#should I apologize for this one? probably

[summertimesadnessirl]

The next step in the comic is when this person intentionally picks a fight with you. No matter what you say. No matter how you say it. Even if you discussed this before. Even if you came up with like, an action plan. Even if you carefully selected someone who you thought you could trust. Someone who would never.

If someone talks to you when you're overstimulated you should literally go ahead and start the fight yourself (I've never tried that but it's the one thing I haven't tried) because there is nothing you can do to stop the fight from happening. It is impossible. You got caught not being happy in public so now you probably lose this person as a friend or a useful ally or a significant other or a trusted person or whatever they are forever, and if you don't you are going to be at their mercy and owe them apology and deference for the rest of your relationship and they will never trust you and always pick fights with you and know that as soon as they goad you enough you will lose even if you're right so they can do anything they want and get away with it because you can't fucking control the volume of your voice. You're a loser. You're a baby. You're a monster. You're committing assault. You are not free. This is a cage. These are the bars of your cage. Anyone can lock you in it at any time for free. You begin to claw at your skin again, but it won't come off. It won't come off and you are too aware of it. People aren't watching. Thank God people aren't watching. If someone catches you clawing at your skin they will throw you in a cell for 72 hours. No one will actually do anything in the cell, but the government will take your tax refund for almost 6 years to pay for the cell and you will miss so much work you almost get evicted. Your boyfriend will yell at you a week after he cried and went down on you when you got out because you can't tell him how to fix your depression and the "emergency plan" you filled out with the doctor said "I have no idea just leave me alone in a corner someplace with my headphones." It's never about you. It's never about you. You aren't even allowed to die because your life is not your own. You can leave this boy but there will always be another boy. It could be a girl instead. They could be your "boss" or "friend" or "business partner." If they catch you unhappy in public they will also be a cage. Anyone can always turn into a cage. You wish you were actually in a cage most of the time, so you consider committing a crime. You think you could probably surprise your cell mate in prison with something weird enough that they would beat you to death or you would get solitary. That sounds easy. You only have to worry about one person and they also got thrown into a cage. They have a way you can lock them up, too. You don't care unless they can beat you to death. Pen stabbed into the brain. You can't hang yourself. You can't explain why you can't hang yourself. You are afraid death won't take if you hang yourself. You will wake up, somehow. You need it to be permanent. You need it to be over. Then you hear that in prison, they can force you to work in a call center.

They don't cover that part. That everyone wants you to be the biggest bitch in the world because then you don't get to be a person. They see that you are stressed out. They aren't fucking stupid. They want to make it worse because they want to hurt you. You learn that no one who says they are your friend will not sell you out. Will not gaslight you. Will not trick you or trap you or force you. Other people keep telling you to stop being avoidant and ask for help.

[ultrakeencollectionbreadfan]

To my Canadian followers:

I am deeply ashamed and embarrassed by President Donald J. Trump's recent behavior towards your country. I know it probably doesn't mean that much coming from just one person, but I hope my apology counts for something. I just want to let it be known that Trump doesn't speak for all of us.

To my American followers:

As mentioned above, my previous statement was to show Canadians that Trump doesn't speak for all of us and, in many cases, only speaks for himself. There are many individual Americans and American localities who really appreciate our relationship and would be willing to salvage it. I'm not going to let Trump fray the U.S.-Canada bond, and neither should you.

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ To The Moon n’ Back.

Short Summary: This year you’ll spend another ordinary Valentine’s Day, all by yourself. Or that you think—until you receive a mysterious letter.

Warnings: 18+ only! soft impact play, brief fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, also this is kinda ooc!Tom bc how do I make this man engage in Valentine’s Day activities.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 💋🩷

wordcount: 2,4k

Tom Riddle does not do love.

So why is it that every time you walk past him, his heart beats just a little bit faster?

He’s done everything to distract himself—drowning himself in books, studying more than what is usual, even for someone called Tom Riddle.

Yet, you never fail to leave his mind. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get the thought of you—specifically your lips on his—out of his mind.

By sweet Merlin, that’s the worst part of it all.

──

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Safe to say—you aren’t interested in a relationship.

So it shouldn’t bother you that all of your friends are out with their partner. But it does, your chest tightening at the thought of spending another night alone on a day that’s meant to be celebrated with your loved ones. It’s always been like this though, they’ve had their fun, and you—well, you stayed behind.

You decide to head to bed early. Right after dinner, which was awfully boring with none of your friends around, you make your way back to your dorm. Or try to, at least. Because as soon as you turn the corner, someone bumps into you.

Not just anyone—Tom Riddle. Head boy, former prefect, top student in every class, teacher’s favourite, award winner… you could go on like this for hours. There is probably nothing in this world that he hasn’t achieved—except for finding a Valentine’s date, it seems.

“I am sorry,” you mumble as you crouch down to pick up a piece of paper he has dropped. And it’s really not that you wanted to know what was written on it—it must have been the familiar number that caught your eye—the number of your dorm to be exact.

Though slightly taken aback, you hand him the paper—or better—he rips it from your hands. For a moment when his lips part slightly, you think he might want to say something in return—maybe apologize for bumping into you—but nothing ever comes.

So you leave, shooting him a weak smile.

It’s not like you expected an apology from him. He has his close circle of friends, all of whom are from renowned pureblood families. Even if you wanted him to like you, look at you the same way you’ve looked at him for years, it wouldn’t change a thing. Tom Riddle was unreachable. Any girl that has ever been interested in ended up getting rejected, and you wouldn’t be one of them.

Yet, the rich scent of his perfume lingers, the way his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment imprinted in your mind. His hands brushing over yours briefly, feeling his warmth, the warmth you’ve been craving to feel on your skin—

You shake your head. You’re interpreting too much into it.

──

Tom curses himself for almost blowing his cover.

After hours of contemplation, hours of sitting in front of a blank piece of parchment, he finally writes something down.

My dear—

He scoffs. Pathetic.

Scrunching up the paper, he discards it on the wooden floor of his dorm.

I hope this letter finds—

Definitely not.

Please meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at—

Please? Who is he to beg? You should be the one begging for— fuck.

Twenty crumpled-up pieces of parchment later, Tom’s had enough.

He opts for something shorter.

Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.

Perfect.

──

You are tucked under your duvet, putting the romance novel you had started on the nightstand. It was only 8pm, but with nothing else to do, sleep didn’t seem like the worst option. Soon enough, your eyelids flutter closed, and you drift off to sleep.

Though, it isn’t too long before a sharp knock on the glass of your window wakes you. It’s your owl, delivering a letter. Quite an unusual time for you to receive something, yet curiosity gets the better of you, and you open your window to get it.

No sender.

Reluctantly, you tear the envelope open, and your eyes skim over the words written on the parchment.

“Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.” You whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. You don’t recognize the handwriting as anyone's you know, and as soon as you wipe over the words, the ink smears, vanishing, leaving you with an empty parchment.

At first, you are quite unsure whether to go. There’s no name on the letter, and especially on a day like today, there will be stricter enforcements of the curfew rules. Though, knowing yourself, you would have probably gone anyway. Even on a day like this, the moon and the stars are the only company you crave.

So you change, folding your PJs neatly on your bed, putting on the first skirt you find—though as soon as you step out of your dorm, you regret your decision. Tonight is cooler than usual, a soft breeze brushing past your skin, having you shiver. It’s too late to turn around, though. So you make your way, walking the route you normally take when you sneak out past curfew.

As you ascend the stairs to the tower, a figure leaning against the railing catches your attention. Only when you take a few steps closer do you recognize who it is. The brunette curls are unmistakably Tom’s, and for a moment your breath catches in your throat, halting your movements. Knowing that he is most likely on his patrol, you turn around to return to your dorm, but as you do just that, his voice stops you.

“You came.” He remarks quietly, without turning around.

It is him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Riddle, if this is some kind of—“

“Come closer.”

You walk forwards then, though reluctantly, and lean against the railing next to the brunette. It’s silent between the both of you for a while before he speaks up again.

“They fascinate you, don’t they?” He asks subtly, staring into the distance of the night sky. You follow his gaze, taking in the stars and moon on the otherwise pitch-black horizon. “You watch them each night when you can’t sleep.”

You turn your head then, looking at him briefly. You want to ask how he knows, yet you decide to keep it to yourself. Instead, you answer honestly.

“It’s a rare constant in my life. They help me calm down, especially after a long day.”

He gives you a soft nod in return, and silence returns between the both of you, left with owls howling in the distance. There’s still snow on the ground, and it must be below freezing temperature, because when another cool breeze brushes past you, you shiver, scrunching up into yourself.

“Why am I here, Riddle?”

Tom finally turns towards you then, a spark of something softer shimmering in his otherwise so strict chocolate-brown eyes, and he takes a measured step closer.

“You didn’t have any other plans tonight, did you?” He asks, in a way that’s implying he already knows the answer—because what does he not know—and you shake your head no.

“Then that is why.”

You part your lips to question him but are interrupted by his hand reluctantly reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your cheek, trying, testing, before his hand wanders to your neck. His thumb draws small, soft patterns on your jaw, and you tense slightly at the contact. He stops then momentarily, watching your softened expression, but when you don’t complain, he continues.

His gaze flicks to your lips, the air between the both of you growing thick with tension as he slowly leans in. Your surroundings fade into a blur, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

Tom Riddle is kissing you.

The kiss isn’t what you’d expect of someone like him—it’s soft, tender, your lips moving in sync as his second hand rests on your lower back, pulling you closer.

Soon enough, he has you pressed against the railing, lips only parting from yours when a soft moan falls over your lips. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, then he goes back to kissing you as his fingertips trail up the soft skin of your thighs, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

“Okay?” He murmurs, waiting for a verbal agreement before turning you around, adjusting your position with a firm grip on your waist. He bunches the skirt around your hips, delivering a soft smack to the round curve of your now exposed ass.

A soft whimper falls over your lips, and you slightly lurch forward at the contact, but he is quick to reposition you, pulling you back to him.

It is most likely the choice of your underwear that has him go silent, fingers softly tracing along the lace of your burgundy thong, though he is quick to rid you of the last piece of fabric covering your lower body. Tom makes you step out of it, crouching down to lift your leg. You only faintly notice that he puts it in his pocket, and time to complain is sparse because his hands are back on your exposed skin within a second, cutting off your thoughts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, drawing a soft mewl from your lips, “even more so than I thought.”

Another gentle smack, and you feel his hand gently massaging your thighs before they wander up further. He doesn’t proceed—he waits, lingering there for just a moment.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, his voice soft, and you obey, parting your thighs to allow him better access. A whimper escapes your lips when Tom fully presses himself against you, making you feel the problem you’ve caused him.

His hand leaves your thigh, traveling up until he reaches your already soaked heat, humming as his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal. One finger slips inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips into his touch.

A second finger enters you, stretching, preparing you for him. You appreciate it—but all you want is to finally feel him.

“Riddle, please— I need you.”

His fingers withdraw then, hand wrapping around your throat instead, tilting your head backwards as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“What’s my name?”

“Tom, God— please let me feel you, Tom.” You croak out, whimpering in defeat.

He lets you go then, the sound of him undoing his belt cutting through the night. “Good girl. Sounds so good when you say it.”

He casts a warming charm on you, a pleasant heat spreading through your body, and the next thing you feel is his tip nudging against your soaked entrance, slipping inside of you with a single, slow thrust. He groans when he’s inside of you completely—and it might be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

He’s told you to stay quiet—though that order is quickly forgotten when he sets a steady rhythm, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to leave bruises. He stretches you perfectly, filling you completely with every snap of his hips, knuckles turning white from how hard you are gripping the railing. The sound of your skin colliding with each thrust fills the air, accompanied by your moans and whimpers and occasional low groans from the man behind you.

“Spread your legs a little further for me, love.” Tom breathes, hand slipping between your legs once more as you do. Again, he finds your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing the bud in slow, circular motions.

As your moans grow louder, walls clenching around him, he angles his thrusts slightly differently, his tip brushing over your most sensitive spots inside of you.

“Oh— Tom, don’t— don’t stop, fuck—“

His palm lands on your ass once more, but this time you arch your back into his touch, thighs trembling at the electrifying sensations shooting straight to your core.

With one of his hands on your waist, pulling you back into the sharp snaps of his hips, the other wraps around your throat again, pulling you flush against his chest. Like this he is able to reach even deeper, tip brushing against your cervix with every thrust, providing you with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck— squeezing me so tight. That good?”

You only manage a nod in return, eyelids fluttering close as you near your climax, walls fluttering wildly around his invading length.

“Open your eyes and look at the sky when you come, darling.”

So you do.

With one last high-pitched moan, you tumble over the edge, hot, white pleasure rushing through your veins as your cunt clamps down around him, his hands on your hips as they stabilize you when your knees are about to give in.

Soon after, your mind still hazy with the aftereffects of your own orgasm, he empties himself inside of you with a low groan, hips stuttering as he is buried to the hilt, making sure you take all of him.

Both of you stay like this for a while, catching your breath. Only when the warming effects of the charm he casted on you wear off does he pull out of you slowly, drawing a soft whimper from your lips at the loss. He fixes your skirt for you, takes care of his appearance before his arm wraps around your waist, helping you stand upright.

“I will need that back,” you say, pointing to the lace half hanging out of his pocket.

He tucks it away completely then. “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, leaning back against the railing.

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips but fades as he studies you in the faint glow of the moonlight, his expression turning more serious.

“Did so well for me,” he says after some time, voice soft again, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You blink in confusion. Surely he didn’t—

“I wish you could see yourself the way you see the stars and the moon.” He goes on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are worthy of love.”

You shake your head. “Tom—“

Before you can protest, he presses his lips on yours, cutting off whatever words you were trying to form.

“I want you to teach me,” he exhales then, wrapping his coat around your shoulders, “how to love. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

this was requested by my lovely @riddleswhcre 🩷 thank you so much for requesting baby!! you already know I am not particularly happy with how this turned out, but I hope it was still somewhat alright. <3

[angstywaifu]

Apology Accepted - Garrick Tavis

Summary: Garrick and you got off on the wrong foot from day one. But maybe things could have been different if you'd just given him a chance. And somehow all it takes is for you to be stood up on Valentines Day. A/N: Just a small Valentine's Day fic for you all to enjoy ❤️ Masterlist | Links

“You excited for tonight?” Bodhi asks as he takes his across from me in the dining hall for lunch.

“What’s tonight?” Imogen asks, joining our conversation as Quinn gets up to join her girlfriend who just walked in.

“Y/N here has scored herself a valentines date for tonight.” Bodhi announces before I can get a word in.

A loud scoff has us all turning out heads towards the noise, Garrick having turned his attention to us. “You have a date? How much did you pay them?” He mocks with that stupid smirk of his, and that damn dimple in his cheek fully noticeable.

I roll my eyes at him and turn my head away. “I didn’t pay them anything, doubt I can say the same for you though.” I snap back, Bodhi and Imogen snickering at my comment as Garrick scowls at me.

“So do you have a valentine's date or plans then Garrick?” Imogen asks him, a knowing smirk on her face.

“I don’t need a day to tell me to do something romantic.” He grumbles.

“So that's a fat no.” I add, knowing if I turn my head he will be glaring at me.

“I doubt you two have any plans.” He shoots at Imogen and Bodhi, ignoring my comment.

“I’m doing a girls night with Quinn and her girlfriend.” Imogen says happily.

“So you’re third wheeling?” Bodhi teases, earning a bread roll being thrown at his head. 

“Says the one whose plans were to hang out with Y/N here till she got a date.” 

“Hey, those are perfectly valid plans for two very single friends.” Bodhi exclaims.

“And how did those plans turn out for you?” Garrick teases, causing Bodhi to sulk and ignore Garrick.

The tavern in town is packed with people tonight. Probably because it’s the only place nearby to go out for a drink or a meal. Meaning a lot of cadets and other people have chosen to come here tonight. I scan the room again, looking out for the infantry cadet who has asked me out. But yet again I come up short, only finding other happy couples enjoying their evening. Maybe Garrick was right and I should have paid for them to come on the date. maybe then I wouldn’t have been stood up. I throw back my drink, skulling the last of it. I put the mug down, shoving it away from me as I turn to get up from my table as a familiar large figure sits on the edge of the seat next to me, blocking my exit from the booth.

“So you teased me all of today about not having plans and being single, just for you to get stood up?” He teases as he cocks an eyebrow at me.

I roll my eyes at him. “If you’re here to gloat then save it and move out of my way.”

He ignores my command to move, looking down at me with those damned hazel eyes. Fuck, I hated what those eyes did to me. Hated what he did to me.

“Move over.” He tells me as he forces himself closer to me, making me move further into the booth to accommodate him. “You’re lucky I’m hungry.”

“How does that make me lucky?” I ask him as he waves down one of the servers.

He ignores me as he orders food for both of us, not even stopping to ask what I want, but annoyingly he somehow nails exactly what I want. The same thing I always get when I come here.

“You’re lucky, because now it doesn’t look like you’ve been stood up.” He tells me as he shoves a drink towards me, one he must have ordered before sitting down. “And you get to enjoy my company.”

“There’s nothing about your company to enjoy.” I snarl, taking the drink he offers me as I take a deep drink from it.

“I beg to differ.” He says smugly as he smiles at me, that damn dimple poping again.

“We’ve known each other for two years now Tavis, I think I’d know by now if there was anything to enjoy about your company. Which there isn’t.” 

His eyes travel over me, making me squirm under his gaze. I hated when he did that. It’s like he knew how I really felt. That my feelings towards him had changed over the time we’d known each other. But I was too stubborn to admit it to him, knowing he’d just tease me relentlessly. 

“You’ve never really given me a chance love.” He tells me as if he’s stating the obvious.

Our conversation is briefly halted by our food arriving, Garrick pushing the plate of roast chicken, mash potatoes and gravy towards me as he turns his attention to his steak.

“Why would I? You made it painfully clear you didn’t like me from day one.” I tell him pointedly.

He shakes his head as he chews his food. “No, you just took something I said the wrong way. I never disliked you.”

What? No, there’s no way. I remember that day. The comment he had made. 

“If that's true, why have you let it carry on for the last two years?” I ask, turning to face him in the booth.

He turns his head, giving me his full attention. “Because you were hell bent on the idea I didn’t like you. Trust me, I tried to make it clear I didn’t hate you. You didn’t want a bar of it. Now eat the food I ordered you before it goes cold.” Gesturing to my plate dismissively as he turns back to his own food.

I turn back to the food, but suddenly I’m not hungry. Garrick’s words playing over in my head. Had I really been the reason this had carried out the way it had for the last two years? No, I knew Garrick. If he had wanted to be friends or change the outcome of that day he would have. Right?

“Maybe he did and you were too stubborn to see things differently.” My dragon drawls in my head.

“I don’t need your input right now.” I snap back at them.

I feel the huff of annoyance through the bond. “Clearly you do. So either remain stubborn and continue as you are, or listen to the damn boy. Might do you some good too. With how wound up you’ve been over him, you need a release.”

I slam up my shields, not wanting to deal with them right now. But I don’t miss the laughter from them before I do. But they were right. I had just thought Garrick was trying to be annoying. Lure me into a false sense of friendship after the comment he’d made. But looking back, I definitely could have taken it the wrong way. I’d just jumped at it. And now after two years, and knowing Garrick a lot better than I did… It would have been clear he didn’t mean it seriously. Fuck. 

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, not expecting Garrick to hear it as I push a stray bit of chicken around my plate.

I know Garrick hears it clear as day as he turns his head towards me, feeling his eyes on me as he watches me. “What was that?” He asks, hearing the smirk in his voice already.

“I’m sorry.” I say a little louder this time.

Garrick turns in his seat, resting his arm along the back of the booth while the other pushes his plate away as he leans it on the edge of the table. “Sorry, I don’t think I understood what you sa-“

“I said I’m sorry!” I nearly yell at him as I drop my fork to my plate as he chuckles at me. 

