoops up the cherries and loads them into his cup. He’s scooping up Oreo crumbles beside you as you take him in. There’s a slight stubble growing on his jaw, a green baseball cap on top of his head. He's a lot more laidback than you’ve ever seen. He's usually in khakis and polo shirts. Today, he’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie, with thick sneakers that you’re sure cost a fortune.

“You know,” you speak up after a moment, his eyes turning to you. You can’t make eye contact, eyes looking everywhere but his eyes. “We’re twins.”

“What?”

You point to his clothing and yours. You’re wearing baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie. “We’re dressed alike.” The two of you are done and back at the register, weighing your cups for the price. Heather begins ringing you two up and you’re about to swipe your credit card when he beats you to it. “I had that.”

But he ignores you as the payment goes through and Heather wishes you two a good day. “First things first,” you’re walking down the mall side by side, eating your fro-yo. “You need to stop dressing like me.”

“Hey, this is comfortable.” You defend yourself.

“Comfortable won’t get you anywhere. You have to show some cleavage every now and then.”

This offends you, a scoff leaving your mouth. You’re glaring up at him but he doesn’t seem to care, eyes moving to and fro, checking the mall out. “Why do I need to do that?”

“Real talk?” He asks you, eyeing you as if trying to see if you’ll get offended or not.

You take a deep breath in and nod. “You look like a little boy.”

You should be offended. But you can’t. Instead, a laugh bubbles out of you and you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “N-no, no I don’t.” But you don’t believe your own words. You sigh, eating another spoonful of fro-yo. “Okay thine.” If your mother were here you’d be getting a scold for talking with your mouth full.

Rafe simply rolls his eyes at the sight and hands you a napkin which you happily take. You chew on your cold gummy bears for a moment before speaking again. “Fine. I’m guessing that’s why we’re here?” You look around the mall with a soft and annoyed huff. “Where to first, sensei?”

You can see he’s visibly holding back a smile when he says— “Victoria Secret.”

The store is unbelievably pink. But your eyes flicker about the store and the mannequins with a sparkle to your eyes. You’d never stepped foot in this place unless Scarlett was at your side. Nothing about you ever felt sexy and she came here to feel sexy. So you never found your footing in the store. And now, with Rafe at your side, you feel even worse. Surface level, you only see undergarments for skinny people. Smaller people. And the idea of not finding anything and Rafe watching you get shut down makes you dread the rest of your day.

“Never seen someone look at mannequin boobs and frown.” You’re brought out of your painstakingly insecure thoughts at the sound of Rafe’s voice. You peek up at him and are surprised to see a softer look to him. Well, as soft as Rafe Cameron can get. “Seriously, it’s just bra shopping. And pantie shopping. I thought girls went crazy for this shit.”

“Okay, misogyny.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. To anyone else, it would look like a natural pose but you’re hiding your chest, as if that would stop this from happening. “I’m just… shouldn’t I do something else before shopping?” You hope he understands what you mean.

But he doesn’t. He shakes his head, “nah.” His nonchalant response sends a twinge of annoyance through you, biting down on the inside of your cheek. He starts making his way into the store, too much interest in his face when you call out to him.

“Seriously, Rafe, I’m too big for this.” This stops him in his steps turning to you with a look on his face that you can’t decipher. Not that you ever can, Rafe Cameron is an incredibly hard person to read.

“There’s a plus-size section.” Are his words and you feel a wave of heat come over you. Your mouth twitches as you try to hide the shame you’re feeling. But it seems you and Rafe don’t have that in common— you wear your feelings on your face.

“Look before we… I should probably, I don’t know… lose some weight.” Is your response to him, eyes refusing to meet him at all.

He sighs loudly, and you sneak a glance at him to see him rubbing the inner corner of his eyes with what you think is annoyance. And this only worsens your intense feelings of insecurity. And he speaks, “you don’t need to lose weight to be hot, ___. You’ve got a stunning body, you just have to know how to work it.”

Your eyes widen as they meet him for the first time in a while. And oddly enough, you can see he’s telling the truth. You wanted to see a lie on his face. You wanted to be proved right and know that he’s just as disgusted by you as all the boys in your school. But you can’t find it. “Now, are you gonna keep fishing for compliments or are we gonna find a bra that makes your boobs pop?”

You bust out laughing at this, covering your face with your hands in a shy manner. “Fine, but you have to promise to never repeat the word Boobs to me. Like, ever again.”

“How about breasts?”

“Gross.”

—

One of the kind ladies in the shop finds a few pieces for you that fit well. Surprisingly, you have a good time. The lady is unbelievably kind and finds you matching sets. And you come to realize you’ve never had a positive female shopping experience.

Most of your shopping was done with Scarlett and your mother at your side. And they seemed to be the unstoppable duo that knew just how to put you down. Your mother would grab at your stomach when you tried on a shirt that didn’t fit quite right. “This is where you need to focus,” she’d point at the spots that she felt needed to be fixed. “Next time you’re at the gym, focus on this. Talk to my personal trainer, he’s there all the time.” You went to the gym the next day. Apparently, she had spoken to her trainer and he grabbed you in the same way your mother did. You never went back again.

Scarlett. She’d make it a competition. If you found a top that made your eyes crinkle with the thought of wearing it proudly, she’d find the smallest size there was and try it on. Once you’d see her walk out with a top you were carrying on your arm, you’d set it down. She puts you to shame every single time.

So, now that you’re in a new shop, wearing a new push-up bra that fits like a perfect corset for your chest, you feel anxious. Beyond anxious. There are people everywhere. Chats coming from every single direction. But the last thing you need is to have a panic attack in front of Rafe. You barely know the guy.

“Okay… so what now?” You ask, clearing your throat to push away the bad memories of the store.

“Now, we shop.”

It takes an hour. A long hour to walk throughout the store and have him pick out outfits for you. Having him know your size was absolutely terrifying. But he didn’t bat an eye as you told him and he jumped right into it. Every now and then, he’d find an ugly shirt and hold it up to you and he’d mutter a joke. Jonah would love this one, is his go to. And before you know it, you’re no longer on the verge of a breakdown.

You’re in the dressing room and for the first time in your life, you don’t worry about how you look. Or how the jeans fit you a little too snug around your hips. You don’t feel panic at the thought of trying clothes on in the stuffy dressing room.

You come out in the first outfit and Rafe immediately busts out laughing. The green jeans are ridiculously long and the top is a corset top with blue hand-drawn flowers on them and ridiculously large bows at the shoulder straps. You knew it was a joke outfit but it was nice to mess around.

You jokingly strut, pretending the room is a runway. “Keep it in your pants.” You laugh as you give him a spin and this only makes him laugh some more. You feel a sense of pride for making Rafe Cameron laugh. Sarah’s text flashes through your mind. A man who hasn’t smiled in years. And yet, he’s holding onto his side as you strike another odd pose.

“Alright, alright,” his smile is pretty, you notice. And contagious, unable to hide your own as you listen to him. “We need to get serious.” But he’s still chuckling. “Try on a real outfit this time.” So you do. He likes them all. A few shirts ride up over your belly a bit too much and some jeans don’t fit over your thighs but you leave the store with eight new outfits.

Usually, you leave with hurt feelings and nothing but.

You two are on the ferry back home when your day together is over. It’s a forty minute wade back but neither of you seem to care. He’s sipping his Big Gulp drink and watching as you try and balance the water bottle lid on your nose.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.” There’s a tinge of amusement to his tone.

Your head is thrown slightly back as you keep trying but it’s to no avail, it keeps toppling over. With a huff, you pick the cap up and shove it into your pocket. “It’s a trick my dad usually pulls. It’s better with a quarter though.”

Avoiding the topic of your father is a skill you take pride in. Your mother always turns into a sobbing mess when you bring him up. Your step-dad isn’t ever really home and when he is, it’s awkward. The only person you could share him with was Scarlett. That was the one topic she never snarked at you over. Not to your face, at least.

“Can I ask?” You turn to him, criss cross on the bench that you two are sitting on, wind blowing your hair. You tuck a strand, nodding. “Where is your dad?”

“The cut.” You answer honestly. Your mother hides him from her new rich friends. She hides her past from all of her new rich friends. Her story isn’t as compelling as Ward Cameron’s. He built his way up. Your mother caught the attention of an older man and married him. She’s ashamed about it.

This seems to shock him but he’s not Rafe Cameron if he doesn’t try and hide it. “And you’re close?”

You shrug, turning to the cloudy sky. It’s easier to talk about hard things when you don’t have to look at anyone, you find. “We’re… we definitely have a relationship. But… it’s hard to build on it when my mother doesn’t know I’m talking to him.”

You can feel his eyes on you, mouth slightly parted as he takes your words in but you can’t turn to him. “She forbids you from seeing him?”

You hum a small ‘mhm’. “He’s a stain in her perfect life.”

“Not in yours?”

“He’s a…” you pause, searching for the proper words. “An escape. Like… in Coraline. The door. He’s my door to a… less suffocating world. Without the buttons, of course. And alcoholism.” You try to joke. He doesn’t find it funny, the look on his features softened and taking you and your words in. Letting them settle. “He’s not perfect. I get why my mom left him. Why she wanted better. He’s a drunk who can’t keep a steady job. When we go out, I buy us dinner. He couldn’t take care of my mom or me so…”

“So she found the next best thing.” He finishes off for you. You turn to him at this, nodding as your hair keeps blowing in the wind. You don’t feel exposed in the way you do when speaking of your father to anyone. Rafe’s not judging you or figuring out how to use it against you. His eyes are sincere. Face stoic, but his eyes are sincere. You hate eye contact but if it means getting a better grasp of Rafe, you’d never look away. And you don’t.

“What about you?” You ask with sincerity. “I heard the rumors. The Cameron men butting heads.” You admit sheepishly.

He sighs, turning away. It’s his turn to look away while speaking of the hard stuff in his life. He lays back on the bench seat, long legs stretched out and kicked back up on the rail. “Well… you know… fathers…” it doesn’t take much to see he doesn’t want to speak of it.

Instead, you nod, a small and sad laugh leaving you. “Yeah… fathers.”

The ferry stops at the port a while later after thirty minutes of talking about your classes to him. He’s dropping you off at home, bags of clothes at hand. “By the way, we’re going to a party tonight.” And he drives off, leaving you stumped.

—

—

Debut one of your new outfits. What the fuck does that mean? You can’t picture yourself going to a party in clothes that aren’t your comfortable ones. Your comfort hoodie and sweats are what you spend most of your time in when out of school.

Getting ready without a friend is depressing. Usually, you’d have Scarlett at your side fluffing up your hair and helping with your makeup. Not that you wore it often but on the rare occasions that you needed to go to an event with your family, she was by your side. And it was during those moments that her honest side shined the brightest. She was careful with you. Honest but not brutal.

You shake your head to get yourself to stop thinking about her. You don’t want to be affected. You don’t want her to have this much of a hold over you. You need to stop loving her.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Anthony’s voice is heard as you make your way to the door. You freeze in your step, not wanting to see him. Your mother had gone on a so-called spiritual retreat in Puerto Rico without telling you so now, you were under Anthony’s care. But he didn’t have kids of his own and you came to him when you were twelve years old, he never had to take care of you.

You turn in your spot, a stiff smile on your face. “Uhm… nothing. Just… going out… to watch a movie…”

He gives you a bore expression, hand in a bag of chips. “You don’t put on a mini-skirt to watch a movie. You’re going to a party, aren’t you? God, you’re a baby, you shouldn’t be wearing that.”

You scoff, “bye, Anthony.” You open up the door and slam it as he’s telling you to be careful.

Rafe’s truck is in your driveway and he’s standing out of it, leaning up against the hood. His eyes are closed and he’s bopping his head gently, singing a quiet song. The sound of your shoes hitting the gravel of the driveway catches his attention, eyes immediately opening and on you.

Your smile is shy as you hold your arms out, showcasing your outfit. It’s a black mini skirt matched with a simple black and low cut top, a leather jacket over it. Simple. But extravagant for you. “So… how do I look?” You really, really want to know.

His eyes are taking you in. Starting from the shoes you picked out, to your thick thighs, your hips, your waist, your chest (which you’re proudly wearing your push-up he bought you), your neck. And he settles on your face. Done up in makeup, hair let loose in its natural form. He gets up off the hood of his car and walks up to you. “You look…” he pauses, eyes flickering across your face again. He's lost in thought, eyebrows furrowed slightly, tongue lightly ghosting his dry lips. You nervously put your weight on your other foot, and this awakens him. “Fine. You look fine.”

“Oh.” You didn’t expect much. But you also didn’t expect very little. “I mean… like, if Jonah were to see me do you think he’d be… starstruck and completely in love.”

This gets something out of him, a small snort of a laugh. “Give a girl a push up bra and she thinks she’s a goddess.”

“Hey!” You laugh with disbelief as you walk after him, the two of you making your way to his truck. “You told me I need to be more confident!” He opens the passenger door with no qualms and helps you in. He closes your side of the door and hops into the driver's seat. “Okay, so what’s the game plan?” You ask as he starts driving out of your driveway, hand stretched behind your seat and looking back for any other cars.

“The game plan is,” he turns the wheel, the veins in his arms popping slightly but you have to force yourself to look away and straight at the road as he starts driving off. “Act nonchalant. People are going to notice the style change but you’re going to ignore it. If they ask, you simply wanted to try something new. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“So… if they compliment me, I… ignore it?”

“You’re hopeless. No, I mean, accept the compliments but brush off other comments.”

“Okay, I’m confused.”

He huffs and before you know it, the two of you are bickering. Back and forth. What he means. What you mean. It’s almost hard to remember that just last week you two weren’t even in the same world. Now, you’re in his truck, wearing the new clothes he bought you and bickering.

The walk into the party is nerve-wracking and all you can think of is how your thick thighs are in the wind. Which means you’re much colder than usual you’re not used to being cold outside, always so wrapped up in your warm clothes. You stop at the patio of the raging house, looking up at Rafe. “So… this is where we part ways?”

This visibly confuses him. “What? Why would we part ways?”

You shrug, “I don’t know… I didn’t come to parties often but the few events I went with Heather… we would part ways.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid. I’m here with you.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I’m not being a dick.”

“That’s you being a dick. I’m not stupid for—“

“I’m not calling you stupid, god.”

“You’re here!” A loud squeal pulls you out of your mini argument with Rafe. Your eyes meet a pair of familiar brown ones. Sarah rushes to you immediately and practically jumps into your arms. You laugh happily as you hug her right back.

“I’m here!”

She pulls away from you with a small pour. She’s drunk. Kiara comes out from behind her, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Guess who else is here?” Sarah’s voice is loud as the four of you walk into the home which is blasting with music.

“Who?”

“Scarlett.” This makes your blood run cold. That little piece of confidence that you carried vanished. You weren’t feeling yourself anymore. She’d see you in your new outfit and would make fun of you.

“We’ve got your back.” Kiara’s arm wraps around your shoulders as you walk side by side. “You won’t have to deal with her alone.”

“By the way, you look so damn good!” Sarah squeals as you all make your way into the kitchen where Kie grabs a few beers and tosses one each to the group. Rafe catches his beer easily and when he notices the slight panic in your face, he catches yours next, opening it quickly for you. You take the beer mindlessly, listening to Sarah drunkenly babble. Kiara’s entertaining her, laughing when she says something she shouldn’t say far too loudly. And you find yourself enjoying it.

You always dreaded parties. When a kid went around inviting everyone, they’d stop with you and Scarlett but only invite her. They would barely spare a glance at you. And at the time, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You’d rather be at home and cuddled up in bed with your cat, binge watching a show. But this… you like this. You like that Kiara and Sarah are bringing you into the conversation even when you’ve been quiet for minutes. You like that Rafe’s by your side like a scary guard dog. Well, you don’t really like that part so much. People are staring. They aren’t used to the Rafe Cameron not having a baddie on his arm.

Kiara and Sarah are in the middle of dancing a silly dance in the kitchen when you turn to Rafe. “No ones even noticing me.”

He snorts out a scoff of a laugh. “I’ve caught like eight guys since we came in, looking at your boobs.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not anyone noticing me. That’s them noticing my girls. And second, I told you not to say boobs to me.”

“Boobs. Boobs. Boobs. Boobs.”

“God, shut up. You’re gross. There’s no need to— stop!” Back to your bickering, a laugh leaving you when he just won’t quit it.

You’re both in a comfortable space when a shrill of a voice cuts you two off.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Time stands still for a second at the sound of Scarlett’s voice. You and your new friends immediately turn to look at her. And your eyes widen. You’re wearing the same skirt. A laugh bubbles out of Sarah and Rafe’s big hand covers her mouth to shut her up

“You know what I’m wearing.” You retort with a roll of your eyes. Heather angrily puts her red solo cup down, stomping closer to you.

“Do you know how embarrassing this is? You need to change!”

Kiara laughs at this. “Girl, get over yourself. It’s a skirt.”

Scarlett is very clearly exasperated. And upset. It’s weird seeing her so put off. Your eyes don’t leave her as she keeps throwing her tantrum. “It doesn’t even look good on you! You’re… you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Rafe is watching with an amused look to his face. He hadn’t seen the fight, only a few clips that were taken last minute. But he’d never seen them go head to head. And you know he’s been dying to. Rafe is many things but dramatically inclined was not one you had added to your list until recently.

