#so like. hm? FIVE SEASONS

[britneyshakespeare]

the fact that all grown up ran for five seasons is unaccountable

[unproduciblesmackdown]

now my logical followup is rewatching rogue one for the first time since seeing it (multiple times) in theaters i believe? Will i cry a lot, which i am always prone to do w/media & things but all the more so lately, it seems

[leahsgf]

LIFESAVER - leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader | based on this request!

leah sighed as she awoke to the sound of your cries ringing through the baby monitor for what felt like the tenth time that night, wincing even more when she checked the time - it of course being only five minutes before her alarm was due to go off, only her luck.

you were usually a pretty good sleeper, and rarely cried in general, never mind throughout the night - so she had known almost instantly the first time you had awoken that you were feeling under the weather, and her worries had only proven right as the night had gone on and your state had worsened.

and again, as if it was part of a well planned routine, your cries only intensified when she eventually padded across the hallway and pushed open the door to your room, your little arms immediately throwing themselves up towards her, desperately in search of any form of comfort.

she bent down and scooped you out of your crib, cradling you in her arms in an instant, never one to deny you her embrace.

“i’m here sweetheart, i’ve got you. what’s the matter hm? can you tell mama?” she soothed for what felt like the hundredth time, running her hand through your bed head, voice so gentle that no outsider would believe it was the same stoic england captain they were so used to if they witnessed it.

you simply whined, more tears angrily slipping down your noticeably red cheeks as you buried your face into her neck, whimpering - her feeling warmth radiating off of you like a heater.

she had picked up on your temperature over the night and had kept an eye on it, and whilst it had definitely now started to come back down, she could tell that you still weren’t feeling great. she could guess based on how sniffly your cries had become, paired with the level of sick you'd been over the course of the night - that you’d picked up the latest nasty bug, most likely from your nursery, despite you only going there once or twice a week.

the nursery that you now wouldn’t be able to attend for the next forty eight hours whilst your mother went to training.

usually, leah wouldn't even hesitate to call jonas and let him know that she wouldn't be able to make it to training - you were her number one priority always, but of course, the one day you get ill happens to be the one day of the season that leah can't miss, or arrange for somebody to look after you at home.

meaning she'd have to bring you with her.

“okay my bubba. we’re gonna make you all better in no time, kay? you're gonna be my little helper for the day and come to work with me, and see all your aunties! they'll be so excited to see you.” she chatted away to you as she made her way down to the kitchen - prepping your morning bottle and fetching you some 'magic' medicine, whilst bouncing you gently in her arms.

you settled finally as you drank, clutching onto the bottle for dear life as leah stroked your forehead, it’s temperature finally going down to somewhat normal as the medicine started to kick in, your tiredness following, and catching up to you.

you were almost fast asleep as she bathed and changed you into some fresh, non sicky clothes, texting the arsenal group chat as a pre warning of your previously unexpected arrival.

she was grateful to say the least when she looked in her mirror to see you still knocked out in your car seat as she drove to the training ground - hoping that you finally getting some rest in meant that you were on the up, and that you'd wake up feeling better again.

“come on then my girl, let’s go see everyone then shall we” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your head as she unbuckled and lifted your sleeping frame into her arms, slipping your dummy into your mouth and grabbing your blanket, before grabbing both of your bags and heading inside.

-

“there’s my favourite girl!” an unmistakable irish voice boomed down the corridor from behind the pair of you, leah wincing as you stirred ever so slightly - not wanting to deal with another repeat of this morning.

thankfully, no such thing happened - katie getting the hint after a single look from the blonde, and a slap on the arm from caitlin.

“shit, sorry! do you want us to take her whilst you go and speak to jonas and kim about the plan for the day? they said it won't take long today” katie whispered, already reaching out for you before she had an answer.

“you’re a lifesaver, thank you! i'll be as quick as i can - if she does wake up there’s anything she’ll need in her bag, but she should hopefully be out for a while.” leah gently transferred you into katie’s waiting arms, a now well practiced routine with the team whenever they wanted baby cuddles and you were sleeping, and passed the aussie beside her your bag.

-

by the time you woke again, nearly four hours had passed - and you had been in pretty much everyone in the building's arms at some point or another as the team took turns doing drills.

your auntie viv was the lucky one this time, your eyes fluttering open slowly as she swayed with you wrapped up in her hold, humming a dutch lullaby. she was easily one of your favourite people, and had been for as long as you could remember, having cried in everybody else's arms apart from hers, the most awkward and freaked out person over holding a baby in the room, when you were a couple of weeks old.

"vivi" you mumbled, voice muffled by both your dummy and the sleep as you glanced up at her, playing with her fingers ever so softly.

"hi tiny, you feeling any better?" she asked, knowing that you probably had no idea what she was asking you, and that the fact you weren't crying was probably the best answer she was going to get.

you had perked up massively, some colour finally returning to your cheeks as your sleep clearly fought off whatever nastiness you had been feeling earlier on.

you babbled incoherently and pointed towards where alessia, katie and steph were chatting - another sign that you were definitely feeling a little bit more like yourself, wanting to be involved in what everyone was doing again.

the dutch woman placed you down on the floor as you wriggled and attempted to get down yourself, chuckling and following after you as you determinedly toddled over to the trio.

katie was the first to notice you and scoop you up, pretending that you were a rocket ship, making you squeal with laughter before steph had reminded her to be gentle with you. she only tickled you softly in response before placing you back down and letting you kick a ball to her and alessia, as steph rummaged through your backpack for a top up of medicine and a snack for you - knowing that you'd likely be starving.

the australian had very nearly been met with a complete meltdown when you'd spotted the medicine, it only being resolved because you saw lia stopping to get a snack and take her own medicine for her leg, letting you go and happily sit with her, thinking you were as cool as your auntie lia as steph popped the syringe of pink liquid into your mouth.

-

leah had been checking in on how you were doing every half an hour or so, and she had never been happier to see you run towards her when she caught your eye.

"hi my baby! how are you feeling?" she cooed, granting your wish to be in her arms immediately and fussing over you whilst thanking all of the girls for their help.

“she’s been good, slept like a champ and just had some more medicine - think she’s officially on the mend.” steph answered, grinning at you and playing with your hair as leah pressed kisses to your cheek.

you clapped your hands and cheered, not understanding the words but loving the attention that was on you - and how the horrible ache in your body had started to fade.

“alright then! we’re all done for the day so we’re gonna head off for some much needed rest - thank you girls for all of your help with this one. say bye to your aunties then bubba.” leah collected all of your stuff and waved goodbye - you copying her almost identically, as expected.

“bye bye.” you said as clearly as your dummy would allow, waving again at each of the girls individually, who had all gathered near you, their usual place whenever you were around.

“clumsy lessi.” you mumbled as you pointed at alessia, the rest room erupting in laughter just like every other time you said it, and the striker once again protested.

“she knows like ten words and those are two of them!”

"don't get mad at the baby for speaking the truth russo!"

[allaboutnayeli]

privacy | m.leon x reader

summary: you decide to prank mapi.

author notes: this is my way of fighting back against my horrible writer's block. hopefully i can write regularly instead of hardly. enjoy 💞

contains: mapi leon x influencer!reader, fluff!, lesbians being cute.. that's all, badly translated spanish ☹️

playing hasta cuando by kali uchis 🎵

there has been this trend going around on tiktok that you have been wanting to try for a while. it's quite simple, just ask your partner to leave while you change and see their reaction. most of the reactions were quite cute and you found the trend fun. thankfully harmless which is why you want to try this prank on your girlfriend.

mapi doesn't want to admit it but she is quite clingy. always wanting to be around you whether you two are doing something together or separate. she just needs your presence to fully function and you aren't any different. having the spaniard around is comforting like constantly having your favorite song playing. you would never get sick of being around mapi even if to others you two seemed a bit co-dependent; maybe you guys were at some points.

you decide the perfect moment to strike is the morning of the brunch date you planned. there's this new cafe open that you have been meaning to bring mapi to, but with her rehab and tagging along with the team then your own work related duties, the thought of the cafe was really lost in between all that. with the season particularly being over, mapi has way more free time and she has been happily basking in all of it. spending most of it with you, so when you asked to go on this date she immediately said yes.

"baby, i'm about to record my get ready with me," you say to the tattooed woman as you pass by her to go to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. she's laying on the bed, reading a new book she picked up recently. she has always been into reading and tried to get you into it, but you almost fall asleep everytime she reads to you. it's not your fault that her voice is so soothing.

"okay, bonita," mapi gives you one of those cute smiles of hers. she gestures for you to come out of the bathroom, you have hardly stepped into it anyways. smiling brighter when you come back over to the bed. you can already tell what she wants by the time you make it back over to her. she puckers her lips, awaiting her most deserved kiss.

you giggle before indulging her. pecking her lips, once, twice before pulling away.

"don't want to go too far now, hm? i have to film," you push a few strands of hair behind her ear. there is a pout on her lips that almost makes you give in and just kiss her a bit longer but the thought of the prank hangs in the back of your mind. you straighten up, giggling when mapi says, "but can't you just make up some kind of excuse? just say your lips are all swollen because you used that.. lip plumper you showed me some girls use."

"a lip plumper? babes, i don't use those. my fans will easily call bluff," you peck her forehead before fully moving away. you can just vision the pout on her lips as you step into the bathroom. closing the door behind you, so you don't catch a glance of how cute she's being because if you do then you would have given in easily.

you think of the best way to execute the prank in a way that won't make your girlfriend suspicious. she could be quite oblivious, but you telling her to leave would definitely raise some questions. you decide to just wing it, knowing how mapi will probably come into the bathroom soon enough since she can't seem to survive five minutes without having you near her. even though the only thing separating you two was a door.

you set up your phone on the counter. clicking on the record button and making sure you look good before the ten seconds timer goes off.

"hi guys! i'm back with another get ready with me. this time around, mapi and i are about to go out for brunch.." you continue to explain to your phone how you have been meaning to take mapi out for a while. at the same time, you tie back your hair then slip on a cute fluffy hair band to keep away any strands.

the more you said mapi's name while doing your makeup, the more you knew she would eventually come into the bathroom. just like a cat, she appears. coming into the room after the fifth time you mention her.

"you already look good, mi amor," she says as she comes behind you. wrapping her arms around your waist then leaning close to your face for a kiss. you playfully roll your eyes but kiss her back. you didn't have any lipstick on anyways.

"thank you. i was telling them how i was taking you out for the first time in forever. are you excited?" you say softly. smiling when mapi giggles. she pulls away to let you finish your makeup, opting to lean against the counter.

she pauses to think then says, "siempre estoy emocionado cuando se trata de ti." the barcelona player blows you a kiss afterwards, very cheesy. you roll your eyes but blow one back. you shift the phone slightly to get more of her in the frame; it's going to be needed when you do the prank.

you decide to not do it straight away or she would get all suspicious, so you just continue with half of the video. doing some of your makeup before cutting, doing the rest and then continuing to record. you do the same with your hair.

mapi stays pretty quiet during the whole first part of your recording. she just lets you do her thing while she also gets ready.

once it was time for you to change out of your pajamas, you start the prank. looking at your phone before turning to mapi.

"hey baby. i'm about to change, so can you like get out of the bathroom for a quick minute?" you say casually. trying not to laugh when your girlfriend nods in slight confusion before walking over to the door. she almost leaves but stops herself and turns back to face you.

"wait.. why do i have to leave? siempre te cambias de ropa delante de mí," she blinks at you in her confusion. crossing her arms across her chest as she comes closer to you.

"i just feel like having some privacy right now. i won't take too long, maybe seven minutes at the most," you shrug. trying to play off the situation. mapi nods but there is a frown on her lips.