Instead of the smirk I expect to see, it’s a genuine smile. It’s something rare to see on Garrick. I’d only seen it a handful of times, mainly kept for moments to do with Bodhi or Xaden when he thinks no one is watching.

“Apology accepted. Now let’s get you another drink and make this a proper valentine’s date.” He says as he stands from the booth, taking both our mugs with him to the bar.

[rizzanon]

Normalcy

a cassandra cain and batsis! reader oneshot | m.list

Summary: you took your sister out for fun to help her relax

The Batcave is quiet.

Unusual, but not unwelcome.

Cassandra Cain steps lightly as she descends the last few steps, the dim glow of the monitors casting shifting shadows across the stone walls. The usual hum of activity—voices, movement, the occasional sharp exchange of mission details—is absent.

She pauses, scanning the area.

Empty.

Normally, someone—Bruce, Tim, or even Alfred—would be here, but tonight, it’s just her.

They must still be out.

She exhales softly, rolling the tension out of her shoulders. Her muscles still carry the echoes of the night’s fights, the familiar ache of movement, of action, of force met with force.

She turns toward the training mats, deciding to run through a cool-down routine before heading upstairs.

She takes one step forward—

And then catches the hand reaching for her shoulder.

It’s instinct. Reflex. The motion sharp and fluid, a perfect counter to an unexpected approach. Her grip tightens around the wrist, prepared for a struggle—

Until she hears your voice.

“Damn it, Cass,” you groan, exasperated. “Again?”

She blinks, recognition settling in an instant.

Her hold loosens immediately, fingers pulling away from your skin as she takes a half-step back. She hadn’t even looked. Hadn’t checked. Just reacted.

Cassandra tilts her head, watching you closely. You’re smiling, eyes bright, but there’s something softer underneath. She looks for it—the way your weight shifts slightly, the way your fingers rub against the faint mark on your wrist.

The way you always do this. Pretend like nothing hurts even though it probably does.

She presses her lips together, but she doesn’t apologize. You wouldn’t want her to. You wouldn’t want her to feel bad about this.

So instead, she asks, “Why are you here?”

You perk up. “Because you are here.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow.

“I mean,” you amend, shifting your weight, “I was waiting for you.”

She stills, surprised.

“For what?”

You grin. “To take you out.”

Cassandra stares. “Out?”

“Out.”

And before she can form a proper response, before she can say I should stay, before she can think—

Your arm loops through hers.

The movement is smooth, practiced, like you’ve done it a hundred times before. The warmth of your skin against hers is solid, grounding. Familiar.

“I mean, you could say no,” you say, already dragging her toward the exit. “But I’m gonna be real with you, Cass—I’m not letting go until you get changed and come with me, so we might as well cut out the middle part.”

Her first instinct is to refuse. There’s no point.

But then—

Your fingers curl around her wrist, warm and steady, not dragging but guiding. Not demanding, just expecting her to follow.

Like it’s natural. Like she belongs.

So she lets you pull her along.

The streets of Gotham are loud.

Not in a way that bothers her, necessarily, but in a way that contrasts sharply with the silence of the Cave. The distant roar of traffic, the murmur of voices, the occasional bark of laughter from someone passing by—it all blends together into something normal.

Something alive.

Cassandra keeps pace beside you easily, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, letting the rhythm of your steps guide hers.

You’re relaxed.

She can tell in the way your shoulders sit loose, the way your head tilts slightly as you glance around, taking in the night air like it’s something new.

Her eyes trace the slight bounce in your step, the easy sway of your arms as you walk. There’s no tension, no weight dragging you down.

It’s nice.

She notices the way you keep glancing at her, like you’re making sure she’s still with you. Not because she might disappear, but because—

You want her here.

The thought sits strangely in her chest. Warm and unfamiliar.

She doesn’t know what to do with it.

Cassandra watches as you casually step onto the edge of the sidewalk, balancing on the curb as if it were a tightrope. It’s a game—one you don’t acknowledge out loud, but play anyway, arms out slightly for balance, eyes focused ahead in exaggerated concentration.

Cass huffs, amused.

You flash her a quick glance. “Bet you can’t do it.”

A challenge.

Cassandra lifts a browbefore stepping onto the curb beside you, mirroring your stance perfectly. She doesn’t even wobble.

You groan dramatically at her effortless precision. A smile tugs at her lips as Cassandra watches the tiny gears in your mind turn.

Without warning, you jump, reaching for a nearby street sign, swinging yourself up with an exaggerated effort before dropping back down, grinning.

Cassandra stops.

Raises an eyebrow.

“Impressed?” you ask, waggling your brows.

She blinks.

Then, without a word, she mirrors your movement perfectly—gripping the signpost, swinging herself up with ease, landing silently beside you.

You groan once more, half-admonishing.

“Show off.”

Before you can let the moment settle, you nudge her elbow. “Race you to that crosswalk.”

Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

Your grin turns mischievous. “What, scared I’ll win?”

She doesn’t answer. Just bolts.

Your laugh rings behind her as you sprint after her, shouting, calling her a cheater. She slows just enough to let you think you had a chance before stopping at the crosswalk, completely unbothered, calm and composed as ever.

You, on the other hand, are panting.

“You suck,” you mutter, out of breath. You glare half-heartedly before tugging her forward again into a building.

It’s a small café, tucked between taller buildings, newly opened. The warm light spills onto the sidewalk, inviting, soft.

You push open the door, glancing over your shoulder with a playful tilt of your head.

“My friends and I used to do this all the time,” you say, settling into a booth by the window. “We’d check out new places and rate them based on the food, the vibes… and, of course, whether they had cute waiters.” You pause, grinning as you see Cassandra’s eyebrow lift in mild surprise.

“What? It’s an important factor,” you add, your tone light and teasing.

Cassandra doesn’t roll her eyes, but she wants to.

Instead, she just watches you—the way you lean into the warm air of the café, the way your fingers tap against the table as you pick a seat, the way your grin softens, just slightly, as you glance at her.

Like you do this all the time. Like this is normal.

Cassandra sits across from you, watching, feeling the weight of the moment settle over her.

For once, she lets herself believe—

That maybe, she could have this too.

She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head, and something in her chest eases.

It’s strange.

This.

The way you talk, the way you gesture, the way you slip into conversation so easily. The way the world feels soft in your presence. The way you give her something normal, something outside the constant demand of everything else.

She isn’t used to it.

Not yet.

But she thinks—

She thinks she wants to be.

You’re still talking, still animated, your fingers idly tracing patterns against the side of your cup of your drink that you ordered, as you recount some old story about a café that had the best hot chocolate but terrible seating.

Cassandra listens.

She doesn’t interrupt.

She just—watches.

Your expression shifts with every word, every memory, the crinkle of your nose when you recall something unpleasant, the way your lips quirk when you’re about to deliver a punchline. You speak with your entire body, your hands emphasizing certain points, your shoulders rising slightly with amusement.

It’s not just words.

It’s motion.

And Cassandra is fluent in motion.

She catches the way your fingers flex unconsciously around your cup, the way your thumb taps a steady rhythm against the ceramic, the way you lean in—closer, like you want to make sure she’s still listening.

She is.

Of course she is.

She doesn’t think you realize how easy you are to listen to.

Then, you pause—your focus shifting suddenly as something catches your eye.

Cassandra follows your gaze.

There’s a small counter near the register, displaying a few take-home pastries in neat little boxes. Your eyes linger, just for a second, before you shake your head slightly, looking back at her.

You open your mouth—probably to pick up where you left off—

But Cassandra is already standing.

You blink. “Uh—Cass?”

She doesn’t respond, just moves toward the counter, scanning the selection. The girl behind the register offers her a polite smile, and Cassandra gestures toward the box you had been looking at before handing over a few bills.

By the time she returns to the table, you’re staring at her, brow furrowed.

Cassandra sets the box in front of you, sliding it across the table without a word.

You glance down at it.

Then back up at her.

Then back down.

“…Did you—” You clear your throat. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Cassandra shrugs. “Wanted to.”

Something flickers across your face.

For once, you’re the one caught off guard.

And she sees it—sees the way you swallow slightly, the way your fingers brush against the edges of the box, hesitant, like you’re not sure whether to open it or not.

Then, you exhale, a slow, measured thing, before smiling.

Soft.

Not playful. Not teasing. Just—warm.

“…Thanks, Cass.”

Cassandra nods, but she doesn’t reply.

She doesn’t need to.

Instead, she lets herself take in this moment—the quiet hum of the café, the distant chatter of other customers, the steady rhythm of your breathing across from her.

This feeling.

This normalcy.

It still feels strange to her.

Still feels like something outside of herself, something distant.

But she’s trying.

Trying to be used to it.

Trying to be used to deserving it.

Trying to be used to you.

And as your fingers finally curl around the box, as you pop it open and grab one of the pastries, making an exaggerated mmm sound just to make her laugh—

She thinks that maybe, just maybe—

She’s getting there.

Cassandra watches as you take a bite, your face lighting up dramatically as you savor the taste. You close your eyes for a second, pressing a hand to your chest like the pastry has just saved your life.

“Oh my god,” you say, exaggerating every syllable. “Cass, you have to try this. I think it might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “Ever?”

You nod, completely serious. “Ever.”

She doesn’t bother arguing. She just reaches over, and without hesitation, you break off a piece, handing it to her.

She takes it. Eats it. Chews.

It’s good.

Not life-changing, but—good.

You’re still watching her, waiting for some kind of reaction.

She shrugs. “Okay.”

Your jaw drops. “Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Cass, this is a masterpiece. A work of art.” You gesture wildly at the pastry like it should be in a museum. “I feel personally offended that you’re just calling it okay.”

Cassandra just smirks, sipping her drink. “Dramatic.”

You gasp. “Me? Dramatic?”

She doesn’t say anything—just tilts her head slightly, eyes glinting with amusement.

You point at her. “I know what you’re doing. You’re messing with me.”

Another shrug. Another sip of her drink.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” But there’s no actual frustration in your voice, just that same warmth, that same ease that Cassandra is still—still—trying to get used to.

Because it’s moments like these—quiet, insignificant in the grand scheme of things—that make her feel like she’s learning something new about herself.

Something beyond the fighting. Beyond the missions.

Something human.

You go back to eating, still muttering about her “bad taste” under your breath, but you don’t actually seem upset. If anything, you seem… happy.

Comfortable.

And for Cassandra, that means everything.

She looks down at her own hands, flexing her fingers slightly. It still feels strange—this kind of connection, this normalcy, like wearing a new pair of gloves that don’t quite fit yet.

But then you nudge her foot under the table, just lightly, like a reminder that you’re here. That she’s here. That this moment is real.

She breathes.

And when you look up at her again, grinning like you’re already thinking of what to drag her to next—

Cassandra thinks she could get used to this.

this is finally out omfg 😭 this had been in my drafts for way too long bruh 💀 it’s kind of shorter compared to the other days, but i like how this one turned out 🥰 hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld @ceridwyn3 @darkfaethedestroyer @blueiones @strwberryglass @lithiumval @thephantomdanny @eli-mayhaveatencats @rockyeatrock @dreaming-of-the-reality @shirp-collector-of-fixations @gneepgnorpsneepsnorp @skerbablo @dind1n @gwyneveire @yukixies | ask to be added <3

[dindjarindiaries]

Pulling Punches

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "Look, I know I probably should have backed off and I apologize." "No, honestly it was kind of hot." "What?"

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You sighed and set your hands on your hips, leaning close enough so that your muttered words could only be shared between the two of you. “Din, honestly. I’ll be fine in there.” You gestured with your head to the cantina’s threshold. “Just stay out here and watch my back. Okay?”

Din shifted his weight between his feet and flexed one of his gloved hands. The other rose to adjust his vambrace. With a heavy exhale of defeat and a swing of his helmet, he relented. “Fine.” His visor found you again. “Just—.”

“Be careful.” You huffed and gave his armored shoulder a playful punch. “I know. I can handle myself.” You turned towards the door and spoke to him over your shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few.”

With that, you strode forward. The door slid open for you, and you felt Din’s gaze lingering on your back until the closing door made it impossible for him to see you any longer.

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, for a man who had yet to even mention the idea of being with you romantically, he was so unnecessarily protective.

The cantina on this world was crowded that night, practically shoulder-to-shoulder as you wove your way towards the actual bar. You were soon close enough to spot the familiar blue skin of the Twi’lek bartender, and after raising your hand and keeping your eye on them, you caught their attention. The Twi’lek woman smiled and waved you forward.

“Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly as you stepped up to greet the bartender. “I know I’m a bit late.”

The Twi’lek raised an unimpressed brow, despite the glint of fondness in her gaze. “‘A bit’? It was two full rotations.”

You shrugged. “Kark happens.” You subtly scanned your surroundings and lowered your voice. “Do you still have it?”

The Twi’lek hummed a positive note as she finished pouring a drink. “It’s in the back.” She picked up the glass in her hand and nodded. “I’ll go grab it.”

Your face softened in gratitude, even as your fists tightened on top of the bar. You wouldn’t feel much better until the datacard was in your hands.

Just as you watched the blue Twi’lek disappear into a back room, the man on your left started to speak to you. “Never seen you here before.”

You huffed and cut your gaze at him. “Moved off world a few cycles ago.”

“Makes sense.” He shuffled closer to you. “I’d remember a face like yours.”

You let out a low chuckle and glanced over at him, amused. “Oh, yeah?”

The man hummed his agreement and gave you an obvious once-over. “What brings you back here?”

You offered him a shrug. “Just visiting an old friend.” You gestured with your head to where the bartender had gone.

“Well…” The man’s hand slid closer to yours on the bar top. “I’m glad you did.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not staying long.”

His brow rose slowly. “I won’t need long.”

You frowned and pulled your hand closer to yourself. “Okay, then let me make myself clear: I don’t want whatever you’re trying to offer me.”

The man chuckled. “Playing hard to get? Really?”

You crossed your arms, but kept your hands pulled tight into fists, ready to punch if you had to. “I’m not ‘playing’ at all.”

The man lifted his hand as if he was about to set it on your shoulder. “Then let me help you—.”

Whatever else he was saying was lost in the shuffle of someone stepping in between the two of you so quickly that you nearly jumped into the person on your right. The flash of silver was all you needed to see to identify who it was that had grabbed the man’s wrist so hard that you audibly heard it crack.

The man gasped in both pain and surprise, but Din didn’t release his wrist, not even as he spoke. “Lay a single hand on them, and I’ll cut it off.”

The man sputtered before he tried to snatch his wrist away from Din. “Alright, alright! Relax.”

“This is me relaxed.” Din still didn’t relinquish his grip. “You don’t want to see me when I’m not. Do I make myself clear?”

The man huffed indignantly. “Yeah, yeah! Whatever. Just let me go!”

You observed the attention you were suddenly getting and sighed. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes. “Let him go, Din.”

Din hesitated, but you soon heard movement as he dropped the man’s hand. You reopened your eyes to see the man cradling his bruising wrist and glaring between both you and Din. His words were directed towards you when he spoke again. “You could at least fight your own battles.”

You were ready to do exactly that, but Din beat you to it. He slammed his elbow into the back of the man’s head, forcing his front half to fold over the bar top, and then punched the man’s gut to make him fall back a few steps. Din’s final hit was an uppercut that had the man knocked out in seconds.

The man hit the floor, and the cantina froze for a single moment in time as Din flexed both his hands and spoke to the limp body underneath him. “They don’t have to.”

You should’ve been mortified by his actions, and part of you was, but mostly… you were hit with a rush of warmth that brought a fond smile to your lips. Din was always protective, sure, but this was something different. This was a fight to protect your honor.

Like he had said, a battle you could have fought on your own, but you didn’t have to, because he wanted to do it for you.

Din then shook his helmet as if pulling himself out of a trance and turned around to face you. He took a step closer, as if he was about to start speaking, but your attention was pulled away by the bartender returning.

“Here.” The Twi’lek woman handed you the datacard, and you thanked her quietly. Her gaze fell to the man on the floor, and her brow raised as she let out a relived exhale. “Oh, finally. Someone took care of that guy.”

You frowned in confusion. “What?”

The bartender nodded at the body. “Guy’s been harassing our patrons for weeks.”

“Oh.” You looked down at the man and kicked his limp foot with your boot. “Good riddance.”

The Twi’lek huffed in agreement and only briefly looked between you and Din. She smiled and nodded towards the door. “Be safe out there.”

“And you be safe in here.”

With those words and a small smile of your own, you turned towards the door and started making your way out. It was admittedly easier, though, with Din at your side, as he had no trouble pushing people out of the way for both of you.

As soon as you were making your way back to the ship, Din began to speak. “Look.”

He let out a soft breath as his visor glanced over at you.

“I know I probably should have backed off.” He looked down at the fist he’d punched with and flexed it. “I apologize.”

You hummed, pretending to consider his apology. “No. Honestly…” You shrugged. “It was kind of hot.”

Din’s helmet whipped towards you so fast that you’re surprised he didn’t actually trip a step. “What?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you bumped your side against his. “I’m being serious!”

Din’s helmet tilted at you. “But you’re laughing.”

“Because it’s funny.”

Din sighed. “What’s funny?”

You nodded at him. “You being so shocked that I find you attractive.”

Din stiffened in clear embarrassment as he focused on the way ahead. “Are we really doing this here?”

You pretended to be disappointed. “So, you’re saying you didn’t do what you did because you find me attractive?”

Din’s helmet turned towards you again. “I never said that.”

Your teasing smile was impossible to fight. “Then you do think I’m attractive?”

Din suddenly stopped in his tracks, letting out an exhale heavy enough to make you hold back a laugh. He took you by the arm and pulled you aside to keep you out of the way as he responded.

“Clearly. How many more people do I have to punch to make that obvious?”

You blinked at him before you burst out laughing again. "Din, there has to be a better way for you to tell me how you feel."

Din shrugged. "I was raised a fighter."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Not a lover?"

"Jury's still out."

You snorted in amusement. Din, however, was quick to shift gears, his hand lowering from your arm to your back as his visor gave your surroundings a cautious glance.

"Now, can I please get you back to the ship safely, and then we can discuss this more properly?" He tilted his helmet at you. "Or, in your case, laugh about it."

You gave your eyes a playful roll, though the smile on your lips told a different story. "Fine." You nodded towards the way ahead. "Just try not to punch anyone else."

Din huffed and gave your back a gentle tap. "No promises."

Given what additional insight you had now regarding Din's motivations, you found your smile widening as you stayed close to his side, at last fully grateful to be within his protective reach.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hi! congratulations on 2k ivy! i've only recently stumbled into your acc but i'm loving all of your works so far!

you write so good i feel like im actually in it, iykwim!

anyways, if it's okay with you, can i get a 🧸 teddy dust for mattheo or theo with the prompt; "look, i know i probably should have backed off and i apologize." "no, honestly it was kind of hot." "what??" (from the 2nd angst prompt list)

i love your works sm you're amazing! cheers to 2k again!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ reckless

synopsis: ever since you met mattheo, you knew he had a temper. but when some creep at a party gets too close to you, he completely snaps. now you're in his dorm, everyone yelling, but all you can think about is how pretty he looks when he's angry content warnings: violence, fighting, blood, suggestive tension, possessive!mattheo, mutual pining author's note: hi love!! ୨ৎ omg first of all, thank you so much for your sweet words, you have no idea how much that means to me ♡ hope you love it, darling—mwah!! ‹𝟹 nav. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀2k celebration. ⠀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 705

The party had been going fine—better than fine, actually. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the Slytherin common room was packed with students laughing, dancing, and generally causing trouble. But then, of course, someone had to ruin it.

You’d been trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of some Ravenclaw’s hand lingering too long on your wrist, his body crowding too close as he slurred something about how you were “too pretty to be this stuck-up.”

You were this close to hexing him when someone else stepped in.