You're about to answer. You’re about to fight back. You wouldn’t let her embarrass you in front of your new friends. Loud gasps and yells erupt when a drunk splashes onto Heather. “Dumb bitch!” It’s Sarah. She threw beer right at Heather’s face which is now dripping down to her clothes.

Scarlett, quick on her feet, grabs her own cup and tosses it. On you. You gasp for air as it falls in your nose. “What the fuck, Scar?! I didn’t do shit?!”

“For not fighting your own fucking battles!” She yells, so angry that her face is red. Which you’re sure is from embarrassment as well. “You’re weak! Always have been and always will be!”

Kiara gets in between the two of you, “back the fuck up.” She hisses. “She’s with us now.”

Scarlett laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. She looks behind Kiara and glares harshly at you. “Hanging with the pogues? Seriously? This is a new level of trashy. Even for you.”

“Alright, alright,” it’s rafe now that grabs your arm and starts dragging you away. “You guys are very dramatic.” He tells you as he takes to the other side of the house in the living room.

But you’re frowning. It’s hard not to be upset. And you’re dripping with beer. “My outfit…” you pull your arm from his, stopping. In turn, this stops him and he turns to look down at your sad figure. “It’s ruined…”

He’s quiet. And you’re about to tell him it’s time to call it a night. His hand grabs your chin, making you look up at him. There’s a look of determination on his face, which shocks you greatly. “You’re not giving up. I’m gonna make sure Jonah sees you for the hot piece of ass you are, alright?”

His words send a hot flush through your body. You hate how shy you get when he’s nice. Or when he’s trying to be nice. Even during his kind moments, he’s abrasive. But you’re learning to take him as he is.

“Now, push those boobs up and be confident.”

“Stop saying boobs!”

—

taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 @acidfeens @congratsloserr @murdockcastleslut @cl4uus @clairesblouse @ange111 @daddydraco0

[disneyprincemuke]

best dress * fem!driver

when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver

warnings: none

notes: i may have gotten carried away with this one… and this might have played out a LOT funnier in my head than it does written down

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> the aftermath

she pushes the door open and steps out of her racing home. she looks left and right cautiously, careful not to catch her colleagues’ attentions. there’s many nights she’d appreciate their companionship but tonight is not that night.

she can only step one down before her worst nightmare comes to life.

“hey, where are you going?” she turns her head, mouth agape as she meets lando’s curious eyes. his eyes scan her body and his head tilts. “and why are you all dressed up?”

she straightens her body and pats her dress down. she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air.

“um,” she trails off, glancing at the group of engineers walking past them without another thought. “i’m going out tonight.”

lando’s smile drops. “oh,” he slouches, “i was here to ask you if you wanted to grab drinks with us at the bar tonight.”

“hey lando, did you f- what are you wearing?” oscar’s jaw drops, nose scrunched up as he points at her in what can only be described as disgust. “where are you even going?”

“out,” she answers with gritted teeth, glancing at the gantries of the paddocks. it’s so close yet so far away. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’ve really got to go.”

“but you never turn down post-quali drinks at the bar,” lando frowns. he presses his palm against his chest and throws his head back. “i can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

oscar looks her up and down, eyebrow raising as it gets to the heels she’s put on. “why are you wearing heels? seriously, where the hell are you going?”

“exploring the city!”

“exploring the c– we’re here year after year. we know the best spots!” lando defends. “come on! we’re going to have so much fun!”

“you’re exploring the city in heels?”

she narrows her eyes down into a mean glare. of course this is the one time that oscar decides to remember she doesn’t wear high heels for exploration purposes. “yeah.”

“you know you want to come with us.” lando shimmies his shoulders, face hopeful that the driver would change her mind. but she still shakes her head and his smile immediately drops. “fine. be that way.”

“i’m sorry, i already arranged my plans even before we flew to miami,” she laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “if you guys are going out tomorrow, i’m free to join.”

lando intertwines his fingers. “okay. but if you cancel again, i’m crashing into you the next race.”

“okay,” she chuckles, readjusting the strap of her purse. “i’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

oscar rolls his eyes, but a smile still stretches his lips. “don’t get lost. it’s a big city, (y/n).”

“yeah, penelope’s doing amazing,” max nods, his arm resting on the back of lando’s chair. one of his legs over the other, he takes a swig of his beer. “she just started school recently.”

“oh, i s-“

“hold up!” lando holds his arm out to max’s chest, his scream startling everyone seated around the table. the light from his phone illuminates his face as everyone turns to him with a puzzled stare. “oh, my god!”

“what?” max answers just as enthusiastically, smacking lando’s thigh to get his attention. lando lifts the phone up into his face, squinting as he tries to make out the person in the picture.

“yeah, don’t cut me off,” george scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. “i was just asking if-“

“(y/n)’s out on a date!” lando yells, smacking max’s chest. he pushes himself off the chair and throws the phone into george’s lap. “dude, i knew it! i knew there was a reason she’s all dressed up!”

“seriously!” george screams towards his fellow brit.

“a date?” oscar scoffs, in absolute disbelief that his best friend could even have the ability to attract a man. “there’s no way.”

max grins sheepishly, handing the phone over to the australian. “i’m afraid so. someone saw her in a restaurant with a guy,” max states, “it’s all over instagram.”

oscar snorts, slowly analysing the grainy picture of the girl in a restaurant with somebody. sure, it’s similar to the dress she wore when they caught her sneaking out of the paddocks, but how sure can they be that it’s her?

“we should go and find her!” max suggests, his face lighting up and cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. he jumps in his seat and smacks george’s thigh lightly. “dude, let’s find her!”

“are you crazy?” george grabs max’s hand and throws it back at his body. “her date’s none of our business!”

though, lando disagrees with his friend. he clasps his hands together with a loud sound. “let’s go, gentlemen. we’re crashing (y/n)’s date.”

but only max stands up, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. “i’m ready. i’ve got my brave face on.”

“you look absolutely ridiculous,” george raises an eyebrow, “i don’t believe you used to scare off victoria’s suitors when you were younger.”

“me neither, but it somehow worked,” max nods proudly, turning slightly to look at george. “come on! this is practice for when it’s penelope’s turn! i have to make it believable this time.”

“you’re so drunk, mate,” george sighs. yet he still gets off his seat. “but i kinda want to see this with my own eyes.”

lando turns to oscar, still planted in his seat. lando doesn’t get to say a word before oscar starts shaking his head vigorously.

lando slouches. “why not?”

“i absolutely don’t believe that (y/n) is strong enough to take me in a normal fight,” oscar shakes his head, “but i’ve learned my lesson squeezing myself into a scenario that involves her dating life.”

george tilts his head. “what?”

oscar looks up, eyes scanning the three older men towering over him. “she gave me a really bad bruise one time when i scared off this guy that hit on her in the mall.”

“so?” max yanks oscar off his seat. “i’ll protect you. come on, i’ve got to see who’s sweeping (y/n) off her feet.”

“okay, but remember to tell her i tried to stop you,” oscar mutters, letting max push him towards the door.

after many dms sent on instagram, phone calls made, and struggles to find a taxi, the four have finally arrived at the restaurant. it’s a quiet establishment in the further end of the city, heads turning as passersby recognise the huddled men by the entrance.

“are you sure it’s this one?” oscar looks up at the sign. it’s a lot fancier than he expected. “doesn’t really seem like (y/n)’s gig.”

“if i were taking the grid’s princess out on a date, i’d take her to a fancy restaurant too,” max shrugs, following oscar’s stare.

the amount of time it took them to connect the puzzle pieces really sobered him up.

george taps his foot on the ground, craning his neck for a better look through the window. “are you sure it’s here? i don’t see her.”

“the girl that posted it said she was here when snapped the picture,” lando confirms, looking between his phone screen and the sign of the restaurant. “what if (y/n) tricked us knowing we’d come running?”

once the server comes back out, guiding them to their table, each of them does their own part to pick the girl from the crowd.

“i don’t see her,” max sighs, taking one last look at the restaurant’s tables and picking up the menu. “there’s no way we ditched the bar for a wild goose chase.”

“because she’s in the far corner over there,” oscar says nonchalantly, head flicking towards the other end of the restaurant where it’s slightly darker than normal. “i noticed her when we were outside the restaurant.”

george slowly turns his head to oscar. “while we were busting our asses looking for her?”

oscar shrugs, eyes boring into the menu for a snack to fill himself with. “i told you — i’m not getting another bruise for meddling with her love life.”

“nice! there’s a table closer to her!” max suddenly says, already on his feet to follow the waiter. he turns around and beckons his friends to follow him. “come on!”

they keep their heads low as the face of the familiar girl comes into sight. oscar even covers with his face with the menu, having learned his lesson from all those years ago.

they’re a table diagonal from her, menus up to cover their faces from her. “dude, who is she with?”

“i don’t know, i can’t get a look at his face without revealing mine,” george mutters, peeking slightly above his menu. he darts back down and rolls his eyes. “max, your turn.”

“don’t make it look obvious,” lando mutters, nudging max’s elbow with his. “look like you’re looking for a waiter.”

max swiftly turns in his seat, completely twisting his torso to get a look. but the man is faced away, the driver comfortably sitting in the booth seat as she giggles at something he said.

“dude, i can’t,” max shrugs, shying away behind his menu once more.

to the table next to them, a menu drops and reveals sebastian. “what are you idiots doing here?”

george’s jaw drops, pointing a finger at the older man. “we could ask you the same.”

“we saw her getting in a random ass car outside the paddocks.” the other menu across sebastian lowers, revealing logan with his hood covering his head. “we followed her here.”

“so you know who she’s with?” max asks in a hushed whisper, leaning towards their table. he looks down at the empty table. “you haven’t ordered anything?”

“it took us a while to get a table,” logan shrugs, pulling his hood further down to cover his face. “food’s in the kitchen.”

“oh, what did you get?” max asks, now looking back at the menu for something to order.

“mate!” george scolds, rolling his eyes before facing the other table. “who is she with?”

“according to blythe, it’s jacob elordi,” sebastian says, then shrugs with the roll of his eyes. “whoever that is.”

“oh, i’ve heard of him,” max nods, pressing his lips together. “he was in euphoria, wasn’t he?”

the table falls silent, heads turning to look at the dutchman as his confession falls from his lips. max notices their stares and he simply shrugs. “kelly and i like to watch shows over the break.”

“still not a show i expected you to be watching,” lando scoffs, turning slightly to get a glimpse of the girl once more. “isn’t he a bit too old for her?”

max straightens up, stiffly turning to look at lando. his head tilts as an unimpressed expression lands on his face. “dude. easy on the age gap.”

“yours doesn’t count,” lando sighs, “she’s practically a baby!”

oscar clicks his tongue. “but i mean… jacob elordi isn’t ugly, yes? an upgrade from her only boyfriend, right, max?”

max shrugs. “i guess.”

sebastian nods towards the table, his eyes suddenly widening at the empty booth seat. “where did she go? did she ditch him?”

“no, she caught you.” a low feminine voice makes all their heads turn to the end of the table. she looks down and pulls the hood off of logan’s head and shoves him forward slightly. “why are you here? you’re better than this!”

logan shrugs, chuckling slightly. “you were being secretive! i was just curious!”

“this is the last time i’m going on a date from the paddocks,” she grunts, stomping her heel into the ground. “go home, you guys! we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

sebastian hisses as the waiter stops behind her, dishes resting on top of the tray in his hands. “we already got some food.”

she narrows her eyes down, locking eyes with max. “you’re here too?”

max nods. “i suggested this,” his eyes go around the table, “team bonding activity.”

“i just wanted to see what would happen,” george admits. he points at max seated opposite him, “he said he wanted to scare off whoever your date is.”

“it’s true, i heard him say it,” lando nods, a small and guilty smile flashes at her. “we were just concerned about you.”

sebastian grabs her wrist gently, shaking her arm. “don’t be mad anymore. come on…”

“and you!” she points a finger at the australian sitting quietly between logan and george. his head snaps up at the yelp, wide and guilty eyes meeting hers. “i told you to stop meddling with my love life!”

“what?” oscar screams back, dropping his menu. “i was dragged here against my will!”

“i don’t believe you!”

“max!” oscar looks at max, then points at the furious girl as he awaits his explanation.

max stares at him for a second too long, and a giggle erupts from his throat. “right! right… we forced him here. he did not want another bruise, he said.”

“good,” she scolds, turning on her heel. “we’re leaving.”

“but we just got here!” lando squeaks. he cowers into his seat when she turns back around to glare at him, giving him flashbacks to a time when his mother would use it on him. “i mean, enjoy your time and don’t get too tired. it’s race day tomorrow.”

oscar doesn’t bother looking at her again. “see you tomorrow, loser.”

“where are you going?” george asks, a mischevious grin on his face to challenge her. “back to the hotel for some fun time?”

“a walk,” she sighs, dropping her head. she leans on the table. “my heels are killing me.”

“oh, i’ve got you,” sebastian mutters, disappearing underneath the table. out of his bag is a pair of doll shoes, the ones that she keeps in the garage when her time in the race car is over. “i saw these lying around aimlessly and thought i should keep them for you before it gets too dirty.”

she glares at him, hesitantly taking the shoes into her hand. “you took these from my room, didn’t you?”

sebastian shrugs. “you don’t wear heels very often, kid.”

“give me recommendations for date places,” logan smiles. “maybe next time i’ll have a girl out here with me. like you with jacob elordi.”

her mood changes back to what it was before: a mixture of irritation and not one of amusement. “i will kill you guys tomorrow. my date is waiting for me outside.”

oscar waves her towards the door. “i trust you’ll text logan and i about this later.”

“hey, i want in!” lando adds on, completely ignoring the girl walking away to the door.

“dude, this is seriously none of our business.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife

[justasecretflower]

🥀Hello, I saw you’re eyeless Jack Dating before he was sacrificed. If you wouldn’t mind could you do Toby Rogers- before He went coo coo for cocoa puffs and Slenderman basically stole him. 😭😂 Please and thank you hope you have a good day. 🤍

I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM🤍

🥀- Dating Ticci Toby! Before he became a proxy!

~fluff, set before the accident:)

I won’t be able to post everyday, sadly. Since I’m starting school I’m also gonna start cooking club, national honour society then tennis:(. But please keep requesting I will not stop posting completely:).

____________________________________________

- you noticed Toby’s golden heart at first, how much he got bullied, everything in his life, yet he remained to have a soft expression.

- At first, he thought you were pranking him when you gave him the note, your cheeks flush. But when he looked at the note and thought it was a prank he didn’t miss the hurt on your face.

________________________________________

Toby’s dark hazel eyes scan the note, some tics jerking his neck and making him restart reading the note. Thinking it’s some sick joke, as if anyone like you would like anyone like him, his eyes narrow and he practically spits at you. “L- Let me guess. T-this was a sick joke w-wasn’t it?” He says seriously, his tics making him stutter a bit but his tone remained hurt, aggravated, and angry, all of the bullying he received callousing his heart and making him firmly believe that no one would even spare him a second glance. Your eyes fill with hurt and your stomach plunges from rejection, a little embarrassed and let down your voice shakes. “No it’s not. I really like you.” Toby softened a bit at your tone but then hardened again “you don’t know me.” You were fed up. Can’t he see you actually like him for him? “But I want to.” Toby’s mouth shuts and he shoves his hands in his pockets of his black hoodie and nods. “I’ll have my sister pick you up so we can go to the movies or something Friday..” he says reluctantly, still a little convinced that you wouldn’t ever like him.

_________________________________________

- his sister, Lyra, was absolutely glowing when you entered the car, sticking her hand out almost immediately and smiling widely, no one had taken her brother out before, not even giving him respect. So she was over the moon.

- you talked with Lyra a bit, and then turned your attention towards Toby, who was looking at you with softest, most affectionate filled earthy green eyes ever. Sparkling gently. It was like he lit up when he finally realised you were serious, not only serious but getting along with his sister.

- during the movie, you tried very very slowly to grab his hand. He immediately tensed and gasped a tiny bit. But only 20 minutes later he reached out, first with his pinky and then his whole, shaky, scarred hand.

- when you intertwined your fingers, Toby was convinced he never felt more happy, he didn’t even watch the rest of the movie, he was focused on you.

-how your features glowed in the dim light, how you smiled during a happy moment, or gently did your [enter your nervous fidget.] when a tense part came up.

____________________________________________

-when he’s tired of everything going on in his house he’ll bike ride or walk over to your house and taps on the window just to hold you.

- he’ll pull your waist in with his arms and bury his face in your shoulder. Gently kissing it sweetly mumbling “my y/n”

-genuinely wants to cry of happy tears whenever you defend him from bullies.

- finger tip kisses.

-while you two are sitting across from each other in somewhere public, or holding each other in the quiet night, he lifts your intertwined hands, frees your hand and gently kisses your fingertips.

-he can’t really buy you any gifts but he certainly makes you tiny doodles on sticky notes to put in your locker or room.

- his eyes got misty when you first told him you loved him.

-you got him a gold heart locket with your picture in it and yourself one with his picture. He never takes it off and kisses it whenever he misses you.

-late night talks on the rooftop, stargazing, after he ran to your house again in the middle of the night.

-You’re his angel; his light, the love of his life. He can’t stop the thoughts of running away with you whenever he looks at your pretty smile or hears your heavenly laugh.