"okay but baby, it's not like i'm staring at you. i'm trying to get ready too. we are both doing our own thing and who's going to zip up your dress? who's going to hold your hair out of the way?" her frown grows as she continues, "do you still love me? what did i do?"

you laugh, pulling her arms away from her chest so that you can hold her hands.

"of course i still love you and no you didn't do anything. i just want some privacy, i'll just change in our bedroom, okay?" you explain. you fight off more of your laughter as she looks at you like you're crazy.

mapi is quick to say, "siempre respeto tus deseos.. but princesa, i don't get it. i have seen every inch of you, what is there to hide? ¿te sientes inseguro? you know i think you're beautiful."

she's being so adorable that you almost feel bad about pranking her. however you do end up cutting the prank off here, the obvious confusion on her face was too much for you to handle.

"awe, you're too sweet. i'm sorry, it was a prank," you let go of her hands to go grab your phone. stopping the recording before setting your phone down on the counter.

"a prank?" she laughs, moving to pull you back close. "you're mean.." she pouts before kissing you. it takes you a minute to respond but you kiss you back even though you will have to redo your lipstick afterwards.

it's okay, it's worth it.

author notes: this didn't turn out as bad as i thought 😣 still not as high quality as i want it to be but we ball. hopefully y'all liked it 💖

© THINKINGABOUTJAEDYN

[leilanihours]

kate x still in college reader and she visits kate in las vegas!! smut ensues….

# SHOW U OFF (part one)

pairing: kate martin x reader

word count: 1185

warnings: one moment of slightly suggestive content (next part will be smut)

summary: you surprise your girlfriend at her home game on her birthday.

⭑ from lani: cute lil fluff for bday girl kate money martin <3

masterlist !

“AND THAT WILL do it for the first quarter, folks, the score is twenty-four to twenty with the aces leading in their home arena. it is electrifying here at michelob ultra, fans are jumping, cheering, clapping, you name it.”

“that’s right, michael, and we are specifically seeing a lot of number twenty jerseys in the stands tonight. it is kate money martin's birthday tonight. she is the aces’ resident rookie and has been on fire all season. i truly think that she a perfect fit for this team.”

“i totally agree, melissa, and i bet she’ll have an outstanding game tonight. i mean, with all these supportive fans and encouraging vets helping her out. and not to mention there is a special guest in the audience, not sure if martin has spotted her yet, though.”

“oh yes, how could we forget? y/n l/n is in the building, ladies and gentlemen, sporting her girlfriend’s jersey, of course. l/n had an amazing redshirt season at iowa alongside martin and caitlin clark just over a month ago. she has decided to stay another year at iowa, seizing the opportunity to gain more college experience before declaring for the draft next year.”

you watch the activity on the jumbotron above you, smiling brightly and waving at the camera pointed in your direction. lifting your hands, you throw up two peace signs before reaching for your jersey and shaking it slightly to showcase your girlfriend’s number.

there’s a rosy blush on your cheeks as you listen to the announcer’s introduction of your attendance. 

you enjoyed listening to their comments about the game, so you tuned into the broadcast on your phone with one airpod connected so you could hear the audio.

“that’s right, she announced her decision just before clark’s, and i think it makes perfect sense for her. i mean, she’s a great player at iowa and i think with more time she’ll be an amazing future player in the wnba, no doubt about it.”

“i’m sure martin will be very happy to learn that her biggest supporter is here for her birthday.”

———

“martin from the corner arch…SHE GOT IT!”

you jump up enthusiastically as you witness kate’s third three-pointer of the night, screaming your lungs out alongside gabbie and jada. the energy in the arena was skyrocketing, especially with your group’s company. 

the two girls next to you had received their vibrant introduction from the announcers shortly after yours, opting for polite grins as they acted as if the cameras weren’t on them.

you laughed at their shyness in contrast to your confidence. you were never scared to voice your support for kate.

“dude, she’s on fire tonight, this is crazy,” jada says from beside gabbie.

“i know,” she responds before nudging you slightly, “i think i know why.”

“hm?” you ask, lifting your head from your phone that was playing a video of kate hitting the three (that you recorded like a proud mom).

“this girl-“ gabbie laughs with a shake of her head.

“hey, i’m just trying to make sure i’m doing her scores justice,” you reply, putting your hands up in self-defense.

the girls giggle at your reasoning before you all turn back to the game in front of you. kate had scored a total of eleven points, six rebounds, five assists, and two blocks. you could not be more happy for her.

when kate was unexpectedly drafted to the aces in april, you were the first person she hugged. it seemed like it lasted years with her strong arms squeezing your frame from excitement.

you refused to go into detail when other people asked you about the night as a whole, but let’s just say that tears were shed, kisses were planted, and hands were eager.

———

the aces, of course, came out victorious with a whopping score of ninety-four. you had never been so amazed by kate’s performance with such legendary league veterans.

you almost trip over yourself as you rush down the stairs of the bleachers and onto the court to greet your girlfriend. with gabbie and jada happily trailing behind you, they smile as you practically jump into kate’s extended arms.

“hi, baby,” you grin into her shoulder.

“hi, my love,” she says before taking a step back to get a good look at you, “damn, you look good in my jersey. i didn’t know you guys were coming down tonight?” 

you giggle, “wanted it to be a surprise for you,” you shrug innocently.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“thank you, y/n, you being here means the world to me,” kate grins. both of you haven’t stopped smiling and blushing since you met on the floor.

she leans in for a kiss on your lips before you stop her, “wait! speaking of surprises…happy birthday, katie.”

her jaw drops in shock as you place a bouquet of flowers and a gift bag into her hands.

“y/n, you really didn’t have to get me anything!”

“of course i did, baby, are you kidding me? open the present,” you say giddily, turning around to make sure jada is recording her reaction.

she hands you the flowers to hold as she sets the bag down and removes the top layer of tissue paper. her bottom lip that was previously snug between her teeth is now lowered, mouth slightly agape with a smile creeping onto her face at the item.

“no way.”

“what’d you get, kate?” gabbie asks, even though she already knows exactly what you got her.

the three of you giggle as you watch kate slowly pull out the bright pink hello kitty tin lunch box and water bottle with an incredulous smirk.

“ta-da!” you beamed with jazz hands, “do you like it? a’ja and i agreed that they would go perfectly with your new backpack.”

kate laughs and doubles over, hiding her bright red face. she’s amused by your inside joke with her older teammates and how they managed to rope you into their tradition. she imagined it didn’t take much convincing, though, with your constant eagerness to tease her about anything and everything.

“i love it, baby, thank you,” she chuckles, “i’ll make sure to thank a’ja, too,” she says with a joking side-eye to the veteran.

as she places the items back into the bag and places a swift kiss on your cheek, she makes her way to officially greet jada and gabbie, both of which had been snickering to each other while recording the two of you.

you hand kate her bouquet back as she places a strong arm around your shoulders, guiding you over to the team’s lounge next to the locker room.

“you did so good tonight, oh my god,” you exclaim, “just wait until you see the stories i posted.”

little did either of you know that multiple different media outlets had observed your exchange, pointing their cameras in your direction as soon as you stepped on the court. various accounts had already posted their adorable video clips and pictures (including jada and gabbie).

“can’t wait, baby," she replies, placing a loving kiss on your head, "love it when you show me off."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[saetoshi]

itoshi sae gets surprisingly lazy during off-season. he spends his time sleeping in or roaming around your apartment in his pajamas. (both with an untamable mop of bed hair and sleep-swollen eyes).

it’s the only time he gets to spend with you, he reasons.

you’d like to reason he ruined your sleeping schedule for it.

a soft yawn leaves your lips, your eyes heavy with sleep as you flip a pancake on the skillet. you frown, blinking away some of the drowsiness as you glance at the clock on the stove.

you try to stifle another yawn before placing the pancake on top of the small pile of the ones you’d cooked before.

there’s a small beat of silence before the pan sizzles again as you pour some of the last remains of the batter on it.

you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. another yawn leaves your lips when you hear the faint shuffle of sae’s slippers on the floor as he approaches the kitchen.

a small smile tugs at your lips, warmth blooming in your chest when you feel him rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“you’re up early,” you say, pressing the side of your head against his.

“it’s—” he pauses, squinting up at the stove clock, “—eleven a.m., that’s not early. it’s late.”

“you’ve been waking up past noon these last few days,” you point out, fondly rolling your eyes before flipping the pancake. you relax against him when he wraps his arms around your waist, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“you should’ve woken me up,” he sleepily whines, his words muffled by your skin.

you pat the back of his hand, a contemplative hum leaving your lips. “i don’t like interrupting your sleep,” you reply, gently thumbing his knuckles.

“i don’t need sleep—i need to watch last season’s matches,” he mutters, his voice slightly raspy, “‘s what i should’ve been doing all this time.”

“you should’ve woken me up,” he quietly adds. “you’re being a terrible influence by letting me stray from my routine.”

you softly scoff, adding the pancake to the small tower to your left. you pour the last bit of batter onto the pan, your body relaxing against sae’s chest as he clings to you.

“i’m not the one begging you to stay five more minutes in bed,” you quip, a soft chuckle leaving your lips when he squeezes you.

“whatever,” he mumbles, slightly easing his grip on you.

the soft sizzle of the pan fills the space between you. your thumb gently rubs the back of his hand as you flip the pancake.

“‘s cold,” he grumbles, his raspy voice breaking the comfortable silence. “i’m gonna go turn up the heater…” he trails off, pressing his lips against the back of your shoulder.

you wait for a second for him to move—he doesn’t. a few more seconds go by, sae not moving a single inch from his spot.

“sae?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

no response.

you gently nudge him. he sharply inhales, lifting his head up slightly to look at you with bleary eyes. “hm?”

you give him a warm smile, your eyes soft as you meet his gaze. “you should go back to bed,” you offer.

he hesitates before shaking his head, resting his head against your skin once more. “‘m fine right here,” he says, his grip on your waist tightening ever-so-slightly.

“you’re tired,” you retort, a sigh leaving your lips, “you should get more rest.”

“resting is all i’ve been doing,” he mutters, clicking his tongue. he moves his head to look at you, placing his chin on your shoulder as he frowns.

a few beats of silence go by before he sighs. sae presses a kiss to your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the small pile of pancakes you’d made.

“are we having those for dinner, too?” he asks, a yawn slipping past his lips.

you glance at the pancakes when you turn off the stove. “sure,” you reply, turning to look at him. “if that’s what you want.”

he nods, blinking a few more times to will the sleep away. he immediately embraces you when you’ve faced him, his body practically melting against yours.

he kisses your jaw, softly sniffling. you feel the corners of his lips quirk up into the hint of a smile when you rub his back.

“i’ll miss you,” he faintly whispers, his breath tickling the crook of your neck.

“i’m not going anywhere?” you reply, a hint of amusement in your voice. you chuckle when he nudges you with the tip of his nose.

“yeah, but i am,” he mumbles, a frown settling on his lips. “off-season ends in two days,” he adds, faint annoyance lacing his words.

“so?” you ask, resting your head on his shoulder.

“‘m not gonna be around as often,” he reluctantly replies, his brows furrowing at the reminder.

you shrug in his hold, closing your eyes. “i know you’re coming back once the season’s done, anyway.”

he clicks his tongue. “so, you’re not going to miss me?”

“i’ll miss having someone who eats my food,”you chuckle, giving him a soft squeeze. “‘m gonna have to start eating all my pancakes by myself.”

a soft huff of laughter leaves his lips, his head lightly nudging yours. “that just means you’re going to have to make up for all that once i’ve got free time again.”