More specifically—Mattheo. And more as in swung in.

The shift in the room was immediate. One second, you were glaring up at the guy, and the next, Mattheo was right there, shoving himself between you and the Ravenclaw.

His voice was low, lethal. "Touch her again, and I’ll break your fucking hand."

The guy scoffed, clearly thinking Mattheo was all talk—right up until Mattheo’s fist connected with his jaw.

The impact was loud. Gasps echoed around the room.

"For fuck’s sake, Riddle!" Draco groaned, already marching over.

Draco and Theodore had immediately shoved themselves between Mattheo and the guy before he could do worse. Lorenzo grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you back as Blaise and Pansy tried to calm the situation down. The guy scrambled away, cursing, but Mattheo still lunged after him, only stopped by Theodore gripping his shirt and yanking him back.

"Fucking hell, Riddle," Blaise hissed. "You wanna get expelled?"

"Expelled?" Pansy cut in, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she grabbed your hand. "More like murdered—if Snape finds out, he’s going to skin him alive."

"I’d like to see him try," Mattheo muttered, wiping his knuckles on his shirt.

"Are you dense?" Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you ever think before you act?"

Mattheo scoffed. "Oh, please. You lot would’ve done the same."

Theodore rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. "Doesn’t mean we’re not going to call you an idiot for it."

Eventually, after much grumbling, the boys dragged Mattheo upstairs to their dorm, with you and Pansy following close behind.

Once inside, the scolding resumed.

"If you break every guy’s nose who flirts with her, you’re going to run out of people to fight," Lorenzo pointed out.

"And fists," Blaise added.

"And brain cells," Theodore muttered.

"Bold of you to assume he has any left," Draco deadpanned.

Mattheo huffed, plopping onto his bed. "Whatever. Worth it."

Pansy shook her head before turning to you. "You okay, love?"

You nodded, offering a small smile. "I would’ve handled it, but..."

"But he had to go full knight-in-bloody-armor," Draco finished, rolling his eyes.

Blaise smirked. "Our resident guard dog."

Mattheo flipped him off. "Shut up."

Eventually, after much scolding (mostly from Pansy and Lorenzo), everyone trickled out, leaving you alone with Mattheo.

You exhaled, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall.

"Look, I know I probably should have backed off, and I apologize."

You let out a breathy laugh. "No, honestly, it was kind of hot."

Mattheo blinked. "What??"

You smirked, watching realization dawn on his face as he tilted his head at you, eyes darkening with mischief. "Ohhh. So you like watching me throw punches, huh? That’s a bit concerning, love."

You shoved his shoulder. "Shut up."

"No, no, this is good information. Noted." His grin was all teeth, but there was something softer in the way he looked at you now.

The air between you shifted. You could still see the adrenaline buzzing under his skin, the way his jaw flexed slightly, his lips still slightly parted like he had more he wanted to say.

So you decided to shut him up another way.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. His hands immediately found your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he responded instantly, tilting his head and deepening it like he’d been waiting for this.

When you finally pulled away, Mattheo was grinning like an idiot. "So, just to clarify—if I get into more fights, do I get more kisses?"

You rolled your eyes. "Try it and find out."

"Merlin, I love a challenge."

And just like that, Mattheo Riddle was absolutely, hopelessly gone for you.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[lostintransist]

Secrets are for Grownups | Part 8

Part 1 can be found here. AO3

Should I apologize for the below? Probably, but they deserved it.

CW: Allusions to past SA and calling men out on their own bad choices

Disgust is not a strong enough word for John to articulate his feelings toward his men. He studies them, unsure of how to move forward. They had remained seated as you fled for the kitchen. Simon’s fingers dug into Johnny’s shoulder and Johnny’s into Simon’s thigh.

“How could you?” John does nothing to mask the sorrow in his voice. “How is what you did to her any different than what happened to you, Simon?”

He exploded off the couch, fists clamped tight as his shoulders shook with the energy to fight down a strike.

“That was nothing like what happened to me, John,” Simon growled out, face set in anguish.

Johnny rose from the couch, a hand settling on his husband’s shoulder.

“How is it different then? Because she wasn’t in chains? Coercion traps people much more effectively than restraints. We all know that. We all took those classes about infiltration and interrogation together.” The two steps between them stretched like a ravine. “Did you ever ask her, either of you?”

Simon pales, Adam’s apple bobbing, “She never said no.”

John fired the killing blow, in a quiet, angry voice.

“Did anyone listen when you said no?”

He is moving before either John can blink — hurling open the door and vomiting into the flowers out front.

Johnny stared at John, hurt and betrayal chasing each other through his eyes.

“What if this had happened to one of your sisters?” John watched the words land and explode like the bombs Johnny had been so masterful at creating.

Dry heaving from the front porch drew Johnny away from the entrails of his decision laid out before him like someone had been divining a message from the lost gods. John moved to the front door and watched his men work their way home. Johnny limped and Simon swayed with each step. John shut the door firmly, resting his forehead against it.

He fought back the acid straining to breach his throat. He hadn’t known. He would have done something if he had known. All it would have taken is a quick conversation and two little boys wouldn’t exist, but neither would all this pain that attacked his people or himself.

Janet, his ex-wife, had blindsided him that year. Never once did she speak about being unhappy. None of her friends, her mother, or even her sisters had mentioned that she might be feeling unloved, neglected. John showered her in love and gifts and time whenever not on a job. He had thought them both happy. He had been wrong.

After a short job, John had come home to an empty house and a knock at the door. Within ten minutes of searching through the whole house and finding it empty of any trace of his young wife, he had been served. Sitting at the kitchen table he had read every line of the divorce papers, seething at the slander and the truth sprinkled to have the greatest effect.

She had dragged him through the courts. Her shark of a lawyer took a bite and a pound of flesh, as well as a healthy chunk of his paycheck for alimony. It would have been higher but the judge denied taking half of a war hero’s paycheck. Though that didn’t stop them from taking half of his retirement benefits for twenty years.

Every unclassified evil John had committed to keep the world safe had been thrown in his face. Conversations had in confidence, kinks they had explored together, every trip he had endured to bring Janet joy had needlessly been dragged out and laid before a judge, spoils of war.

John’s lawyer, a shark in his own right, kept John clear of as much as he could but spousal abandonment couldn’t be washed away with his years of dedicated service to the crown. He had been relegated to desk duty per Kate until the divorce proceedings settled down; that had been about the time you left if he remembered right. He hadn’t noticed anything. How could he have fucking missed something like this? Turning he rests his weight against the door, not trusting his legs to hold him at the moment.

His flagellation paused when you and Nyla appeared from around the corner. Both faces are awash with confusion as he answers the questions you undoubtedly have.

“Boys and I had a chat, they will reach out when they would like to schedule to see the boys. It might be a few days though.” John cleared his throat as he looked away from you to the wall of pictures.

“Are they okay?”

John glances at you, astonished you would ask after everything they put you through. Running a hand over his beard he chose what he hoped would not become a lie.

“They will be.”

Your eyes scour his face, tracing every wrinkle as if searching for confirmation of truth. Whatever you find there must satisfy because you nod once.

Nyla, mother instincts alert, narrows her eyes at him.

“What did you say to them?”

“I reminded them that if they stood outside their choices, they would be disgusted with them too,” John straightened, his chest stretching uncomfortably with the depth of his breath. Matching Nyla’s ever-narrowing gaze he continued, “I would give them the day before you talk to them. They are going to need it.”

She nodded once, firm and on par with a general sending his men to war.

“Dearie, why don’t you and John go out for the afternoon? It has been a heavy morning and I think you both could use an escape,” Nyla patted your arm affectionately.

“Oh, I don’t think,” you start to protest but Mama MacTavish is letting none of it slide. She cuts you off with a keen look in her eye.

“None of that now, you mentioned you need to go to the shops for more flour and sugar. Here’s a strong man to do the carryin’ for you since you complained that the workers are always a bit odd about helpin’ you.”

John has no opportunity to offer an opinion on the plan. Before he knows quite how it happened you are backing the van out of the driveway and sharing a look with him. Sharing a laugh you point the car toward town.

“How have you been John? We haven’t really had a chance to talk about you with all my drama going on.” You glance at him when you pull to a stop at a light.

“Not much to report. Still working for the crown but mostly handling paperwork and training now.”

You wince in remembered pain. John’s hatred of paperwork had been quite well known. It hadn’t gotten better.

“Are you dating? I remember you wanting a family. You seem like the type to want a family,” the van rolled forward as you set it in motion.

Snorting, John shook his head.

“Hard to find a woman willing to look past the insanity of my divorce decree and the demands the job had on me. And what makes you say I ‘seem like the type to want a family’?” He fired back.

A warm, embarrassed smile broke across the half of your face he could see.

“You talked about wanting kids with your ex before everything blew up. There was this,” one hand lifts off the steering wheel as you twirl it, looking for a word, “sparkle in your eye when you talked about having children.”

Humming in reply John did recall the few late-night conversations the two of you had fallen into over Chinese food you complained about. Thinking of those dreams still ached. Time to change the subject.

“I remember you not wanting kids. Did having Noah and Jace change that?” John reached forward and adjusted the air settings of the car.

“Yes and no. I told you I wasn’t sure if I wanted kids, not the same thing as not wanting them. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Even if I could go back in time ten years and give myself all the tools to avoid the pain I might still make the choices I did because the idea of never meeting them or seeing them grow? Devastating. Will I have any more? I don’t know.”

The sentence trails off. John can sense there is more there and he gives a gentle tug to see if you will open up.

“Why don’t you know?”

You take your time to answer, using merging onto the freeway as an excuse to delay a reply.

“Men my age are not ready to be fathers, or they all want their own babies and not to raise someone else’s. You throw on top of that Jace and Noah have different fathers it adds a whole layer of being thought of as easy and more likely to cheat,” you cut him off when you can sense he is going to start to argue. “John I am not blowing smoke out my ass, I am in several groups online of other single moms who run into the same issues I do of men being weird about the fact I already have kids and all the misogynistic bullshit that comes with it.”

“What about older men then?” John challenges.

It’s your turn to snort.

“What? You mean the men who have divorced from their first wives and are looking for a woman to come in and play mom during their parenting weeks? It’s double the work with no real payoff. They are looking for someone to manage their kids while they go golfing on the weekends and make dinners during the week. Looking for a wife instead of live-in help because they aren’t rich enough to hire a nanny and a maid.” You shake your head and roll your eyes ending your rant with a sigh.

“Do you want to get married again then? This sounds enough to put anyone off finding love,” John prods a bit further, happy to keep the conversation off him and his unfulfilled dreams of a family.

Leaving the freeway the grumble of engine slowing fills the space.

“I want love,” you finally start, pointedly keeping your eyes on the cars ahead of you. “I want to know romantic love that settles into the backdrop of my life and keeps me warm at night. If that comes at the sacrifice of my boys, my freedom, my life though? I won’t take that chance. I would have to find someone happy to be a fourth father figure to my boys, who loves them and me fiercely, and makes life better.”

He holds his thoughts in, sensing that you have more to say. It took a few minutes, but John had been right. Settling into a parking spot of the wholesale bakery supply store you reach across the van to pop open the glove box and pull out a fast food napkin. The small space is nearly overflowing with them. Blowing your nose you drop the proof of unshed tears in the small garbage bag John hadn’t noticed.

“If it were possible to find a man who could do all of what I need, I doubt he would want me.” Your voice is small and sad as you say it, confessing to a sin you didn’t want to hold.

No words rise in John’s mind to soothe the ache he hears. He watches though as you pull out some cup holders he hadn’t noticed either. This damn car had so many nooks and crannies he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hide a body underneath the back seats. Lifting a plain band you slide it onto the ring finger of your left hand. Brows going up without his permission John is caught judging when you straighten up.

“The men in there are more likely to leave me alone if I have a ring on,” you say by way of explanation.

“Would be hard to catch a husband if they think you’re married,” John joked, climbing out of the car as you do.

“Not trying to catch any here. All these men do is belittle me for making my ‘silly little cakes’ instead of doing real baking like they do.” Rolling your eyes you stroll with him across the parking lot.

“The hell is real baking then?”

John had seen your work and tasted it. You could bake near anything and it might send him into space with how delicious he found it.

“Hell if I know. Because my ovaries are all tucked up safe in my body instead of dangling waiting to be hit it must mean I will never understand.”

The boisterous laugh draws eyes as the sliding door opens admitting your grin and John’s mirth. He trails after you as you push a flat cart around, pointing to items for him to load. At one point you are speaking to a tall man with a name badge, looking for a specific item you had been unable to find on the shelves.

A different employee walking by pauses, arms full of baking chocolate, to speak to him.

“I’m so happy she was finally able to bring you with her. The men who come by were starting to believe her husband was made up and bother her.”

She walks away before John can find the lever that allows him to open his mouth and deny the claim. Janet had been young when they married, the age gap almost uncomfortable as he thought of it now. John had vowed never to pursue a woman so much younger than him again. Though as he crept closer by days to forty he wondered if the nine years between you and him might still be too much.

The thought dogged his steps as he loaded your van with the bags and joked with you over lunch, staring at the ring you had forgotten to take off after the shop.

Could he have a chance at the dreams that haunted him since he was a teen? His mum had raised him until his gran took over the job and John shipped himself off to war. He knew from his time in therapy that the desire for a family stemmed from what he saw as the lack of it from early on. That knowledge didn’t stop the gnawing in his gut. Imagining you with his ring on your finger, his hands in your hair, your smile greeting him every morning instead of the coffee rings on his table, it tore at something inside him. It ripped and shredded because as much as he could pretend, he doubted you would want another broken military man in your bed or your heart.

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @sweetlike-sugarplum @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny @sleep101 @callsignbumblebee @lucienofthelakes @sirbonesly @demothers-empty-blog @fightmerahhh @skeletonsucker

[maretinelli]

SPILLED COFFEE

Lewis Hamilton X Journalist!fem!reader

Summary: On her first day covering F1, Y/n meets Lewis Hamilton in an unexpected way—by spilling coffee on him before a press conference. What starts with laughter and meeting at the Paddock soon turns into a friendship that can go beyond feelings.

Words: 5.8K+

Warnings: Nothing(??) just cute and romantic.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story.

MASTERLIST

It was the Spanish Grand Prix. The paddock was buzzing with the typical morning activity of a race weekend. The sky was clear, and the heat was starting to intensify, even at that hour.

Team members hurried past, engineers chatted in groups analyzing data, and journalists strategically positioned themselves to capture the best moments of the day.

Y/n, however, didn't have time to appreciate the scenery.

She walked quickly across the paddock, slinging her bag over her shoulder, which held a microphone, question sheets, and other essential equipment. In her other hand, she held a large cup of iced coffee, still untouched.

She knew exactly why she was late. Talking too much. It was an innate talent—or maybe a flaw, depending on the situation.

The friendly waitress at the coffee shop had been a great listener, and between one conversation and another, Y/n had simply lost track of time. Now, she should be in the press room, getting everything ready and waiting for the pilots who could arrive at any moment.

"Microphone, chips, recorder... It's all here, isn't it? Oh, what the hell, Y/n, why do you do this every time?"

The problem was, she wasn't really looking in front of her. The impact was unexpected.

In her haste and distraction, Y/n felt her shoulder bump against something solid - or rather, someone. The impact caused her iced coffee to fly out of her hand and splash directly onto the person's chest, staining the white fabric. The liquid ran down her impeccable shirt, creating a large brownish stain.

She quickly stepped back, trying to keep her balance so she wouldn't fall to the ground. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had just done.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I swear I didn't see you, I was looking at my bag and-"

The words came out in a rush, one excuse after another, as she finally looked up at the victim of her morning disaster.

Lewis Hamilton.

His sweet smile contrasted with the large coffee stain on his white Mercedes shirt. The fact that he had spilled coffee on someone was bad enough. But that someone was Lewis Hamilton, and that made it a thousand times worse.

And, as if that weren't enough, he was one of the drivers who should have been at the press conference, which was probably already starting.

"Oh no... I made you late too! I'm a mess!" She exclaimed, feeling even more guilty. "What do I do? How do I get this stain out? Is there anything in the Mercedes that can help? Or maybe-"

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Lewis laughed, interrupting her barrage of apologies. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. "It's okay, really. It happens. I also wasn't looking where I was going because... well, I'm late too."

Relief washed over Y/n at hearing this, though the guilt was still there. She let out a small sigh and smiled, more at ease.

"Still, I'm sorry."

Lewis looked down at his shirt and shrugged, still smiling. "Don't worry, I've learned some techniques for removing stains from white shirts from my mom."

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "So you're a pilot and a laundry expert? Impressive."

"Something like that." He joked, laughing.

His gaze then slid to her arm, where a large, colorful tattoo stood out. He pointed curiously.

"That's very beautiful. Tribute?"

Surprised by the comment, Y/n stretched out her arm, allowing him to see better. Lewis smiled as he noticed the details of the drawing.

She nodded, a nostalgic glint in her eyes. "Yeah... my dad and I did it together for my birthday. He always said we'd do something special when I turned 18. That was our special thing and..." Lewis smiled, clearly enjoying the story, but before Y/n could say anything else, reality hit. "Oh, forget it...!" She shook her head, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I have to go, I'm really late for a meeting."

Lewis laughed at her sudden change of mood. "And I need to change clothes and go to the interview, so I guess we're even."

She took a few steps back, pointing at his shirt, grimacing guiltily. "Sorry again about that..."

Lewis just laughed, loud and genuine. "Okay, really."

They exchanged one last friendly smile before each of them went their separate ways. When Y/n turned around, she let out a sigh and smiled to herself.

She quickened her pace, now focused on finding the TV crew's photographer. The walk to him was quick, and when she arrived, she stopped in front of him, a little out of breath.

The teammate crossed his arms, his expression unimpressed. “You’re 20 minutes late.”

She smiled guiltyly, still catching her breath. "I know, I know..."

He sighed, pointing to his watch. "The interview should have started by now."

Y/n sighed, still trying to catch her breath, and quickly handed the bag to the photographer. "Sorry, really. But I'm here now, let's go."

Without wasting any more time, she began to help him prepare the camera, quickly adjusting the equipment. Once everything was ready, the two entered the large room where the press conference would take place.

Luckily for Y/n, the interview hadn’t started yet. The pilots were finishing adjusting their microphones, and the journalists were taking their places, reviewing notes and testing their equipment. She let out a long sigh of relief.

Moving quickly between other reporters and excusing herself here and there, Y/n positioned herself in the spot reserved for her team. Her name tag and company name marked her space.

Sitting down, she took her cards out of her bag and began to organize them, checking her questions. She adjusted her microphone and looked around, making sure she was ready.

The interview began with one of the journalists directing the first question to Verstappen.

"Max, you've performed well in free practice so far, but you mentioned that you were struggling a bit with the balance of the car. What have you adjusted for qualifying and how do you expect that to affect your race?"

Max leaned forward a little to answer. "Yeah, we worked really hard on it..." He began, but the buzz in the room suddenly increased.

Lewis had just arrived.

He weaved his way past the other pilots, moving with the natural confidence he always carried. "Sorry I'm late, guys," he said with a smile as he settled into his seat and adjusted his microphone.

Now he was wearing a clean, impeccable black Mercedes blouse.

As Max continued his response, Lewis looked around the room, observing the journalists who filled the first rows. It was then that his eyes found Y/n.

For a brief moment, he looked surprised. His eyes widened a little, but soon a smile formed on his face.

Y/n, who was already watching him, smiled back and discreetly pointed to her own blouse. A subtle gesture, saying: There was time to change, huh?

Lewis held back his laughter and nodded slightly, as if in confirmation.

Satisfied, Y/n looked down at her lap, where her chips were and the microphone was still turned off, waiting for the right moment to use it. She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure, but a part of her couldn't help but find the coincidence of that morning meeting with Lewis amusing.