- “My sweet y/n” “my y/n” “Angel”

-your first kiss is when you two were stargazing, the sweetest, most affectionate kiss ever. Putting your foreheads together first, lacing your fingers, then finally meeting for a soft kiss.

-he runs to you if he sees you in the hallways.

-so, in theory…Toby..💪

____________________________________________

Thanks for reading! I love all of your requests btw🤍.

Tags

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

[leclucklerc]

Something Immortal CL16 - 02. Bad Idea

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Y/n Wayne knows that this is a bad idea. But well, going against the law is something that runs in the Wayne Family.

Word Count: 4.4K

Previous Masterlist Next

“Is B really going to buy an F1 team?”

Y/n looked up from the plate of dessert in front of her towards where Jason was sitting. The both of them are in the VIP lounge of the Monaco GP, waiting for the race to start before being ushered towards the Ferrari garage.

“What makes you say that?”

Jason gave her a pointed look. “I’m not dumb,” he said. “I can see a business talk even if it’s miles away.” At this, he pointed towards the paddock that could be seen from the windows in front of them.

They could see a glimpse of Bruce, laughing and talking with people with different team kits. Y/n recognized most of them as the team principals or even the management team from different F1 teams.

“Y/n, seriously, I don’t have time to become a driver,” said Jason. “And I’ll probably suck at it, most of these guys had been racing since they were in diapers.”

“Still,” defended the woman, fully aware that Jason’s argument was fairly logical. “You don’t have to be a driver, but I think being around Formula One, something that you’re passionate about, can help you, Jason.”

He doesn’t have to be a driver if he doesn’t want to. Hell, truthfully, if Jason really puts his foot down and strictly declares that no, buying a whole Formula One team is not going to help him, then y/n and Bruce will stop. The both of them will leave this silly idea behind and never look back once more.

But she had seen him. How his eyes followed every garage that they passed in rapid attention. How he attentively listened to what John had said about Ferrari’s Formula One team, how he had watched the free practice and qualifying alone the days before.

It’s been a while. Maybe the last time she saw him being this passionate about something was before his death. To see Jason looking forward to something, to see his brother actually enjoy doing something outside of his crime-fighting activities.

“I-“

“Jay,” she said again, reaching out to hold the older man’s hand. “I- I know we’re not the best family. B is not the best father and the rest of us have not been the best siblings but still I-“ she stopped at that, eyes searching for Jason’s own. 

Years of guilt appeared inside of her. Years of missing memories between the two of them. Years full of regret and anger that had soured their relationship beyond words. 

Y/n, only wants what is best for her brother. “I still want you to be happy,” she said, blue eyes with a hint of green meeting hers. “I want to see you laughing again, be integrated into society, and live your dream-!”

Jason looks lost and y/n is really glad that this section of the VIP lounge was reserved for them.

Because the man in front of her looks so fucking vulnerable. 

She still remembers that time when Jason just returned to Gotham. All Lazarus green eyes and rage oozing out of his form. How he had practically attacked Tim, taunting the rest of them, and begged their father to choose him over that clown.

Y/n also remembers the emptiness that appeared in his eyes when they informed him that the Joker was dead.

It was one of the most terrifying moments of her life. Because Jason had it made his mission to kill that clown. To avenge the fallen Robin that had remained unavenged. To finally end the reign of terror that the prince of clowns had put upon Gotham City.

To know that he’s dead?

Well.

There are just so so many things left unsaid between the two of them. Too much pain and history that had happened between the two of them. To see, Jason who had always raged and raged looking this lost is-

“I’ve been wondering-“ said Jason, leaning forward. “Ever since that clown died, I’ve been wondering what the fuck I should do with my life-“

It’s a familiar conversation. Something that Jason had told her months ago under the darkness of the night. When there are only the two of them on top of his safehouse rooftop, sharing a stick of cigarettes to fight off the cold.

Y/n leaned forward, touching their shoulder together. It’s something that they often did before Ethiopia all those years ago. When Jason was nothing but a short and skinny kid that’s not too far off y/n own size. 

It’s been years since Ethiopia and a lot of things have changed.

“Have you decided, Jay?” she asked, eyes closing and head leaning towards his shoulder. “Whatever you want, you know that we will support you.”

Jason was silent for a bit.

The female too, sat there in silence, giving the older male a chance to think it through.

“I still want to be Red Hood,” he whispered, far too low for anyone to hear except y/n. “I still want to make Crime Alley a better place for people to live in.”

Y/n has to fight off a smile at that. Such a typical answer for a bat. Such a typical answer for the son of Bruce Wayne.

“Yeah?” she said. 

Jason hummed. “But I also want to live my life.”

A smile appeared on y/n face. She can feel the excited thrumming of her heart as she continues to listen.

“Oh?” she asked. “And that is?”

“Going to university, getting an English degree,” at this, he stopped. “And living the dream F1 fan life ‘cause my family owned a fucking team here.”

Y/n laughed at that; happiness clear on her face.

Bruce got the honor to wave the checkered flag that marks the end of the Monaco GP.

Her dad looks pleased, but she also knows that inside of that large smile and laugh, her dad simply doesn’t care. This business trip to Monaco had been a risky move after all, if it’s not for Jason’s happiness, y/n doesn’t think her dad would even consider going on this business trip.

In the end, when her dad was handed the checkered flag, the man put the flag into Jason’s hand.

“Do you want to do it, Jay?”

Jason blinked. “Huh?”

“Waving the flag,” answered her dad, letting out a smile. “Instead of me, my son can do it, right?” asked Bruce, turning his head towards where the president of FIA and the chairman of Ferrari stood.

“Of course, of course!” Said Ben, the president of FIA. “It would be an honor for us!”

“But they literally asked for you” answered Jason.

Her dad merely laughed at that. “They said you can do it, son.”

Jason may look like as if he wants to protest, but y/n knows that the man is far too excited at the prospect of waving the checkered flag at the Monaco GP. He may grumble and curse her dad a few times, but he really can’t hide the happiness that’s shining through his eyes at the mere thought of it.

The older man too, seemed to notice his son’s excitement as he let out an indulgent smile as he watched her brother being escorted to his position.

“Jason looks happy,” she said. “It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

“I know,” murmured her dad. There was silence between the two of them before her dad leaned forward towards her a bit. “I saw you earlier.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “What?”

“I saw you flirting with one of the drivers,” replied her dad. “The Ferrari one.”

Ah, she thought. He was referring to Charles. “It was an act, Dad,” she simply said. “You know, like your Brucie Wayne persona? I just think that it will do us some good if we’re on a friendly term with the paddock.”

Her dad stared at her. “There are better ways to do that, like chatting with the FIA president, for instance,” replied the man as he turned his gaze toward where Ben and John were talking with Jason near the track. “I don’t think flirting with a driver will really help our cause.”

Y/n shrugged, “He’s cute, what can I say?”

“Y/n.”

“What?” she hissed out. “I have to watch you flirt with Selina the entirety of my life, let me flirt with cute boys for a change!”

“You know it’s different,” pointed out her dad, leaning closer towards her. “Don’t associate with anyone outside of the masked community.”

The woman rolled her eyes at that.

She knows that the older man has a point. She knows that he’s doing this in order to protect all of them. Not only his hidden identity, but the rest of the family and possibly the rest of the Justice League. Bruce has always put a tight leash on all of his children regarding the interaction and the social circle that they all kept. Most of the time, the man didn’t have to worry considering most of his children worked inside the masked community, resulting in most of their friends being another superhero.

But y/n?

Despite her close association and frequent presence in their nightly activity, she sometimes thinks that her dad forgets that she’s not a vigilante or a hero. Yes, she knows all of their secret identity, yes, she often assisted her brothers on their not-so-legal work.

Outside of all of that, y/n is a civilian. She’s just a normal doctor who’s not saving the world during her past time. She’s a normal woman that’s working in a perfectly legal job.

Friends are hard to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world. Friends are harder to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world who is also hiding the fact that he’s the dark knight himself.

“I know,” she hissed out. “It’s a persona dad, I doubt we’ll talk again.”

Her dad gave her a look as if he didn’t believe in that.

And well.

Um.

Charles won the Monaco GP. The first Monegasque driver to do so in the last 93 years. Jason had failed to hide his excitement as he waved the checkered flag.

Her family was there, right in front of the podium as they watched the Ferrari drivers and the McLaren driver celebrating the win that they acquired. Y/n was standing there, smiling politely as she watched the champagne shower that was happening in front of them.

It was also then, that their eyes met.

She was not sure if Charles was looking at her or at someone near her, but the man’s already wide smile had gotten wider as he locked his eyes with her. And it was also then, that Charles sent her a wink.

Huh.

Okay.

Oookay.

I’ll meet you later, he seems to mouth off, a bit quickly, before he continues the champagne shower with the rest of the drivers.

So much for not talking with him anymore.

“Hi, stranger.”

Y/n can’t help the quirk of her mouth at that greeting.

The woman turned her gaze towards the source of the voice, eyes immediately falling towards where Charles Leclerc stood next to her. There’s a smile on his lips, hair tousled and green eyes twinkling.

“Hello,” she greeted back, raising her glass of champagne. “Drink?”

Charles chuckled. “I had enough champagne for the day,” replied the male as he took a seat next to her.

She can’t help but laugh at that. “I mean, you won today,” answered the female, putting down the glass of champagne on top of the table in front of them. “How does it feel to be a Monaco GP race winner? And did you actually drink the champagne that’s being sprayed earlier?” Being sprayed with a bottle of champagne sure is an experience, it seems. 

“Amazing,” he breathed out, inching closer to her. “I guess a change of mindset is the only thing needed to break the curse.”

“I told you,” said the female, amusement dripping on her tone. “Guess I did become a really lucky girl today.”

“I hope so,” answered Charles. “I did remember your words throughout the race.”

“Oh? You did?” teased y/n. “Seeing Charles Leclerc win the Monaco GP live and being constantly on his mind? What a lucky girl I am.”

Charles let out a laugh at that.

The dinner party around them is buzzing with blaring music and drunken chatter. The event itself was hosted by WE and the FIA. A collaboration work between the two entity that marks the beginning of WE’s involvement in the motorsport industry. It was the reason why her dad – a reclusive who hardly leaves Gotham if he can help it – needed to do a business trip in Monaco.

And of course, for the simple reason of buying Jason an F1 team. 

Not that y/n is complaining. She had wanted to visit Monaco forever and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. Watching a Formula 1 race live is a bonus that she will never miss out on.

The dinner party that they hosted was the formal event that they made for the winners of the race. Though, it seems most of the drivers are in attendance. No doubt advised by each of their respective team to gain the elusive Wayne sponsorship.

She knows that the news of Bruce Wayne wanting to buy an F1 team or become a major sponsor had already made its rounds. Even the bigger teams who don’t really need more money came in order to make some kind of connection with Wayne Enterprise.

Truthfully, this dinner party made her nervous a bit. After all, it’s not like she attended a party outside of Gotham.

But still, Charles’s sudden presence helped ease up her nervousness for a bit.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Charles, eyes flickering around the room.

“Ah, Jason is not feeling well,” replied the female. “He decided to stay in our hotel.” Which is a blatant lie. Y/n knows that Jason brought his Red Hood gear all the way here. He’s probably prowling the streets of Monaco, searching for that gang boss who made him join this business trip to Monaco initially.

Charles hummed at that, taking a seat next to her.

“I heard you helped orchestrate this whole dinner party,” started the man.

Y/n laughed at that. “Orchestrating is a big word, considering me and my family just throw some money at the event organizer.”

“Still, I really like the red accents, it was as if you already know that Ferrari is going to win today’s race,” said the male as he gestured towards the red flower as well as the red napkins on top of the tables.

The woman grinned cheekily at that. “Who said I don’t? Maybe I have the power to see the future?”

Charles raised his eyebrows at that, amusement clear in his eyes. “Oh?” he prompted out, leaning forward. “Can you see my future then?”

Y/n hummed, mouth closing in a wide smile as she too, leaned forward. Both of their face are really close to each other. “Hm…” she let out. “I think… You’re going to be really drunk tonight.”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling. “It’s given,” he said, grinning.

“Really?” she said, sounding amused. “Do you want me to see further into your future?”

“You can?” asked Charles, with a tilt of his head, mouth still grinning. “What a fearsome power that you have.”

The female giggled. “I think I can see…” she whispered. “A future world champion here.”

Now, Charles is full-blown laughing, the glass of champagne that he had been holding now forgotten as he lets the amusement to envelop his very being. 

“Seriously,” he said the first part in French before he switched back to English, “You really know how to appease someone.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” said Charles. “You better be careful, or I’ll think that you’ve been flirting with me.”

It’s a bold thing to say, especially to Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

She knows that she’s one of the most desirable women in the marriage market, considering her looks and her family. Many people had attempted to flirt with her, to trap her with their honeyed words and kind gestures. 

But still, it’s been a while since there’s someone this bold.

“Well, I’ve been flirting with you,” replied y/n instead. “It would be embarrassing if you thought otherwise.”

Yeah, the moment she uttered those words, she knew that this was a bad choice to make.

Because at that moment, she could see the sparkle of interest in Charles’s eyes. The light that suddenly shone behind those green orbs as the man leaned forward toward her. Y/n could faintly smell the cologne that he wore, a masculine one that reminded her of her dad for a bit.

“Oh?” he said, mouth quirking up and eyes crinkling. “I’ve been flirting with you too, if you haven’t noticed.”

Okay, this isn't good. She needs to stop this before they go further and ignite her dad’s anger. 

“I see,” answered y/n with a smile. “Anyway Mr. Future World Champion, I think your team principal is looking for you-“

It was the perfect excuse because she really did have seen Fred wandering around the room in search of his driver. However, whatever she was going to say stopped immediately when a hand reached out to grab her wrist. She immediately looked down, staring at Charles’ palm.

“Hey,” said the male, grinning. “Wanna go somewhere fun?”

She should say no.

Y/n can already imagine her father’s disappointed sigh and the loud protest from her brothers. She can already see her doing the walk of shame tomorrow, with Jason silently judging her. It would be stupid of her to say yes because there are just so many consequences waiting for her if she took up that offer.

There’s literally no reason for her to say yes to someone that she barely knows.

But well-

Charles looked at her with those bright green eyes of his, the corner crinkling up from how wide his smile was. There’s something about his expression – so transparent, so genuine, something that she rarely saw in Gotham – that tickled her heart at the right place.

Maybe it’s the dimpled smile, maybe she was simply swept up by the moment.

But the next thing that she knew was-

“Yes,” she answered.

The smile that Charles let out can ignite the room.

The music is loud. Louder than what she used to.

There’s a huge misconception of her back in Gotham. Due to her father’s public persona, as well as her brother’s less-than-idle nature, the media had portrayed her as a party girl once upon a time.

But really, this is the first time for her to be in a club.

Clubs are not that common to start with in Gotham. Due to the high crime rate, and the many many dangers, clubs scarcely exist in the city. Galas though? Galas happens almost every week. Due to that, y/n only ever attended galas and galas.

So this, this is a new experience for her.

She could see the throngs of people around her, dancing and laughing, fully immersed in the music around them. There’s something about the air that just made everyone highly excited as if there’s no tomorrow.

It didn’t take long for her to be swept up by the atmosphere too.

 “So, how are you enjoying the night?” Yelled Charles as the two of them laughed and danced in the middle of the dance club. Y/n was glad that she had opted for a short dress because really, the ball gowns that she used to wear for galas will be sticking out like a sore thumb in this kind of scene.

 “It’s been fantastic!” answered the woman, amidst the loud music. Her mouth is a bit aching from how wide she’s been grinning but that really can’t dampen her mood. “It’s not my usual scene, but I guess a change of environment is not that bad.”

“Oh? Gotham doesn’t have a lot of parties?” laughed Charles, hand finding themselves around her wrist.

She stepped closer, face almost touching. “Mostly galas, or gatherings,” said y/n, letting out a shrug, before a grin overtook her face once again. “It’s not exactly safe to throw a wild party like this in a city like Gotham after all.” 

Something flickered in Charles’ eyes as he let out a hum.

“So,” started the woman, wanting to change the subject of the conversation. She leaned forward, cocking her head for a bit. “Is Monaco nightlife had always been this lively?”

“It is when it’s my party,” said the man, as they stepped out of the dance floor towards the bar.

Ordering for the both of them, Charles sidled close to her.

“You’re really trying to get drunk tonight?” teased the woman.

“Not too much,” replied the man. “I wanna remember you.”

She hummed. “Well, what’s stopping you?” she asked. “Don’t you think we should make more memories then?”

Charles turned to her, and the grip that he had around her waist tightened.

“Oh?” he said, voice lower. “Are you sure?”

The grin that she lets out must’ve been enough of confirmation because the next thing that she knew, they’re stumbling into Charles’ Ferrari, lips interlocked with each other in a desperate and sloppy make-out session.

She’s grateful that the parking space is located in a discreet place because her appearance right now is less dignified than what Bruce Wayne’s daughter should be. Though, she really can’t seem to care right now. All she knows is the taste of Charles’ lips on her and how his hand traveled all across her body, giving her a delicious tease of pleasure.

They fell into bed together.