“yeah, whatever,” you mumble, “we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. so, stop worrying about all this and just have breakfast.”

sae faintly nods against you, a soft sniffle leaving his lips before he yawns again. “you’re joining me in bed after breakfast, right?”

you smile, giving him one more soft squeeze. “yeah.”

[theemporium]

♥️47 w/ Nico Hischier… please and thank you

this is inspired by the return of the moustache but fuelled by my brain being fried from uni so the smut is mediocre at best🤠thank you for requesting!

47. "You heard me. I want you to sit on my face."

.

To be perfectly candid, you were less than subtle about admiring your boyfriend’s new look for the off-season.

But, as his girlfriend, it was your right to helplessly ogle your boyfriend after he decided to shave the rest of his beard short and leave his moustache to be accompanied by some stubble. Add in the fact he had still put off cutting his hair—thank every fucking superior being for that one—and had a new glow about him since the stress of the hockey season was finally off his shoulders, it was impossible not to stare. 

He was just so pretty and he was all yours. And, yeah, you really fucking missed staring at Nico’s face with no practices or games or meetings getting in your way. 

It just never occurred to you that Nico would ever call you out on the blatant way you would ogle him since he brought back the moustache, which is why his words completely caught you off guard.

“What?” 

Nico grinned at you, so fucking smug and sure of himself as he placed his hands on his hips like you were talking about the weather. “You heard me,” he said, his voice low and sweet and far too fucking melodic for you to really concentrate on his ego when he sounded like that. “I want you to sit on my face.” 

You blinked, standing in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the joined ensuite bathroom. You stared at him, your mind whirling with a million different thoughts but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a single word. 

“Been thinking about it all week,” he continued as he started to close the distance between you, his eyes glinting with an emotion that made your stomach twist in desire. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking, baby. Tell me you haven’t thought about it too.” 

“I—” You stuttered out, your face burning in response. Because truthfully, you had been thinking about it. But your thoughts had been based around Nico pinning your hips to the mattress, to settle between your legs and to let you feel the scratch of his beard across your sensitive inner thighs until you were left begging and panting and whining for more.

It never crossed your mind for you to be the one on top.

“Just want my pretty girl on top of me,” Nico hummed as he reached for you, his large hands engulfing the back of your head and it made your brain short circuit for a few moments. “Let me have a taste, hm?” 

“Nico,” you murmured, and the hesitancy was clear in your voice. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

He frowned. “Why not?” 

“I–” You let out a noise before shrugging. “What if I squish you or—”

You barely had a chance to react to the snort he let out before his hands dropped from your head, reaching for your thighs and lifting you into his arms with an ease that didn’t feel human at all. You blinked, left speechless as Nico shamelessly grinned up at you, walking back towards the bed with you in his arms.

“I can handle it, baby,” he said, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he emphasised his point. “Now, be a good girl and sit on my face, hm? Wanna fucking drown in you.”

And you really couldn’t be blamed for being unable to say no to those pretty brown eyes staring up at you like he wanted to devour you. You could, however, be blamed for that naive voice in the back of your mind that told you that you’d be in control because you were on top.

It took all of five minutes for that belief to crumble the second Nico got his hands on you. 

“Fuck,” you let out a high-pitched whine, head tipped back and lips parted as you felt his lips wrap around your clit and suck, humming deeply as he did. 

His arms were locked around your thighs, keeping you in position with his hands pawing your ass and guiding your rocking hips. His hair was dishevelled and messy, spread across the pillow like some twisted angelic painting whilst those pretty brown eyes were now glued to you, watching as he licked and sucked and kissed every single noise out of you. 

His chin and lips were glistening with your release, that moustache fucking soaked and his tongue branded with the taste of you—and fuck, Nico truly believed he was in heaven. Because that was the only reasonable explanation for this: for the sight of you on top, your hips rocking and your soaked cunt at his mercy, your hands squeezing your tits and your mouth moaning his name. 

It was fucking heaven and it made him rock hard in the flimsy shorts he had put on earlier, probably seconds away from busting a load despite not even touching himself once. 

His only coherent thought was that he should have shaved earlier if this was what he could gain from it. 

“Fuck, Nico, baby,” you stuttered out, all breathy and panting as you reached one hand down to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned against your cunt. “Shit, I-I can’t.”

“One more, schat,” he murmured, his warm breath fanned across your core and it made your legs twitch, and it made Nico smile against your cunt in response. “Please, baby, let me taste you. Let me taste my pretty girl.”

And you were fucking putty in his arms, letting yourself tip over the edge as you clung onto the headboard to keep yourself from keeling over. 

Yet, all he could think was that he definitely wasn’t getting rid of the moustache anytime soon.

.

[delfiore]

—NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

synopsis: you spend a few days in london with your daughter as you and your wife leah are filing for divorce.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i don't even want kids why am i getting attached to this nonexistent child

“Mama!!” The sweet sound of your baby’s voice filled your ears the moment you stepped through the door.

You had been dragging your suitcase along the walkway, but dropped it by the door to catch the little girl and lift her into your arms.

“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed and shook her side-to-side. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mama,” she giggled and writhed her way out of your kisses on the cheek. “I drew a picture for you with your new trophy!”

Without protest, the five-year-old thrust a piece of A4 paper in your face. You let out a quick laugh when you make out the figure in the middle—you—surrounded by bats and the Gotham logo with a golden trophy in your hand.

It was your first season at NY/NJ Gotham, and you managed to win the NWSL Championship for the first time for your club. Instead of returning to New York after the final to celebrate with your teammates, you hopped on the first flight back to London. You needed to see your little girl; after months of constant competitive matches, you were able to finally make time to fly back home.

“You did! Wow, Maevey, this is amazing! You drew this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow, wow, wow. We’ll have to hang this up by the fridge, right?”

You walked into the kitchen with your daughter in your arms, heading towards the fridge behind the island. You were aware of your wife’s presence in the room by the oven but focused on balancing Maeve in one arm and hanging her drawing on the fridge with the other instead.

“There we go. That looks so good,” you cooed at her. “Thanks, Maevey!”

“You’re welcome, Mama.”

When you set the girl down, like lightning, she was on her feet sprinting towards the living room, no doubt grabbing a toy she had left somewhere on the ground. “Hey, no running, remember?” You called behind her and shook your head.

You glanced back at your wife, who, whilst stirring a pasty white batter in a clear bowl, still hadn’t made the effort to return your gaze.

“Congrats on the Championship,” she said without looking at you.

“Thanks.” And that was the extent of your conversation.

The house you once called home was cold when you left it, now it was even colder. The only warmth left came from a single tiny candle that managed you the smallest relief, and it was Maeve.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Why don’t you sleep in your room anymore? With Mummy?”

You had dreaded the question that had just come out of your daughter’s lips right after you tucked her in. Maeve was a smart kid, and you knew she would have been able to put two and two together when she saw you unpacking your suitcase in the guest room.

“Well, kiddo,” you started, brushing the stray hairs away from Maeve’s eyes. She looked so much like Leah when she pouted. “Mummy’s not too happy with me right now. So I’m giving her some space.”

“Is it because of me?” She said quietly, making your heart squeeze.

“No, of course not. Of course not, bub. How about you go to sleep now, and we will talk about this some other time, hm?” You poked her cheek gently. “Whatever happens, your Mummy and I will never stop loving you, and we will always do what’s best for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” You leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss your little girl on the forehead. “Now, remember what I always say? ‘You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.’”

“‘I am strong, I am capable, I am loved.’” Maeve repeated your words, almost immediately as you said them.

It was a mantra you repeated to yourself when your doubts started to get in the way of your potential, ever since you were a young girl making your debut for Arsenal until now. Those were the words you echoed to Leah when she had done her ACL, and when she wasn’t strong enough to chase away the clouds one day.

“I’m strong,” Leah had just managed to say through the tears, “I’m capable, I’m loved.”

“That’s right,” you whispered and smiled softly. “Now go to sleep, or I’ll sell all your toys.”

This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you turned off the lights. Making your way back to the guest room, you noticed the light in the living room was on downstairs. The tranquility you felt after spending time reading and talking with your daughter made you feel brave to face Leah, brave that whatever interaction you would have with her would not end in screaming and arguing. The woman was sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, a match played on the TV, as it always was.

“Maevey seems used to sleeping on her own now,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Soon enough she’ll be off to college.”

The best you got out of her was a short smile, and you would take it at that point. Your last conversation wasn’t the friendliest, and you had hoped Maeve wasn’t aware.

“She cried for you the night you left,” Leah spoke. “Slept in our bed for two weeks.”

Maybe it was the fact that Leah’s head was pressed against the side of the couch—the way she used to do every time you two had enough time off to sit down on the couch—or the fact that she still referred to the master bedroom as both yours and hers, that made your heart squeeze. For a moment it felt as if you had your family back, and things would eventually go back to the way it was.

“Only two?” You scoffed but smiled.

“Y/N, you know this isn’t a long-term solution. Maeve needs you. You can’t just fuck off to America and come back to visit for a few days every few months.”

“I know,” you said, clenching your jaw. “My agent’s looking at options within Europe. Germany, maybe.”

“Why not in England?”

“That is if any club wants me,” you shrugged. “Frankfurt seems interested, so.”

You’d like to think there would always be a place for you at Arsenal. Growing up, while your peers had posters of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, or Abby Wambach on their walls, you were looking eastwards to the likes of Rachel Yankey and Kelly Smith for inspiration. Your heart was red, white and North London and it broke into pieces the day you had to leave—not because of your performance, but because by then London had started becoming too suffocating. And if you were going to be a good parent to Maeve, you had to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.

“I do want to be close to Maeve,” you said, more to yourself.

Leah hummed. A moment later, she opened the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a thin folder. Placing it on the cushion between you and her, she made the decision to leave the living room to go upstairs.

The respondent line on the first page awaited your name and signature. Hers was already printed on the line above that, the ink was already dry like she had made this decision long ago. You were frozen to the seat with the divorce papers in your hands, and that night you cried yourself to sleep.

You took Maeve to the park the next day. You had extended an invitation to Leah, but she declined, saying she had errands to run. Maeve wanted to go to the playground in the park, so you packed the two of you a small picnic, and a football, in case she was up for a kick-about.

She was telling you about a goal she scored at school the previous Friday when you returned home. Upon entering the two-story house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen. As much as you wanted to listen to your daughter recount her story, your ears focused in on the conversation and what sounded like two female voices, and laughter . . . Leah’s laugh, something you haven’t heard in a long while. You regretted that that was the case.

“Mummy! I played at the park today, and I scored so many goals against Mama!”

“Is that right?” Leah gasped and picked up Maeve in her arms. “Looks like Mama’s got some competition in the striker position.”

“Hi, Auntie Lia,” Maeve said to the other woman in the room.

You barely managed a smile as you watched your former teammate greet your daughter, trying not to freak out at the fact that she was standing much too close to your wife when you first came in. You couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that harbored in the pit of your stomach seeing it, and, as selfish as it sounded, you couldn’t stomach the thought that Leah might have started to move on.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Lia smiled at you.

“Long time no see,” you said.

“Come on, little one. Will you show me how you scored those goals at school?” The Swiss woman extended a hand to Maeve and led her to the backyard.

“Don’t,” Leah said as soon as your daughter was out of sight.

“Don’t what?”

“I know you’re giving me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any looks, Leah,” you smiled sadly, and unpacked your daypack, putting the dirty Tupperware containers into the dishwasher.

“Lia’s been a great help with Maeve. Without her, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the first few months.” Her tone had a slight edge to it, but you understood why.

“I know,” you replied, “I’m not saying anything.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Y/N. You never say anything you’re thinking! You make me do this fucking guessing game with you, and you don’t even bother defending yourself when I assumed the worst about you, and you run away! Do you truly just not give a shit about anything?”