Once Max finished answering his questions, the moderator gave the floor to the next journalist. Y/n picked up her own microphone, turning it on with a soft click.

"Good morning Lewis, my question for you is about the progress of Mercedes this weekend. In free practice we saw you trying out different aerodynamic setups and, despite some balance issues, the race pace looked promising. Based on the data you gathered, what are your expectations for qualifying and the race? Do you feel you can challenge Red Bull and Ferrari here in Spain?"

Lewis listened attentively, tilting his head slightly as he processed the question. Then, he took the microphone and smiled before answering.

"Great question. I think this weekend has been interesting for us indeed. We are constantly trying to understand the car better and make improvements. Here in Spain, a traditionally technical circuit, we have been able to collect good data, especially on tyre wear and performance in long runs. We know that Red Bull and Ferrari still have an advantage, but we believe we can put ourselves in a strong position to fight on Sunday. The key will be a good qualifying, so we need to maximise every detail."

He ended his answer with a warm smile in Y/n's direction. She returned the smile and took the opportunity to ask her second question.

"Thinking about the race, the Spanish circuit has been challenging in recent years in terms of overtaking. Do you believe that the updates that Mercedes has brought can help in this aspect, giving you more confidence to attack if you start behind?"

Lewis nodded, appreciating the question.

"Yes, this has always been a tricky circuit for overtaking, so strategy and tyre management will be crucial. But yes, the updates we've brought in are very much focused on the stability of the car at high speeds and traction out of corners, so I believe that if we need to make up positions we'll have good pace to do so."

Y/n smiled, satisfied with the answers. "Thank you, Lewis." She turned off the microphone and sat in her designated chair, letting the other journalists take over the next questions.

However, without her noticing, Lewis kept his gaze on her for a few more seconds, until another question directed at him caught her attention.

The next journalist, excited, asked bluntly: "Lewis, everyone noticed you were a little late. What happened?"

He chuckled a little, lowering his head before answering. “Ah… well, there was a little mishap in the paddock on my way here.” He smiled and paused dramatically. “Apparently, coffee was spilled on my white blouse. But in the end, I was the one who apologized… because the woman who did it was definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The answer took everyone by surprise. Laughter echoed around the room, some drivers teased Lewis with humorous comments, and journalists murmured among themselves.

Y/n, in turn, raised her eyebrows slightly, surprised by the statement. But soon her expression was replaced by a surprised smile and then by an amused giggle. She shook her head slightly, trying to disguise the way her face heated up at the unexpected joke.

Lewis, on the other hand, just smirked and cast a discreet glance in her direction, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

The press conference continued with a dynamic flow of questions and answers. In addition to Max and Lewis, the other two drivers present were Lando Norris and Carlos Sainz.

Y/n did a good job of directing questions to both of them, showing that she had done a thorough research job. For Lando, she asked about the improvements that McLaren had brought for that weekend and how he saw the team's evolution in the midfield battle. For Carlos, she focused on the pressure of racing at home and how that influenced his mental performance during the weekend.

They both responded sympathetically, and she managed to keep the interview going at a good pace, which was essential for someone who was running the job alone that weekend.

When the press conference finally ended, Y/n took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility lift off her shoulders.

"You did really well today," his fellow photographer said as he dismantled his equipment and put his camera back in his bag.

Y/n laughed, thanking me. "Thank you. But if you knew what I did before I found you, you'd definitely be on edge."

He arched an eyebrow, curious. "What did you do?"

She held back a laugh before replying. "I spilled coffee on Lewis Hamilton."

"SO IT WAS YOU?" The photographer paused for a second before letting out a loud laugh. "You're kidding!"

"I wish." Y/n replied, laughing along. "I literally bumped into him in the paddock, spilled my entire coffee on his white shirt, kept apologizing like crazy, and he... well, he was incredibly cool about it."

Her colleague was still laughing at the scene he imagined in his head. "And he even got a compliment on the world wide web, because apparently you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life."

Y/n shook her head, feeling her face heat up slightly. "It was just a joke, he doesn't even know me."

The photographer crossed his arms, laughing. "Joke or not, you became the highlight of the press conference."

She shrugged, still amused by it all. Then, as if speaking more to herself than to him, she commented, "But he really is very handsome... especially up close."

The colleague laughed and agreed. "Oh, that's true. The guy has an absurd presence."

With that, they finished organizing everything and moved on to other tasks for the day.

The afternoon settled in the paddock, and the characteristic buzz of the environment continued. Y/n was now sitting in the same coffee shop where, earlier, she had bought the coffee that ended up causing all the confusion.

This time, however, her attention was fully focused on her work. Her laptop was open on her desk, and sheets of notes were scattered around her. Her gaze flicked between the papers and the screen, typing quickly as she organized the press conference material and adjusted the main points for the story she needed to submit.

Even while concentrating, every now and then a small smile appeared on her lips as she remembered the scene from that morning. It was definitely not every day that someone spilled coffee on Lewis Hamilton and, on the same day, heard such praise from him.

Y/n was so focused on the computer screen, trying to organize the information and write what she would need for the article, that she didn't notice when someone approached her desk.

She was so startled that she nearly dropped everything when a large glass of iced coffee was placed next to her. She frowned in confusion, because she hadn't ordered anything since she sat down there.

She looked down at the glass, then quickly looked up, and that was when her eyes met Lewis's. He had an easy smile on his face, clearly enjoying the scare she had gotten.

"I think you need some coffee to calm down." He commented, chuckling softly.

Y/n sighed in relief and laughed. "You scared me."

Lewis shrugged, as if it wasn’t his fault. “I’m a pretty good scarer, apparently.” He pointed to the cup. “I brought you a coffee, as an apology. After all, I ended up making you lose your coffee, so I figured you deserved one on me.”

Y/n smiled, a little shyly, before shaking her head. "I'm the one who got into a fight with you. If anyone should apologize, it's me. I was late and ended up making a mess."

Lewis laughed softly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter who was at fault.” He chuckled and leaned forward a little. “What matters is that I wanted to bring you some coffee and see you one more time.”

Those words, spoken so casually, made Y/n's cheeks flush. She looked away for a moment, trying to compose herself, before looking at him again.

Lewis then looked at the empty chair in front of him and asked with a smile, "Can I sit here?"

She smiled, feeling her heart race a little. "Sure, you can sit down."

Lewis settled into his chair, and Y/n began to gather the papers on the table, organizing them into a folder as he watched closely. He noticed that she was clearly busy with something important, so he hesitated for a moment.

"Sorry, I didn't see you were working. If you want, I can come back later." He said, his tone softer and more respectful.

Y/n shook her head, smiling softly. "It's okay. I needed a break anyway, and now is a perfect time."

Lewis smiled, watching as she closed the laptop, gathered the remaining sheets, and carefully placed them inside the folder before setting it aside.

After that, she placed the coffee cup in the center of the table, as if that was the official sign that she was, in fact, taking a break from work.

"It's brave of you to want to spend time talking to a journalist."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head. "I guess I've been through enough interviews that I don't get scared that easily."

Y/n smiled as she took a sip of her coffee.

A small silence settled between them. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it carried with it that slight tension of two people who didn't yet know each other very well.

Lewis shifted his gaze to her arm, where the colorful tattoo caught his attention once again. He pointed discreetly with his finger.

"Are you a Senna fan too?"

Y/n automatically followed his gaze to her arm and smiled, almost instinctively. "Yes, very much. My father is Brazilian, so I grew up watching races with him. Senna has always been our idol. On my 18th birthday, I decided to get this tattoo in honor of him. My father was so touched that he wanted to get one too, so we ended up going together. It was one of the most special moments of my life." She smiled. "And well, that was a loooooong time ago."

As she spoke, her eyes shone with genuine affection, and her smile had a hint of nostalgia.

Lewis felt something electrifying in his chest. Talking about Ayrton Senna always brought out something intense in him, but knowing that Y/n also admired him deeply created an instant connection between them.

"He was my childhood hero," Lewis said, his eyes taking on a special light. "I always say he was the reason I started racing. I would watch his races and be fascinated by the way he drove, the passion he put into everything... Senna was different."

Y/n nodded, smiling. "Yes... my father always said that Senna was more than a driver, he was a symbol."

"And he was right." Lewis agreed, relaxing further in his chair.

From then on, the conversation flowed naturally. They began to exchange stories about their memories related to the Brazilian idol, about iconic moments from his races and even about how Ayrton had inspired so many generations on and off the track.

The awkward atmosphere that existed before gradually dissipated, giving way to an unexpected lightness.

As they talked, Y/n raised her coffee cup to her lips from time to time, slowly sipping Lewis's unexpected gift. And for the first time that day, she didn't feel rushed at all.

••••••••••••••••••••••

It was qualifying day, and the tension in the air was palpable. The roar of engines echoed in the background as engineers ran back and forth in the pits, ensuring everything was perfect for the drivers. Fans crowded into the stands, eager to see who would secure pole position for the next day's race.

Y/n was positioned in an area near the track where journalists gathered to interview the drivers right after qualifying. Next to her, her colleague held the camera, while she adjusted the microphone. They were live for the TV crew they worked for, and she had already interviewed two drivers.

She was finishing interviewing the third, a driver who was still slightly out of breath from the effort on the track.

"Thank you for your participation, Piastri!" Y/n smiled, holding the microphone as the pilot nodded.

"Thank you." Oscar replied with a smile before quickly placing a hand on her shoulder in a brief gesture of thanks and leaving the press area.

Y/n then turned to interview the last pilot assigned to her team. As soon as she looked up, she found Lewis standing behind her, with his usual easy smile.

Before she could say anything, he placed both hands on her shoulders and gave her a brief, relaxed massage, as if he were playing to ease the tension.

"Working hard, huh?" He teased, an amused glint in his eye.

Y/n smiled, feeling her shoulders relax for a moment before shaking her head and straightening her posture. Because they were still live. "Someone has to do the hard work."

He replied, laughing before adjusting the microphone and looking at him more seriously. "Congratulations on qualifying today, Lewis. You've put yourself in a great position for the race. How did the car perform on track today?"

"Thanks! The car handled really well, I think we managed to find a good balance over the weekend. There are still a few details to fine-tune, but overall I'm pretty happy with the lap we did today."

Y/n nodded and continued: "Considering the performance of your opponents and the position you will start in tomorrow, what will be the main challenge for the race?"

Lewis smiled, clearly enjoying the interview. "I think the start will be crucial, as always. It's important to hold the position and, if possible, gain some. Tyre management will also be essential, as wear seems high at this circuit. But we are prepared to fight for the best possible result."

Y/n smiled, satisfied with the answer. "It looks like it's going to be an exciting race! Thanks for the interview, Hamilton."

He held her gaze for a moment before smiling warmly. "The pleasure was all mine. Always great to be interviewed by you."

Y/n tried to hide it, but an involuntary smile escaped her lips. Lewis noticed and his own smile widened a little more. Before walking away, he patted her affectionately on the shoulder, as if to say 'Good job.'

She watched him walk away for a moment before turning her attention back to her teammate, who was filming the whole thing with a mischievous grin on his face.

Y/n smiled at the camera, returning to her professional tone. "And that concludes our coverage of today's qualifying! Tomorrow, the drivers will be back on track for what promises to be an exciting race. Stay tuned to follow everything with us. See you then!"

Her teammate gave her a discreet nod, indicating that he had stopped recording. Once the camera was turned off, Y/n sighed in relief and let out a nervous giggle.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this alone," she confessed, turning off the microphone.

His friend just smiled. "You studied hard for this, Y/n. Now's your chance to enjoy the view from this side." He made a wide gesture with his hand, as if showing the entire paddock in front of them.

She laughed, shaking her head, but she knew he was right. She was here, covering an event by herself, and she was doing well.

Together they began to pack up their equipment and walked around the paddock, chatting casually. That's when Y/n felt a hand land lightly on her shoulder. Turning around, she found Lewis smiling at her.

"Hey," he said, relaxed.

"Hey," she replied with an automatic smile.

His colleague looked from Lewis to Y/n, arching his eyebrows with a mischievous smile before taking a step back.

"Well, I'm going. I need to get back to the hotel and prepare myself emotionally for a date later."

Y/n laughed. "It'll be okay. See you tomorrow morning here at the paddock."

He winked at her and left, leaving Y/n and Lewis alone.

When she turned back to the pilot, she noticed that he looked a little nervous. His smile didn't have the same confidence it usually had.

"Can I play journalist now and ask you a question?"

Y/n laughed at the comment. "Sure."

Lewis hesitated for a second before asking, "Do you... have a boyfriend, fiancé, or husband?"

Y/n frowned for a moment, holding back a laugh at the direct way he asked.

Lewis noticed and laughed a little too, shaking his head. "I mean... do you have someone? Any plans?"

"No, I don't have anyone." She tilted her head, crossing her arms. "Why?"

Lewis smiled, running his hand over the back of his neck, looking a little less confident than usual. "Because I wanted to ask you out to dinner sometime."

She blinked in surprise, and then a smile grew on her face. Her heart raced a little, but in a good way.

"Ah..." She chuckled softly, feeling a wave of heat rise in her chest. "Yes, I would love to."

Lewis smiled broadly and with relief. "Great! Great..."

Y/n laughed when she noticed his slight hesitation. It was funny to see the seven (eight) times world champion like that.

"But I know you're busy right now." He continued, lightly gesturing to the notepad in her hand. "And I also need to get back to the garage to talk to the engineers. We'll talk then!"

"Yeah, I have some stuff to finish." She agreed, still smiling.

They shared one last look before Y/n took a step back, walking away. But before she could get too far, she heard Lewis call her name.

“Y/n!”

She turned, seeing him take a few quick steps towards her.

"Your phone number!"

"You almost forgot the most important part." She laughed.

"Yeah, I almost let it go." He joked, taking his cell phone out of his pocket.

Y/n started to say the numbers while Lewis typed them into his phone, saving the contact with a satisfied smile.

"I'll send you a message. And then we'll arrange a day."

"Ok."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

They exchanged one last smile before saying goodbye for good. Y/n continued on her way through the paddock, but this time she couldn't keep the smile off her face. They acted like two silly teenagers in love in high school.

The weeks passed in the blink of an eye, and the relationship between Y/n and Lewis became something natural, part of their routine. If they didn't see each other in person, they were exchanging messages, sending funny photos or calling to tell each other the news of the day. Even the silliest things became a reason for long conversations.

Y/n🩷: Lewis, I need a serious opinion.

Lew❤️: Send it.

Y/n🩷: If I buy these pants, do you think I'll look like an 80-year-old lady going to buy bread?

The message Y/n sent was accompanied by a photo of her in the mirror, trying on the item of clothing.

Lew❤️: It depends. Are you going to buy bread?

Y/n🩷: LEWIS!

What about connections? They became frequent. If Lewis was in a different time zone, he would still find a way to at least send an audio message or wait for Y/n to wake up to call.

"What do you think of this cookie? Is it good?" Y/n was at the market, shopping while Lewis was on a break from one of his workouts and on the phone with her.

"I don't like it very much. But my mom and nephews love it!! Take it and try it." He smiles from the other side of the phone screen. Y/n smiles and puts the food package in the shopping cart.

And for weeks, with messages, phone calls and random photos exchanged, they still tried to find a free day so they could both go out to the pilot's promised dinner. Their schedules never managed to synchronize with each other, but for now they were content with the friend zone they were in.

But not for long.

Another race weekend had begun and, before everyone went about their business, Lewis arranged to meet Y/n at a café inside the paddock.

Sitting at a table on the porch, he wore sunglasses and looked at his cell phone, seemingly focused. The atmosphere was pleasant, and he was enjoying the moment of calm before the chaos of the day began.

And then he was caught off guard when a loud crash echoed across the table.

He almost dropped his cell phone in shock, and when he looked at the table he saw a pile of papers spread across the top, accompanied by a glass full of milky tea.

He pushed up his glasses, frowning. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed, blinking at the panting figure in front of him.

Y/n threw herself into the chair, letting out a long sigh before blurting out, "I'm going to be a teacher!"

"What exactly does that mean?" Lewis frowned, puzzled.

Y/n rested both elbows on the table, looking directly at him. "Apparently, a professor from the University of London is going on maternity leave. She teaches journalism..." She began, picking up one of the papers and rolling it between her fingers. "And so, the director of the course asked me to replace her for at least a year."

"Really?" Lewis's eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Yes. I studied at the same university and, according to him, I have a great resume, both as a student and now as a professional." She laughed a little, shaking her head. "Little does he know that I slept through every sociology class."

"You? Sleeping in class?" Lewis chuckled.

"I would always sit in the back and pretend to write something down." He admitted with a shrug.

"And you accepted the offer?"

"I accept!!" He replied with a small smile. "I like a challenge. I love my job here, especially now as the station's main journalist. But I think it will be fun to teach a bunch of annoying teenagers."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head. "They won't be THAT boring. And honestly, you're going to be an amazing teacher."

Y/n smiled at his words, but soon saw Lewis's curious expression as he looked at the glass next to her.

"Wait a... What's wrong today?" He narrowed his eyes. "You're drinking tea, not coffee."

She laughed, picking up the cup and taking another sip. "I'm nervous about this whole teaching thing. Coffee would just make me more anxious, so I ordered tea." Y/n paused, wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "But it's horrible. Milk tea is the worst thing ever invented."

Lewis rolled his eyes, laughing, before taking the cup of tea from Y/n. "Just because I'm a gentleman, we can trade." He said, handing her the cappuccino that was sitting next to him.

Y/n smiled and accepted the cup, taking a sip before sighing contentedly. "Now that's life. For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to sue this coffee shop for emotional damages."

"You're very dramatic." Lewis laughed, shaking his head.

Silence hung between the two for a moment. Y/n turned her head, looking at the track in the distance, the wind subtly messing up her hair. Lewis, without realizing it, began to admire her, his eyes focused on her serene expression.

Without taking his eyes off her, he rested his face in his hands.

"Well... since you're leaving and we won't see each other around here for a few months... do you want to go out with me today?"

Y/n turned to face him, an amused expression appearing on her face. "Um, I don't know, I have to check my schedule..." She said, pretending to be thoughtful. "But maybe I have a little space for you."

Lewis let out a laugh.

"Look, I'm honored to have been considered," he replied, joining in the fun.

She laughed, shaking her head, before finally saying, "Yeah, I'll go out with you."

Lewis smiled broadly, and then began talking about his plans for the evening. Y/n just listened to him, smiling, watching the excitement with which he described everything.

The previous weeks of texts, phone calls and quick meetings in the paddocks had brought them closer than they could have imagined. It was in the small details that they realized they were in love.

The way Lewis smiled when he saw Y/n's name appear on his phone screen. The way she laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones. The comfort they found in each other, without needing much effort.

And that night, everything seemed to fall into place.

Night fell, and Lewis picked her up from her hotel. He took her to a private restaurant tucked away among the charming streets of the Austrian city. The atmosphere was sophisticated yet welcoming.

They ate, talked, laughed. Every detail seemed perfect, and neither of them wanted the night to end.

Lewis walked her back to the hotel, walking beside her through the hallways. When they stopped in front of Y/n's room door, for a moment, they just looked at each other the connection between the two was palpable, something that already existed before that meeting, but which now seemed even more intense.

The pilot approached slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, waiting for any sign of hesitation. But Y/n just smiled softly, her heart racing.

It was then that he kissed her.

The touch was soft at first, a delicate brush of lips, as if testing something they already knew would be right. But soon the kiss deepened, hot and enveloping, loaded with all the weeks of pent-up feelings. Lewis's hands slid to Y/n's waist, while she grabbed the collar of his coat, pulling him closer. And when they separated, they both smiled, as if they understood that this was just the beginning.

And the days passed, and the meetings between them became frequent.

When Y/n started teaching, her routine became even busier, but she always found time to call Lewis, telling him about every detail of her day.