That night had been a bit of a blur, to be honest. He remembers dancing with y/n, laughing, and touching her under the club lights. He remembers dragging her to the edge of the dance floor, head leaning forward.

“Can I?” he had muttered, head cocking sideways.

Y/n had let out a laugh at that, hands winding around his neck before she too, leaned forward.

He remembers the sweet taste of her mouth, how she had opened her mouth, letting their tongue meet in a wet mess. How his hands had wandered around, starting from her back before reaching downwards towards the edge of her short dress.

“Let’s take this somewhere,” muttered y/n back then, releasing his mouth with a string of droll still connecting them. “Somewhere more private,” the last part was whispered and he remembers the jolt of arousal that hit him at that very moment.

Charles doesn’t have a clear memory of how they managed to get into his apartment. All he remembers is how he pinned y/n by his front door, savoring her as they rutted against each other like a teenager. 

The night ended with them on his bed, rustling against each other and-

Charles cracked his eyes open, watching the sun filter into his room from the crack of his curtain.

He could feel the pounding headaches as the memories from last night rushed into him like a tsunami. Of him winning the Monaco GP, of him attending the formal dinner, of him and y/n stumbling into bed together-

His eyes widened as he immediately turned his gaze toward the other side of the bed.

Sitting there, still topless with a blanket covering her, is y/n Wayne, brow furrowed as she scrolled something on her phone. That sight immediately warmed something across his heart as he stared at the woman silently, not wanting to avert his gaze for a second.

“You’re awake?” asked y/n, turning her gaze towards him.

He let out a hum, shuffling closer towards her.

At that, y/n’s hand fell on top of his head, caressing his unruly mop of hair. It’s soothing, something that he really needs amidst the headache that’s been throbbing inside of his head. They stayed like that for a couple of moments, basking in each other presence.

The moment didn’t last long because y/n phone rang.

“Yeah?” asked the woman before she stared at him for a moment before she began talking in a language that he didn’t understand.

Charles faintly recognizes it as German. He knows a couple of words, but with the way y/n talking as if she’s a native speaker, well, it’s safe to say that he really doesn’t have a clue about what she’s talking about. The phone call didn’t last long. Only a couple of minutes at best. Though, at the end, y/n let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” he asked, sitting up.

“Charles, listen,” stated the woman. “This is a bit awkward, but I gotta go.”

He ignores the disappointment that erupted inside his chest. The driver had been hoping that they could have breakfast together before taking a stroll around Monaco before he had to see her off.

“I really enjoyed last night but-“

Before she can even finish that sentence, Charles interrupts her again. “Can I see you again?”

Y/n blinked, staring at him. “Yes?”

“See you again,” said the driver, leaning closer. “I really enjoyed last night. More than simply enjoying it,” he continues. “I like to do it again.”

The woman is still staring at him.

“Of course, I mean not only fucking, but like, I would love to have a date with you,” he continue, tongue a bit tied at the sight of an angel in front of him. “If you give me the chance?”

Honestly, he was not expecting much. A woman like y/n must have had a lot of suitors or partners all her life. Charles will be the luckiest man on earth if y/n even gives him a chance for a single date, let alone dating her.

It was silent for a bit, as the both of them stared at each other with no words being exchanged.

The moment was broken when y/n let out a loud laugh.

It startled him a bit, Charles doesn’t really understand what’s funny about his declaration and yet, he doesn’t really mind it. After all, the sight of y/n letting out such a carefree laugh is something that he will integrate into his memory forever.

“Yeah,” said the woman, finally. “Let’s see each other again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” grinned the woman. “But next time, bring me to a proper date, okay?”

Charles laughed at that, giving her a single kiss.

taglist!

@piceous21 @myloveforfandom-blog @barnestatic @ilivbullyingjeongin @fangirl-dot-com @halleest @a-beaverhausen @sagestack @redcellghost @mac-daddy-210 @kellysthilaire

[fuck-customers]

I’m close friends with 2 of my coworkers, but we have a coworker, I’ll call her J, likes to think she’s “one of us”. We’re obviously grown adults so we try not to let her behavior affect us, but she’s seriously insufferable. She’s not only a lazy and nosy employee, but just hanging out with her is hard. Her body odor is strong and her hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in weeks despite her saying she bathes often, and this makes me uncomfortable because she likes to hug us. Her clothes have a gross smell despite her saying she does laundry weekly. The smell of her clothes sometimes permeates into my clothes when her clothes are near mine and it’s usually a combination of weed, dampness, and sourness. She overshares and is loud so she’ll have a conversation with her boyfriend at her desk that she thinks no one heard and then will tell us about the phone afterwards or will randomly share her sex life with us even though we never asked. And on that topic, she doesn’t understand personal space as she thinks what’s mine is hers. If you left her borrow something even once, she’ll go through your things to get it again because we’re “friends”. It’s exhausting being around her so we all find ways to encourage her to take time off or leave early just so we can spend less time with her. Anything to not have to be around her because it’s so draining. Today my 2 coworkers and I were talking about getting coffee and J (who already has her own cup of coffee) inserts herself and says we should order from ⭐️💲because there’s a drink she likes. We all declined, but I mostly declined because I just knew she’d have one of us order for her since she’s always tight on money but somehow always spending it on something useless. That bothered her so she kept trying to pressure us to order from there as if she wouldn’t be able to order unless we also ordered, and that confirmed my theory. Then she started to get passive aggressive and said to the other 2 that if they weren’t around, she would’ve been able to pressure me into ordering. Aka she would’ve been able to get me to buy her a drink. That pissed me off because I didn’t like how she acted like she knew me. I told her I’ve long since deleted that app and I don’t even remember my password so she’s wrong. This set her off more and she started sulking the whole day. She became more upset when she discovered one of the other 2 coworkers wanted to take the same day off as her. So J reluctantly switched her day off to another day even though no one asked her to and then continued to sulk about it. I don’t understand this behavior and it makes the work environment more toxic than it needs to be. I can’t tell our manager because he’s close with J and defends her all the time. I think it’s because their personalities are similar. In the past, I tried to subtly warn him about J and how she’s skewing his numbers, but he went behind my back and snitched on me. He told her I was backstabbing her but fortunately I was able to convince her that he misunderstood what I was saying and the issue was resolved. However since then I never tell him anything.

Posted by admin Rodney

[desperate-gay]

The Look of Love

Ali Krieger x fem!reader

summary: fake dating one of your best friends turns out to be one of the best lies of your life

“-It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Says you! It’s going to be so embarrassing for me.”

Ali turns her head and sees you and Kelley bickering back and forth. She can’t help but notice the cute pout on your face as you playfully stump your foot and huff at the defender.

“Now what are you two arguing about?” Alex asks, giving the both of you a pointed look.

“Our friend here has been invited to her brother’s wedding, but she doesn’t have a plus one,” Kelley informs while resting her hands on your shoulders, making you roll your eyes and head over to your locker.

“It’s not how it sounds. My family constantly pesters me about how my siblings are either engaged, married, or even having a kid. I don’t even have a girlfriend! I just don’t want to deal with people asking me where my plus one is on my brother’s special day.” You sigh, shaking your head and pulling your sweaty training jersey over your head.

You only have two siblings; one brother and one sister. Your sister has been married for around two years and is now pregnant with her second child, and now your brother is getting married. A little over a year ago, you were dating a girl you thought would be your endgame until you caught her kissing some other girl at a coffee shop. At the time when invitations were sent, you expected to have someone attending with you, but now you don’t.

“So why don’t you bring a fake date?” Christen shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, so when she turns around, she notices everyone staring at her. “What?”

“That’s genius! Y/n/n you’ve got to do it.”

Everyone begins to agree with Kelley and Christen while you stay quiet with a hesitant look on your face. Ali also remains silent, observing your reactions to see what your thoughts are about it.

“Guys I- I don’t even know where I would begin to look for someone willing to do something like this, yet learn everything about them within two days.”

“Then one of us can help you!” Kelley says, expanding her arms, gesturing around the whole locker room. “C’mon, it will be a win-win. No family bothering you about your love life and your brother gets his day.”

Thinking of all the pros and cons, you eventually agree to the plan.

“Well, who’s gonna be my girlfriend for a day?” You ask, sighing at how stupid it sounds.

“I can’t because I have plans with Sam in Australia-“

“-me neither, I have to be out of state but the end of tomorrow.”

A bunch of the girls start spitting out excuses and their plans for the week. You just roll your eyes and continue packing your kit bag up.

“I’ll do it.”

Your head immediately snaps up along with everyone else’s. Silence overcomes the room, but you continue to stare at the person who volunteered.

“Wha- wait, seriously?” You stammer with your eyes slightly wider than usual.

“I don’t see why not. I don’t have any plans and I can help you out.” Ali shrugs nonchalantly while the rest of the room remains quiet, silently watching the interaction between you two.

“Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you!” Ali laughs when you bring her into a bear hug and bounce up and down before pulling away slightly, causing your moves to slow.

“It is an open bar, right?” She looks down at you with a teasing smile. You smack her shoulder and begin to pull away before she pulls you back in, laughing at your reaction.

Christen and Alex give each other a knowing look and go back to changing.

—

“Okay, let’s go over this one last time.” You say, scared that if people start asking questions about your relationship you’re not gonna have the same answers. Your rushing mind is stopped by Ali reaching out and grabbing your hand from across the table.

“Y/n/n, it’s going to be okay. We’ve known each other for years, so all we have to do is say how our first date was and maybe a few other details.” She starts gesturing her breathing by raising her hand up and down and pursing her lips for you to follow her lead.

Once your heart rate goes down to its normal level, you both head into the separate rooms of your apartment to get dressed. The wedding starts in about 2 hours, so you’re both just on time. When you step out of the room and into the living room, you notice Ali staring at you with her eyes widened and mouth slightly slacked.

“What? Does it look bad? Oh god, I cannot deal with the comments of-“ You ramble on while twisting and turning to see if there is something wrong with the dress.

“N-no, no, you just look…stunning.” The tall girl words breathlessly, admiring your loose lilac-colored dress that matches amazingly with your light face of makeup.

You blush and take in her outfit. She stands in a cream-colored suit that compliments your dress perfectly. “You also look great.”

After a minute of just looking at each other, Ali clears her throat and says, “We better get going if we don’t want to be late. M’lady?”

She holds out her arm with an opening between her forearm and bicep for you to slot your own in. You giggle, accepting her gesture while walking to her car. Being the gentlewoman she is, she opens the passenger door for you and offers you a hand so you don’t trip in your heels.

“Here we go.” You mumble before Ali starts driving.

—

You and Ali walk into the venue hand in hand while scanning over the crowded room.

“Darling!” Looking up you see your mother walking over to you with open arms.

“Hey, mom.” You accept her hug before introducing her to your girlfriend. Ali shakes her hand and makes a small conversation as if it’s the easiest thing on the planet. You begin to space out but a laugh and a hand on your lower back interrupt your thoughts.

“You okay, my love?” The girl next to you asks once her laughter dies down. The name gives you butterflies but you choose to ignore it, knowing that all of this is fake.

The reason you got into your past relationship was because of Ali. You have basically followed her to each and every one of her clubs your whole career. You met in 2013 when you both were signed to Washington Spirit, and you have been attached to each other’s hips since that day. You quickly found yourself blushing and swooning at everything the brunette did after a few months of knowing her and you carried those feelings all these years. The only people who know are Alex and Christen.

Instead of confronting your love for the defender, you tried everything to try and vanish them. Eventually, you got into a relationship with your ex when you finally started to feel something for someone else, but that ended up in the dumper.

Now you’re afraid that all your feelings are going to flood and resurface. Sure you never stopped loving her, but it didn’t feel as strong. The fact she is your fake girlfriend for the day is going to make it 10x harder to ignore the constant butterflies in your stomach and the blood rushing to your face with every word she speaks to you.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Don’t worry baby, you might get wrinkles.” You tease while wiping your thumb over her cheeks, causing the talker girl to squat your hand away with a laugh.

“I am not that old.”

You have a 6-year age gap, but you both never think of it because you’re so connected in ways that most people who are the same age are.

“Keep telling yourself that, granny.”

Your mother watches the interaction between you two with a soft smile before excusing herself to go talk to other members of your family. Your mom has always been supportive of you and always stood by your side through the tough times, so seeing you look so happy makes her heart squeeze.

—

After the vows and rings are exchanged, everyone heads over to the room where the reception is going to be held. Ali’s hand never leaving the small of your back, guides you to the room with music blaring out from it.

Most people go out onto the dance floor and sway to the music while you both find a table to sit at. She pulls out the chair for you to take a seat and places a kiss on your cheek, making your face turn all red.

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks, I’ll be right back.”

Once she’s out of sight, your mom pops a squat across from you and gives you an unreadable expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask warily, scared of what might come out of her mouth.

“She’s not your girlfriend.”

You’re taken aback by the sudden admission and start to stumble over your words. “Wha- what do you mean?”

“Oh please, you can’t lie without me figuring it out. I have mom instincts.” She states matter of factly while sipping on her champagne.

You take a look around to see if anyone is near you and lean in so she can hear you clearly without having to shout. “Okay, we’re not dating but no one can know.”

“Why did you even lie in the first place?”

“Because I can’t deal with Aunt Mary or Uncle John constantly asking when I’m going to settle down and why I haven’t yet. At least not on my brother’s and sister-in-law’s night.” You sigh, looking down at your fingers as you fiddle with the tablecloth.

Your mother reaches across the table and grasps your hand before going on to say, “I know that you love her. She’s the girl you were so hung over on before you got with she devil, isn’t she?”

You snort at the nickname your siblings and mother have given your ex. They all thought she was no good from the beginning and knew you could do better, and so did Ali but she never let you know that.

“Yeah, she is.” You nod and look over, noticing the girl you’re speaking about approaching you. Your mom also sees so she quickly says something that leaves you stunned.

“From the way she looks at you, she feels the same, even when you’re not looking she can’t keep her eyes off of you. She looks at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky. She loves you, sweetie.” With that, she stands up and greets Ali with a smile before heading over to the newlyweds. You continue looking shocked not noticing your plus-one setting down your glasses.

“You still there?” Ali waves her hand in front of your face, grinning once your eyes meet hers.

“Sorry, did you say something before?” You ask with a soft smile to which the older girl responds with a nod.

“I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me with a dance?” She holds out her hand, hoping you’ll take it and you do.

“I would love to.”

Right when your feet hit the dance floor, a slow song turns on making you feel as sheepish as if you were at your first middle school dance. Without hesitation, Ali intertwines one of her hands with yours and rests her other on your waist. You place your other hand right where her neck meets her shoulder before you both begin to sway. The side of your forehead presses against her cheek, keeping you close together.

Subconsciously, you inhale her perfume and sigh at the smell, and what you don’t know is Ali is doing the same thing to your hair, smelling your coconut shampoo. When you open your eyes, you look over her shoulder and notice your mom smiling at the two of you. She nods her head, signaling for you to finally confess your true feelings.

You let out a shaky breath before pulling away slightly so you can see Ali’s face. She smiles at you with her eyes remaining on yours. The crinkles on the side of her eyes make you swoon and lose your thoughts.

“Do you want to know what my mom said to me while you went to get us drinks?”

“What?” She cocks her head to the side slightly, showing you she’s pretty curious as to what was said.

“Well, first, she told me she knows that we’re not dating, and second, she insists that you love me.” You whisper the last part, hoping she doesn’t catch it but she does.

She chuckles and looks up at the ceiling before returning her gaze to you and says, “Is it that obvious?”

Your head snaps up at her statement and you look at her with a puzzled look.

“You…love me?” You ask, pointing at yourself to make sure she is indeed talking about you.

“It’s impossible not to. That doesn’t scare you, does it?” Now it’s her turn to look sheepish and scared while waiting for your response.

“No, it actually makes me extremely happy. I have been in love with you since 2013.” Your confession makes the defender smile widely which you return, both of you in your own little circle. Her eyes switch between each of yours and down to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I will hit you if you don’t.”

Her fingers curl under your chin and pull you in, allowing your lips to finally touch. It feels like the movies where the girl kisses her one true love and her foot pops up in the middle of it. The butterflies in your stomach swarm like never before. Once you both pull back, your smiles never leave your faces. The comfortable silence between you two is interrupted by the newlyweds and your mother clapping and wooing.

You laugh into Ali’s neck while she chuckles and hugs your smaller form. She pecks your forehead and asks, “You wanna know what took me so long to get the drinks?”

“What?”

“The new bride and groom had a stern talk with me. They also knew about us not being a couple. Your family must be spies.”

Looking over her shoulder, you see the three wiggling their eyebrows and giving you a thumbs up, making you roll your eyes.

“Thanks to them, I can do this whenever I want now.”

You smash your lips against hers and hug your arms around her neck. Ali dips you down, causing you to squeal against her lips and her smile into it. She lifts you back up and hugs you.

“Can I take you on a date tomorrow?”

“You better.”

[aphroditeinthesea]

hey!! I was wondering if you could do a Poseidon fem reader x Jason Grace blurb or hcs about their relationship with each other, but she has a pet cat that she is obsessed with and Jason is just admiring the two while his gf is treating her cat like a baby and saying it our kid? If that makes sense??