You took a sharp exhale, checking to see if Maeve was looking. Through the sliding door, you could see that wasn’t, she was playing 1v1 against Lia instead.

“Please, Leah. Not now,” you sighed. “I’ll sign the papers, alright? And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

You didn’t see because your back was turned to her, but your wife shook her head, causing a few tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes to fall. Then, you heard her storming past you out to the backyard.

“I do give a shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You did, so much, but maybe your family was better off without you. Watching Maeve kicking her ball into the little goal you got her whilst your wife and Lia pretended to defend her, you wondered if maybe they really were better off.

Your relationship was never perfect. She was Leah, and you were you. You used to love the routine you two shared until it turned sour and you would arrive to training in separate cars. You didn’t know when your marriage crumbled, just that when you looked back to assess the damage, it was already beyond repair. Leah telling you one night that she wished to separate was your wake-up call.

You had seen your friends and colleagues date and break up, and pretend that being in the same room afterward wasn’t the most torturous thing they’d ever had to endure. You never imagined that it would be your turn, and how much it hurt. How does someone be a human being whilst going through a divorce, and be a good parent at the same time?

“Mama, why are you crying?”

You quickly turned away and wiped at your eyes when you heard the tiny voice coming from your bedroom door. You must not have shut it properly. Maeve was standing in front of the door in her adorable dinosaur pajamas, and her favorite plush toy beneath her one arm. You would have given your entire world for that adorable punk right then.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just a bit sad. What are still you doing up?” You gestured for her to come inside. Normally, Maeve would not hesitate to jump into your lap right away, but instead, she climbed onto the bed, and sat next to you like an adult.

“Why are you sad, Mama?” She said quietly, fiddling with her stuffed animal, her round eyes looking up at you with concern. “Everyone is sad.”

“What do you mean, bub?”

“Mummy is sad too. She was crying before you came home,” Maeve said, her bottom lip quivering. “She said it was because she missed you.”

The revelation left you speechless.

Your daughter turned to you. “Should I be sad too? Everyone is so sad.”

“No, baby, come here.” As soon as you pulled her into your lap, she started crying.

“Oh, baby. My little Maevey,” you hated that you made your little girl so upset, arms wrapped around your neck and broken sobs raking from her chest against yours. “Sometimes, people argue, and it’s very sad when they do, but it’s all a part of life, Maevey. Me and Mummy are arguing, but it has never been about you.”

“But I don’t want you and Mummy to argue anymore.”

“I know, baby,” you had nothing else to say that might offer her some comfort. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around as much. It was my fault, nothing to do with you.”

You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”

Letting out the smallest sob, you nodded and pulled her back into your chest. Your little girl, your heir, your legacy, only five years of age, yet she understood the significance of those words. You had won trophies and championships, but nothing compared to the burst of joy in your heart having her echo them back to you. It meant you meant something to her. It meant you were doing something right.

The next morning, after you and Leah had seen Maeve off to kindergarten, you gently placed the divorce papers that Leah had given you a couple of nights ago on the table opposite her. As you sat down by the dining table opposite her, you saw the way she eyed the files like you had just handed her a pack of poison and expected her to swallow it.

“I’ll agree to everything you bring to the table, within reason of course. This needn’t be a whole ruckus for Maeve. Whatever you want,” you started, darting your eyes up to Leah.

She continued to stare at the divorce papers on the table but kept silent.

“But . . . If you still have even just a tiny drop of affection left for me, I’m asking you—begging you—to reconsider this and give me another chance.” You took a deep breath. “This year away from you, from Maeve, made me realize that you two are the most important thing in my life. You make me a better person by just giving me grace and being who you are. And I failed you, I know. I’ve not been the wife and partner you needed, but if you give me one more chance to right my wrongs, I’d give everything to have my family back. I’ll go to therapy, we can go to couples counseling together, whatever you want, just please . . . please give me one more chance to make this right.”

Leah shook her head quietly when you looked up, but then she sunk her head into her palm and you heard a shaky exhale.

“I’ve tried so hard since March to move on from you, eight months since then, and just from one of your little speeches, I’m back to square one,” she laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes of salty tears. “You always give me false hope that it’ll get better, and I hate you for that, because it never does.”

You swallowed and moved to kneel in front of her. Your hands were shaking, but you reached for her hands.

“I know that. I know I’ve been apathetic before. I lost sight of what’s important. I used football as my excuse, and I did it. I won the championship, but there’s still this void in my heart that no trophy can fill,” you squeezed her hand with both of yours. “Please, Lee. I love you, and I need you back in my life. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you and Maeve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. If you’ll let me.”

By then, Leah didn’t bother hiding her sobs. Tears were flowing down the curves of her cheeks like waterfalls, as she leaned forward into your touch, clutching your hands like they might save her. You cursed under your breath. Watching your wife fall apart at the seams when she had been ice-cold with you the past few days broke your heart to pieces, as you pressed soft kisses to her wet cheek and whispered loving words in her ear.

“Okay,” she said quietly and sniffled.

“Yeah?” You smiled hopefully.

Leah nodded tearfully. “Please. This is the last time, Y/N.”

You knew that. You knew if you fucked this up you would lose everything, Maeve might never have a relationship with you again, and you lose the one person that keeps you grounded.

Maybe Leah would be much happier with someone else, someone who treated her well and could fill the co-parenting role for Maeve. You were sure there were others out there who fit the bill, but you were selfish, and you would fight for them because this was your family, your home, your love.

“I’ll tell my agent to work on the move. I’ll try looking in England again, Frankfurt will be the worst-case scenario. Even if the only option is to resign at Gotham, I’ll make it work. I’ll fly home more often, I’ll help you with—”

You were cut off with Leah pressing her lips against yours desperately. You couldn’t restrain the grin that made its way onto your face, as you kissed your wife back.

“God, I got you to talk and now you wouldn’t shut up,” she mumbled, which made you laugh.

“Well, get used to it,” you said. “I’m gonna tell you how much I love you every day, and I’ve got eight months to make up for too, so it’s a lot of talking.”

“How about you show me how much you love me, huh? Actions speak louder than words, right?”

epilogue. A month later.

A blaring alarm awoke you from your warm slumber. It was a Sunday, and you had forgotten you had the alarm switched on. You felt Leah stir next to you, and the corner of your mouth pulled up.

“Christ, what time is it?” She asked, her voice low and cracking. You’d always adored the way her voice becomes raspy in the morning.

“Eight,” you said, combing your fingers through her hair. Leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheeks, you whispered. “We have to get Maeve ready for football.”

“Hmm,” you heard her sigh, and snuggle deeper into your chest. “Five more minutes.”

Your wife opened one eye and grinned. You thanked the Heavens that she granted you another chance.

“Okay,” you kissed her head, “five more minutes.”

Just as soon as you lay back down, and Leah had gotten comfortable again, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, the speed and agility of which you could only attribute to a five-year-old whose enthusiasm for football might be a little too much at 8 o’clock in the morning.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (BONUS)

Summary: A peak into the future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 1,865

Warnings: None. Fun fluff!

A/N: Sorry, y'all. I had some more left in the tank.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

As a bright sun began to set over the Fayetteville horizon to transform the bright cerulean sky to one glowing with orange and purple hues, 22 young men huddled at the 50-yard line of Francis High School’s freshly lined football field. The wind lightly blew around them for a welcomed cool breeze while they ran through yet another play before their first playoff game of the season. 

“Defense, we in man coverage. Offense, run a Go. We need to tighten up this late-game execution. How you gon’ react under pressure? Show me somethin’ boys!” 

While the head coach rattled off instructions to the team, Terry stood nearby with his arms folded and eyes intently focused on the two wide receivers occupying the field. Cam and CT Wilson were tall and lean twin boys who reminded him of how he looked by senior year except they were sophomores with room to grow. He told them on day one that they were physical specimens with unreal speed and high IQ made for a few semesters at Clemson if they could focus through the head-spinning four years that made up their high school experience. He promised their father that he’d be there to guide them through it all save for a few months during Spring practices.

“Cam, you goin’ inside on this one. You remember the count,” he hollered out from the sideline. 

“Locked in!” 

Terry answered with a thumbs up and adjusted his stance for optimal comfort. The child-sized weight on his shoulders was starting to get heavy but he knew the tongue-lashing that awaited him if he dared to make a false move. 

“He goes too slow. Make him count fast so he won’t drop, Daddy.” 

The small voice from above made him look up for confirmation to find her already looking down at him with a scrunched nose and missing teeth that resembled her mother when she was that age. 

“You sure?” 

“Just watch.” 

Together, they watched the play unfold. Terry counted along in his head to time when the ball should leave the quarterback’s hand in comparison to where Cameron should’ve been on the field. Sure enough, he was a step slow causing the quarterback to throw the ball slightly ahead of him for a bobbled pass. 

“Hm,” he grunted more to himself than anyone else. “I’ll be damned. Aye, Cam, come here for a second!” 

Above him, perched on her throne, Nyla Naomi Richmond rested a smart tablet on her father’s head to watch film from the previous game like she always did. Her mahogany skin was shiny under the bright white LED lights illuminating the field from her mother’s overzealous lotioning before they left home. Per her request, Terry had braided half of her hair back to give way to a collection of moisturized zigzag coils for first-grade picture day. Glasses rested at the tip of her nose with a bright yellow strap to keep them attached to her face. She kept her attention focused on the tablet’s screen, even as Cam jogged toward her and her father on the sideline. 

“Yeah, Coach? I do something wrong.” 

“Too slow,” Nyla answered without looking up. “Speed up. You’re like a turtle out there. We gotta win, man!” 

Terry and Cameron chuckled together as Terry tapped the top of Cam’s helmet. 

“A little quicker on the count, man. If you get there when you’re supposed to, that’s a catch all day. Make ‘em beat you. Don’t beat yourself.” 

“Type shit. I got you, Coach.” 

“Hey! Don’t say bad words.” 

“My fault, Coach Ny. Can I do my pushups later?” 

“Yeah yeah yeah.” 

Cam laughed at her dismissal before accepting a fist bump from Terry and rejoining the field. Terry couldn’t contain his smile as he reached up to tickle his firstborn's sides for that high-pitched giggle he loved so much. 

“Be nice, MiMi. Remember the rule?” He craned his neck to look up at her for the lesson he’d been struggling to get through her head since she began joining practice. 

She sighed dramatically and frowned. “Be hard on the work, not the person. I know, I know.” 

“Be better next time, champ. We’re here to help, not hurt.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Yes sir,” he repeated to mock her childish grumble. “You’re so mean like your mama. Gimme a kiss.” 

Like she always did, Nyla lifted her daddy’s cap to kiss the crown of his head before placing the hat backward atop her own head. 

From the day she first showed herself in a routine sonogram, Terry knew she’d be a firecracker. She refused to show her face to him and Patrice. She carefully concealed her features during an expensive 3D scan and almost hid her gender had they not caught her during an in-utero nap. 

She came into the world kicking and screaming at a long 24 inches and a head clean as a whistle just like her pops. With Patrice, she was the perfect baby. She slept all night, cooed and babbled when spoken to, and grew into a little girl who loved to cuddle into her mommy while they watched Pixar movies on the weekends. With Terry, she was a hell-raiser. Loud and rambunctious with a love for NFL games on Sunday afternoons and playful wrestling on the living room rug. 

Their smart girl had her hand in everything imaginable and, when they’d listen to other parents complain about the difficulty of raising young ones during playdates and birthday parties, they always came away feeling like they’d lucked out with Nyla. 

Across the way, Patrice stepped onto the newly refinished running track with the cheerleading team for warm-ups. Under her school t-shirt, her belly protruded enough to tell anyone looking hard enough that she was expecting. Behind her, she pulled a cooler meant to supply the football team with cold water and snacks for the next day. 