"My students called me 'Miss Y/n' today. I'm feeling old."

"Welcome to the club."

She laughed out loud, throwing her head back a little. "And how was training?"

Lewis smiled as he heard her voice on the other end of the line, leaning against the headboard of the bed. "Not bad. But now I can only think of your voice calling me 'Mr. Hamilton' to see what it's like."

"It won't happen."

The two laughed, and the conversation went on until late.

Whenever he could, Lewis would go to London to spend a few days with her. They would explore the city together, go out for dinner, stay home and watch movies, and simply enjoy each other's company.

Until, one night, something unexpected happened.

Y/n was in the kitchen, preparing dinner while talking non-stop about some student who had asked a completely absurd question in class. Lewis listened to her with a smile on his face, leaning against the counter.

In the middle of a sentence, she noticed he was unusually quiet.

"You're not even listening, are you?" He teased, turning to face him.

And then she saw it. Lewis was standing there, holding a small velvet box open, and inside it, an engagement ring glinted in the kitchen light. And in that moment, she knew the answer without even having to think. Yes.

[fridgemissionmaster]

Mephistopheles x Reader: Mephisto and the Not-so-Great Valentine's Day Date

AN: So... the holiday kinda snuck up on me and only did it hit me the day before yesterday that, A. Valentine's Day was coming up and B. Obey Me! is a dating sim and I should probably have something for the holiday and I literally just finished this so this has not been beta/proof read, so there are probably a few grammar/spelling mistakes BUT I GOT SOMETHING DONE ON TIME AND I FIND THAT GOOD ENOUGH!

damn it

Damn it

DAMN IT!

How could HE of ALL people be, LATE!? And on a day as important as this!

He already had his outfit chosen and laid out, offerings on his bedside table, valet scheduled ahead of time to be ready to leave, alarms set, attendants assisting in preparation, he took every precaution AND YET SOMEHOW HE’S RUNNING LATE! He’s never late but somehow THIS TIME HE IS!

There was no excusing this misconduct, how was he to face you now. If he were to court anyone let alone you for that matter, you deserved nothing less than his best yet here he was, disheveled, out of breath, face flushed from the run over here.

Was it the shame or nerves that made his heart pitter-patter so, a lump beginning to form in his throat.

ENOUGH! He was better than this, to get so flustered. Yes, he messed up, however even he has before, it was not the end of all things.

“Ah M- Oh, Lucifer. Hello.”

“Mephistopheles.”

The man eyed him up and down, clearly unimpressed with the sight. Of all demons to answer the door it just had to be that man. Slowly, deliberately, he smoothed out his light pink button-up.

…

He had kept you waiting, if Lucifer was the one opening the door and not you, had he disappointed you enough for your date to be call off? The least he could do was apologize.

“How is MC? I’d like to see them if they’d have me.”

A deep sigh escaped the man before him.

“MC-”

The ground shook, a mighty crash erupted from the once deathly silent house, a cacophony of voices yelling.

“-… is occupied at the moment.”

“Occupied!?” The appalling gall! “Is MC even alright!?” 

“Les!” It’s you! Though his sight was immediately obscured by black feathers he managed to squeeze past, darting into the house.

In your sprint your foot got caught on the carpet sending you tumbling forward! Thankfully you were just within arm’s reach.

“PDA POLICE! UNHAND MC!”

“Yeah!”

“Wait! We still-”

“MC you can’t go with the wall broken!”

“Yeah- uh, only you… can fix it?”

“THE HELL WAS THAT!?”

“Look just- SHUT UP!”

“I have chocolate.”

“Are you hurt?” Looking you up and down there didn’t seem to be any injuries, but humans are such fragile things, did something in you get hurt?

You lightly shook your head before abruptly standing up. “STAY!” Though Mephistopheles himself wasn’t under your command he could still FEEL the raw power behind your voice. Something so strong the force of it alone left him in such utter aw he almost didn’t notice the demons around him collapsing to the floor. “I’ll be back later, I don’t know when, don’t wait up for me for dinner. If I catch ANY of you or your familiars stalking us, you know what will happen, got it?”

With their nods you smiled, taking Mephisto’s hand. You squeezed it so tightly before running off with him in tow, the demon tripping his way out the door his knees too weak from your display moments before.

“M-MC, where are we going?”

“Away from here!”

Your footfalls tapped against the cobblestone streets racing along, down one road, turning at the next. Soon you slowed down taking a moment to rest on your knees.

“Sorry about that. I was ready but right before you got here they dragged me back in with excuses to stay.”

“No, I should be the one apologizing. If I had been here on time we could already be on our date.”

You just stared at him. Why were you staring at him? You took out your phone, looking puzzled. “It’s just a few minuets past when we were to meet.”

“Just?” You… didn’t care?

… Well, you do have many suitors, either those brothers had managed to lower your standards for basic decency, or it didn’t matter for you would have gone out with one of them if he hadn’t arrived.

Gently he took one of your hands into both of his own. “Allow me the chance to make up for this grievance, if you’re willing, I do still have a date planned.”

“What? No, dude-” A light chuckle shook you. “-you were at most a minuet late, you’re fine. You don’t need to be so serious.” Your free hand found purchase on his shoulder before rubbing up and down his upper arm. “Just relax, we’re supposed to have fun today.”

Relax? How?

You’ve bewitched him don’t you know? Just as you had just about every other being. You have countless people after your heart and asked him on a date on such an important human holiday! You chose HIM! And in return he had to show you nothing less than his best! To impress you, to prove to you he’d make for nothing less and an exemplary partner!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN RELAX!? What could that even mean in this context?

Unlike Lord Diavolo, Mephistopheles was never meant for the spotlight, he is to assist from backstage, but if it would keep your gaze on him longer and to not be drawn away he’d perform the greatest show, for you to see only the best he had to offer!

What nonsense could you understand that he was unable too?

“So! What are we doing?”

“Well you requested I do ‘simple’-” It’d be too much of a fuss and delay to properly fix his outfit, so he partially untucked his top and ran a hand through his hair so at least it wasn’t completely out of place. “-and with your advice I believe I’ve planned just that. Lunch, a walk and a show.”

“Hmm” Your gaze traced over him, from his black slacks to the pink top, the edges of the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves embroidered with black lace and tiny jewels. Was it… too much?

“Lovely.” It was almost too easily how your hand slid into his own, intertwining your fingers. “Let’s get going!”

“Of course.”

The streets were bustling as they always had. To everyone else it was a day just like any other yet that could not be further from the truth for the pair of you.

So… Valentines day. After looking into the holiday when you mentioned it was coming up it was fascinating how the story of two separate priests and an older society festival combined could have spread so far and come to be a day of love, if something similar had happened in the Devildom the day would likely be a much different affair to the romance and reds, pinks and whites… well… perhaps the red would be still be there but for blood, like that older society’s festivities.

Humans, such fragile things, yet the more he looked the more fascinated he was, by how so quickly everything happens, much of it would do to be put in the paper for others to learn, yet that’s also the problem, everything going by so fast he could hardly keep track of all that happens in a few hundred years… Just as now, chatting and laughing away and in the blink of the eye already their pair of you stood before those open doors.

“What’s this place.” Your eyes practically sparkled upon entering. Immediately you crouched down scanning over the little gachapon machines that lined the wall.

“Sharpest Slice, the only generationally owned and operated pizza places in the Devildom. Exceptional really, it’s rarer for a family to have multiple generations, let alone for the younger ones to continue their family’s work outside of nobility.” He wasn’t surprised you found yourself being drawn to the arcade corner. “It was a few centuries back when we made the article about this place. The whole of the first and second generation works here from cooking, to repair, to making and enchanting the little toys in the machines.”

“Oh, these little guys are enchanted?”

“Yes, but with the way the machines are built you can’t tell unless you get one or see one move through the window. The enchantments are changed regularly so it’s always a surprise even if you get something you got before.”

“Huh… you’re right, I can’t sense a thing.” Back to hovering around the machines you held out a hand, drawing it closer and farther, around the little door and window likely still looking for some reading or sign of the magic.

… So this is what he looked like to his clubmates when they first got here.

“Order whatever you like, I’ll be back in a moment.” With some grimm placed in your palm he curled your fingers over, giving you a soft pat before trotting off.

When he scouted out here for your date he was surprised by how little coin the exchange machine could except. In fact the last visit all the grimm he had was worth too much for the machine. Good thing the owner stopped him before he attempted such or else he may have broken the thing, or accidentally had it drop all the change it had.

By the time he was done you came trotting over asking what to do first. He found himself before one of the mini claw machines. There were mostly plush key cha-

Immediately he tossed in a few coins activating the game.

“Hmm? … Oh, gluhschwanz!” You pointed to just the little plush dragon key chain he had his eye on. “For Rubezalis?”

“Ruby would love it.”

“Good luck!” You perched yourself on his shoulders as if that could somehow transfer said luck into him.

…

..

.

“You actually did it!”

“Excuse me!? Actually!?”

“Well, yeah! All these crane games are all rigged so you can’t win.”

Taking the little push thing he looked to you, brow raised. “Really? I know my clubmates won a few things when we came here to interview the first owners.”

“Eh? Let me try!” and so you activated the game…

…

..

.

And nothing but air was gotten. “Ugh.”

“You wanted the wyvern?”

“Yes.”

“Let me try.”

…

..

.

“Here you are.”

“… Okay, how! I’ve never seen these things work!”

Mephisto stared at you for a moment. “MC… you say they’re all rigged?”

“Yes.”

“… Perhaps it’s simply your skill at the game.” That or somehow ALL the machines in the human world were broken which he doubted.

“It has nothing to do with skill!”

“Well let’s try another then.” He gestured to another machine.

“Bet.”

“Bet? Bet what?”

“No, bet- it- human turn of phrase.”

“Hmm?”

And so you tried again. And again. And again. And again. Mephisto tried giving you tips, even the plush toys began trying to hanging on to the claw yet still… “See!” You only meant to gesture to the machine but a bit too much force from the frustration seemed to find it’s way to your hand having you smack the thing.

“MC?”

“I’m fine.” With a sigh you stood up, turning your back to the machines. The little plush toys wobbled, whether jeering at your defeat or encouraging your win, Mephisto wasn’t sure.

“… Bet I could get a higher score than you.” Gingerly you pointed to a pair of the same arcade game standing side by side.

“Given your track record so far…”

“That’s it! We’re playing!” Looping your arm around his own you practically dragged him off to your dueling ground.

“What would we even bet?”

“Uh- we can decide later!”

“Three, two, one, GO!” Admittedly you immediately got a head start, clearly this was a game you knew well. Mephistopheles hadn’t played too many of these kind of… pixely, shooty, flying, score, combo games??? before, but your smug smile was showing you were too quick to count him out. What was he if not a fast learner? He couldn’t help the smug smile, catching you check his score from the corner of the eye and try focusing on your own game. Good, he was hoping you’d give a chall-

He froze losing a life. Your mischievous giggle rang in his ears as you pulled your lips away. He swore he could still feel your heat as you kissed his cheek.

So, the pair of you were allowed to play by under handed means?

Sure, he’ll play.

“WAH!” You jumped, instinctively batting at tip of his tail that he dropped on your head. The moment you realized it was just him it was back to the game, spamming the fire button as fast as you could! Unlike your distraction he managed to get you to let go of the controls, this couldn’t go unpunished!

And thus your tattled continued, a playful shove here, a standing in front of the other’s screen there.

Soon a triumphant laughter erupted as well as the most beautiful bright smile you had ever seen graced your senses. “I WON!” Crow’s feet at the corners of his closed eyes, sharp canines on full display, the bridge of his nose crinkling up, perhaps the softest expression you had ever seen on him.

“Nah, I definitely won.”

“Ha?” He looked to you confused, so unguarded for a moment before glancing between your screens.

You interrupted before he could even speak. “I’ve never seen your demon form before, you’re gorgeous.”

Could your words really have caught him so, for him to be so… not surprised but something like that, not as harsh.

Like Barbatos you couldn’t pin down an exact human world creature his features were like but you could find similarities. If you had to find a comparison though the closest one could find would be a Chinese dragon, flowing fur running along a thin line on the top, before stiffening and forming a fish like fin at the tip. Even his horns, branching like cherry blossom trees in paintings, running back instead forward or out to the side like most horns you’ve seen.

“You’re even blushing.”

“That’s- I-”

“Say, isn’t showing one’s demon form an honor, the highest form of dress?”

“… yes?”

How were you doing this, looking to him so… so…

He lacked the words.

There was this twinkle in your eyes. “Glad I can make for a worthy opponent.”

A worthy opponent indeed.

Mephisto placed a hand to his chest seeing his now once more gloved hand landing on that fluttery dark green ascot. “… I had thought to be like this, but this is a human holiday, so it would only be appropriate I adorn myself in your colors and form, would it not?”

He didn’t dare move even as you stepped closer, only a breath apart.

“You’re so swee-”

BANG

You both flinched as the sudden sound practically attacked you. A few demons followed it, beginning to surround the gachapon machines. You almost followed too but couldn’t right away, finding yourself wrapped protectively in Mephistopheles’ arms, even holding his can up and in a defensive stance. With an awkward cough and stiff opening of his arms he let go.

Quickly the pair of you made their way just in time to see A. the gachapon machines had toppled over with many of the capsules scattered across the floor and B. the toys inside breaking out going on the attack directly or working together to chuck knives, forks, other toys and capsules your way. And that was how the pair of you as well as many other customers found yourselves ducking into the kitchen for safety. Being wacked with little plastic balls could surprisingly hurt.

“Mephisto!” The man came sprinting in.

“They blocked the exits.”

“Why!?”

“I don’t know! And neither dose anyone else! The ones who make the toys are on vacation so no one can get in contact to know what they even did to the toys!” His tail smacked against the counter sending the toy clinging to it back out to the dinning area.

“Well, the magic allowing them to move is weak, we can subdue them.”

“Remember how I told you this is a family run business.”

“Yeah.”

“The chefs are fighting with the others who want to break the toys because their siblings made them!”

“I’m going back out there.”

“MC, those things will stab you!”

“Well, we can’t break them, so we just have to undo the enchantment! You said they place new ones on them regularly, that should be fine, right?”

“Well, ye- Wait!” He immediately followed as you ran past back out to the front counter.

You managed to snatch one of the plush key chains, holding it firm enough so it couldn’t escape but not so much as to be squeezing it. “… How can such weak magic do so much?”

You both held your breath concentrating on the little soft chimera. Surprisingly it didn’t do much once in hand, not even squirming, at most resting it’s muzzle against you.

Curiously Mephisto reached out a finger to pat it on the head only for it to buck him away. “Usually the enchantments are something simple, changing color, moving to simple commands, giving hugs… reacting to emotions!” The pair of you looked to one another coming to the same realization.

Gently you stroked the toy with your thumb concentrating, searching and feeling for those faint traces… “Love… Les?” The demon dropped his head on your shoulder.

“Once again you’ve captured the heart of every being in the room. Rioting because they’re upset you didn’t get to win again.” Slowly he got to his feet. “If the enchantment is to react on love, it should be simple enough to dispel.” You didn’t even think before taking the hand outstretched to you, pulling you up. “Shall we?”

And alarm rang, their pair of you felt a water spell activate drenching the pair of you as well as the rest of the restaurant just as a terrible heat began to emerge from the back.

Next thing you knew you were held tightly, standing across the street from the restaurant, a green fire could be seen through a window toward where the kitchen was. Thankfully it seemed most, if not everyone else was out too.

…

“Maybe I sensed anger and not love.”

“… Yes I believe we got the enchantment wrong.”

Though the pair of you were sopping wet at least the emergency fire system going off would probably be enough to wash away whatever enchantment the toy were under. You noted to yourself to never mention this incident to anyone, if it reached Solomon’s ears surely he’d double your assignments, you barely had any time that wasn’t RAD work or apprentice work as it already was!

“Les?” Mephisto’s breath shuttered before he let you go.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Quickly he made his way towards the demon who you made your order to at the counter. They seemed to exchange something before the demon practically lunged at Mephisto, gripping him in a tight hug before running off.

You had a feeling about what just transpired but you couldn’t help asking once he got back. “So what happened?”

“Although we didn’t get our meal, we still enjoyed the services of the place and thought I could at least compensate for that.”

He overpaid by a lot, honestly you didn’t know if he knew he was or not, but if he did you wouldn’t be surprised.

As if in a panic Mephisto patted himself down, sighing upon taking something out of his inner coat pocket. “Good it wasn’t washed away.”

“Oh?”

… He couldn’t bare to look to you as he presented the bar, the ribbon wrapping around the corner partially undone. “It’s tradition to make chocolate for whom you wish to be your Valintine, right? And since we can’t get pizza anymore you could at least have this.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you? You hadn’t even tasted to know if it’s to your liking yet.”

“But you took the time to make it for me, that’s enough. Besides, you made it I’m sure that even if it’s a flavor I don’t personally like it’ll taste good.” It was interesting to try to unwrap what with the paper disintegrating from the water. It thankfully easy enough to simply rub off.

Though you said you accepted his offering no matter how it was he couldn’t help focusing on the awful nerves that bubbled in his gut. First he was late allowing the brothers that chance to bother you, then… ALL THAT at the restaurant. He knew he could do better and that was the worst part. Still, the least he could do was make your day better.

“Oh, what’s this jell on the inside, it’s delicious! And why dose it tingle so much!”

“You told me once you wanted to know more about Demous, so I thought to add some to the chocolate. Most of the bottles I could find had such high concentration. Many of the more flavorful ones could knock even Lord Diavolo off he feet, but I couldn’t compromise on the taste, so it took some time to find one with low enough concentration that it wouldn’t harm your liver while still keeping the tas…… What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing! Nothing. I love it.”

“No.” You shrunk a little under his gaze. “You made a face just now. Is it not to your liking?”

“…” now it was you who couldn’t look him in the eye. “Demonus doesn’t ha-uh… effect humans. H-hopefully you didn’t spend too long finding this one, I’m- ahem, I’m sorry!” You shook a little trying to clear your throat.

…

Those three months were still worth it! Learned a lot about Demonus then he thought he could about how to make it less effective!

“MC?” You kept clearing your throat. Now beginning to pat your chest.

“P-pen- EpiPen.” The moment you got the thing out of your pocket Mephisto took it, helping you to the ground before popping off the cap and sticking it into your leg.

…

And there was nothing else he could do. Sitting at your bedside as you napped. The moment he arrived at the castle it was as if Barbatos and Diavolo knew you would be arriving, the butler whisking you away to tend to you. Already Mephisto had given Diavolo a list of the ingredients he used. It seemed you had tried everything on it in some form or another already… except for the alcohol. Of course. With you napping at least he had the chance to give it to Barbatos to check if all humans would be allergic or just a few.

Would you even want to see him after this, he POISONED you, made an attempt on your life! Thankfully with magic and him getting you here in such a quick fashion you should be fine with a few hours but, your life is so short as it was, and he stole several hours. Yet despite this shame he couldn’t seem to keep himself from your side any more than he already had.

“Les?”

Though he faced you he could hardly get words out, but he had too! “I’m so sorry, MC.”

“… Eh, one of the more peaceful attempts on my life.” You tiredly chuckled, slowly sitting up. “H-hey, it wasn’t that bad. Every time I try something there’s the risk of that, who knows, maybe the pizza would have gotten to me.”

“… Barbatos says you’re free to go whenever you wish.”

“Oh, good! Could we still catch that show?”

You almost flinched seeing how he looked like you just slapped him! “You… still want to continue the date?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well…” He closed his eyes thinking for a moment. “We missed the show, and it’s getting too late for a walk without the more dangerous creatures beginning to stalk about.”

… Slowly, he took your hand. “Would you come home with me?”

“Oh?”

He adjusted himself so he could better face you. “Allow me the chance to make you some proper Valentine’s Day chocolate. I still have ingredients left over and I won’t add anything extra to it!”