“ with two cats in the yard (life used to be so hard) ”

jason grace x daughter of poseidon ⚡

a/n this is my favorite request i have ever gotten, whoever sent this in ilysm & ik u said blurb but i got carried away

tw none

. ݁₊ ⊹ 🐾 . ݁₊ ⊹

“Where’s the baby?” Y/N spoke right as Jason opened the door to his cabin.

He laughed, “she’s asleep,” he let her in, softly kissing her cheek as she entered.

He had been spending the past two days with y/n’s cat while she had to go on a quest.

She smiled as she softly brushed her index finger along the cat’s forehead, whispering, “mommy’s home.” The tabby let out a small noise while she opened her eyes. Just like an infant would, the cat reached up her front paws, leaning up on y/n.

She picked up the cat, who made herself comfortable on her owner’s shoulder, “did you miss me?”

“Are you asking me or her?” Jason remarked.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “maybe both.”

He grinned as he stepped closer to her, “I think I speak for both of us when I say, I missed you.”

She giggled, leaning up to kiss her boyfriend, “good, you know I was hoping you two would bond while I was gone.”

He gently petted the back of the cat, “yeah, we’re best friends now.”

Y/N held the cat in front of her to look at her face, “did you have fun with daddy?”

The boy choked on his spit, “daddy?”

“Yes, daddy,” she faced the cat towards him, “this is our daughter.”

He smiled, “I’d hope that our future kids have better names than Purrmaid.”

“Hey!” She pulled the cat away, “I named her when I had just gotten claimed,” she defended, “and that’s Madame Purrmaid of the Atlantic to you.”

“Oh gods, that’s even worse.”

“I was twelve!”

The cat meowed.

She handed Purrmaid to Jason, “tell her you’re sorry.”

He grabbed the cat, cradling her, “daddy’s sorry for making fun of your name.” He went to let her, but she swatted his hand, leaving a scratch.

“She’s mad at you.”

“She is not,” he went to pet her again, instead getting scratched once more, “she might be.” He placed her on the ground before she swatted one of his legs, “what did I do?!”

His girlfriend cackled, “she’s going through a phase.” He exaggeratedly frowned, she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, “it’s okay, I still love you.”

He held her waist, “promise?”

“Promise,” she reached up to kiss him again, “can I crash in your bed? I’m exhausted.”

“That’s what it’s there for,” he replied.

She sluggishly crawled under his covers. Purrmaid followed, laying on y/n’s chest.

Jason laid down next to the two, “is that comfortable?”

“I can’t breathe, but it’s okay.” She grabbed his hand, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, they’re small,” he comforted, “unlike Purrmaid.”

“You take that back!”

“I will once you stop feeding her your leftover lunch.”

“She gets hungry!”

“I don’t think cats are supposed to eat broccoli, my love.”

“Hmph,” she looked away for a second before turning back to the bright blue eyes, “we should get another one.”

He smiled, “you wanna?”

“We can get a boy, and you can name him!” She planned out.

“I won’t be naming him Thun-purr.”

“Aww, that’d be so cute though.”

“Fine,” he kissed her forehead, “I’ll name him whatever you want me to.”

“It’ll depend on what he looks like,” she replied, “because if it’s a tabby, he’ll be Harry, if he’s light, he’ll be Niall-”

“I take it back, you’re not naming him after One Direction.”

She lightly hit his shoulder, “I was joking, loser.”

“Sure, you were.”

“Seriously, what would you name a cat?” She softly questioned.

He sighed, “I’ve always kind of wanted to get a cat named, uh,” he hesitated, “don't make fun of me.”

“Babe, my cat is named Madame Purrmaid of the… I can't even finish.”

He chuckled, twirling his fingers in her hair, “fine, I wanted a cat to name Cannoli.”

She grinned, “that’s adorable!”

“Thanks,” he embarrassedly looked down while still smiling, “there used to be this bakery in New Rome where they had the world’s best cannolis and one time I saw this giant orange cat walking by it and I always thought that’s exactly the kind of cat I wanted.”

“Then you shall have your very own Cannoli,” she declared in a British accent, “I’ve actually never had a cannoli.” “Next time I head to New Rome, you're coming with me,” he smiled, “you and Purry.”

“Like that was a question,” she replied, petting the feline.

He breathily laughed, “do you want anything to eat?”

“I’m kinda craving a cannoli.”

“You’ve never had one,” he responded, confused.

“Yeah, but you love them so much, they must be good,” she added, “you have good taste.”

“I do?”

“You like me, I think that’s enough proof.”

“That’s a good point.”

She opened her arms, “come give mommy some sugar,” she said using a strange Boston accent.

“Y/N,” he rubbed his temples, “what are you talking about?”

“I don't know, I haven't slept in 20 hours.”

“Here,” he moved the blanket further over her and the cat, “get some sleep and I’ll get you something to eat, okay?”

She nodded as he began to walk away, “wait!”

He turned around, “yeah?”

“I love you.”

He grinned, he jogged back over to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Ahem?”

“Sorry,” he put his hand on Purrmaid, “love you, too.”

[diana-bluewolf]

Why NPC’s lines outside quests don’t tell us anything about them

*with rare exceptions

Here we have Duncan saying he'd like to get rid of Muggle-borns like Garlick. And, surprise, then we have Hector Fawley (future Minister for Magic, btw) saying exactly the same line in the same voice.

The subtitles are hard to read, so I duplicated them with text under pictures.

Duncan and Hector: "If only Black had the power to choose the other professors too. Then we could get rid of Muggle-born like Garlick."

Or here Duncan rants about disgusting Mudbloods ruining the school. But look at this adorable Hufflepuff repeating the same word for word.

Duncan and a random Hufflepuff student: "It’s about time Hogwarts put someone like Black in charge. Perhaps now we can stop all these disgusting Mudbloods from ruining the school."

Suddenly, Duncan forgets his own words and says he will miss Professor Garlick or recommends that Garreth ask her for advice.

Duncan: "I can’t wait until I’m a sixth-year - then I won’t have to waste my time with Herbology anymore. I’ll miss Professor Garlick, mind." Duncan: "I wouldn’t bother yourself about that. If I were you, I’d be more inclined to acquire myself some Bubotuber pus. I’m sure Garlick could point you in the right direction."

Garreth seems to have difficulties with making up his mind, too.

Garreth: "Have you been in any other common rooms? I'd love to know what it's like to be in another house - just for a day." Also Garreth: "Even if I knew how to get into the other common rooms, I wouldn't bother. There's a reason I was sorted into my house."

This does sound like Garreth. Until you hear the same from half of Hogwarts lots.

Garreth and a random Gryffindor student: "Sometimes I wish someone would Transfigure me into a squirrel. Then I wouldn't have to worry about doing schoolwork anymore."

The same goes for Leander. Btw, hello Mousey @sparxyv!

Leander: "You think Garreth Weasley would be better at Transfiguration considering his aunt teaches the thing."

I see sometimes people think Leander is a bully because he says some mean lines like the one when he's bragging about a knee-reversal hex he tried on a small Hufflepuff. But it's NOT his lines. It's just the lines that belong to everyone, which means they belong to no one.

I even made a video based on Ominis's lines like this.

Ominis: "Well, my father naturally assumed I'd be a strong Seeker, just like him. I say, thank Merlin Quidditch was cancelled." Ominis: "I met some of my best friends in Flying. Nothing creates a bond like thinking you're all about to die." Ominis: "My friends and I like to spend our evenings watching the sunset from the Quidditch pitch."

Btw maybe Quidditch Champions devs took it too seriously 😂 I agree with the point that Ominis technically can play Quidditch: there are, without a doubt, disabled athletes in the world, and if there’s a wand, that helps him to see why not imagine a broom like this? Still, given his personality, I believe that Ominis appeared in that game just to gather more money from fans, and he's just as a quidditch player, as Seb's patronus is a cat. Because, seriously, Ominis? Saying that, "Nothing creates a bond like thinking you're all about to die." Haha!

From what I can see, random student dialogues exist only to fill the silence with background noise and create the illusion of life, but they can't tell us anything about the characters.

*HOWEVER, this does not apply to situations where NPCs say something to MC, rather than during dialogues with random students.

For example, Ominis’s lines like, “Heard you're defending Hogsmeade against trolls. You know there is such a thing as trying too hard." or “Heard you and Sebastian traversed a mountain in Loyalist territory. You know, that sort of thing could have gotten you both killed.” really belong to our gossip king Ominis.

Or when MC walks past Amit near Hogshead before talking to Lodgok for the first time, Amit shouts greetings to MC.  Those are the lines that really were intended for those NPCs.

[shadamyheadcanons]

I can see Shadow being a girl dad, he'd be the type to pull out a gun whenever a adult gets too close to his kid but also be the one to dress up as a fairy princess for her tea party.

I’ve always loved this, too! Shadow just gets along super well with women and girls. I don’t know of any time when he’s had a proper conversation with Cream, but wholesome fanart of him babysitting her and wearing flower crowns she made for him is everywhere.

I interpret Shadow’s protectiveness in a specific way. He’d stand between his kids and a threat whenever necessary, especially when the kids are young, but I think he’d ultimately prioritize teaching them to defend against any threats themselves. I see him as less of a “mess with my kids and I’ll make you pay” dad and more of an “if anyone messes with you, sweetheart, don’t hold back” dad. He doesn’t have to worry because he’s made sure they’ve got it covered. Every shadamy kid gets a gun, a hammer, or both, and his respect for women means he wouldn’t hesitate to arm them. None of this “girls are delicate flowers” nonsense from Shadow. Martial arts are on the table, too; with Amy, Shadow, Knuckles, and Rouge all being close by, she’d be a threat even without a weapon.

In all seriousness, he’d want to be absolutely sure the kid is battle-ready even when he’s not around because he knows better than anyone what the consequences could be otherwise. That’s one thing I think he’d love about Amy, too; he knows she’s made herself a contender in her own right, and they’ll both look out for the ones they love. Together. Battle Couple, Battle Family.

Toonsite has a couple really cute comics about Shadow babysitting Cream that fit this motif...

[x] [x]

...and ChocomilkAmy has a funny one with a shadamy fankid:

[x]

And although I love the idea of Shadow having a daughter, he’d of course love his kid regardless of gender. Which gives me an excuse to link Rhael’s wonderful, adorable little mini-comic of human!Shadow holding his newborn son:

[x]

I’m not crying, you’re crying :’)

And speaking of kids and family stuff...

@multishipingriy

I think Amy would be the one to ask for a first date, but Shadow would be the one to propose. Amy initiating the relationship matches her bold personality and lines up with my recent theory about their feelings. I also sometimes wonder if Shadow would be insecure about romance or feel she “deserved better,” so he’d hesitate to act first, but she’d break down those walls and pump up his self-esteem straight away. A few years in, he’d definitely have the confidence to propose. It’s not that Amy wouldn’t, but more that I feel she’d forever cherish a romantic proposal, and he’d want to do that for her. Shadow knows what he wants, and if that’s Amy, he’ll make it happen. Because they both deserve it.

The topic of children is one that I think is unique to their situation because Amy’s already made it clear she wants them, even this early in her life. Sonic Battle was particularly brazen about it...

(Sega made Cream a rabbit when they should have made her a GOAT.)

...but if that seems like too much because it is, I’ve organized this before, too:

Amy’s already nurturing. Once she gets older, I believe her existing behavior would bend in a more motherly direction, and it would be so clear that she wants to be a mom that she wouldn’t even need to formally clarify it. The onus would be on Shadow, I think, to speak up once he feels comfortable with the idea. I suggested some of his potential reservations in headcanon #167.

I think he’d be great at it. If you’re curious why I feel that way, check out my Father’s Day headcanon from a few years ago.

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Twelve

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Twelve: Preparing for Battle

Summary: The Hotel trains to fight angels, and (Y/N) goes on a shopping trip with Rosie and Alastor.

            (Y/N) spun the spear around in their hands, letting themself feel the balance. They felt at home with it, ready to defend their friends against the angels that would be arriving tomorrow to try to destroy their souls. Narrowing their eyes, (Y/N) let their briars take the weapon from them. They refused to let the exorcists win. (Y/N) had trained as hard as they could for this—the fight to have an afterlife, to have an existence, to have a family.

            “Well, it seems everyone is coming along nicely,” said Rosie, overseeing her cannibals with approval. She herself would be leaving before the battle to protect more of her people in case the exorcists came for Cannibal Town at all, but she was there to help at the hotel for now.

            “Do you think we have a fighting chance?” said (Y/N), glancing at her.

            “Oh, yes,” said Rosie, grinning sharply. “If anyone can tear these angels apart, it is this group.”

            (Y/N) stood a little taller at that. “I’m ready to fight.”

            Rosie patted them on the shoulder. “Of course you are, sweetheart]! However…” Rosie raised a brow and looked at (Y/N)’s overalls. “Are you sure you wish to go into battle in that?”

            “My clothes?” asked (Y/N) in confusion.

            “Sweetheart, you’re about to be in the greatest fight or your life and afterlife,” said Rosie. “I just know that upstart Vox will be filming everything, and, of course, if you’re going to fight, you should look good doing it.” She pulled (Y/N) to her side. “We’re getting you new clothes.”

            “Is now really the time?” said (Y/N), looking around at everyone training.

            “Certainly,” said Rosie. “Come along, sweetheart. If we’re going into battle, we do it in style! Right, Alastor?”

            He was instantly by his (best and only) friend’s side. “It wouldn’t be a good show without style.”

            “I can’t believe you haven’t taken (Y/N) to our tailor yet,” tsked Rosie as she, (Y/N), and Alastor walked into the city.

            (Y/N) liked walking between them. Alastor was…interesting (intimidating), but they didn’t really mind him, and Rosie was possibly the nicest and warmest woman (Y/N) had ever met. Going shopping was a strange turn of events given the circumstances, but (Y/N) wasn’t opposed since they felt comfortable in their own skin with people for the first time in their life. They were going to explore who they were—clothes, magic, and all.

l

            “Here we are!” said Rosie, guiding (Y/N) into a tailor shop. “This is the perfect place for new clothes. Alastor and I have been patrons of this shop since we arrived in Hell, haven’t we?”

            (Y/N) could have told them that. When they had walked in with the two overlords, the other customers had run out in fear, and the workers had immediately stood at the ready to assist them. Luckily, several seemed pleased to have the clientele, so not every experience with Rosie or Alastor had been bad. Unsurprisingly, they could be classy when going about their business.

            “Of course. They have a classier style than some of the modern…attire—” Alastor spoke as if he was calling it trash “—you find around these parts.”

            “It looks expensive,” said (Y/N), looking around at the lovely outfits, yes, but also well-made (which mean they cost money).

            “Auntie Rosie is treating you,” said Rosie proudly. “And if I don’t want to cover everything, I’ll just ask Alastor.” She winked. As his best friend, she could get away with that.

            (Y/N) smiled. “Alright.”

            “Then let’s begin!” Rosie became businesslike. As an Overlord and talented businesswoman, she took presentation seriously, and she was not about to let (Y/N)’s new, made-in-Hell clothes be anything less than excellent. “Alastor, what colors are we thinking?”

            “Red, of course,” said Alastor.

            Rosie nodded approvingly. “Bold, hellish, and it will harmonize with our outfits.”

            (Y/N) had a (pleasant) feeling that they were going to be going around with Rosie and Alastor far more often.

            “Can we get their measurements?” said Alastor, looking at a worker. It was not a request.

            The tailor walked up with his measuring tape, and (Y/N) frowned, stepping back.

            “I, uh, I don’t like to be touched,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms in an instinctive attempt to self-soothe.

            Rosie’s gaze softened. “Would you be comfortable with me doing your measurements, sweetheart?”

            (Y/N) looked at Rosie and gazed into her eyes. For a moment, they didn’t speak. Then, they nodded. (Y/N) would take a chance and trust Rosie—warm and comforting Rosie. They were sure she had her dark side—she was a cannibalistic overlord, after all—but (Y/N) didn’t really care about that. Other parts of who people were felt more important to them. Like Rosie being kind to them. Rosie being respectful.

            “Thank you, sweetheart,” said Rosie, taking the measuring tape from the worker. “Now, just stand still.” She stepped closer and held the measuring tape across (Y/N)’s shoulders, beginning the measurements. “Alastor, what are your opinions on style? (Y/N), your opinions are valid, too. Speak up if you have any ideas.”

            “I don’t like modern clothes,” said Alastor. “I think the style should be more timeless instead of cheap and temporarily ‘trendy’.”

            (Y/N) would have nodded in agreement, but Rosie was measuring their neck, so they decided to speak. “I want to feel put-together. Like I’m strong and I’m here to stay. I don’t want to be overlooked or considered a weak kid who has no idea what they’re doing, anymore.”

            Rosie and Alastor’s grins sharpened. As (Y/N) spoke, they grew more impassioned, their hidden feelings and thoughts that had undoubtedly led to the incident that sent them to Hell coming through. Rosie and Alastor respected that fire.

            “Oh, don’t worry,” said Alastor. “No one is going to say my protégé is weak if I have a say in it.”

            “Sweetheart, it’s time for you to really show Hell and Heaven who you are,” said Rosie, cupping (Y/N)’s cheek.

            “Now, smile!” said Alastor. “No matter what outfit you wear, you’re never fully dressed without one.”

            (Y/N) grinned.

l

            “Where the hell were you?” said Vaggie, hands on her hips when (Y/N) and Alastor returned to the hotel (Rosie had headed back to Cannibal Town).