“Mrs. Richmond, you want me to help you? You always be actin’ like you Superwoman or somethin’.” her captain called out from behind her, jogging to catch up with Patrice’s long stride. 

Patrice waved her off. “Nuh-uh. Y’all start stretching. I need to drop this off personally.” 

“Uh-huh. You going to your little boyfriend. Being fast!” 

“I learned from you, Z.” 

“Not you in my business!” 

Patrice’s loud laughter created an echo in the stadium, becoming a bat signal for Terry and Nyla’s attention. 

“Hey, Mommy!” 

Nyla rushed to hop off Terry’s shoulders like he was a jungle gym, unconcerned with any harm she inflicted with her long legs as she shimmied down his body. He winced in pain until she was safely on the ground before lightly trotting behind her to greet his wife. 

Seven years of marriage hadn’t changed much of their love. They’d navigated the growing pains of newlywed life and parenthood to come out stronger on the other side. So much stronger that they’d neglected to follow through on contraceptives to keep their family of three from growing to a family of four. Their parents called a second pregnancy a blessing. And though they mostly felt the same, they also knew that baby number two was the result of too much booze and ignoring the cycle tracker during a kid-free night in Charlotte. 

Patrice braced herself for impact once Nyla got closer and wrapped her body around her legs. 

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, rubbing circles at the center of her back. “You look so pretty. Did you finish your homework?” 

“Mhm! I got 100 on my math test, too!” 

“Alriiight! That’s my smart bestie. Now you gotta pick a place for dinner this weekend.” 

“Can we get piz-”

“A place that is not buffet pizza again. Pick something else.” Terry interjected, making Nyla groan. Dad’s word was final whether she liked it or not. His eyes flickered to Patrice’s still for extra confirmation. Mom’s word was final final. 

She offered a small smile while zhushing the back of Nyla’s hair. “Try something new, Naomi. Maybe chicken tenders this time?” 

Nyla accepted her parents’ redirection with another dramatic sigh that made Terry and Patrice stifle laughter. 

“I know, mama. It’s so hard being six years old. We can write a book about it tonight when we get home so you can help your little sister or brother when they get here.” 

“I hope it’s a girl. Boys are boring.”

Neither of them could muster a response before Nyla abandoned them to supervise the cheerleaders as they started to run through cheers. 

They waited in silence until she was out of earshot to face each other with equally broad smiles. 

Terry spoke up first as he reached down to take the cooler’s handle from Patrice’s hand. 

“Didn’t I tell you from the jump she’d be a second you?” 

“Oh no, she’s a second DeeDee. She might have my mom’s middle name but she is your mama through and through.”

“Touché.” Terry chuckled. That’s why the duo got along so well. They were twin flames in more ways than one. 

A lull in the conversation made Patrice subconsciously bring her hand up to her stomach for a soft rub. Terry looked on with a fond smile, proud of the way her wedding ring reflected the light back into the night sky like a star on the ground. 

He pushed the cooler to the side and grabbed her free hand to pull her into a side hug. He kissed her temple several times over, making Patrice giggle like a schoolgirl at the sensation. 

“We make a cute kid, don’t we?” 

Patrice hummed and closed her eyes for a brief second to feel the full press of his chest on her body and his arms squeezing a little tighter than before. “So cute. She talks too much, but that’s okay.” 

“Wonder where she gets that from?” 

“Her damn daddy.” 

The vibration from Terry’s deep baritone encased in laughter tingled against Patrice’s arm to cover her in warmth from head to toe. A whistle and call of his name from the field snapped both of them from their semi-private moment, making them reluctantly pull away. 

Terry leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips as a parting gift before slyly sneaking the tip of his tongue into her mouth. She playfully pushed him to save them from the embarrassment of taking it too far in public. 

“C’mon, MiMi, we not done yet.” Patrice watched Nylah quickly ditch her squad to meet her daddy’s outstretched arms for him to place her back on his shoulders and rejoin the team. He called back over his shoulder for her attention. “I love you, baby! Go get off your feet!” 

“Sit down, Mommy!” 

“Yeah, sit down, Mrs. Richmond!” 

Patrice wore a semi-serious scowl on her face and threw her hands up to stop the barrage of demands. 

“Woah, woah, woah! I am grown,” she hollered back to everyone in the area. She began the slow journey toward her team and clapped her hands. “Just for that, let me see that Hot To Go routine. If you mess up, you owe me a lap.” 

A collection of teenage girl groans made Patrice crack a smile.

Maybe Terry was right.

---

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[blade-liger-4ever]

Why I feel Jack Darby isn't like Orion Pax/Optimus Prime

This is probably not gonna do me any favors in the wider Transformers community, but that's fine; I don't want to be in the good graces of half those people. Besides, I've grown to really dislike Jack over the years, and now that there's a new TF film that actually shows us Optimus and Megatron's past that has everyone cheering, I can actually cite that film in my argument should I encounter any whiners.

Fair warning, this will not be in Jack's favor.

So, as we see of him in Transformers: Prime, Jack had a really poor life. His dad is missing for reasons unknown, his mother is working herself to the bone to keep the roof over their heads, and Jack himself is working a horrid job to try and lift some of the burden from her shoulders. A standard modern day life for teenage boys, right? Oh, and don't forget him going all gaga over prissy cheerleader Sierra; that's of course the icing on the cake of this cut and dry trope, because the loser boy has to have a thing for the social climber girl who he can't recognize as trouble.

However, when he crashes into the Autobot-Decepticon War, Jack is adamant against getting involved. He whines about his new lot in life, complains that he just wants "a normal life", and overall is ungrateful to the Autobots that saved his skin a short time ago. Yes, he pulled through in the five part premiere and did so at other points in the first and even second seasons - but those were all life or death situations.

Every other time, Jack caved to peer pressure and stayed inside the lines. He never stood up to the school bully, let himself get embarrassed by said bully in front of Sierra, and then broke his deal with Arcee by going to an underground race. Heck, if you ask me, the only reason he helped save the bully in that episode was because Jack didn't want to have a dead guy on his conscience. Sure he said "it's the right thing", but where was that nobility when you were ogling your crush throughout the episode, hm?

And to say that he's like Orion Pax after all of the above is an insult to Orion and Optimus' integrity. Can you truly see Optimus whining over his lot in life, being spiteful and rude to guys who were mean to him specifically and not his friends, or just losing brain cells when a pretty girl is involved and getting himself into trouble in a misguided attempt to impress her?

No.

Orion/Optimus would never do that. He'll take the hits to himself and make the best of it with a smile on his face, he'll fight for his friends rather than himself alone, and even if he's head over heels for Ariel/Elita One, he won't compromise himself or his morals just to impress her. Orion/Optimus is better than that, and would never stoop to such actions.

But you know who would do all of that?

This guy.

As TF One shows, Megatron in his youth was much like - gasp - Jack Darby. They both kept their heads low to avoid further ridicule and pain, they never wandered outside the lines for fear of the unknown/repercussions, and despite advocating for a change or better life, they didn't really lift a finger to do that. They both needed an outside force to push them onto a new path. And they both ended up having a low chance of heroism when there was pressure on them: Jack's was anytime Sierra or Vince the Bully was involved, and Megatron's was when the 'Bot responsible for ruining his life and all of Cybertron's population was at his mercy.

Speaking of, what are the odds Jack would have a similar reaction to meeting his father? Yeah sure, he spared Megatron in S1, but Megatron also taunted him by asking what Optimus' response would be if he killed him. Put Jack in a position where he gets to beat up his dad, and are we sure that Optimus would still have that sway over him?

Just ask Sentinel, he can tell you how well that turned out when Orion Pax tried talking down D-16 - oh wait, you can't, because D-16 killed him.

Honestly, there are far more similarities between Jack and Megatron than Jack and Optimus. I'm tired of Jack getting all the love and being heralded as Orion-like or Optimus-like when he never was. He's far closer to Megatron, and if I'm the only one who can see that, fine. I don't care.

These are my observations, my beliefs, and I'm sticking with them.

Now on the same token (but coming later), Smokescreen actually has more in common with Orion Pax/Optimus Prime, something the new TF flick has shown, even if I disapprove of a chunk of the writing and characterization in it. But, given I'm probably setting some people's hair on fire, I'll leave you alone for now to digest this post.

Good day, and remember:

"Autobots, transform and roll out!"

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day ten

prompt: mistake pairing: carlos/oscar word count: 1k a/n: continuation of osctober day six

Oscar had called it a mistake, when he’d first found out him and Carlos were soulmates.

But he accepted the hoodie. And all of the courting gifts after that, so like. They were working on it. It was starting to feel less like a mistake, maybe.

But now. Standing in the middle of his kitchen at 5 in the morning, Oscar is willing to loop back to mistake.

“Why,” he says, too tired to actually voice it as a question.

“Morning, my love,” Carlos says, flitting through the kitchen at a speed that was way too speedy for five in the morning. He’s also not wearing any pants, only a pair of boxers and a hoodie that is very clearly Oscar’s and it’s terribly distracting. Between the arms that are clearly visible between the strained fabric of Oscar’s hoodie that is definitely a size too small for him and the thighs on display, Oscar is struggling to stay on topic.

“C’mon, Carlos, we talked about the ‘my love’ thing,” Oscar says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes too, for good measure. Not being able to see the arms and the thighs does help with the focusing on the issue a little. The issue being that it is five in the fucking morning.

“Hm,” Carlos says, and then. “Pancakes?”

Pancakes were very tempting. But again. 5am. “Only if you tell me why we are awake.”

Carlos pauses in the middle of the kitchen, turns to him slowly. Now stationary, Oscar gets the full view of the sleep mussed hair and the bare thighs and the fucking arms. How is this man real. “It’s uh. There’s a full moon tonight?”

Even though half awake and fully distracted by the gorgeous man in front of him, Oscar’s getting a feeling that’s not the whole story. “I guess? I mean we do have those every month or so.”

Carlos looks troubled now. He still looks unfairly sexy about it. Oscar would like to kiss him. Which is a thing he can do now, but also. Doesn’t feel like the right timing, with the way Carlos is frowning at him. But god. He would really like to kiss him right about now. “It’s the first full moon of the Spring season.” Carlos clarifies, slowly.

“Right,” Oscar says. “Okay. Still do not know what that has to do with 5am.” Oscar wonders if there’s whipped cream to go along with the pancakes. Wonders if it would be weird if he asked Carlos if he could lick the whipped cream off of his thighs, later.

“We’ve been courting for half a year?” Carlos asks, once again not saying what he actually wants to say.

“Carlos can you just,” Oscar pinches the bridge of his nose again. “Stop dancing around it. Just tell me why we’re here at 5am on the day of the first full moon of Spring.”

“I thought you knew,” Carlos says. “It’s tradition.”

Oscar smiles a little wryly. “I think we’ve established I’m a little rusty on tradition,” he says. There was that whole debacle when they just started courting where he gave the cake Carlos made him – a courting gift – to Lando, because well. Lando had been craving cake. Apparently very not done. Took them weeks of miscommunicating to get that whole show back on the road again.

“Ah,” Carlos says, looking troubled. And pretty. Pretty troubled. “It is where you confirm your intentions. If you go out with me on the full moon tonight, it means you have accepted my courting and we can start becoming, uh.” He glances at the floor, then shifts his gaze somewhere right behind Oscar. “Mates.”

Mates. Soulmates. The whole purpose of this courting process. The whole reason they’re here.

“Oh,” Oscar wheezes out, suddenly having trouble breathing. He’d only just gotten used to the courting thing, and now he was supposed to make the commitment to. To.