“Hmm… only if I get to make you chocolate too.”

Clearly you left the man bewildered, of all things, that seemed to catch him off guard. “I wanted to make you chocolate too, but every time I tried they got eaten, or the ingredients were eaten, or someone else shoved their way into the kitchen and messed up everything.”

“If that is what you wish, of course!”

“And we could still get that walk in now!”

“Of course.” Walking to his place… There weren’t exactly too many places to stop and rest like at the botanical garden he was planning to take you too, but his leg could push through!

And so the pair of you began to trek, you simply waving bye to Diavolo much to his chagrin, but at least the prince didn’t seem to mind.

It was about half way he began to notice that pain spark from his ankle and up. He had taken enough of your time, he couldn’t ask for more of it for his own sake. Besides you seemed to be enjoying yourself, pointing out a shop and describing an incident where Satan and Asmodeus ended up dragging you into being in a commercial or how the jingle off in the distance reminded you od a song you liked back home. You burst our laughing as Mephisto described some of the misadventures he and Ruby got into in the forests around the mansion, like when Mephisto couldn’t find anything worthy of the front page of the paper so Ruby started spreading rumors there were ancient ferocious dragons only for that to turn up as not so much as a rumor but kinda true as Rubezalis manage to accidentally lead some to RAD who turned out to be the most cuddly creatures one could meet.

Later and later it got, he just hoped there would be room in the kitchen for the pair of you to work without getting in the way of the staff’s dinner prep. The doors opened before you, not even needing to knock.

“Oh, I was just gonna call.” The teen was lounged across some of the steps of that grand staircase like it were some comfy couch. He ran a hand through that long bright teal hair, pulling some of it away from his face.

“Hey Rubezalis.”

“Hey MC.”

The boy quirked a brow, immediately Mephistopheles tried loosening the tight grip he held onto his cane but it was too late, Ruby getting up and quickly making his way over.

“Guess you’ll be joining us for dinner. You two should have a seat, I’ll tell em to add another portion.”

“Actually,” Mephistopheles placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder just as he tried walking past. “we haven’t discussed that yet.”

“So what are you doing?”

You piped up. “Making chocolate.”

Ruby gave his brother a pointed glare his gaze flickering to that tense leg for a moment, lightly knocking his foot into his brother’s gaining smallest, quietest wince. “Cool, cool. Standing around sounds awful though. Well, you kids have fun.”

“Oh, wait, before you go.” Quickly Mephisto pulled that little plush key chain out of his pocket and placed it in Ruby’s hands. The demon couldn’t help beaming seeing that excited twinkle in his little brother’s eyes.

“Wait, you got me something for me and not your date.”

“No, he did!” You held out your keychain gaining a small smile from the youth.

“Good. Welp, see you.” And with that he walked away, hooking the keychain to one of his beltloops. “Hey, tell Ma we should go to Ristorante Six for dinner.” With that order given an attendant scurried off.

“Let’s be off, the kitchen’s this way.” Just as Mephisto turned you to one of the doors he felt a light tap on the back of his head. Over his shoulder from the corner of the eye he spotted his little bother giving him two thumbs up, mouthing ‘good luck, try not falling flat on your face’ before hopping up those steps.

“… Rubezalis cast a spell on your shoes.”

“Yours too. I don’t see the harm in leaving it be and letting him have his fun.” You nodded at Mephisto’s words, agreeing as he led the way through that gigantic house.

With a shaky sigh he leaned against one of the counters alleviating some of the pressure on his leg. While he separated the measuring cups and bowls, you were gathering the sugar and other ingredients from the cabinets he pointed out.

“A-AH!”

“MC!”

You both felt it, that little spell suddenly coming to life, shoes stuck to the ground, the sugar you held sent flying into the air as you crashed into the demon beside you. Cups and bowls in hand clattered about, tossed away cradling your head and neck to chest.

Well… he fell on his back and not face.

Damn it

If this were ANY other day, his leg wouldn’t have locked up from the pain and he could have kept the pair of you steady, but no, he couldn’t and now

now

The pair of you laid there, just absolutely covered in sugar.

Everything just kept going wrong.

His face so unbearably hot, his eyes stinging a little, this embarrassment just eating him up.

“Are you alright, MC- MPH”

.          .          .

Slowly you drew back, your eyes half lidded, smiling, looking to him so adoringly. “Sorry, your lips were too sweet to resist.”

“I, what?” Quickly he sat up. “How? How can you kiss me, this date has been nothing but terrible!”

“Well… maybe it wasn’t idea, but-” you ran a hand through his hair dusting some of the sugar off… and making those take on a darker red hue. “You’ve been so thoughtful this whole time. From the planning, your outfit, even your chocolate, you always put your all into everything you do, it amazing! And even the EpiPen I shouldn’t have been surprised but I still was, demons don’t have allergies so you could only have learned that for me.”

“Surprised? Of course I knew! No harm can come to any of the exchange studens while you reside in the Devildom.”

“I think you just care about people, more than you like to admit.”

“You-” You can’t just say something like that! “Bet.”

“Huh?”

“I won that bet, remember? I know what I want. A… another kiss.”

“… boo.”

“BOO!?” The man practically shot up, yet you still sat in his lap.

“You should have asked for something better.”

“SOMETHING BETTER!?”

“Yes, you don’t need a bet for that.”

A light laughter escaped you as the demon was unable to look to you anymore.

“Double or nothing.” Somehow he managed to force his flustered self to face you once more. “I bet you I can take you on the most extraordinary date! One that meets my standards.”

“Ooh, and what if you lose?”

“You decide.”

“Then I’ll have to take you out! And what if you win?”

“… I’d still like a kiss.”

“Okay. But I say that’s a separate bet. So…” You couldn’t help that giddy giggle feeling the man practically melt under your lips.

So he had another chance. No matter what he would make it a good date, that he promised to himself. But… if even such an awful day could have something like this happen… maybe it’s wasn’t completely terrible after all.

[m1stm3]

money, money, money!!!

okok so my beautiful bsf (luv u @monouser) introduced me to a japanese custom called kozukai and said “nanami.” so i said sir yes sir and now we’re here!!! ^.^

cw’s!!: fem! reader, family issues (rude comments :[), and petty husband nanami!!

wc: 1.1k (eeeeeee!!!!)

kento nanami had always considered himself to be a very sensible man. he had a stable income and occupation, a beautiful home, and was generally very mature and well-mannered.

until someone messed with you, then all of that carefully curated sensibility was thrown out the window.

see, when you had first mentioned the off-comments your family made about your relationship with him, — as much as it irked him — he urged you to brush it off. why should their opinions matter when the both of you are happy and healthy? you agreed (albeit begrudgingly), and simply moved on with your life. and honestly? everything fixed itself up for a while. your wedding went without a hitch, not one complaint or aggravating comment from any of your family members. you knew better though, that it was only a matter of time until it started again but worse. the calm before the storm, if you will.

of course, you were right.

as soon as you mentioned the new living arrangements to your family, it was nonstop. “you? a housewife? you could barely clean up after yourself when you were younger!”, “don’t you think that’s a little fast? you barely know how to cook a proper meal!”, “good luck to your husband, he’ll need it to deal with you.”

the next time you told your husband about the mean-spirited comments, there were tears lining your pretty eyes. as always, he was soft in his comfort, gently reassuring you that you didn’t need to do any of those things for him to be satisfied. “that’s a sad way to think.” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple. “you’re not indebted to me because i chose to marry you. i take care of you because i want to. because i love you, do you understand?” when you nod, you think that’s the end of it. you and your husband love each other and that’s all that matters, end of story.

kento nanami was a sensible man, so of course he wasn’t planning any sort of revenge on your family. he was mature and stoic and well-mannered so when he suggested a family get-together at your shared home (“just formalities, my love. don’t you want them to see how happy we are?”), you didn’t even blink an eye. your husband wasn’t easy to anger. even if he was, he wasn’t one to act on it.

kento nanami was uptight and stubborn and sardonic in the best ways possible. but more than anything, your husband was petty.

kento had a plan when he walked up to you and the small group of family members you were speaking to. the conversation seemed to be going well at first, with them complimenting your home and gushing over the two gorgeous rings on your finger (he couldn’t help the small swell of pride that bloomed in his chest when you gave the diamonds a loving look). he had seen the way you tensed after something one of them said, a strained little laugh leaving your lips as your shoulders deflated slightly.

that’s when he swooped in, one of his hands resting against your hip while he pressed a kiss to your cheek. you gave him a soft smile, the spark of grateful relief in your gaze obvious to only him. “apologies for the interruption, my love. i just wanted to check in.” he muttered by your ear, giving your hip a small, reassuring squeeze. he knew your family was watching the interaction, probably wondering what he was telling you (he couldn’t care less).

he turned to your family once you assured him you were okay, giving them a polite nod of acknowledgment before turning back to you. “you look gorgeous in that dress, love. it was the best option out of the ones you showed me, i’m so glad you bought it.” his voice was pointedly louder than before, a detail only you caught that caused your brows to furrow slightly. what was he doing?

your family nodded along to his words before doing an almost comical double-take. “you bought it? with what money?” your brother was the first one to speak up, pointing (quite rudely, in your husbands opinion) directly at you while scoffing skeptically. your cheeks heated slightly in embarrassment, your lips parting to rebut his words until kento beat you to it.

“with her money.” he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. your gaze moved between the two men, trying to gauge whether or not you should step in. “your husband gives you an allowance?” there was a barely restrained grin on your brothers face, the cruel giddiness only growing when you didn’t immediately respond.

“she gives me an allowance, actually.” your husband spoke up once again, the narrow-eyed look he sent his way making your brothers brows furrow. “it’s more common practice amongst businessmen, so it’s understandable that you weren’t aware.” kento sounds a little more smug now. “she handles all of the finances, including my allowance. i’m honestly quite useless in comparison, i simply go to work and come home.” he added, his thumb tracing a senseless pattern over your hip.

your brother was practically glaring at the self-satisfied look your husband was wearing. but of course, your brother never knew when to stop, even if it was a losing battle. “oh, of course, because my sister is the person to trust with all of your finances. right.” his voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, his eyes rolling as he spoke.

“don’t talk about my wife like that.” your husband said suddenly, his eyes narrowed into a glare directly aimed at your brother. the two men gave each other the stare down for a few moments while you and your other family members looked between the two of them with wide eyes. your brother was the first to concede (obviously), storming off with a petulant sort of huff. the rest of your family was quick to follow (after giving you and your husband a polite nod, of course. who would dare disrespect you after the show your husband just put on?).

kento turned to you with a sheepish look after they left, the aftermath of his initial aggravation finally hitting him. “too much?” he asked softly, carefully watching you for your reaction. you only shook your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

it’s safe to say your family hesitated in their unneeded comments after that day.

[overnightheartbeats]

“Well yes, but she wouldn’t be standing outside your door otherwise.” In other words, he wouldn’t exactly be on her radar if Laurel hadn’t singled him out with her interest. But, he had a point. Apologizing for her wasn’t really correct. If anything, it was more an apology for the hassle and inconvenience. “Okay, well the apology is for not really believing you the first time around.” That one also counted. Still, despite her best efforts to keep the mood light after that debacle, she couldn’t quite get past the disbelief and the shock of having ever defended a roommate like that. To have even fallen for an act like that, talk about gullible. “Yeah,” she breathed out in response. “I don’t want to believe it, but I..yeah I heard her. Kind of hard to deny. I just don’t understand why she was so angry at you.” His reassurance and smile did ease some of her nerves, and she gave him a smile in return, comforted by his soft touch. “Good, I’m glad. It’s not…none of it is true.” Did she know everything that was said between them? No, not exactly. But, she’d still assure it was inaccurate.

Still in her state of shock, but laurel listened to each word. His words swirled around her head as she tried making sense of it all. Demanding, marking her territory. It had also hit her in that moment, Juju’s feeling about her roommate had been right. It hadn’t really occurred to her that she’d taken her dad’s advice too literally. A balance was needed - between what her mom spewed often about not trusting anyone and the world sucks, versus her dad’s more optimistic outlook on life. “I hate that," she said, scrunching up her nose. "You don't deserve that mess," her words trailing off as she met his green eyes. Her train of thought was interrupted, as always mesmerized by him. The green eyes combo with his damp hair falling on his face was too distracting. "I'm...yeah I'm okay. My thoughts are all over the place still, but nothing crazy. You really think so?" Then, she thought back to her earlier realization. Clearly, her judge of character was a bit skewed at the moment. "Yeah, you're probably right. I hope that's not the case, but I'll be careful. Promise, as long as you'll be careful too. I can never say no to you walking me to class, as long as it doesn't keep you from your classes."

She hummed happily, leaning into his cheek kiss. How quickly she was falling, she could feel it. "Mhm, I think we should. Tempting to stay in bed, but I guess since I'm not hiding my whereabouts anymore, we could take the trip to the diner." Snow day, Chicago. His siblings. Was she wrong to read that as a good sign of their connection? The idea of meeting his family or going all the way to Chicago stunned her. Her heart was quick to react, heart rate accelerating at the thought. If her heartbeat could be translated, it'd be a resounding yes. Her mind just hadn't caught up to form the words. It took her a moment to catch up. "Wait, really? I haven't seen snow in a long while, I would love to. But, you're sure you want me to meet your siblings?"

Eli shook his head and sighed as he moved away from the door taking her with him. "Please don't apologize for her. You are the last person who should apologize for her. I know this is hard and believe me I didn't want you to have to find this out this way but really, a part of me is glad you saw how she really is. She plays up the innocent act. I don't think any amount of times telling you she said something would really make you believe. This was something she needed to show you." he shrugged and smiled. "Everything she says rolled off my back. I don't take her words to heart. If I did I wouldn't be here with you." His hand caressed her cheek sweeping the strand of wet hair away from her face.

"She uses you as a crutch. Even if you were at your dads, she still would have come over here and demanded to back off you. Regardless if you were here or not, she'd still want to mark her territory." As he looked into her eyes he had to ask, "are you okay?" Now that Jenny was on the other side of the door he was more focused on making sure Laurel was okay. He had dealt with Jenny for a while now that his words didn't really matter.

"I will say though that she won't stop here. What she'll do I have no idea but I want you to be careful. Maybe I can walk you to class?" The worry was more for her than him but truly he didn't have a great feeling with Jenny.

Nuzzling her face he kissed the side of her cheek and softly closed his eyes. "Did you still want to go get food? Or want to order in and stay in bed? Hey, if my siblings say yes, do you want to come to our snow day in Chicago?"

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for S behind the cut; “project sidekick”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Wally stares blankly at him. Dick also stares blankly at him. Kaldur . . . tilts his head. 

“. . . yes,” he replies after a moment. Which, like–he’s the leader. They picked him for it. They all picked him for it, even though the rest of the team is never even gonna look at any of them again and– 

Then Artemis immediately shoves her way into the room past Red Tornado and glares at them–well, glares at Wally, mostly, since he’s the closest one to the door–and he realizes: oh, okay, it’s worse than that. They’re gonna look at them and be pissed about it. 

Which–bullshit, but fair, but also bullshit. 

“We–” he starts to say as M’gann peeks into the room behind Artemis with a worried little frown on, but he doesn’t get anywhere near the end of the sentence before Artemis is very literally lunging at him, which alright, fine, she’s going to deck him and knock him on his ass and that is totally unsurprising behavior for Artemis and he should probably let her even though it is so hard to be slow enough to let her when he can see it coming, just maybe it’ll make her feel better and–

She does not, in fact, deck him. 

She definitely does knock him on his ass, though. 

“Mmph!” Wally manages, because he is getting his face kissed off by a girl for the first time in his life and is too friggin’ confused to even, like, enjoy it. 

Also she did actually knock him on his ass, and she is very literally in his lap now. Which he is also too confused to be enjoying, because–what? What is she–? 

Artemis leans back from kissing him; keeps her arms around his neck where she threw them while she was tackling him and glares at him a lot harder. Wally isn’t actually sure if she’s gonna kill him or not? Because like, she might be about to kill him? Maybe? 

“Sorry,” M’gann says apologetically, looking awkward and embarrassed and pained and wringing her hands together hard enough for the shape of them to warp and twist. Her coloring’s a little washed-out. Like–all-over, skin and clothes and hair and all. Though Wally’s, like–a little distracted from that, right now? Like–just a little bit? “It took a little while before the League would, um, let us come see you? Superboy wanted to come with us, but, um, he felt like he should go apologize to, um–you know. First, I mean. But Uncle J’onn finally said it was okay for us to come, so we just–um–is it okay that we did come, is that–?” 

“You’re our teammates,” Artemis cuts M’gann’s nervous rambling off with, her eyes narrowed and teeth bared, and still glaring straight at Wally, who is still kind of expecting an arrow to the eye at this point. Or gut. Or like, somewhere worse. It’s Artemis, she could definitely think of worse places. Like, a whole lot of ‘em. “You’re the ones who’ve had our backs. And we’re the ones who have yours.” 

Oh, Wally thinks stupidly, just sitting there on the training room floor with a girl he’s literally never gotten along with while in his right mind sitting in his lap and said girl’s weird and weirdly sticky almond-flavored chapstick smeared across his mouth and just staring at her . . . probably even more stupidly than that, honestly. 

Then he maybe kinda sorta bursts into tears, buries his face in her shoulder, and just fucking clings to her. 

He doesn’t really know what else to do right now anyway. 

[phantomdreamgirl]

Every time He smiles, My Heart Breaks

(18+)

Familyvideo!steve harrington x reader

After Steve broke your heart back in high school, you spent the next few years avoiding him until you found yourself leaning against the video store counter, falling for his charms all over again.

Standing in line at Family Video, you clutch the two VHS tapes you're holding to your chest. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, as you eye how many people are ahead of you. You knew coming in on a Saturday night was a bad idea, but you were in need of one of your comfort movies and would risk waiting in an obscenely long line to get it.

You sigh before you see an overwhelmed Robin yell for Steve to come to the counter.

Shit.

You weren't expecting to see him tonight or ever, as every time you'd been there in the past, you had just missed him. A cold sweat forms on your brow as you reluctantly take a step forward. A simple trip to the video store was quickly turning into your worst nightmare, as you inch closer and closer to the guy responsible for the worst heartbreak of your life.

You try to stay to the right, where the line branches off, in hopes of ending up with Robin instead. Your hopes are soon crushed however, as the person in front of you chooses her to rant at over their late fees.

"I can help whoever's next," you then hear a familiar voice say.

You look over at him and he flashes a faint smile, as recognition registers on his face. You smile politely in return as you approach the counter. You set the tapes down in front of you, now aware of how clammy your hands are.

"Hey," he greets as he assesses the tapes. "How have you been?"

"Good, just busy. What about you?" You ask, as your eyes meet his.

You forgot just how mesmerizing they were. So many memories suddenly flood your mind as you force yourself to keep a neutral expression.

"Same, actually, as you can see it can get pretty crazy in here some nights," he replies, scanning one of the tapes. "Oh, Flashdance, nice. I remember how much you liked this one."

"You should, that was one of our best dates," you say with a laugh.

"Yeah," he smiles. "It was. Then you played the soundtrack in your car nonstop afterwards."

"I still do sometimes," you reveal.

Steve averts his eyes from yours before asking you for the store rewards card. You hand it to him and he holds it for a second before handing it back to you.

"You know what? These are on the house," he says, handing the tapes back to you.

"What? I don't-" you begin to protest when he's leaning over the counter, closer to you.

You then instinctively lean against the counter, towards him. He's so close you can smell traces of the minty gum he was chewing earlier.

"Would you mind waiting until after I get this line down? I wanna talk to you about something," he whispers, causing your body to tense up.

"Yeah, sure," you quickly reply, earning another smile from him.