            “Shopping,” said Alastor, his shadows holding up the bags.

            “You went shopping at a time like this?” said Vaggie.

            “I can’t let my protégé go into battle wearing those,” said Alastor, gesturing to (Y/N)’s overalls.

            (Y/N) shrugged and looked at Vaggie. “Rosie insisted.”

            Vaggie sighed. “Alright, alright. Come on, Charlie has a speech.”

            “Very Charlie-like,” said (Y/N), laughing and walking over to the gathering crowd.

            “Alastor, (Y/N), you’re back! Great timing!” said Charlie, not questioning their absence for a moment. “Hey, uh, Alastor, could I borrow your microphone again? I want to make sure everyone can hear me.” Alastor tossed the microphone to her, and Charlie grinned. “Thank you!” She walked on stage and looked out over the crowd.

            “I want to thank everyone for coming,” she began, smiling out at her people. “Even people who aren’t staying here yet…Cherri.”

            “Look, I can’t resist a fight, okay?” said Cherri, grinning. “Especially when I get to tag team with this fuckhead.” She hugged Angel.

            Charlie smiled and addressed the crowd at large again. “Tomorrow, the exorcist angels will face a Hell ready to defend itself and win!”

            “Yeah! Yeah, we will, tell ‘em baby!” cheered Vaggie.

            (Y/N) grinned. They were ready to fight for their home.

            “Yes! And we are-we are going to win!” declared Charlie. She coughed. “But, in case we don’t…I want you all to know that getting to know you has been the biggest honor of my life. Whatever redemption really means…I know you all tried. I have seen the good in all of you.”

            (Y/N) wasn’t too sure about going to Heaven if they were alright with killing sinners’ souls for sport, but they couldn’t help a smile at Charlie’s words. Becoming a better person was good.

            “And it’s…I’m just…I love you all so much,” said Charlie. “And…and live tonight however you want because—”

            “We’re all going to die!” Niffty cackled excitedly.

            Everyone stared at her.

            “Alright, let’s give it up for not dying!” said Vaggie, attempting to salvage the situation. “Love not dying.” She coughed. “Drinks?”

            That was an idea everyone could get behind.

l

            (Y/N) held their drink and smiled at the family they’d found. They were in Hell, yes, punished just like the…people on Earth had always told them they’d be. But they were happy. They were living how they wanted, and no one was judging them. They were accepted. In Hell, in the Hazbin Hotel, (Y/N) was home.

            “I mean, personally, I’m excited. It’s been a long time since I’ve stabbed someone and really meant it, you know what I mean?” said Vaggie, and the group laughed.

            “I’m excited to get to really see what I can do with my magic, really go all out, you know?” said (Y/N) excitedly, the roses on their head doubling and blooming wide.

            “Cheers, bitches!” said Cherri.

            “Yeah,” laughed Husk.

            “Here’s to us,” said Angel, clinking his glass with Husk’s.

            “Here’s to being alive today and not dying tomorrow!” declared Pentious.

            Everyone cheered and raised their glasses together—a family coming together.

            Above them, Alastor leaned on the banister of the stairs and regarded them from afar. “Ah, the celebratory night before a courageous last stand. It’s been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection.” He leaned his head on his hand. “Almost makes one sentimental, eh, Niffty?”

            “I really like them, Alastor,” said Niffty. “They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!”

            Alastor chuckled. “Ah, an enjoyable collective.”

            Niffty nodded vigorously. “(Y/N) even made me a stage and set!”

            Alastor’s familiarly manipulative grin morphed to a far different smile. His eyes landed on (Y/N) below. “I admit one could get accustomed.” However, as much as (Y/N) was Alastor’s protégé, he refused to think of anything else. Vulnerability would only get him into trouble. Alastor refused to lose any chance he had at power and freedom to sentiment. He couldn’t afford to.

            (Y/N) noticed him and waved.

            Alastor couldn’t help but smile slightly wider in response.

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

@grippleback-galaxy

@just-here-reading

@dmitrytherat

@a-small-tyrant

@marxo5

@rory-cakes

@andsoigotabutterfly

@theblueslytherin

@romyoia

@ray-rook

@thereeallink

@pandaquick

@funkyexistence

@theyaremorethanjustfictional

@lanxianschoenheit

@justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1

@ringsofpersonti

@futureittomainn

@enderpearltv

@oo0lady-mad0oo

@falsemain

@a-huge-bi-nerd

@lost-in-the-hellaverse

@tagthetrekkie

@amberforest08

@picklehat3r

@lunalixya

@rl800

[im-out-of-it]

I’ll forever love that whole “IM IN LOVE WITH ALASTAIR CARSTAIRS AND IM GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH HIM” moment

because Gideon is seriously like “I didn’t even think you liked Alastair, not much at least” because he’s actually genuinely confused 😭 he’s not being homophobic and he’s not angry but he’s like when did my son start liking this boy he previously hated? what am I missing here?????

and Eugenia is so protective of her brother that “if anyone condemns Thomas for who he is or who he loves, he and I will renounce the rest of you as my family”. she’s so proud of her brother and misguided as the attempt is, (I’m giving her all the points) she’s prepared to leave the family for him. like what a wonderful sister Eugenia is. she’s so underrated and we don’t get many moments with her 🥹

then Sophie is all “no one here is going to condemn Thomas” PROTECTING AND LOVING HER SON

and Gideon says no like the fuck Thomas, you think your father would be ashamed of you???? 💀

“Thomas, my darling, we love you and we want you to be happy. If Alastair makes you happy, then we are delighted. Although it would be nice if you introduced us. Perhaps you could bring him to dinner?” Sophie 😭

I do wish this scene was longer and we could’ve seen a whole chapter of the dinner and the lightwoods bonding but I will admit- I like this page. Eugenia and Thomas think their parents won’t accept Thomas being gay and they’re both just confused why Thomas never introduced Alastair lmao WE NEED AN AUTHENTIC PERSIAN DINNER PLEASE (I’d love to see Thomas cook for him)

in a way, I feel that Gideon secretly knew because what kind of man stalks someone to make sure they aren’t getting murdered and then when that person is accused of murder, they go and defend that person and say HEY HE KILLED NO ONE AND I KNOW BECAUSE I HAVE SECRETLY BEEN FOLLOWING HIM BUT JUST AS A FRIEND FOR MY SISTER NOOOOOO OTHER REASON

so I feel that Gideon just KNEW. but Gideon and Sophie are both confused because why haven’t you introduced us yet???????? WHY HAVENT WE HAD DINNER WITH HIM THOMAS? it’s just so cute and wholesome. Gideon is one of my favorite characters and he doesn’t get the treatment that he deserves so I feel robbed that we don’t get to see him parent all that much 🥹

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i don’t wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you ; he’s tending to your wounds with an unexpected tenderness

author’s notes : alcohol influence, slight fighting scene, no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You were studying in your room, laptop on desk and legs on the chair. The night had been calm until your laptop pinged with a notification—your mom was requesting a FaceTime call. Instinctively, your stomach twisted, a familiar sense of dread tightening in your chest. You knew this wasn’t a casual check-in. You reluctantly accepted the call, your fingers trembling slightly as you did.

Your mom’s face appeared on the screen, her expression already set in that stern, no-nonsense look you’d grown all too familiar with. Her eyes seemed to cut through you, already armed with questions you weren’t ready to answer.

“You got a C,” she started, her voice sharp with disappointment. “What happened? Are you not taking your studies seriously?”

You flinched, feeling a rush of anxiety flood your body. Your hands, now cold and clammy, twisted nervously in your lap, hidden from the screen. The knot in your throat grew tighter, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice.

“I—I’m trying, Mom,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel your heart racing, the pulse pounding in your ears. “It was the lab report. Yuriko—she’s our new TA—she didn’t really give us much feedback. She just moved on to the next topic, and I—I didn’t get a chance to fix the mistakes.”

Your eyes darted around the room, avoiding the screen, hoping that somehow if you didn’t look at her, the conversation would feel less suffocating. But your mother’s voice was relentless, filling every corner of your mind.

“So you’re blaming the TA?” she asked, her tone clipped and dismissive. “Yuriko, right? She’s just a teaching assistant, not the professor. If she’s not doing her job, that’s on her—but you need to stand up for yourself. Have you even tried speaking to the professor?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, the pressure inside your chest growing unbearable. You wanted to scream, to tell her that it wasn’t that simple—that every confrontation made you feel small and incapable. But the words were trapped inside you, stuck behind the wall of anxiety that always seemed to silence you whenever you needed to speak the most.

“No,” you said, your voice barely audible. “I haven’t.”

The air around you felt heavier, your body rigid with tension. You could feel the anger bubbling up inside of you—the anger at her for always making you feel like a failure, and the anger at yourself for not being able to stand up to her. Your jaw clenched, but you forced a small, tight-lipped smile, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“Mom, it’s not like I’m not trying,” you said, attempting to sound casual, but your voice wavered. “It’s just one grade. I’ll make up for it, I promise.”

But your mother wasn’t having it. Her face hardened, and her eyes narrowed as she leaned closer to the camera. You instinctively shrank back in your chair, your shoulders tightening, feeling trapped even though she wasn’t physically there.

“One grade?” she repeated coldly. “Are you serious? A C is not a big deal to you? Do you realize what this could do to your GPA? You’re letting this slide because you’re too afraid to speak up? That’s weak, and it’s pathetic. You’re better than this, but you’re sabotaging yourself because you’re too scared to take action.”

You could feel the anger now—hot, sharp, and painful—burning beneath the surface of your skin. Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood. You wanted to defend yourself, to tell her how unfair she was being, but all you could do was nod stiffly, swallowing your words like bitter pills.

“I just don’t want to make things worse,” you managed to say, your voice tight and strained. “I don’t want to cause trouble. And it’s not that simple, Mom. I can’t just email the professor and complain. That would make me look like I’m blaming the TA for my own mistakes. I have to own up to them.”

Your mom’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, she looked even more frustrated, her eyes hard with judgment. “Own up to what?” she shot back. “To her inability to do her job? No, if she’s not helping you learn, then she’s the problem—not you. You need to grow a backbone and stop letting these people walk all over you. Email your professor and let them know this TA isn’t doing her job.”

Her words struck you like a blow to the chest, but instead of anger, all you felt was a hollow ache of anxiety. Your mind was racing, your thoughts spiraling into a familiar whirlwind of self-doubt. Maybe she was right. Maybe you were weak. Maybe you were too scared to take control of your own life.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. You couldn’t let her see you cry. Not again. Not over this.

“I’ll send an email,” you said quietly, though your voice lacked conviction. “I’ll talk to the professor.”

“Good,” your mom replied, her tone sharp and final. “Because if you don’t, I will. And I won’t be as nice about it as you think.”

Without waiting for a response, she ended the call. The screen went black, leaving you alone in the stillness of your room. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at your reflection in the dark screen. Your hands were still trembling, your body tense as if bracing for another attack. But the silence was suffocating, too, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

Anger still simmered beneath the surface, but it was mixed with something else—something deeper and more painful. You were angry at her for pushing you so hard, for never understanding how much anxiety her words caused. But you were also angry at yourself for never being able to say what you truly felt. You always swallowed your feelings, always pretended everything was fine, even when it wasn’t.

Your fists clenched in your lap, your nails digging into your palms. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the tightness in your throat that made it hard to breathe. Why couldn’t you just tell her how much her words hurt? Why couldn’t you ever stand up for yourself?

The silence in the room felt oppressive, your thoughts too loud and too chaotic. You wanted to scream, to cry, to let all the frustration out, but all you could do was sit there, frozen in place, suffocated by your own emotions.

After a long moment, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders. Your hands were still trembling as you reached for your laptop, opening it to the lab report you had been working on before the call. The words on the screen blurred as you blinked back the tears that had been building up throughout the conversation.

You tried to focus, but your mind kept drifting back to your mom’s words, the weight of her expectations pressing down on you like an unbearable load. Every time you thought you could breathe, another wave of anxiety washed over you, tightening your chest, making it harder to think clearly.

You pressed your fingers to your temples, trying to rub away the ache that had formed there. Why can’t I just be enough? The thought echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of the constant pressure you were under.

For a moment, you considered sending the email to your professor, just to appease your mom. But as your fingers hovered over the keyboard, you hesitated. Did you really want to send it? Or were you just doing it to avoid another fight?

The answer was clear, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. You shut your laptop with a soft sigh, leaning back in your chair, closing your eyes. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but you buried it deep inside, just like you always did.

And as the silence enveloped you, you realized that no matter how hard you tried to pretend everything was okay, the weight of your anxiety wasn’t going anywhere.

You glance at the clock and feel like the walls of your room are closing in on you. The air feels thick, and the knot in your stomach tightens the longer you sit there. You can’t stay in this suffocating space any longer. You need to get out—breathe some fresh air—before everything overwhelms you.

Without much thought, you went out with your pajamas, light blue with delicate white floral patterns, soft and simple. The pants are comfortable and loose, while the long-sleeved top buttons up neatly. You slip on some slippers.

Stepping out into the cool evening, you barely acknowledge the path you're taking. The campus is quieter than usual, with just a few students lingering around, chatting in low voices as they return from late study sessions. The wind brushes against your cheeks, and you shiver lightly, pulling your arms closer to your body as you walk with no destination in mind.

Before you know it, you arrive at a small park just outside the campus grounds. It's dimly lit, and the chilly air has driven most people away. The park is almost deserted, with only a few benches scattered beneath the shadows of tall buildings. A lonely swing set stands to the side, the metal chains gently swaying with the breeze. You walk over to it, and without thinking, you lower yourself onto one of the swings.

Your hands grip the cold chains as you gently push yourself back and forth. The rhythmic motion helps, just a little, but your mind races faster than the gentle sway of the swing. You tilt your head back, eyes catching the glimpse of a star or two barely visible between the tall buildings. But even the beauty of the night sky can’t slow the spinning thoughts in your mind. You’re angry—angry at your mom’s words, angry at your inability to express it. Yet here you are, alone, processing it all by yourself.

You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself, trying to quiet your mind for even just a moment.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling footsteps interrupts your focus. A boy, wearing a campus jacket, staggers over to the swing next to you and flops down with a sigh. You glance sideways at him—his face is flushed a deep red, and the smell of alcohol hits you immediately. He giggles to himself, the sound light but unsettling in the stillness of the evening. He seems oblivious to your discomfort, swinging lightly next to you with a lazy grin on his face.

The unease grows in your chest. You shift uncomfortably, pulling your legs in closer. You need to leave. Slowly, you rise from the swing, ready to return to your dorm. But as you take a step, you feel a hand clamp around your wrist. Your heart nearly stops.

“Hey, where you going?” he slurs, his words barely coherent as he tugs at your arm. “Let’s swing here... together.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you try to pull away, but his grip is tight—too tight. Panic begins to bloom in your chest. You’ve never dealt with a drunk person before, and all your mother’s warnings about the dangers flash in your mind. You try to keep calm, tugging at your wrist again.

“Let me go,” you whisper, your voice trembling. But he doesn’t seem to hear you.

“Stop your shit and sit here with me,” he insists, pulling harder. “We’re supposed to have fun, Amy.”

Your pulse quickens. Amy? Who the hell is Amy?

“I’m not Amy!” you snap, louder now, trying to yank your hand free. You manage to pull away, but the boy stands abruptly, his bloodshot eyes glaring at you.

“Why do you keep leaving me?” he shouts. His steps are unsteady, but his anger is clear. Before you can react, he grabs your shoulder with one hand and your waist with the other, pulling you closer to him. His grip is tight, almost painful, and you begin to shake.

“Let go of me!” you scream, panic overtaking you. You’ve never felt so scared—so helpless. All the fears of what could happen race through your mind, and you try to push him away with all your strength. He holds you tighter, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not gonna hurt y—”

Without thinking, your hand swings up and connects with his face, hard. The slap rings out in the empty park, and for a moment, he stumbles back, stunned. Your hand stings from the force, but you barely register the pain. You’re ready to run, but before you can, he lunges at you again, grabbing your pajama collar roughly and gripping your jaw with his other hand, forcing you to face him. His face is twisted with rage. “Why did you do that? What did I do wrong to you?!” he shouts, his voice booming in your ears.

Tears well up in your eyes as the fear overwhelms you. You’re shaking uncontrollably, heart racing. How did you let this happen? You curse yourself for walking this far, for not being more careful. Panic surges through you. What if he tries to hurt you even worse? What if this escalates? The fear of the unknown, the thought that he could do anything to you now, sends you spiraling. You scream for help, your voice raw and desperate as tears stream down your face.

“Stop screaming, Amy! I’m not a bad guy!” he yells, his voice filled with frustration and anger. His hand twists in your hair, yanking you forward before throwing you to the ground. The pain shoots through you, sharp and shocking. You scream again, your body trembling as you lie on the ground, crying hysterically, paralyzed by fear.

You can’t process what’s happening, your mind in a fog as the world spins around you. The drunk guy’s fist is drawn back, ready to strike, and you brace yourself for the impact, but before he can land the blow, someone tackles him to the ground. It’s all a blur—thrashing limbs, muffled groans. The sound of a scuffle fills the air, and you can barely make out what’s happening through your daze. Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and instinctively, you flinch away from the touch, heart pounding in your chest.