It’s not like he doesn’t want any of that. He. He’s really started to like Carlos. He’s passionate. Caring. A great kisser. Fantastic thighs. But he doesn’t know. Mating is for life. Forever. What if he’s not ready for that yet?

Carlos bites at his lip. “It is okay, if you are not ready. We can wait.”

And Oscar knows, if he says he needs time right now, Carlos will give it to him. Carlos will give him anything he desires, anything he wants, anything he doesn’t even know he wants yet, because it’s very clear, above all else, that Carlos loves him. And not because the universe told them they were mates. Because he likes Oscar. For Oscar.

Suddenly he realizes it’s not the forever he’s scared of. It’s not Carlos he’s scared of. It’s the idea that Carlos might change his mind. That Carlos finds out who Oscar really is and goes ‘actually, never mind’ and splits.

But Carlos won’t. Carlos has made his choice, which is clear by the fact that he’s out here, at 5am, preparing for the full moon that will allow them to move forward with their courting, allow them to mate. Clear by the fact that he’s been courting Oscar for months, even when Oscar screwed it up, even when Oscar was less than enthused about the whole thing in the beginning.

Carlos stuck by him from day one. He’s not going anywhere. And suddenly. Suddenly, Oscar doesn’t want him to.

“What if. What if I. What if I do want to? Go out with you tonight?” He asks, bites at his lip.

“Oh,” Carlos says, clearly trying to hide his excitement. But it’s there, bubbling under the surface. “Well. Then we just. Go out tonight.”

“Then I guess,” Oscar takes a deep breath. Forever. “Then I guess I would really like to accompany you during the full moon tonight.”

Carlos is on him and pressing him against the kitchen counter before he can fully realize what’s happening, kissing him hard yet soft, desperate yet tender. They’ve kissed before, but nothing like this. It’s like Carlos is finally letting go of his worries, of his apprehension, giving himself fully to Oscar.

And Oscar will take all of him. Forever.

(Though he would love to start with some pancakes. And maybe an explanation of why the fuck they had to do this at 5am when the sun doesn’t set and the moon doesn’t rise until like 8pm tonight.)

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

[bravano]

goddamn it, I come back to My Hero Academia for the first time in years and it’s ending???!? WHAT THE HELL?!?

what do you mean we’re currently in the middle of season 7?!?! Last I checked, season 3 had just come out!

Five Chapters left?? what?? AND WHAT HAPPENED TO DEKUS ARMS??? AND BAKUGOU DIED FOR LIKE A YEAR?!?

WHEN DID SHIGARAKI GET HOT!?!?

Oh yeah, what the hell is a blackwhip?

oof I remember when Dabi being a Todoroki was only a fan theory lol, I remember writing a few posts about it back when he first showed up lol.

Ain’t gonna lie tho, Deku’s new haircut is actually kind cool. Hm, what’s that? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S QUIRKLESS AGAIN??

ALSO LESBIANS?? TOGA?? URARAKA?? I NEVER SAW THAT COMING BUT HOLY SHIT THEIR CHAPTER IS BEAUTIFUL.

and don’t even get me started on bkdk. You mean to tell me I won’t get flamed anymore for liking it? That’s it’s considered one of the most popular ships now? Most people consider it practically canon? Phew. OG BAKUDEKU SHIPPER HERE THAT GOT DEATH THREATS FOR LIKING IT BACK IN 2017 ✨🙏☺️ nature is healing

Honestly tho, it was one of the first anime I ever watched, and to come back to it now with so much stuff having happened, it’s definitely shocking lol. But honestly, when I catch you Horikoshi-

[arcane-vagabond]

By Its Cover: Chapter Two

By Its Cover: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Disapproving Mother, Reader gets scolded, Lingering Touches, Suggestive Jokes, Supportive Dad figures, Overprotective Brother, Shameless Sister, Feelings of Inadequacy. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.3k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

You had dozed off at some point in the evening, Mr. Mitchell’s copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting on your lap when the man himself finally came to find you.

“It’s getting late, Bug,” he had whispered, shaking your shoulder as you grumbled your way into consciousness. The older man gave you a kind smile as you blinked the sleep away from your eyes, gazing at him in confusion.

“The party’s just wrapped up,” he chuckled, resting a hand on your shoulder as you slowly remembered who’s library you were sitting in. You turned to Mr. Mitchell with concern clear on your face, and he held a hand up to stop you in your tracks.

“Don’t worry, your mother didn’t notice you snuck away,” he smiled, pulling you up by your hand and offering you his arm. You took it, looping yours through his as he gave you a wink. “So let’s hurry you on downstairs so we can keep it that way, hm?”

You let him escort you back down the stairs, several people still milling about as the ballroom cleared, the servants already beginning their cleaning duties as members of the Island bid each other a pleasant evening. Your mother was speaking with Mrs. Mitchell, a beautiful woman who must have been an even greater beauty in her youth you surmised. Georgiana stood off to the side with William and Lord Seresin, smiling and batting her lashes at the blond who seemed to be pointedly keeping his eyes on your brother.

“Oh, darling!” Your mother exclaimed, rushing towards you with a knit of her brow. “Where have you been, dearest?”

“I found her outside in the garden getting some air,” Mr. Mitchell supplied smoothly, giving your arm a playful squeeze. You shot him a small smile, thankful for his understanding of your dislike for large gatherings. You had never been one for them, if you were being honest, the judging eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went a constant source of anxiety and discomfort. Your father had always understood, telling you once that he felt the same way about them, and you were glad for Mr. Mitchell during this time as well.

He seemed to be the only one other than your late father and Natasha that understood you, the real you that was. Your mother tried, you knew in your heart she did, but she never seemed to know what to do with you, not like your brother and sisters. You found yourself wondering some days if you should perhaps disappear into the night, start a new life where no one knew who you were or where you came from. You longed for a life where someone saw you for who you truly were, not who you were presumed to be given the Sinclair name. You had thoughts and ideas that only Natasha, and Mr. Mitchell on the rare occasion, seemed to understand, but you knew that the two of them wouldn’t be around forever. Were you destined to a life as some miserable lady of the house whose husband merely saw her as a means to procure an heir and maintain appearances?

“By yourself?” Your mother asked, positively aghast. “Dearest, why would you do such a thing? Think of what could have happened!”

Your cheeks warmed at her scolding, glancing down at the floor and wishing in that moment that it would open wide and swallow you whole. You felt the eyes of everyone on you as you stood there silently, and you chanced a glance up, not expecting to meet jade green ones first. Your breath hitched in your throat as your cheeks warmed even more, a feat you weren’t sure how was accomplished. Lord Seresin studied you, a frown tugging at his lips, but it was the look in his eyes that gave you pause.

No judgement shown in them. It was something you weren’t sure you understood. Curiosity, perhaps? His gaze met yours, and you could have sworn they softened as the two of you looked at one another, your eyes widening and lips parting on their own accord.

“It’s alright, Celine,” Mrs. Mitchell soothed, placing a gentle hand on your mother’s arm, drawing her attention away from you for a moment. The movement broke you from your trance, your head ducking down quickly to avoid making an even bigger fool of yourself than you already had. Though why you found yourself so eager to have the young lord’s approval, you weren’t quite sure, and you were irritated with yourself at the realization.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” you murmured, looking up at her through your lashes. She pressed her lips into a grimace before letting out a sigh.

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” she clucked, though you knew she wouldn’t stay upset with you for long - she never did. Mr. Mitchell gave your arm another squeeze before gesturing towards the now empty room.

“Well, as much as I do love seeing you all,” he started, mirth ever present in his tone. “The hour grows late, and I must insist that you all return home so that I may get my rest.”

“He is quite a crankly, old codger when he doesn’t get enough rest,” Mrs. Mitchell teased, smiling endearingly at her husband. He gave her an affectionate smile in return, beginning to steer you towards the exit.

“It was so lovely to see you all,” Mrs. Mitchell continued as the others began to file out as well, your mother on William’s arm and Georgie on Lord Seresin’s, though you couldn’t help but notice that it seemed his attention was entirely on her. “I’m afraid I can’t walk you out, though. There are some things I need to attend to around the manor.”

“It was lovely chatting with you as always, Charlotte,” your mother smiled, earning one in return.

“Please do come over for tea sometime, Celine,” Mrs. Mitchell said, already heading in the other direction. “I do so enjoy your visits!”

The October night sending a chill up your spine as you pressed a little closer to Mr. Mitchell for warmth.

“I knew I should have brought a cape,” you muttered, earning a chuckle. Your brother offered your mother a hand to step up into the stagecoach, ever the dutiful son. Your sister turned to Lord Seresin with a bat of her eyelashes and curl of her lips.

“I do hope we’ll be seeing more of you, your grace,” she purred, puffing her chest out more than was entirely necessary. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at your older sister, clenching your jaw at her brazen display. If that’s what it took to get a husband, then you most assuredly wanted no part in it.

Lord Seresin cleared his throat, giving her a polite smile that looked entirely too much like a grimace as he dipped his head to her.

“I’m sure I’ll be finding my way to your family’s estate just like old times, Miss Sinclair,” he responded politely, passing her off to your brother who helped her into the stagecoach. You moved to follow, but Mr. Mitchell pulled you back, a twinkle in his eyes.

“You almost forgot this,” he whispered to you, pressing something into your hand. You glanced down to see the book you had been reading in the library, your eyes alighting in delight as you gripped it tightly.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, turning to find your brother had taken refuge from the cold inside the coach. You saw Lord Seresin standing by the door, waiting for you. You nearly balked, but Mr. Mitchell placed a steady hand on your back and pushed you towards him. Your cheeks suddenly felt too hot as you walked stiffly forward, avoiding the Duke’s eyes as best you could. Once you reached the doors, his hand appeared in your vision. You hesitated, and you weren’t sure why. The moment stretched on in silence, and you could feel the awkwardness at your lack of action grow stronger.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning over you as he leaned forward. “I only bite when provoked.”

You glanced up at him, cheeks aflame and eyes widened as before. He let out a low chuckle, meeting your gaze easily as his eyes twinkled.

“I’m kidding,” he smirked, tilting his head in a disgustingly endearing way.

“Bug, get in the coach before we freeze to death,” harped Georgie, shooting you a positively venomous glare. You gulped, slowly placing your hand in Lord Seresin’s as he gripped yours tightly. His hand was warm, comfortingly so, and a spark shot through you as your skin made contact with his. You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flickering up to meet his. A smile curled at his lips as he looked at you with a hooded gaze. You could have sworn the world tampered out around you as he held your gaze, lips spreading into a smirk as his thumb smoothed over the back of your hand. Your lips parted, eyes darting down to his own on their own accord. They looked soft.

“Bug!” Georgie nearly shrieked, pulling you from your stupor. You cleared your throat, turning towards the coach once more, but not before noticing how Lord Seresin’s smile faded into a frown as you moved. You sat in the seat next to your brother, across from Georgie who still openly glared at you. Lord Seresin still held your hand as you settled in the seat, giving it a squeeze as you turned to face him.

“Lady Bug,” he purred as his hand slowly slipped from yours, green eyes intense as they watched you. You swallowed thickly.

“Your grace,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. You glanced behind him towards where Mr. Mitchell stood, a brow raised, but not in your direction. You turned to see your mother looking back at him, a mirroring brow arched as she glanced over at you with a knowing look. You felt embarrassed as you pressed further into the seat. You refused to look up, even as the coach door clicked shut, the driver spurring the horses into motion. Even as you still felt the Duke’s gaze lingering on you.