You step to the side of the counter, again clutching the tapes to your chest as you wait. Your mind's racing with a million possibilities for what he would want to talk to you about. Maybe he's finally going to apologize for how he treated you back in high school. Would he even care about that now? Should you still care about it as much as you do? Why do you still let him get to you? The questions are endless until you hear Steve softly saying your name.

He steps out from behind the counter and stands next to you.

"Can I walk you out to your car?" He asks, pointing to the parking lot. "It's too crowded in here."

You nod, and he gestures for you to walk in front of him. He hurries ahead of you to get the door, holding it open so the two of you can exit into the chilly, February evening.

He follows you to your car and waits as you toss the tapes into the passenger seat.

"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" You ask, after turning to face him.

"I, um, have been thinking about you a lot lately," he begins, slightly nervous, "and I know that probably sounds really weird since we haven't talked in years, and I know that's my fault, but I... I just want to apologize for how shitty I was to you when we broke up-"

"You mean when you left me for Nancy?" You interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

"Yeah, I was a total jerk about it, and I'm sorry," he replies, with a pout. "You deserved a better guy than me anyway."

Your expression softens as you notice the sadness in his eyes.

"I wouldn't go that far," you console. "You were a good boyfriend, we were happy."

"Its hard for me to remember sometimes," he admits, kicking some of the loose gravel beneath his feet. "Sometimes all I can remember is how I hurt you."

"That's all I can remember sometimes, too," you confess, meeting his sad gaze.

"I'm just so sorry for all of it and I want to make it up to you," he continues, hopeful. "Valentines day is coming up and I was wondering, if you'd want to go to dinner with me? If you don't already have plans..."

"I-" you start to reply, as his proposition has seemingly rendered you speechless.

"I'll totally understand if you don't want to, since you probably still hate me," he adds, now just rambling. "I'd still hate me too."

You then reach out and lightly grip the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "I don't hate you, Steve," you assure.

His face instantly lights up with a smile that still gives you butterflies.

"You don't?"

You shake your head. "I could never hate you."

"Would you be willing to go out with me, then?" He asks again, noticing how you're still holding onto him.

"I would," you quietly answer, as you feel him wrapping his arms around you.

"Yeah?" He questions, still with a smile.

You nod.

He pulls you into him, against his warm, broad chest and whatever thoughts of protest leave your mind.

"I won't mess this up again," he breathes, gazing into your eyes.

Your hand moves from his sleeve to his green vest as he leans in close. You grip it so tightly, turning your knuckles white. His nose brushes yours before he presses the softest kiss to your lips.

You should be embarrassed by how easily you melt into his arms, but in the moment, you can't bring yourself to care. His lips feel so right, everything about him feels right. It's a feeling you've never felt with anyone else and its all encompassing.

The intensity of his kiss grows as he pins you against the side of your car. He presses more of his body against you, as it seems he's just as caught up in how good it feels to have you back in his arms.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, into a kiss.

Before you can respond, you hear Robin calling out for him.

"Steve! Stop making out with the customers and get your ass back in here!"

"Just give me a sec, Rob," he replies, looking over at her. "This is kinda important."

She rolls her eyes before noticing you're who he's with. "Oh... just make it quick."

You each exchange awkward smiles before she disappears inside the store.

"Sorry about that," Steve apologizes, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

"Its okay," you assure, sweetly. "I should go, anyway. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble with the big boss."

He playfully scoffs. "Don't worry about that. Keith needs me and he knows it."

He leans in again, and asks with his thumb caressing your cheek, "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, I just need to give you my new number," you reply, while digging into your purse for a pen. You pull one out, excitedly, but then realize you don't have anything to write on. An idea flickers across your face as you tell him to hold out his hand.

He does so, with a smile, before you write your number on his palm.

You then smile up at him and see a familiar glint in his eyes. You remember how he used to look at you like that all time and it always made you dizzy with love.

"You're adorable," he breathes, pulling you back to him for another kiss.

You whine his name against his lips, gently pushing him away, knowing that if you didn't stop him, you'd never leave.

"Alright," he huffs, pulling away. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," you smile, as he takes a few steps back allowing you to get into your car.

He watches you leave, standing in place until your car disappears into the distance.

You have a dumb smile plastered on your lips the whole way back to your house. Only in your dreams could you have imagined such an interaction with him. You only wish he would've come to this realization sooner, but you're grateful nonetheless.

He makes good on his promise to call you that night, as the phone rings around ten.

"I didn't wake you up or anything, did I?" He asks, sweetly.

"No, I'm still up," you reply, smiling into the phone.

"Okay, good."

You both then talk for the next hour and a half, until you're both almost dozing off.

"I'm really glad you came in today," he quietly admits.

"I am, too," you say, holding the phone close.

"I've been wanting to say all that to you for so long, it was eating me up inside," he continues. "I miss what we had and I'm sorry for ruining it."

Your heart melts at his admission.

"It means a lot to hear you say that, but you don't have to keep apologizing," you say with a laugh.

"I know, but I still feel so guilty, like, you really loved me and I threw it away for someone who never could," he counters.

"Yeah," you sigh, "but you're making up for it now."

"I didn't expect you to be this forgiving," he admits, also with a laugh.

"Neither did I, but I guess that's part of growing up."

"I guess so," he agrees, with a relieved smile.

You lay on your side, switching the phone to your other ear, imagining his pretty face across from yours.

"I really wanna kiss you right now," he breathes, his voice soft and sleepy.

You smile, burying your face in your pillow. You're about to reply when you hear light snoring and quickly realize he's fallen asleep. After quietly giggling, you listen to him breathe, closing your eyes and pretending he's laying next to you. You almost doze off yourself until the phone slips out of your hand.

"Goodnight Steve," you whisper before turning over to hang up the phone.

Steve calls you every night leading up to your date. It amazes you with how easy it is for him to become a part of your life again.

The night before, he's still vague on the details about your date, saying that it's a surprise. He does tell you to wear something nice, so that probably means that you're going somewhere fancy. You already have the perfect outfit in mind, as you've been saving it for a special occasion.

The following evening, you're getting dressed in your room. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you gently pull black tights up and over your legs, covering the black lace underneath. You then shimmy your way into your black, velvet long-sleeve dress. Walking over to the mirror, you adjust it and make sure it fits just right. You smile at the little red hearts embroidered on it, thinking how this was the perfect dress for Valentines Day.

Turning away from your reflection, you slip into matching black heels before putting on your favorite pair of earrings. You then look over your appearance one last time before you hear the doorbell ring. Long dormant butterflies flutter back to life as you hurry to put on your burgundy coat and sling your purse over your shoulder.

Upon opening the door, you're met with a ridiculously handsome Steve, seemingly also dressed in all black, under his charcoal colored coat. You can't help but gasp at the sight of him.

"Hey," he greets, with a smile, reaching for you.

"Hi," you reply, as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He pulls you to him, pressing his lips to your cheek, as to not ruin your lipstick. Your eyes close as you inhale his cologne. It's different from what he used to wear, but you think it suits him even more.

"You look gorgeous, as always," he breathes, with his lips still at your cheek.

"Thanks," you dreamily reply, "so do you."

"Thanks," he echoes, nuzzling his nose against yours.

You're already consumed by the warmth that radiates from him, that you momentarily forget about the chilly night air around you. You weren't aware how much you missed it until then.

"Ready to go?" He softly asks, between planting little kisses across your cheek.

You nod, dreamily smiling up at him when he pulls away.

He then escorts you to his car, opening the door for you and making sure your coat didn't get caught in it once you get inside.

After he gets in and begins driving out of town, you playfully question where he's taking you. "So, can I at least have a hint about where we're going or...?"

He softly laughs before answering, "I've kept up the suspense long enough. There's a new Italian place that just opened up in the next town over, so I thought we'd go there. Believe it or not, my parents actually raved about it, and they don't like anything, so I'm guessing it must be pretty good."

"Oh," you smile, relieved. "That sounds great then."

"I told you I wanna make up for everything, so I wanted to take you somewhere nice," he adds, glancing over at you and gently taking your hand.

You smile in return as he squeezes, affectionately.

After he parks in the overflowing parking lot, you start to open your door when he stops you. He quickly hops out and hurries over to the passenger side of the car.

"Allow me," he says, helping you out of the car.

"Such the gentleman tonight," you tease, as he wraps his arm around you.

"Um, excuse me, I'm always a gentleman," he reminds, with faux annoyance.

"I know," you agree, leaning into him.

Once inside, you both quickly see how crowded it is, with angry wives and girlfriends, furious that there's no tables available without a reservation. You nervously look to Steve who assures you that he has it covered. He strolls up to the host stand and tells the frazzled hostess that he has a reservation for two under Harrington. She checks the leather bound notebook in front of her and smiles when she finds his name. After grabbing two menus, she looks up at him and says to follow her.

You could feel the hateful looks as you and Steve walk into the dining room. The hostess seats you at a secluded booth, complete with candle lit ambience.

"I must say I'm pretty impressed so far," you admit, while taking off your coat.

"That was the goal," he smirks, while also shedding his.

When he glances up at you again, he's taken aback by how you look in the soft light.

"God, you're beautiful," he quietly laments, reaching across the table to hold your hand.

Both his words and his constant need to touch you has you blushing. He wasn't like this when you were together before and it's a welcome change. He really has grown up a lot in these last few years, you think, as he gazes at you so adoringly.

"You say that like you're just now realizing it," you smile.

"In a way, I am," he replies, seemingly lovesick. "I was such an idiot before, letting you go... I'm not gonna make that mistake again."

He's looking at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. You know he means every word.

While you ate, Steve couldn't keep from staring at you. His honeyed gaze was soft at first but soon darkened as his thoughts drifted to your perfect lips. He longed to see them parted and slick from his kisses before you breathed his name in the delicate way that he loved. He discreetly reaches under the table to adjust himself, willing himself to make it through the first half of your date.

His staring doesn't go unnoticed, as it makes you feel so desirable. You haven't felt like this in years, and it has you clenching the napkin in your lap. You can see the deliciously filthy thoughts hidden behind his eyes, and you're fighting the urge to drag him out to his car and fuck him in the backseat.

You both struggle to maintain your innocent facades for the remainder of your meal. After paying the check, Steve escorts you out of the restaurant with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He has you pulled so close that your hips brush his as you walk.

When he has you alone in the parking lot, he presses your back to his passenger side door. A surprised gasp slips from your lips before his body engulfs yours. He kisses you so deeply it literally knocks the breath out of you. In a daze, you wrap your arms around him, with your hands curling under his coat's collar, at the back of his neck. You're almost afraid to touch his skin, fearing it'll be as searing as his kiss.

"I want you so fucking bad," he finally pants, allowing you to breathe.

"I want you, too," you reply, still gasping for air.

"Wanna go back to my place?" He asks, slipping his hands under your coat.

He squeezes your hips, making you whimper up at him.

You nod, and he kisses you again.

During the ride back to Hawkins, you reach into your purse and into your makeup case. Once you have your tube of lipstick in hand, you flip the sun visor in front of you down and open the lighted mirror on the back. Steve curiously watches as you reapply the sultry shade of crimson you wore earlier that night. He's not entirely sure why, but he feels his pants tightening at the sight of your painted lips.

After parking in his parent's driveway, he reaches for you, wanting to pull you in for another desperate kiss. You put your manicured finger to his lips, stopping him.

"Wait until we get inside, handsome," you smile as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

He nods, before pressing a kiss to your fingertip.

He then can't get out of the car fast enough, still going around to the side to open your door for you.

Once the front door is unlocked, you pull him inside, towards the living room. You're both surprised and glad that the house's layout has remained virtually unchanged since you were last there. You lead him to the couch and gently push him down, onto it. He gazes up at you, completely enamored as you straddle him.

You teasingly grind against him while his hands settle on your hips. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hair as you lean in close. His eyes close as he anticipates your kiss only to be surprised when your attention drifts lower, to his neck.

You nuzzle your nose against his skin, allowing his cologne to intoxicate you again.

"I've really missed you," you breathe before pressing a kiss to his freckled skin.

"I've missed you, too," he replies, breathless, "so fuckin' much."

"I don't ever want us to be apart again," you continue, between more crimson kisses.

"We won't be, I won't let it happen," he assures, as he shifts underneath you.

You smile against his skin before kissing your way to his collarbone.

"You promise?" You ask, peering up at him with doe eyes while you unbutton his shirt.

He swallows clumsily as he nods. "Yeah, I promise, honey."

After his shirt is unbuttoned halfway, you glide your nails through his newly exposed chest hair. The prettiest sounds fall from his lips and you can feel how he's throbbing underneath you, growing more desperate by the minute. You lean into him again, this time nuzzling your face to his chest. You flick your tongue over his nipple making him shiver above you.

"Christ, honey, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep teasing me like this," he warns, raggedly.

You look up at him again, proud to have scored a rare victory over Steve Harrington.

"Am I too much of a tease for you?" You ask, after raising your head to fully meet his gaze.

"You already know the answer to that," he breathes before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

You move your hips again, subtly grinding against his strained bulge. His move instinctively with yours, still so desperate.

"Wait," he pants, after breaking the kiss. "Before we go any further, we need to go upstairs. I wanna do this right."

You look at his disheveled hair and lipstick stained lips and smile.

You reply with a soft kiss before he guides you to the stairs.

You instantly feel like a teenager again, following him to his room for the first time. That room holds so many memories that it feels surreal being back there.

Steve saunters to the bed, with his hand still entwined with yours. He stops in front of it and begins undressing. Your eyes travel his body, noting how he's definitely improved with age. When he's only left in his tight, black underwear, he sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at you.

The hungry look in his eyes is your silent cue to also undress. You slip your arms out of the sleeves of your dress and shimmy out of it. You try to take off your tights as seductively as you can, as the heat from his gaze is overwhelming.

You toss them to the floor, leaving you in your lacy, black lingerie. You then take a few steps closer to him, standing between his spread legs. His hands are immediately on you, roaming your body like it's already his.

"So fuckin' gorgeous," he laments, in awe of the sight before him.

"You're not so bad yourself," you reply, combing your fingers through his hair.

He smiles before leaning up to kiss you. Before you know it, he has you on your back, trailing kisses across your chest. You whine his name, fingers curling into his hair when you feel him leaving hickies on your sensitive skin.

"Every inch of you is fucking perfect," he pants, as he kisses down your stomach. "I want you to always remember that, okay?"

He glances up at you, his eyes consumed with desire. You nod, breathless and dazed. He returns his focus to your hips, nibbling on them before kissing lower, to the waist of your panties. He teases you by kissing around the soft skin of your thighs, before pressing his lips to the black lace. He presses his tongue against the soaked fabric, tasting your arousal. He moans into you before pressing more kisses to your clothed core.

His large hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you writhe against the bed. You whine and cry his name, begging for more. He soon releases his grip long enough to rip your panties down your legs and throw them to the side.

His mouth is on you again, greedily licking and kissing the most delicate part of you. Your fingers claw at his scalp, pulling at his hair when he fucks you with his tongue. His nails are digging into your skin as he moans into you. He's so painfully hard now that he's grinding himself against the bed.

You whine his name again, your body trembling around him. Moans and cries of his name echo off his bedroom walls as he brings you closer to release. He's relentless in how he's devouring you, vowing not to stop until you make a mess on his face.

He gets his wish when your thighs clamp around his head and your voice is practically horse from screaming his name. He keeps lapping at you, moaning loudly as well, though it's muffled. He finally looks up at you, pretty face grinning and glistening. He rests his cheek against your thigh, while you catch your breath.

"You're even sweeter than I remembered," he smiles, making you cover your face with your hands.

He then crawls up your body, hovering his face over yours. You reach for him, eagerly pulling him into a kiss. He presses his body to yours and you feel an unfamiliar dampness on your lower half.

"Did you...?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"I think so, yeah," he cringes.

"That's so hot," you breathe, before kissing him again.

He whimpers into it, his sweaty body melting into yours.

"You should take them off anyway," you say, running your finger along the waistband of his underwear.

He immediately rolls onto his back and pulls his sticky underwear down his legs. He throws them to the floor then lays next to you. His eyes stay fixed on you as you sit up just enough to unclasp your bra. Once it slips off onto the floor, he's on top of you.

"So fucking pretty," he breathes, with his lips brushing yours. "Still want me, honey?"

"I want you," you whine. "I need you Steve, please..."

He rewards you with a kiss as he reaches between you and strokes himself.

"Say it again," he breathily commands, against your lips.

"I need you, Steve," you repeat, with your hands cradling his face.

"I'm yours, honey," he pants, as he eases himself inside you. "I always will be."

You gasp, your hands dropping to his shoulders as he slowly pushes in.

"Steve, I-" you say, your nails digging into his skin.

"I know, but you can take it," he assures. "I know you can, honey."

He kisses you again, distracting you from the stretch of him now deep inside you.

"See? Like I said, so goddamn perfect," he praises, between kisses.

You struggle to kiss him back, as you're already overwhelmed with pleasure.

His thrusts start out slow, letting you acclimate to him. Memories of all the times you were together like this in this room, in this bed, flood your mind. It's almost too much as tears well in your eyes.

"Hey, what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?" He softly asks, stilling his hips.

A light shade of pink covers your already flushed cheeks as you gaze up at him wistfully.

"This just feels so familiar, you know?" You explain, slightly embarrassed. "Like, remembering everything that happened here is just hitting me and it's a lot."

"I know what you mean," he admits, surprising you. "Being here can be too much for me sometimes, too."

He leans in and just nuzzles his nose against yours.

"I just really loved you and you broke my heart, and I almost never recovered," you reveal.

"'Loved?' So you don't feel that way anymore?" He questions, his lip starting to quiver.

"I still do," you answer, tearfully. "I love you, Steve."

He blinks away his own tears and sighs your name. "I love you, too, so goddamn much it hurts."

He presses his lips to yours excitedly. He breathes how much he loves you with every kiss as his hips start to move again. Once he sets a good rhythm, he buries his face in your neck, flicking his tongue over your skin before leaving little reminders of his affection.

You whimper his name, as you tighten your legs around his waist. He raises his head to kiss you again while his hips roughly meet yours. You know neither one of you is going to last much longer, as you're crying his name again and he's moaning more words of praise.

"Fuck, honey, I love you...I fucking love you so much..." he pants, before collapsing on top of you.

"I love you, too," you reply, combing your fingers through the ends of his hair.

He moves to lay next to you and quickly pulls you to him. You feel the scratch of his chest hair against your cheek when you rest your head against him.

After you each just lie there, listening to the other breathe, he finally says, "This is how it always should've been. It was always meant to be you."

You raise your head and look into his soft, hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it," he continues as you smile.

"It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we found our way back to each other,"you reply, reaching to cup his cheek.

"Will you spend the night with me?" He then asks, bringing his hand up and placing it over yours.

You nod, moving closer to his face. "Tonight and every night."

He smiles before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

What started out as your worst nightmare turned into a dream come true, as you were reunited with the love of your life. And it was all because of a simple trip to the video store.

❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️

🏷: @donaweasley @allergictosoup @daisy-is-a-writer @saddiesthings @yourfavoritewitchbitch @the-fairy-anon @kassy-djomunson @elsas-wife

[berryispunk]

Insomniacs

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: friends to lovers, insomnia, mental health struggles (ptsd, depression), soft! Frankie, kissing, yearning, swearing, nicknames (hermosa), fluff, idiots in love, no smut, no physical description of reader apart from having hair

summary:  What if you can’t sleep and you call for your best friend to come over and suddenly everything changes ?

word count: 3,1 k

It’s nothing new that you can’t sleep. Dealing with various mental health stuff over the years and chronic pain on top, you should know better. 

You tried every sleeping aid under the sun; meditation, counting sheep, lavender on your pillow and melatonin. Nothing worked, so you started to build your life around it. Midnights became your afternoons to quote Taylor Swift. 

But you were creative, somehow still holding up the hope that it magically gets better or you’ll just get used to it. But it never happened. 