“It's okay, it's me,” a gentle voice says, cutting through your panic. It’s Yamaguchi. His soft, concerned expression breaks through the terror gripping you, and you let out a sob, crying hysterically now as the relief begins to wash over you. Yamaguchi quickly looks you over, his eyes scanning for injuries. He frowns as he spots the angry red handprint on your cheek, the evidence of what just happened.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi calls urgently, his voice tight with worry. You turn your head shakily in the direction he’s calling, your vision blurry with tears. Through the haze, you see Tsukishima, standing tall in front of the drunken guy now sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain after being struck down. His face is shadowed, but his anger is unmistakable.

Without a second's hesitation, Tsukishima rushes toward you. His expression shifts from fury to deep concern, his hands shaking slightly as he cups your tear-streaked face. He wipes the strands of hair sticking to your cheeks and leans in closer, his breath ragged, still catching from the fight. “Hey,” he whispers urgently, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay? Did he—did he hurt you?”

Your voice trembles, barely above a whisper between the hiccups as you grasp onto his hands. “He grabbed me… and threw me to the ground.” The words feel so fragile, your body shaking uncontrollably as the fear from earlier resurfaces.

“It’s okay now,” Tsukishima’s jaw tightens at your words. He quickly pulls you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you protectively, as if shielding you from any further harm. “I’ve got you now,” he whispers against your hair. “You’re safe.”

“Tsukki, she’s hurt,” Yamaguchi says quietly, pointing to the tear in your pajama pants where blood is beginning to stain the fabric. Tsukishima pulls back, eyes scanning your body until he finds the bleeding scrape on your knee. His brows furrow in deep concern as he inspects it, then you lift your trembling hands, showing him the cuts and scratches you’ve only just now noticed.

“It’s okay,” Tsukishima says, his voice calm yet firm, trying to hold back his own distress. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

They bring you to Tsukishima’s apartment, a tall, quiet building beside the park. The moment you step inside, you feel a bit disoriented, your mind still clouded from the terrifying encounter. You settle on the sofa, and Yamaguchi stays close, his voice soft as he tries to comfort you. Tsukishima returns quickly with a first aid kit, his face serious but gentle. He kneels in front of you and begins to clean the injury on your knee with antiseptic. You can’t help but watch him blankly, your mind still spinning from everything that happened. The sting of the antiseptic pulls you back to reality for a moment, and you flinch slightly.

“I’ll get you some water,” Yamaguchi says quietly before heading to the kitchen, leaving you alone with Tsukishima. You blink, your thoughts slowly catching up with the present moment.

Tsukishima moves carefully now, his hands steady as he takes yours and starts cleaning the scratches on your palms. The soft clink of the antiseptic bottle echoes in the quiet room. You wince when the stinging sensation hits, and Tsukishima immediately looks up. “It’s okay, it’s done now,” he reassures you softly. He finishes quickly, his expression focused as he packs up the first aid kit.

Yamaguchi returns with a glass of water, offering it to you with a warm smile. “Here, drink this,” he says. After you take a sip, he hesitates, then asks gently, “What exactly happened at the park?”

Your heart sinks as the shame washes over you again. You lower your head, feeling foolish for having wandered so far from the dorm. How could you let yourself get into this situation?

“I was just sitting at the swings, trying to clear my head,” you start, your voice trembling. “Then he showed up. I could tell he was drunk, so I got up to leave, but he grabbed me and called me Amy. Everything happened so fast after that…” You pause, swallowing hard, fighting the urge to cry again.

Yamaguchi leans closer, his hand rubbing yours gently in reassurance. “It’s over now,” he says, his voice soothing. “You’re safe.”

“There’s a bar around here,” Tsukishima’s voice breaks the silence. He stands by the kitchen counter, putting the first aid kit away. “He must’ve come from there and wandered into the park.” His tone is calm, almost detached, but you can sense the undercurrent of irritation beneath his words.

You glance at Yamaguchi, who nods as if to confirm what Tsukishima said. Somehow, that simple gesture eases some of the tension in your chest.

Tsukishima reappears moments later, holding out a neatly folded shirt and pair of shorts. “You should get changed,” he says quietly, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. You look down at yourself, realizing your pajamas are torn and dirty, your skin still sticky from the fall. You stand, taking the clothes from him. His hand gestures toward the bathroom. “It’s that way,” he says, pointing.

You nod, grateful, and make your way toward the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and for the first time since the whole ordeal began, you exhale fully.

After changing into the soft pajamas Tsukishima had lent you, you took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom. The frog cartoon on the shirt made you smile shyly, the playful design somehow comforting despite the tension in your chest. Your leg still ached as you limped back into the living room, where Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were bustling around the kitchen counter. The sight of their familiar figures—Tsukishima quietly focused, Yamaguchi smiling warmly—grounded you in a way that made the fear from earlier seem like a distant memory.

Yamaguchi spotted you first. “Oh, it fits you well!” he said with an approving nod, his cheerful tone lightening the atmosphere.

Tsukishima glanced over, and you caught a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s my sister’s pajamas that she left after staying the night,” he explained, his eyes momentarily lingering on how the clothes fit you. It was subtle, but you couldn’t miss the way his gaze softened. For a brief moment, you almost felt… cute under his careful eyes.

You tried to hide your flustered smile as Yamaguchi pulled out a chair for you at the small kitchen table. “We grabbed chicken wings earlier when we heard the commotion in the park,” Yamaguchi said, his tone still light as he gestured for you to join them. “You must be hungry.”

The smell of food did make your stomach rumble, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since much earlier in the day. You sat down, accepting the plate Yamaguchi handed you. Slowly, as the warmth of the food and their company eased your nerves, you found yourself chatting with them. The event at the park seemed to fade with every laugh and every bit of teasing from Yamaguchi. Tsukishima stayed quieter, but every once in a while, you caught him watching you with a look of concern that he didn’t try to hide.

Once the meal was over, you volunteered to wash the dishes, standing firm despite their protests. You needed to do something, anything, to help push away the lingering anxiety. After drying your hands with a paper towel, you turned back to them, feeling a little more like yourself.

“You should stay the night,” Tsukishima said suddenly, his tone serious.

You opened your mouth to protest, feeling like you’d already intruded enough on their night, but Yamaguchi cut in before you could say anything. “Do you have morning class tomorrow?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Then it’s settled,” Yamaguchi said with a bright grin. “We’ll head back to the dorm tomorrow. Tsukki has an extra futon, so it’s fine.”

You hesitated, but when Tsukishima quietly left to grab the futon, you felt your resistance crumble. Soon enough, Tsukishima returned, laying the futon out neatly in the living room.

“You can sleep in my bedroom,” he said with that calm, matter-of-fact tone of his. “Yamaguchi and I will sleep out here.”

There was no arguing with that. You offered him a quiet thank you before retreating to his room, trying not to think too much about the fact that you were sleeping in Tsukishima’s bed. His scent lingered on the pillows and sheets, that familiar clean, earthy smell that reminded you of him. Despite the comfort of the room, your mind couldn’t settle. Every time you closed your eyes, flashes of the earlier event rushed back—the man’s hand grabbing you, his drunken slurred words, the helplessness you’d felt.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. Wrapping yourself tightly in the blanket, you quietly crept out of the bedroom and into the living room. You found Tsukishima sitting up on his futon, his legs wrapped in a blanket as he leaned against the couch. The TV was on, playing an old movie that bathed the room in soft, flickering light. Yamaguchi was already fast asleep beside him.

Tsukishima noticed you immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, but alert.

You hesitated, feeling embarrassed for some reason. “I… I can’t sleep,” you admitted softly.

Tsukishima shifted slightly, making room. “You can sleep on the couch. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

The offer was too comforting to refuse. You hesitantly lay down on the couch, pulling the blanket around you. The couch wasn’t quite as comfortable as his bed, but the fact that he was there, just a few feet away, made a world of difference.

“Do you want me to turn off the TV?” Tsukishima asked, glancing back at the screen.

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. You can keep watching. It’s… nice to have some sound in the background.”

“Alright,” he said, leaning back against the couch, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the movie playing softly on the TV. The darkness of the living room, combined with the quiet presence of Tsukishima nearby, began to lull you into a sense of peace.

Your eyes wandered to his hand, resting on the edge of the couch. Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, lightly brushing your fingers against his. He looked down at your hand, then back up to your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. “For saving me tonight.”

For a moment, Tsukishima didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over and intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb rubbing gently over your skin. “Just don’t put yourself in trouble again,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of a warmth that he rarely let show.

You nodded, your eyes growing heavy with sleep. The soft glow of the TV cast flickering shadows across the room as you settled more comfortably into the couch, cocooned in the blanket that still carried a faint trace of warmth from Tsukishima's bedroom. The rhythmic sounds of the movie playing in the background became a soothing hum, helping you push the earlier trauma to the back of your mind.

Tsukishima stayed close by, his presence quietly reassuring, his hand still gently holding yours. His thumb traced small, calming circles against your skin, and the gesture sent a wave of comfort through you. You hadn't even realized how tense you'd been until his touch seemed to gradually melt away the anxiety.

You mumbled something else, too sleepy to string the words together properly. Tsukishima squeezed your hand lightly in response, leaning his head back against the couch with a soft sigh. His eyes remained on you, watching over you protectively, making sure that even in this unfamiliar space, you felt safe. The warmth of his lips on your knuckles lingered longer than the touch itself, leaving behind a tenderness that your sleepy mind tried to hold on to.

Your breathing slowed as sleep finally began to overtake you. But just before the darkness of sleep fully claimed you, your last conscious thought was a feeling of gratitude—not just for being rescued, but for the quiet, steady care Tsukishima showed. His presence was a comforting anchor in a night that had been anything but calm.

And for once, in his quiet, composed way, Tsukishima wasn’t only your distant, stoic lab assistant. Tonight, he had been your shield.

i hope you guys like this chapter, i was running out of ideas 😣🤧

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 36

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, January 11; 06:00 AM - Ona and Alexia’s Room.

The usual blaring alarm sounds through the floor, followed by a thud in our room. I turn quickly when the warmth behind my back is no longer there. I hold back a laugh seeing Lucy lying between the two beds with her arm covering her face. My panic subsides when I hear her groan in displeasure, and I glance at Alexia, who shares my amusement.

“The first one I hear laughing will spend the day doing chores with me,” Lucy threatens us. “Seriously, is this really your wake-up call?”

“Welcome to student life,” I chuckle.

“I will never mock your wake-ups again.”

This time I laugh, earning a glare from her.

“I’m using the bathroom first!” announces Alexia as she gets out of bed.

“I’m not staying,” Lucy replies as Alexia disappears. “Do you have sweatpants and a jacket I can borrow to walk through the dorms?”

“Of course. Did you really walk through two buildings in that outfit yesterday?” I ask, surprised.

I observe her wearing just a T-shirt and shorts. She nods as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not like it’s minus ten outside.

“The instructor yesterday looked really worried. I didn’t really think about getting dressed.”

She’s crazy. I feel slightly guilty for worrying her so much. I don’t say anything and get up to find what she asked for in my wardrobe. I haven’t unpacked my suitcase yet, but I didn’t take all my clothes to her place. I hand her the clothes, and she puts them on over what she’s wearing to save time.

“I’ll check your room later when you’re in class,” she tells me. “Don’t take advantage of the time. Understood?”

I nod to her orders that clearly aren’t meant to be disobeyed, given her tone. She gives me a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the door. However, before leaving, she pauses as if she’s just realized her involuntary gesture, which leaves me speechless too. She turns back, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, that wasn’t intentional.”

“No worries,” I laugh nervously.

“I’ll see you later.”

She quickly leaves my room, slamming the door behind her. I bring my hand to my cheek, and a silly smile spreads across my lips. This girl is going to drive me crazy if she continues like this, for sure. I snap out of my euphoric state when Alexia comes out of the bathroom, freshly prepared. Seeing her like this reminds me that I haven’t done anything yet. I quickly grab my things.

“She’s already gone?”

“Yeah... She probably wanted to avoid running into other students,” I defend her.

“My God... I can’t believe she agreed to sleep with you in that small bed.”

“I would never have managed to fall asleep if she hadn’t stayed,” I admit timidly. “You’ll keep that to yourself, right?”

“Who do you think I would tell?”

“Do I need to make a list?”

“No, that’s fine,” she laughs.

“Agreed,” I mock before heading to the bathroom myself.

I dress quickly before getting ready. Upon exiting, I find my bed made. I thank Alexia for doing this chore for me, and we head to the cafeteria to join our friends who are already there. Ella and Alessia honor us with their presence this morning, along with Laia. Our table is rarely this full. It seems no girl heard the commotion last night, so we decide not to mention it. It avoids a lot of problems if no one talks about it. I glance at Lucy’s table to find it empty. Neither Ingrid nor she are there. I’ll probably see her in her office later. We leave the cafeteria early for once, so we take advantage of it to go to the common room before our first class. We should receive our new schedules today. It will also be my last hours with Alexia since we will be definitely separated starting next Monday. When eight o’clock approaches, we part ways to go to our classrooms. We wait in the hallway with the rest of our class until the teacher opens the door. I am surprised to see Lucy walk past us during our wait. As I was slouched against the wall at the back of the line, I lean forward to watch her continue her path to my professor.

“What’s she doing here?” Alexia asks me.

“I have no idea.”

“She’s talking with the professor,” a classmate informs us. “Did you do something wrong this morning?” she laughs.

“Why does it always have to concern her? Maybe it’s about you, huh. Idiot,” Alexia retorts coldly.

I hold back laughter seeing the girl’s dismayed expression in front of us. She certainly didn’t expect to be shut down like that. She turns around sulking. Our class moves forward, a sign that the professor is finally allowing us to enter. We follow the pace in silence, and I greet our teacher as I pass him. I was ready to enter without further acknowledging Lucy’s presence, but she holds me back by the arm.

“Wait,” Lucy stops me. “You’re coming with me.”

“Why?” I frown.

“You should know the reasons.”

I look into my class where a murmur is heard. I notice that everyone is watching us. This prompts the professor to close the door for some privacy.

“Wiegman would like to see you to discuss your problems,” she tells me.

“Oh... Have you already gone to see her?”

“You gave me your consent...” she says with a hint of doubt.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I reassure her. “I didn’t think you’d do it so soon. You’re coming with me then?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Why didn’t you talk about it earlier?” my professor asks. “We noticed you were quite tired, but we couldn’t guess. You should have mentioned it.”

“I spoke to Bronze, that’s more than enough,” I respond defensively.

“You need to talk to us about your problems if you want us to help too,” he insists.

“I already have all the help I need,” I say, pointing to Lucy.

“I’ll bring her back once we’re done,” Lucy interrupts, seeing my growing irritation.

“No problem, take your time. See you later.”

Lucy pulls me along after thanking and greeting him. We take the stairs to the ground floor. I didn’t expect her to go see our principal so quickly. She had warned me that we needed to find a solution quickly. She smiles when she notices my expression.

“What? Aren’t you happy to miss class?”

“No. Definitely not for what we’re going to do.”

“Relax. I already spoke with her this morning and proposed a solution that he finally accepted. It was hard to convince her, but I succeeded. She asked me to fetch you to get your opinion and consent.”

“My consent?” I ask, skeptical.

“Take your hands out of your pockets, please.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.

I immediately remove them to please her. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it. We exit the building, and I shield myself from the cold as we are greeted by a wave of icy wind.

“Did you go see her directly this morning then?”

“After getting ready, yes.”

“And so?”

“And so what?”

“Well... What’s the proposal?”

“Your crises vary, and as much as I like you, I don’t plan on making trips to the dorms every night. You can understand that, right?”

“Yes, obviously...” I say, lowering my head.

“So I asked to have you in my room again. I want to follow up on this issue personally.”

“Really?” I ask, stopping at this news.

“I wanted to have you placed in a room in our dorm, but it seems there are no more free. So I insisted that a bed be put in my room to accommodate you.”

“She really agreed to that!?”

“Let’s say the week I had you in my room convinced her. Plus, I’m the only one who can manage you, according to her. She knows you trust me.”

I nod, smiling. This idea delights me. The only thing that bothers me is being away from Alexia for a while. I hope at least it will be worth it, and I will manage to have full nights of sleep. Alexia never complained about it, but I noticed that my unexpected wake-ups affected her sleep. This is probably the best solution for now. Hopefully, it won’t be Lucy’s turn to be affected...

“I guess you don’t mind?” she asks me.

“No. We get along pretty well together, I think.”

“That’s true.”

“You do have a strong persuasive power, I must say.”

“Oh, it’s just a bit of good words, with a bit of good argument, mixed with my acting talent, and there you have it.”

“Acting talent?” I laugh. “Which one?”

“Hey,” she says, offended, pushing me. “I use it every day to hide our friendship.”

“Oh yeah? You’re not a real commander?” I tease her.

“How dare you! You should be the first to know that I’m not!” she pushes me again, making me laugh.

“Indeed, you’re an amazing person hiding behind what you’re not.”

“I’m not hiding, I’m working. Maybe I should pursue an acting career, don’t you think?”

“For you to get a big head? No thanks!”

“I wouldn’t get a big head,” she laughs.

“You don’t know that. I prefer not to risk it.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want to lose the unique person beside me.”

“You won’t lose her.”