You turned the page with a tired sigh, eyes flickering up briefly to watch as your sister paced around the large parlor. Morning light filtered through clouds and through the tall windows, casting shadows along the ornate, antique rug that had laid on the floor for God only knows how long. You were still tired from your night at the party, your sister refusing to leave until most of the crowd had left already. The sister in question was pacing haughtily across the carpet in front of you, shooting you poisonous looks as you buried your nose further into your book to try and ignore her. Your mother sat on the sofa across from you, her needlepoint in hand as she eyed your sister with exasperation.

“Georgiana, please,” she sighed, closing her eyes as if that might give her a moment’s respite. “Sit down before you wear a hole in my rug.”

“How can I sit still, Mama?” Georgie cried out, stopping in her tracks to spare your mother the briefest of looks. “She’s sitting there like nothing happened!”

“Because nothing did happen,” you muttered, which proved to be a mistake as your sister swung around to shoot you daggers once more.

“Right,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “because you didn’t practically drool all over him last night. I saw the way you looked at him!”

“Georgie,” you sighed, setting your book down on your lap to give her your undivided attention, “you know me better than that. I have no interest in courtship, let alone marriage of all things.”

Your words seemed to placate her some as she arched a brow at you, but at least she no longer glared.

“Besides,” you continued, eager to have her ire directed at something other than you, “it was you who he danced with all night, was it not?”

That seemed to snap her out of her tirade, a large smile forming on her lips as she let out a dreamy sigh, twirling in place.

“Yes, it was,” she gushed, cupping her cheek. “Oh, we must have looked so wonderful together. Wouldn’t you agree, Mama?”

Your mother hummed noncommittally as she glanced up from her needlepoint.

“What?” She blinked. “Oh, yes, of course, my darling.”

She didn’t sound too convinced as her eyes strayed to you, that knowing look making your cheeks heat once again as you looked away. Georgiana didn’t notice your silent exchange as she giggled to herself.

“I wonder if we’ll have a long courtship,” she mused, sitting down next to your mother, jostling the older woman slightly. “We shall have a wedding befitting that of a Duke and Duchess, surely.”

“You mustn’t rush these things, my darling,” your mother hummed once more, and you could feel her eyes still boring into you. “Much can happen over the course of a season.”

In that moment, your brother waltzed into the room, a familiar blond following close behind. You felt your heart stutter in your chest, hands clenching the book in your lap as you did your best to try and act like his mere presence didn’t have a most peculiar effect on your senses.

“Good morning, all,” William chirped, leaning against the mantle, a brilliant smile on his face.

“William,” your mother scolded, setting aside her needlepoint hastily before smoothing down her skirts. “You could have warned us that you were expecting company!”

“Sorry, Mother,” William grinned his demeanor contradictory to his words. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“Lord Seresin,” your sister giggled, standing so suddenly as to startle you, your book falling to the floor in your fright. You bent over to grab it, fingers just brushing the cover as a much larger hand brushed yours. You glanced up to meet jade green eyes, a nearly silent gasp leaving your lips on its own accord. His fingers, so large compared to your own, brushed the back of your hand gently before you gathered your wits about you. You yanked your hand away, the book along with it as you leaned back up. Your cheeks were on fire, your eyes looking everywhere but at him.

“My lord,” you murmured apologetically, sparing him another glance. His face was unreadable as he watched you for a beat more, slowly standing straight from where he had bent over.

“Lady Bug,” he nodded, pressing his lips into a tight line. You noticed the flex of his hand at his side - the one he had just touched you with - and you felt a fluttering in your stomach.

“Your grace,” your mother began, but Lord Seresin held his hand up to stop her, a smile gracing his handsome features.

“Please, Lady Sinclair,” he said. “I much prefer it if you’d all call me by my given name. Like old times.”

“Jacob,” your mother amended with a bow of her head. “What brings you to our home this morning?”

“Jake was just regaling me with stories of his travels,” William chimed in, walking over to plop down on the sofa next to you. He reached up to tickle your chin, and you swatted his hand away with a vicious scowl. He grinned up at you, shooting you a wink before turning back to others. “I invited him to dinner tonight, I hope you all don’t mind.”

“Of course. You know you’re more than welcome here,” your mother smiled at the blond as your sister practically bounced in her seat from excitement. Your eyes flickered over to him of their own accord, and you were almost unsurprised to see him already looking at you. You blinked, eyes as round as saucers as you looked away. William gave you a look of curiosity, but wrinkled his nose as Georgie batted her eyes up at the duke.

“Jake,” she crooned, leaning forward, practically pushing her chest up for him to view. “Would you care to hear me play the pianoforte? I’ve become quite the good player since you were last here.”

Jake frowned slightly before putting on a charming smile.

“Please. By all means,” he said, gesturing towards the instrument in question. Georgie gathered her skirts before prancing over to sit on the bench. You had to admit, your sister was quite the excellent player. You wouldn’t say you were horrible by any means, but your sister had a knack for music. You were much more content with your books and paints. The delicate notes of her playing filled the room, and you smiled softly as she continued.

Your sister played for a while, and after a few minutes you turned to your brother to say something, stopping when you saw him. William didn’t seem to be paying attention to the music, no. His brow was furrowed, lips turned into a contemplative frown as he all but glared forward. You followed his gaze, stopping as you saw what had him so perplexed. Jake was already looking at you, that unreadable expression once again on his face. Georgiana finished her song, your mother’s clapping breaking you from your stunned silence. You began to clap alongside her, followed by the two men. Georgie rose from the bench, a coy smile on her face as she curtsied to the room.

“That was lovely, Georgie,” William smiled, the consternation having vanished from his demeanor entirely.

“Agreed,” Jake chimed in, and Georgie positively beamed under their praise.

“Thank you,” she gushed. The sun chose that moment to make its way through the gloomy clouds, casting bright light into the room.

“Oh, Mama,” Georgiana exclaimed. “Look! The sun is out. Might we go out promenading?”

Your mother cast her attention out the tall windows, taking in the sight of the almost crystal blue sky.

“It does look lovely outside,” she murmured. “Alright, yes, but be sure to grab your cloaks! Jacob, will you be joining us?”

Jake hesitated, glancing around the room before slowly nodding. “Yes, I suppose I shall if it’s alright with you.”

Georgie practically squealed as she raced out of the room, your mother close behind. You rose to your feet, book still clutched in your hands as your brother followed suit.

“I’ll take that as my cue and meet you all outside, then,” Jake chuckled, casting one more glance at you before heading off in the opposite direction. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, feeling the stress leave your shoulders as they sagged slightly.

“Bug,” William said, and you turned to look at him. His expression was serious, brow furrowed once more.

“What is it?” You questioned, raising a brow at him. William seemed to mull over his words, teeth worrying at his cheek as he was prone to do when something was bothering him.

“Just,” he hesitated, “be careful. Jake is my oldest and dearest friend, but even I know his reputation is well earned.”

Your heart sank in your chest, but you schooled your features into one of nonchalance.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you sniffed, looking away and towards the wall. You weren’t stupid enough to think the duke had any interest in you, the strange youngest sister who had made it known she would never marry. You wouldn’t even know the first thing about being a duchess, and you weren’t about to start entertaining the idea. Not when someone like Georgie seemed so keen on it.

“Right,” William snickered, looking down at his shoes with a shake of his head. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but he must have thought better of it. He looked back up at you, gesturing towards the door.

“Go,” he shooed. “Grab your cloak quickly before we have to hear more of Georgie’s shrieking.”

You smiled at him, nodding before turning on your feet to do as he bid.

A/N: Here it is! I didn't get as much done as I would have liked this week, but I'm proud of myself for getting two different updates out in the same week! That's a lot for me! Anyway, I'm going to enjoy the rest of my week off and look forward to my one in July. Please be thinking about what you would like to see from me next, and let me know what you thought about this chapter!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@arcanevagabond-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[iris-qt]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

☾ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

☾ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | 2ᴋ

☾ ᴀ/ɴ: ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏʟʟ (ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴘᴏʟʟꜱ).

☾ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ɪᴛ. ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀʀɴꜱ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

Silly, foolish love.

Regulus seemed to be surrounded by the atrocious thing as love was in bloom at Hogwarts. Valentine’s Day was slowly approaching as February rolled in, blanketing the castle in fresh snow and an air of romantic anticipation.

And Regulus hated it.

He stalked up the endless stairs with his lanky legs to reach the rotted wooden trapdoor that led to the stuffy Divination room. If only the crystal ball would tell him how to drop out of this useless class mid-year. Walking in for the 2nd semester of the year, he saw the little magical name tags Professor Trelawney had enchanted were scrambled.

New seats.

Just fucking wonderful.

He’d gotten used to sitting next to some short, sniveling boy with bad acne and thick glasses. Such a simple, mutual understanding of silence between them. 

Regulus made his way to his new table at the back of the class. At least he could think clearly as he wasn’t seated right next to Trewlany’s five sticks of incense. Leaning over, messy black curls falling over his tired eyes, he peeks at the name on the tag next to him…Y/N. 

The new girl.

He’d never spoken to her but she didn’t seem particularly irritating, so perhaps this would be fine. 

You walk in, one of the last students, and as you take a seat, Regulus notes you smell like the fresh pines of the Forbidden Forest. Not to mention you had a pine leaf stuck in your sweater. His keen detective work led him to the conclusion that there was more to you than he had originally thought. Rather than a wallflower, you were hiding something in those focused eyes.

Those focused eyes that were now trained on him, lighting up as you gave him a little wave.

Regulus nodded in acknowledgment and turned away, letting you know he wasn’t one for small talk in case you hoped to engage in it.

The planets must’ve not been aligned in Regulus’s favor as the topic of today’s class was palm reading; particularly the line that represented love and future relationships. All in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, as Trelawny put it.

She chose the wrong holiday to become festive about.

The thing is, Regulus didn’t believe in love. He believed love was a choice. A choice he tended to avoid. He had made the decision to not get involved at all. Relationships only bring drama and heartbreak and he wanted none of it. None. Of. It. 

Also, his awkwardness welcomed zero aspects of any love, so perhaps he was slightly salty about that.

When the palm reading commenced, you turned to him, flipping your textbook to the correct page.

“It looks like the heart line is right above the head line.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But where’s the head line?”

You smile as you gently take his hand in yours and trace your finger over his heart line on his pale palm. Maybe it was a sensory issue, because his heart stopped and then started racing one thousand beats a second. It was probably just because of nerve endings leading to his heart, right? Basic human anatomy.

“Hm…I’m picking up a vibe…seems like your life shall be…” you look at Regulus, eyes wide for dramatic flare “...full of smiles and hugs! Merlin! Whatever shall you do?”

Regulus can’t help but crack a smile as he attempts to hide it with a disappointed head shake. 

“And here I thought you’d take this seriously.”

“I am dead serious, Black,” you drain your face of emotions as you stare blankly at him.

He can’t help but let out a stifled laugh as his heart picks up again. This cannot be good. He must be sick. Flu season, right?

Regulus recovered from his supposed illness by the next morning as he woke up early; washing himself with ice cold water to maintain his control and balance throughout the day. The air outside was crisp and the unrelenting chill of winter was chasing the occasional snowflakes that decided to fall. 

Perfect weather for a rejuvenating morning walk.

Truthfully, he hoped the cold would numb his spontaneous thoughts of Y/N. One little interaction and he was already spiraling.

No matter.

Everything was under control.

Until he saw you, bundled up in an endless number of layers, sitting by the lake with a little tray of watercolors, your hair gently blowing in the breeze. He just knew your nose would be a rosy shade and it’s as if his heart began an override autopilot of his body, moving his legs toward you. Of course, he was just curious as to why you were painting out in this bleak weather. Of course, it was plain curiosity. Nothing more. 

His quiet steps were given away by the frosty ground, and you looked up as he approached, his ink black hair decorated with various snowflakes, blowing around his face..