So tonight as the red numbers of your digital alarm clock illuminate your face, mocking you once again, you groan in frustration. You stare at the ceiling, watching the various colored lights of the cityscape dancing around and if you weren’t so damn defeated you would be able to find beauty in this, but you can’t. Not today. You reach for your phone charging on your nightstand and scroll mindlessly through social media. Minutes turn into an hour and you finally sit up in your bed, opening your messages app. It’s 2:30 a.m., who could possibly be awake at this hour? Your international friends? Yeah, for sure. But as you go through your various contacts you stop at one name, smiling to yourself as you press the call button. 

It takes three rings until a familiar deep voice fills your ears. 

“Hello?” the voice murmurs and you immediately feel guilty because you didn’t expect him to have been asleep. His voice sounds exhausted.

“Oh my god. Sorry Frankie, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you apologize and he chuckles softly at the other end. 

“‘s alright, wasn’t really sleeping just… dozing off. What’s up, hermosa? It’s….” he pauses shortly. “It's, fuck, 2:32 at night. What is going on? Are you alright?” The worry in his voice is palpable and it’s one of the things you admire about him.

“Yeah, it’s the same old insomnia again and I figured why not call the one person that gets my pain?” you say apologetically and you can practically hear his smirk. 

“Us good old insomniacs, huh? Is it your brain or the pain this time?” he asks and you sigh heavily in response. 

“Probably a mix of both…” you sink deeper into your cushion. 

Frankie might be the only person you ever met who understands the struggles that come with lack of sleep. His military background and the resulting nightmares made him an ally in the cruel game that called itself life. The two of you spent countless nights like this, on the phone or texting, watching nonsense over whatever TV channel was on but you’ve never done one thing: late-night meetings. 

You weren’t sure if it was a secret agreement the both of you made that late night meetings were off-limits in all the time you’ve known each other, but tonight something felt different. 

“Hey Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Why have we never met? At night, when we weren’t able to sleep… I mean, you only live on the other side of the city, not the world.”

The other end stays silent and you think you may have overstepped an up-to-now invisible line by asking. 

Then he clears his throat. “Would you want me to come over? You never asked and I never did, because no way in hell I let you wander alone through the night…” he clarifies and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, ever the gentleman Frankie Morales did not want to risk your safety. 

“Well, what if I’d ask you to come over now?” You hear him swallowing heavily at the other end of line. 

You don’t even know why you’re wanting this all of a sudden, maybe you’ve finally lost your mind. It’s not like there isn’t some underlying tension between the two of you anyway. Mindless flirting and playful teasing is all part of your friendship. 

Frankie is way too trusting for his own good, getting screwed up by his lack of judgement concerning other people and his soft heart, even if he would never let the boys know. They would give him hell about it. But around you he’s let his guard down and you have deep conversations with him about all things going wrong and the few that haven't. He’s one of the few people who know about your troubled youth and strained relationship with your mother. You in turn are one of the few people that know the severity of his PTSD. 

He makes you feel heard like no guy has ever managed to do. He really looks at you when you’re talking and it always makes you feel giddy when he remembers little things you told him a while back. 

You like his attentive nature, but somehow you have never found yourself thinking of him as a potential partner, even if he’s awfully attractive with his broad shoulders and unruly dark curls. His million-watt smile that, if it’s honest, creates little wrinkles around his eyes and makes your own smile widen every damn time in return.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained and uncertain. 

“I am,” you say boldly even if you feel anything but.

Fuckin hell, why does your heart beat so fast? 

“Give me 20 minutes,” is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead. 

You immediately jump up from your bed and panic takes over. What were you thinking? What do you even expect to happen when he’s here? Or worse, what if he expects something to happen? No, he would never. It’s Frankie after all, he would’ve had plenty of chances to make approaches but he never has, always keeping a respectful distance. And now you wonder if he only kept it because you made it seem like you weren’t interested in more than a friendship? 

When you first met him, you actually had a little crush on him but held yourself back because you told yourself he was out of your league and he was in a relationship. Then they broke up, but he was in a new one only a few weeks later. It went on like that for a long time until you were taken. Your ex never liked the boys so you kept your distance and the estrangement grew until you broke up with the guy and picked up your friendships where you left off. 

It’s always been so easy to be with Frankie. You could be yourself around him, no need to pretend to be someone you’re not. He saw you in every state: drunk, crying, bed head and pajamas or all dolled-up for another unfulfilling date. He still looked at you the same and it gave you some sort of confidence you’re usually unable to muster. So right now you don’t even think about changing. You stay in your sleep shirt and shorts, no underwear whatsoever, because it doesn’t matter anyway. The only thing you do is brush your teeth and open the messy bun your hair has been in, making it fall loosely over your shoulders.

For a moment you wonder whether he wants anything specific to drink, but as you check your fridge you see that you have plenty of soda and beer - both beverages you know he enjoys. So you sit down on the sofa, only the soft dim light of the standing lamp in the corner illuminating the room and you grow nervous again. Why, you can’t tell. This isn’t different from all the other times you’ve met him, the only difference being it’s late at night. But then you remember the saying ‘nothing good happens after 2 am’ and you get restless all over again until a soft knock on the door announces his arrival. 

With a few quick steps you open the door, but only a crack and Frankie looks at you, tired brown eyes mustering you. He’s smiling as per usual and holds up a plastic bag. “I brought the pretzels you like so much.” 

You open the door all the way to let him in. He’s wearing grey sweatpants, the standard oil cap which has to be glued to his head at this point, and one of his worn-down band shirts. Sometimes you “borrow” one of them when he doesn’t notice. You’re actually wearing one right now. 

“Hi,” you grin as he places the plastic bag on the coffee table. 

“Hi yourself,” he grins back and his eyes wander over your figure for a moment as his smirk widens. “Is that my shirt?” he asks, one eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“Maybe,” you tease back, mirroring his smirk. “You want it back?” 

He shakes his head, lifting his signature cap to run a hand through his curls before he puts it back on. “Nah, looks better on you anyway,” he says and somehow it makes your cheeks turn a bit warmer.

“You want something to drink?” you ask, clearing your throat. 

“Yeah, a beer maybe? But please tell me you’ve got more than the muck from the gas station? Because that tastes like piss,” he complains and you laugh as you walk over to your kitchen, opening the fridge. 

“Well, good for you I have actual beer, some Corona even if you’re feeling fancy.”

“Oh, I feel very fancy, hermosa,” he laughs and leans over the kitchen countertop as you reach for the beer. You feel his gaze on your backside, but decide to say nothing. 

You place the beer on the counter, a soda in your hand, and the noise of it opening echoes loudly through the apartment. He opens his beer with a lighter before he takes the first sip. 

It’s quiet for a moment before you ask, “How’s that girl you were talking about last week? Cindy or what’s her name?”

He shrugs, a lopsided smile on his face. “You’re asking me about my dating life?” 

You frown, tilting the soda can in your hand before answering “Guess so.” 

“Didn’t see her again,” he simply states and something blooms inside of you. Is it relief?

“Ah, okay…” you say, trying not to let your emotions show too much. 

“And… you? How’s that guy you told me about? Jack?”

“Jacob,” you correct, not that it would matter. You met him once and it’s clear that he’s still very much in love with his ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, Jacob, sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “How is he?”

“Guess he’s fine…I wouldn’t know, as I only went on a date with him once.”

“Oh.” “Oh?” you scoff and he chimes in with a chuckle. 

“Yeah, what else should I say? He didn’t seem like a good match for you.”

“You know, you never said that about any of the guys I dated.”

“They were all losers.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Shit, I‘m sorry…” he babbles but your eyebrows are furrowed.

“So tell me who’s a good match for me then?” You glare at him. It’s infuriating that he even thinks he’s allowed to judge you when he clearly isn’t better with all the girls he’s dated in the past. 

“Someone who really cares for you and sees you for who you are. Someone who treats you right and would do anything to make you happy, you know…” He’s fiddling with the label on the beer bottle. You just watch him, too stunned to speak as his words strike a chord. You know he’s right and that makes it hurt even more. 

“Maybe I’m just not made for a relationship,” you sigh as you take another sip of your soda, mimicking his stance by leaning across from him against the counter. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

“So what? You’re gonna tell me that there’s someone for me whom I just haven't met yet? That I didn’t search long or hard enough? I am 28, Frankie. I am tired of being in the dating pool. I just want… “ you exhale defeatedly. “I just want someone to come home to and who’s as happy to see me as I am to see him.”

“I am happy to see you,” he says quietly and it makes your heart miss a beat. 

“Yeah, but that’s not the same and you know it.”

“Why not?” he asks back, your eyebrows shooting up as he finally looks up from the bottle in his hand and places it onto the next available surface. “You’re a smart girl, hermosa. Don’t tell me you don’t know?” There’s indignation in his voice.

“Don’t know what?”

With one big step he closes the distance between you, standing so close to you you can clearly smell the last bit of his perfume he’s probably worn during the day and most of all you can smell him. The earthiness, musk and warmth are weirdly comforting as he looks down at you. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you or can you feel it as well?” he murmurs when you finally have the courage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching. 

“Frankie, I–”

Suddenly he’s so close, so all-consuming it makes it hard to think. 

“Tell me you don’t feel it and I stop,” he whispers. You feel his breath on your face and the warm feeling inside your chest spreads further. 

Of course you’ve felt that way before, but you didn’t think too much about it, not wanting to risk this friendship that's so important to you. 

“I won’t,” you croak out and he smirks in response, the cocky smile he always has when he is certain about something. 

“Figured,” he continues before adding, “So tell me, how many of these dickheads do you want to date until you give the one guy a chance that really cares about you?” 

“But.. We are…”

“Friends? Yeah, and I want to be so much more than that to you. Do you really think I would drive through the city at this ungodly hour for just anyone?”

You search for his eyes again, slightly blushing and shaking your head. 

He starts playing with a lock of hair, curling it around his thick fingers which makes you incredibly nervous.

“I woke you up, didn’t I? And now you stand here at 3 in the morning… I feel horrible.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m glad you invited me over. Who needs sleep if I can be with you instead?”

You smile at that. 

“I’m still sorry.”

“No need,” he assures you. “There’s no place I’d rather be right now…” 

And his voice drips with honesty as his eyes lock with yours and the intensity of his gaze paired with his words make your breath hitch. Your eyes flick onto his plush lips which look so much more kissable up close and you bite your own lips. He mirrors the movement and suddenly his big hand rests on your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek bone as he pulls you a tiny bit closer. You reach for his cheek in return, his patchy stubble tickling your hand and you part your lips as he takes the cue, dips his head and his lips are only a hair's breadth away from yours. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he whispers hoarsely against your lips and you just nod in agreement.

His lips capture yours in a soft, tentative kiss and your stomach does somersaults. You’ve wondered in the past what kissing him would feel like, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He knows exactly what he’s doing, his lips moving with purpose without being overbearing. The softness of his lips is a stark contrast to the slight scratch of his stubble against your skin. You practically melt into the kiss and you’re certain that no one has ever kissed you like this, so soft but purposefully determined it makes your head spin.

You tangle your hands in the soft locks on the ape of his neck as you deepen the kiss. He’s parting his lips voluntarily so you can invade his mouth with your tongue as his hand wanders from your cheek into your hair, cradling the back of your head. He presses you against the counter with his body weight as his other hand wanders to your hip, his fingers digging into the tender flesh under his shirt. As your tongues dance feverishly his breathing gets uneven, panting into the kiss and you can’t help but smile softly that he gets so worked up over a kiss. 

“You okay?” you whisper as you part to breathe, your foreheads touching. 

“Yeah,” he breathes “It’s just.. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long so I wanna get this right.”

You take his head between your hands, your thumbs stroking his cheeks now. 

“You’re doing everything right, Frankie,” you smile softly and his face lights up.

“Can I maybe take you out on a date first before I ravish you right here in your kitchen?”

You can’t help but laugh at that, an honest laugh not many people are able to elicit from you. 

“I’d love that,” you say softly and nuzzle your nose against his while his thumb draws small circles over your hip where your shirt rode up. 

Suddenly the tiredness comes back to you as you yawn heavily and he creates some distance to be able to look at you. 

“Do I bore you, hermosa?” “No!” you quickly protest. “But I’m tired all of a sudden…”

“No shit, it’s late. Let’s get you into bed, yeah?” 

He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom where you fall headfirst into the pillow with a groan. 

“Frankie?” you call for him, lifting your head up slightly, his name suddenly sounding so big in the quietness of the night. 

“Yeah?” you hear faint footsteps as if he’s about to leave and the thought makes you sad.

“Would you mind staying?”

It’s deadly quiet for a moment before you hear the rustling of sheets and his weight next to you on the mattress. “Not at all,” he murmurs softly and you scoot closer to him, cuddling into his side as he puts his arm around your shoulders, his chin resting against your head. It feels so natural. It feels like coming home. You yawn and close your eyes again. 

“Thank you,” you murmur softly as your hand rests on his chest. 

“Anytime,” he says and then adds, “And just for the record, her name was Clara.”

“What?” 

“The girl I was on a date with, her name was Clara not Cindy. Not that it’d matter anyway because the only person I go on dates with from now on will be you,” he chuckles softly and you grin widely, even if he can’t see it. 

“Good to know,” you say sleepily and for the first time in weeks you drift off into a deep, restful sleep.

my masterlist - in case you're hungry for more :)

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[eyejest]

Happy Valentine's day everyone (coming from the aro guy but hey platonic love is love too)

I felt like drawing Skaterlight angst again... fork found in kitchen BUT I also wrote a fanfiction for this in the style of one of Lampert's journal entries, it's under the cut (1514 words)

I apologize if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, I wrote this in one go and wanted this entire thing posted before midnight

Dear Journal,

It’s currently day 3766, or three-thousand seven-hundred sixty-six. But looking at the clock, it seems like it’s getting close to midnight. If I hurry with finishing this entry it will still be day 3766. It doesn’t matter for now, I can correct it later if I was wrong.

Today is valentine’s day. It’s a day to celebrate love, usually romantic but I’ve heard some folks celebrate it for platonic reasons. Anyways, I’ve seen a lot of couples in Rokea today. I thought more people would be busy celebrating, going on dates, having fun with their loved ones. But it seems like I was wrong. Maybe some people enjoy going to Rokea for a date, I’m not sure. I’ve seen a fair share of pregnant people and families as well. The couples that didn’t have children quite yet seemed to buy a lot of things. They were probably moving into bigger homes for their growing family. The families that already had children were a lot to deal with. Some of them kept their kids on a short leash or sent them to the daycare area, but some just let them run wild. What a nuisance. I kept my distance for the most part, I didn’t want any of the children to get dirt or snot into my system. When there weren’t any children in the plots with toys and plushies, I cleaned them and organized them. I remember sorting some when the store was about to close when a child went up to me, she couldn’t have been any older than 7. “Miss?” She asked. I was quite startled because I didn’t see her. I was turned around. “I can’t find my mom and dad, have you seen them?”. I put on the friendliest tone my voice box would allow me. I find children to be quite annoying, but she was clearly worried. “I don’t know where they are, I don’t even know what they look like. Sorry.” The girl started to tear up. I got worried about the tears and snot her crying would produce so I had to think quickly. “Maybe we can go to the cashier. They could make an announcement so your parents know you’re safe and by the register.” That seemed to calm her down, thankfully. “Maybe…” she sobbed. I thought for a second and then said she should come with me so she doesn’t get lost. She seemed skeptical, stranger danger and all that. But I told her I’m an employee, which is sort of true, and that made her trust me a bit. “Follow me, but don’t touch me.” We started walking towards the exit where all the registers are. She was quiet for a while which I enjoyed. But then she started asking questions, great. “Have you ever lost your mom and dad?”. I sighed and told her I was made in a factory since I’m a lamp… and a robot too I guess. She seemed confused and asked if I ever had a family. “Well, the employees are kind of my family. I think. They took care of me when I needed it but nothing more. They didn’t have to do anything fancy, though. I managed just fine by myself.” “That sounds boring,” she mumbled. “You never ever had fun before?”. I was hesitant to reply, but I didn’t want her to run away or cry. “I used to have a best friend. But he’s sick and at home right now.” I thought about it some more. “We used to go bowling together.” The kid got excited. “I LOVE bowling! Me and mom and dad go bowling a lot! Mom says that's where she met dad!” I felt a bit melancholic about it and just replied with a simple nod. The kid became quiet again, she probably noticed now was not the time for this amount of chitchat. We arrived at the register, her parents were already there and were about to ask the cashier to make an announcement. They seemed to be very relieved as their child ran into their direction to hug them. The father went up to me. “Thank you so much, miss. She’s not usually like this. We were worried she was kidnapped or ran out of the building!” I waved it off: “No problem. I’m glad I could prevent any further panic.” The mother turned to her child: “What should you say to the nice lady?” “Thank you.” The kid said quietly. “I like your necklace a lot.” Right, my pendant. I forgot I was wearing that thing, it was a gift from Kasper. “Oh, thank you.” I said back. “Have a good rest of your evening.” I told the family as I walked away, the kid waved for a bit before they headed out.

The store closed down and the lights shut off. I had to turn my head on to see anything at all. I just wanted to go to a quiet and isolated place where I could calm down and rest. It’s been a while since I went to the outskirts of Rokea so I went to one of the pillars. I think that’s where me and Kasper met for the first time when he got lost. I usually just rest where it's neat and tidy but I felt nostalgic I suppose. Goodness, the plots around here were a mess. I don’t think anyone was here in ages, not even the employees. I started to clean up a play plot first. It had a heart lamp shining a soft pink light around the plot, a pullout couch, a rug and various plushies laying around. I just wanted everything to be over quickly. As I was pulling out the couch to see if it needed dusting I noticed something, a letter. Geez, that thing must be old, it’s all wrapped and it smelled like a couch. No way someone put this here today. I turned it around, and there was something written on the envelope. “To: Lampy”. I couldn’t believe my vision sensor at first. Lampy. That's what Kasper used to call me, it was a really cheesy nickname and sometimes it annoyed me a bit. I sat down on the rug. It was so dusty I regretted it instantly but I couldn’t help but lay down shortly after. Me and Kasper sat on this rug when we first met…  and the couch because he couldn’t sit still even if his life depended on it. That's when we were up all night talking about life. We sometimes went into this corner of Rokea if we wanted to stay in here and just talk without the employees finding us. He used to steal so many snacks from the cafeteria to eat during those talking sessions, kinda makes me wonder what it all tasted like. But I digress, I was holding the letter in my hand for a while, wondering if I should open it up or not for a solid thirty minutes. I decided to open it up. It read as follows: “Dear Lampy Haha, I know you can’t stand that nickname, sorry not sorry! It’s valentine’s day… well, not as of me writing this but it’s the day I’m giving this to you. You’re one of the best things to  have happen in my life. I can’t tell you how much you mean to me, how much we laugh together, how many things we can tell each other that we can’t tell anyone else, how much sorrow we shared and learned to live with together. IDK, I’m not good with words I suck when it comes to writing. That's why I’ve gotten an F in English on almost every test. I’ve never really had the guts to tell you this directly, but would you like to be my valentine? I’m not sure if we’re dating, heck, if you even have any feelings for me. But maybe giving you this letter can convince you to give this all a shot, we don’t have much to lose anyways. I love you so much Kasper”

I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel angry or anything like that after reading that letter. I just felt kinda numb. He almost confessed but probably hid it to give it to me later. I don’t know if he was just being stupid and forgot, or if he was too much of a coward to take the last step. I never told him either. Not because I was scared, but I wanted to let him take that step. It was so obvious, anyone with even a single brain cell could tell he had a crush on me. I wanted him to take that step to realize that he does have control over his life despite how many people around him made him feel like he didn’t.

I don’t know what I’m saying, I don’t want to get too emotional right now. It’s gonna be midnight in a few minutes anyways and I don’t feel like correcting anything. I’m going to call it a night, goodbye.