“I’m serious,” I say, looking at her. “You’ve become important to me.”

She smiles in response to my confession. She’s already told me that I’m important to her, but I wish I could hear it again. In the end, it’s too late to add anything. We’ve just arrived in front of the office doors. She lets me enter first, and I don’t need a guide to find Wiegman’s office. I’d rather not have to come back here. I don’t really like Wiegman; I find her scary. I stop in front of her door and turn to look at Lucy.

“You’re coming in with me?”

“That was the plan, yes. Do you prefer to go alone?”

“No, no. I want you with me.”

She nods and knocks on the door. I open it when we're allowed in. The director stands up to welcome us.

“Good morning, Ona.”

“Good morning, Ma’am.”

I shake the hand she extends. She invites me to sit in one of the chairs in front of her. I take the one in the back so Lucy can take the other.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, and you?”

“Not too tired?”

“Why ask if you already know the answer?”

“Ona…” Lucy gently reprimands me.

“What? Let's get to the point. We all know why we're here, right?”

“She’s right,” Wiegman interjects. “Is this the first time these insomnia episodes have happened? Before coming here, I mean.”

“Not really,” I sigh. “I had them when I returned home, and then they came back during my withdrawal. It had been a few months since they stopped.”

“Can we know the reasons for these nightmares?”

“No,” I reply coldly.

I lower my head, clenching my fists. She better not force me to talk about it. She's definitely not the first person I’ll confide in. I feel Lucy's reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to break her down like this.”

“You're right; that’s not the goal. However, I’d like to know how you experience your episodes from the inside, if possible. It’s important for us to know. It will help us act better.”

I sigh deeply before explaining my feelings. She takes notes on everything I say, which annoys me. I feel like I'm talking to a doctor. Luckily Lucy is here, otherwise, I would have told her off already. I lower my head before starting.

“I-it’s like I completely lose control of my body. My heart races, my breathing becomes uncontrollable. My ears ring to the point where I can’t hear anything, and everything can worsen in a split second.”

“And so, Miss Bronze is the only one who can calm you down, according to my sources?”

“Yes. She’s the only one who cares about me and whom I trust,” I admit honestly. “Her presence reassures me.”

“Good…” he says, putting down his pen. “Miss Bronze suggested placing a bed in her room until this situation calms down. Does that work for you? I don’t want it to be a problem for you.”

“No…” I say, briefly glancing at Lucy. “If she doesn't mind waking up for me… I don't mind sharing a room with her. At least Alexia can get a full night's sleep, and it will avoid any disturbances or movements during the night.”

“Good. This will take effect starting tonight. I want it done with complete discretion. No one should know except the educators and your roommate. The bed will be placed during the day,” she informs Lucy. “If you still agree, of course.”

“I proposed the idea, so yes, of course.”

“I really emphasize that this idea must not spread in any way.”

“I will personally handle it if it starts to spread.”

“Hmm. This situation will only be temporary. Let’s say until the next vacation, in February. If there’s no improvement, other measures will be taken, such as a follow-up with a psychologist, for example.”

I grimace but nod, having no choice. I just need to find a solution to get rid of these nightmares. I don’t want to go that far over some restless nights. The discussion ends quickly after that. Lucy takes the time to thank him before we leave. We both take a deep breath once outside. She pushes me to make me understand to leave the offices.

“You didn’t tell me about this psychologist thing!”

“I wasn’t aware. We need to solve this problem now.”

“I know,” I sigh. “Thanks for defending me, by the way…”

“It’s normal,” she smiles. “Come on, I’ll walk you to class. Do you want me to take care of your things?”

“I can handle it.”

“We need to do this while the students are in class, Ona.”

“Well, then, do it. Just make sure to take my laptop, my iPod, and my headphones.”

“Okay, got it,” she chuckles. “Come on, hurry now. You’ve missed a good part of your class. I said I’d bring you back before the end.”

“Relax, I have two hours this morning.”

“That’s not an excuse, come on, move faster,” she reprimands me.

I laugh when she accompanies her words with a playful kick in the butt. I adjust my bag on my shoulders, and we walk to my classroom.

“How will it work then?”

“I’ll get your things now. As for you, you go through your day.”

“That’s it? And can I go to your room whenever I want?”

“No, absolutely not,” she shakes her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but we need to stay discreet, remember?”

“So…?”

“You do like every day. You have access to my room only to sleep. We’ll meet every night after the cafeteria or when you’re done hanging out with your friends, your choice.”

“Okay…”

“Does that work for you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sorry,” she grimaces. “I wish we could do it differently, but those are Wiegman’s conditions. She doesn’t want it to be known, you know that.”

“Great,” I sigh, stopping in front of my classroom door. “Can we see each other later?”

“If you want. I’ll be in the office. If not, ask Ingrid; she’ll know where I am.”

I nod, and she knocks on the door right after. She opens the door after getting permission from my teacher. She apologizes for the disturbance and steps aside to let me in. I do so without much conviction, not feeling motivated to return to class.

“See you later,” she whispers.

She thanks my teacher while I sit next to Alexia. She closes the door just as the bell indicates the end of the first hour. Unexpectedly, our teacher grants us a break, allowing Alexia to bombard me with questions. The teacher said nothing, so she didn't know where I was. I wait for the others to leave the class to explain what just happened. I wrote everything down on a piece of paper to stay as discreet as possible and avoid prying ears. It's not like they insisted on this detail. Anyway, Alexia had no choice but to be informed since we share the same room. The class resumes after the five-minute exceptional break. I try to focus, but it’s very difficult since I missed half of it. Plus, Alexia keeps wanting to chat. For once, I’m not the troublemaker between us. We managed to anger the teacher, who reminded us to behave and has been keeping an eye on us since. He asked me to stay after class. I hope it’s not to scold me because it’s not my fault this time!

“Alexia Putellas!” he reprimands her yet again. “Please follow the lesson instead of bothering your neighbor! Just because it’s the last week doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pay attention! Continue like this, and I’ll send you to the instructors.”

I snicker at my roommate's grumbling. It wasn’t hard to warn her. This teacher is too predictable. The ten o’clock break finally rings, much to Alexia’s delight. Everyone leaves the room, even Alexia, who waits for me behind the door as I asked her to. I approach the desk after gathering my things in my bag. He looks up when he sees me.

“Miss Batlle. Here,” he says, handing me a form that I quickly look at. “Try to stay on the right track without being influenced. You’ve managed to convince some teachers… and the opposite.”

Knowing the comments that came out of the class council, I know what he’s talking about. I’ve criticized this teacher a lot throughout the year, but knowing he defended me makes me regret my words.

“Will I still have you as a teacher?” I ask.

“No, I’ll be teaching another class, which is why I wish you the best.”

I thank him before leaving the room. I smile as I examine my new schedule. My time slots don’t change much. I still have Friday afternoons off, and I even finish an hour earlier on Wednesdays, at two o’clock. However, I’m skeptical about not having my math teacher anymore. I don’t understand much of his lessons, but he was one of the few to support me when everyone was against me. I put the sheet in my bag and go out to join Alexia to enjoy the rest of our break.

Monday, January 11; 5:30 PM - Ona and Alexia’s Room

“I still can’t believe Wiegman agreed to this. Seriously, you’re going to end up alone with Bronze in her room! It’s surprising given the restrictions she put because of Jenni.”

We’ve just gotten to the room, and she clearly couldn’t hold it in any longer. She wanted to discuss it several times, but I cut her off to make her understand that it wasn’t possible around the students.

“She managed to persuade her. Don’t ask me how, I have no idea.”

“She’s still stealing my roommate!”

“I’ll only be there at night, Alexia. She doesn’t want me to hang out in her room otherwise.”

“I’m sure that will change very quickly!”

“Of course not. She already told me we’ll go to her room together every night.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I assure you, I’ll still be here for a long time.”

I open my wardrobe after my last words, and the smile I had fades away. Alexia quickly comes up behind me to look over my shoulder, curious about my silence. She bursts out laughing.

“Staying here, huh? Maybe that's why your wardrobe is empty.”

“Damn it,” I grumble. “Why did she take everything?”

I expected her to take my uniforms, some pajamas, and underwear. But not almost everything! All that's left are a few T-shirts and some insignificant jeans. Why would she take my clothes when I'm not even allowed to wear them during the week? As I rummage around, I notice that my art supplies are also gone, and my suitcase next to the wardrobe is missing too. I check my things in the bathroom, and it's the same result. It's as if I don't live in this room anymore. Yet she clearly told me I could only access her room at night.

“Still, I'll miss you, Oni.”

She pouts adorably. It would’ve touched me if she hadn't used that nickname that only people from Barcelona use. She’s never called me that before… It clicks in my head.

“Don't tell me you're talking to Mapi?”

She stiffens slightly in my arms at my question, which says a lot about the answer.

“Oops… Does it bother you?”

I can't believe this! It's not that it bothers me, but if they start talking about me, it could get awkward. Who knows what Mapi might tell her with everything she knows about me. Especially about Lucy. Oh my God! I really hope she hasn’t said anything! I take a deep breath and shake my head.

“Of course not.”

“Cool... So, shall we join the others?” she distracts me.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, skeptical. “Let’s do that.”

We put our jackets back on, which we had just taken off, and head down to the common room where the boys are already there, playing foosball. Alexia joins them while I sit with those who chose not to play—Leah, Patri, Claudia, and Lotte.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Leah asks when I sit down next to her.

“Stop all calling me that.”

“I’m the only one who calls you that here,” she says, confused.

“To be honest, no,” I laugh.

“But no one in our group calls you that,” Claudia adds.

“You’re hiding people from us?” Patri teases.

“Not at all.”

I rest my head on Leah’s shoulder, and she doesn’t seem to mind. I’m not usually touchy, but she’s the person I get along with best after Alexia. I remember she was the first person I talked to at the table on the first night. We clicked instantly, and I guess it’s stayed that way.

“So, how are you really doing?” she asks again.

“Exhausted, but I’ll be fine.”

“Partied too hard this weekend?” Lotte jokes.

“Not even!”

“You went home?”

“Uh, yeah. I was with Mapi,” I lie. “Is that *The Walking Dead* on TV?” I change the subject.

“Yeah, but it’s impossible to follow with all this noise.”

She’s absolutely right. I’ve always said the TV in this room is useless given the constant noise. Unfortunately, it’s the only one we have. I watch the scenes from the show, which I hated at first. But I ended up liking it because Mapi made me watch it with her. After a few minutes, I realize I’ve already seen this episode, so I zone out.

“Looking forward to having me in your class?” Leah jokes, making me vibrate with laughter.

“I’m glad we’ll get to spend more time together. I think Alessia and Lotte will be with us too, right?” I say, looking at them.

I gaze at Alessia a bit longer when I realize I haven’t heard her voice since I’ve been with them. She just nods with a small smile, which I return. Finally, I sit back on the couch.

“We’ll see how it goes. I’m not particularly good at math or anything.”

“So how did you get into management?” Patri teases.

“I raised my grades thanks to Bronze,” I shrug.

“Why pursue it if it’s not your strong suit?” Alessia asks.

“It’ll help with my projects… or at least I hope so.”

I hunch my shoulders when someone lightly taps my head. I look up to see who did it. I expected Alexia, but a smile stretches across my face when I see Lucy. She’s leaning over me.

“Speak of the devil…”

“Oh, you were talking about me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “I hope it was good.”

“Of course. I’d never talk badly about you.”

“Sure. Go ahead, mock me,” she says, playfully nudging me, which makes me laugh.

“Never.”

“Right. For that, you’re coming with me to my office.”

I lose my smile when I notice she’s no longer joking. I quickly review my day in my head, worried I’ve done something wrong.

“Come on, get up.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. I just want you to catch up on the class you missed this morning.”

“You’re kidding,” I groan. “It’s my last week. Why should I catch up?”

“Because I spoke with your teacher, and it seems you’re studying a chapter you’ll cover in your new section. I also know you weren’t very attentive during your second hour because of Miss Putellas, so you’ll do me the favor of getting your butt off the couch unless you want me to do it for you.”

“Fine, you win,” I grumble.

She has a satisfied smile when I comply. My friends tease me for being weak, but Lucy quickly makes them regret their words. I stop by the foosball table to tell Alexia I’ll join them in the cafeteria later. After that, I follow Lucy to her office after grabbing my things from my room. It’s hard to believe she actually intends to make me study, but it seems like she really will. When we arrive, I flop into a chair in front of her desk. I start taking out my supplies without any motivation. Ingrid isn’t even here to entertain me. I stop rummaging through my bag when laughter echoes in the previously silent room.

“You’re way too naive, Ona.”

“You tricked me?” I ask, uncertain.

“Never,” she smiles, amused.

“Oh yeah? You’re like that?” I pretend to be offended.

“Well, I can’t help it if you fall for it so easily.”

“Okay, fine. You’re going to regret this.”

She laughs at me as I decide to sulk. It wasn’t funny at all to make me think I’d be working. I really thought I would be.

“Oh, come on. It was the only excuse to get you here.”

I stay quiet, wanting to show her she shouldn’t have done that. She could’ve at least told me or hinted at it differently.

“You’re really going to sulk over this? I thought you had a better sense of humor.”

She keeps talking, trying desperately to get a reaction out of me, which makes me laugh internally. I stay stone-faced until she’s genuinely worried, which I find very cute. I’m almost disappointed when she gives up on making me smile. Now she’s the one sulking, her maturity left behind. I finally smile, but it seems to have no effect on her now sour mood. I start to regret resisting her for so long.

“You’re really going to start working like nothing happened?” I joke.

She doesn’t answer. To prove she’s serious, she pulls out some papers and puts on those glasses I love so much.

“You’re adorable,” I blurt out.

“Okay, are you done sulking?” she asks, looking up.

“And you?” I reply.

We look at each other for a moment before laughing. We’re like kids together, and I love it. I shake my head to get a grip. This hour could have been the most boring and least important of my life, but it’s not. No hour with Lucy is a waste of time. I bite my lip at this thought. I really need to calm down. I’m getting my hopes up for nothing.

“Why did you take all my stuff when I’m not allowed to hang out in your room?”

“Remind me what you’re doing this weekend? I didn’t want to make a thousand trips. I figured I’d take everything at once.”

“Oh…”

“It’s much more convenient, isn’t it? You’re not going to scatter your things everywhere either.”

“True.”

“Well,” she says, glancing at the time. “I thought we’d have more time to talk, but it’s dinner time. Your friends must be waiting for you. Let’s meet in the hall outside the cafeteria in an hour, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, a little disappointed. “See you later.”

I pack up my things and leave her office. I smile softly, thinking it wasn’t the evening I imagined. I didn’t do much, but it was pretty cool though.

Monday, January 11, 8:00 PM - Cafeteria.

My meal went relatively well this evening, as it usually does. Since we all have different passions and hobbies, the discussions vary a lot. Everyone enjoys the variety it brings to the table. I'm chatting with Alessia as we leave the cafeteria. I discovered that she loves art as well, which gave us plenty to talk about tonight. I saw Lucy leave a good ten minutes ago. I don't know if she waited for me, but I quickly get my answer when I see her waiting outside with a book in her hands. At least I don’t have to look for her. I apologize to Alessia, pretending I need to ask Lucy something. I give a general “good night” after telling them not to wait up for me.

"See you later," Alexia says, kissing my cheek.

I smile at how she can play along, even if no one seems to have noticed what she did. I wait for them to leave before joining Lucy.

"Hey!" I call out once I’m close.

"I thought you'd be quicker," she replies, closing her book.

"Sorry, I got caught up talking," I admit honestly.

"I noticed. Let's go. I've waited long enough."

We waste no time heading to her room. It feels like I’m stepping back in time a few weeks as I follow her. I lie down on the single bed that will be mine for the next few days. I smile when I see my things scattered across her desk and my suitcase right next to it.

"You shower at night, right?" she asks.

"Yeah. Waking up at six is already tough enough without having to shower in the morning like I used to."

"Lightweight," she smiles. "Well, you know how the shower works and everything."

"You shower in the morning?"

"Yes, after my run. I’ll save some time now that you're here. Ingrid is going to check Alexia’s room."

"Right."

"Do you want me to set the alarm for six-thirty? That way, you can have a few extra minutes in the morning."

"No, leave it at six, please. I don't want to mess up my routine, knowing I won't be here forever. Besides, thirty minutes won’t make a difference."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. Six o'clock," I confirm.

"Alright, as you wish," she says, setting the alarm.

It’s true they don't have alarms like we do in our dorm. They’re allowed to manage their wake-up times as they like. Well, not entirely, since Bronze has to check our room. I would have much preferred to have my own alarm too.

"Can I go take a shower?"

"Of course, you don’t need to ask me. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks."

I grab pajamas, a fresh pair of underwear, and my toiletry bag from my suitcase, then lock myself in her bathroom. After stripping off my clothes, I step directly under the jets. It helps me clear my mind. I hope tonight won’t be as bad as I fear. I need this to end soon, for my own sake and for those around me. I don't want to burden Lucy or impose on her by sharing a room, even though it was her idea. Deep down, I’m afraid of losing control in her presence. Afraid she’ll discover the reasons behind my nightmares. But also afraid of getting too attached to her—more than I already am—and going crazy over her and that damn perfect body. Just thinking about it, I change the temperature of the shower to cold to snap myself out of it before it’s too late.