“Morning Regulus, here for another palm reading?” you grin seeing him roll his eyes. He hesitates as he doesn’t know whether he should ask before he sits down next to you. You gently pat the frosted grass next to you and he quietly takes a seat; knees to his chest.

“I don’t know if a thin black robe is the best attire for this weather, Black.”

“Hm..I suppose next time I’ll bring 20 sweaters like you,” he hums, giving you a small, lopsided smile. You scoff teasingly as you unwrap your large wool scarf from your neck, putting it around his shivering form. He looks at you with a shimmering yet unreadable emotion, before he pulls his gaze from your rosy, frigid nose to the small, pocket sized canvas you’re holding.

Your art was simplistic, yet heavenly. The soft pastel shades of the water colors blended together in perfect harmony, capturing the ethereal atmosphere of this cold, February morning. The lake shimmered with an azure shade which escaped into the baby blue tint of the cloudy sky.

You caught him staring and dug into your messenger bag, pulling out another tiny canvas and a spare brush.

“Paint with me”

He blinked at you, your gentle and inviting manner a foreign language to him. He always welcomed loneliness, but in your presence, he didn’t think being alone would ever feel the same. He’d always be yearning for someone. A specific someone. 

Merlin, he was in deep.

They sat there in a comfortable silence; the only sounds consisted of the lake lapping onto the shore and whispers of the winter winds. Regulus could get used to this. He began painting the scene, hoping to impress you with his professional art; a product of his years of art lessons with the best of the best. But he would never capture the moment like you did. Perhaps it was the lack of artistic “rules” with which you painted that made it so perfect. Perhaps it was the fact that it was you who painted it that made it so perfect. 

For perfection makes perfection.

So imagine his happiness when you gifted him your little canvas after the morning paint session. Regulus was truly at a loss for words but managed to pipe out a weak “thank you” as he gently held the little canvas as if it were a fragile artifact. He gave himself a mental reminder to learn various protective charms to perform on the small painting. Perhaps buy an impenetrable golden chamber for it? No. Platinum.

Valentine’s Day commenced with a flurry of sappy couples and atrocious public displays of affection. Regulus would’ve stayed holed up in his dorm, but how could he miss a trip to Hogsmeade? He needed to stock up on swan feather quills and dark chocolate frogs.

Yes, of course, Regulus had thought about you and perhaps conveying his feelings on this day reserved for love, but he’d rather not ruin the one beautiful thing in his life. Ever since that one early morning, you and him had been painting basically everyday. Those painting sessions are what made Regulus excited to wake up in the morning. But he wasn’t sure if you harbored the same feelings. 

Truthfully, if love was a choice, Regulus wouldn’t choose to love you. It was beautiful, yes. But it was heart wrenching; his stomach constantly felt like a twisting storm while your eyes sang a siren song that would soon bring him to his demise against the sharp rocks of love. 

That is why he pondered just releasing his emotions and letting you know his affections towards you. But Regulus was nothing if not afraid. 

Afraid of losing you.

Stupid love.

As he made his way into Hogsmeade, he noticed you strolling around with your best friend, laughing. You made eye contact with him as you gave him a little wave and a small smile. He briskly looked away as if you could read his conflicting thoughts about you behind his eyes and walked off.

Strange.. You thought.

After running his errands, Regulus decided to head back. Per usual, Valentine’s Day was a flop. They didn’t even have dark chocolate frogs in stock. Regulus sighed as he began walking back. He immediately paused in his steps as he noticed you at a pop-up flower stand, making a bouquet of white flowers. Ranunculus? Yes, it was a bouquet of Ranunculus. He had studied flower language as part of his private tutoring growing up. They represented charm and attraction. 

Charm and attraction?

Who were you charmed and attracted by? Because it certainly wasn’t him. 

Regulus scoffs to himself as he walks off, attempting to push away the gnawing feeling in his stomach. 

Until he hears your sparkling voice calling his name.

You run up to him across the frozen ground, a bouquet of Ranunculus in your hand. Quite unfortunately, the icy ground causes you to slip, and as you fall, Regulus catches you, your face pressed against his chest which is adorned with your scarf. His heart was racing so fast you were concerned he could be having a heart attack. You steady yourself, straightening your beanie, an embarrassed look on your face which immediately turns to a crestfallen expression as you notice the now crushed flowers. 

“Fuck…”

You felt like crying.

Your sadness was contagious as Regulus couldn’t bear to see his beautiful girl upset over anything. He quickly muttered a spell which brought the flowers back to life. Yes, he just  encouraged Y/N’s romantic pursuits towards another person by doing so, but if that’s what made you happy, he’d give it to you. 

Your face broke into a smile as you glanced to the side, a bit shaken at this bump in the road. 

“Thanks for saving my face from destruction, Reggie.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” He smiled, always enjoying their exchanges. 

With all the insecure thoughts buzzing in your head, you decided to kill them off once and for all, and pushed the bouquet of flowers towards Regulus, unable to make eye contact with his calculating eyes. You didn’t want to see them calculate just how much of an idiot your infatuation with him made you.

“For you.”

Regulus blinked, unable to comprehend what was going on. Maybe she hit her head against his bony chest a bit too hard. He stood there gaping, as still as a rock.

You took that as a sign he wasn’t interested, and, with an internal sigh, turned the other way, looking skyward to chase the tears away. Flowers hanging limp in your hand, you were about to walk away, when you felt Regulus’s soft grip on your wrist as he coaxed you back to him.

Regulus was beaming in a way that was slightly unsettling and heart warming at the same time. There was something about seeing one’s true grin for the first time. And it was purely contagious as you grinned back at him like a lovesick fool.

Silly, foolish love.

[russellsppttemplates]

I don't think you'll ever have to find out (Carlos Sainz)

The lack of contract for next season has been pushing Carlos to extremes and friends and family have noticed it

Note: english is not my first language. First Carlos big piece 🫶 I hope you enjoy reading it 😊

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions some anxiety and burnout symptoms

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Hmmmm", you hummed as you felt the mattress move a little before the warm sheets approached your body instead of the warm body that laid under them before.

"Shh, it's just me, cariño", Carlos lulled you, "go back to sleep, it's still early", he kissed your forehead softly as the tucked you in properly.

"Where are you going since it's still early then?", you wondered groggily, "I'm going for a run, I'll be back to have breakfast with you, okay? I love you", he kissed your forehead again before he grabbed his workout clothes and stepped into the ensuite.

When you woke up a few hours later, you could hear water running from the shower, assuming Carlos had got back from his run.

Opening the windows and pulling the sheets to the end of the bed so the whole room could air out, you put on your slippers and one of your boyfriend's hoodies, heading downstairs to start on breakfast. After a quick look at the meal plan left by his trainer, you retrieved the ingredients from the pantry and fridge, toasting, whisking and flipping what you needed to when you heard footsteps joining you on the kitchen.

"Good morning, beautiful", Carlos said as he hugged you from your back, his lips kissing under your ear softly before he looked at what you were making, "smells nice", he murmured before you turned your head slightly so you could kiss his cheek.

"Here you go", you smiled as you handed Carlos the plates to carry to the table while you carried your drinks.

"Gracias, my love", he smiled back as he sat down, taking a sip from his mug and starting light conversation between you two.

"I need to go to the school to get some forms from the secretariat service and some of the kids' tests I forgot to bring home", you began telling him your plans for the day, "I'll mark them when I get home, but we might have some time to spend together in the afternoon".

"I have a meeting with my engineers to analyse data and then I have a sponsor event as well, I have to go there, give an interview and hang around for a bit - I think I'm going to be home for dinner though", he explained his schedule, "but you can use the office, don't worry", he smiled, kissing the top of your head once he finished eating, taking both plates with him back to the kitchen.

"I love you, handsome, have a good day!", you said, kissing his lips once you left the house, knowing he wasn't going to be there when you arrived back from school.

The secretariat services were quicker than usual in getting you the paperwork you needed so you were able to go to your classroom next. As you were making sure everything was in place and none of the kids had left anything out during the holidays, you looked for the tests.

"Hi, Y/N! What are you doing here?", your colleague from the classroom next to yours wondered after she announced her presence with a light knock on your door.

"Hello! I could ask you the same thing, hm?", you chuckled, "I left the tests here and they're not going to mark themselves", you waved the folder in your hand.

"Carlos isn't racing this week?", she asked. You had been classroom buddies for over five years so you had gotten to know eachother pretty well and felt comfortable enough around eachother to ask such questions.

"No, he's racing next weekend though, I'm flying out to see him and then flying back in a hurry so I can teach without taking many days off", you offered.

"Sounds good then! Good luck with all of those, my little ones had some trouble with these last tests, I must say", she added.

"I haven't even looked at them properly to be honest, but I'm sure they did their best", you recalled, waving at her as she said goodbye before putting everything you needed in your bag and leaving as well.

When you arrived back home, you walked straight to the office, arranging your desk in a way that your organisation system worked: to be marked, marked, and the double checked tests, along with space for you laptop so you could insert the data straight on the platform.

The pause you had for lunch was spent on the balcony, soaking up the sun rays while you ate and allowed your mind to escape the math problems and the water cycle drawings your little ones made.

It started when you were a teenager and wanted to earn a little extra money, wanting to buy things yourself and the small independence that came with it, so you started offering help to your neighbours' kids with their homework in exchange of a small amount of money. Over the years, it got a little more serious and grew outside of your neighbourhood because you enjoyed it so much and the kids and their parents loved the work you did, and when it to came to choosing a career you'd see yourself working in happily, teaching little ones sounded perfect. Years later, it still brought a smile to your face every single day.

You were measuring the rice quantity for you and Carlos when he arrived, "cariño, are you in the kitchen?", you heard him ask once he shut the door.

"Yes, my love, just getting dinner ready", you called back, washing your hands once you were done while he stepped closer to you. Drying your hands on a kitchen towell, you left it on the counter once your boyfriend joined you in the room, "did you have a good day?", you mumbled against his lips before stealing a big kiss from him.

"It was good, did what needed to be done, and you? Are your little geniuses getting good grades this term?", he smiled, lacing his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"They did so well! I'm so proud of them, they barely had any spelling mistakes and they drew these pretty drawings on the side - I have to show you, come look!", you pulled his hand to follow you to the office, feeling his tiredness in his movements and stalling, "I can show you later - how about a cuddle in the sofa while dinner cooks?", you suggested as you noticed him nod, "sounds nice", he kissed your hand as you pulled him to the living room, letting you rest your body against his for a little bit as he told you a little more about his day.

"Sounds tiring", you mumbled, tracing random shapes on his clothed chest, "it's fine, part of the job", he shrugged as he looked at his watch, "dinner should be ready soon, no? I'll help you with the table", he kissed your forehead before you got up and sorted the meal for the two of you.

By the time you were done, cleaning up was easy and quick. Carlos suggested you retired to the bedroom early, doing your night-time routines before cuddling on the bed.

"How about a movie?", you suggested, flickering the streaming platforms to find something to watch.

"I might fall asleep in the middle of it, you won't get too mad if I do?", he smiled, kissing your cheek multiple times.

"Of course I won't be mad, love! I'd never be mad for that", you cooed, looking up at his eyes as he tried his hardest to blink the sleep away, "I'll keep the volume down and the brightness low, you sleep all you want, okay?", you checked with him, sealing your request with a kiss on his lips, "sleep well, my love".

Carlos pulled you closer to him, your scent and steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep quickly, leaving you to smile at his peaceful features when you glanced away from the screen every now and again.

.

"You look so gorgeous! My teacher was never this stylish!", Blanca said as she greeted you once you stepped inside her car, setting your bag on the seat next to yours and squeezing her shoulder as well as her mother's, "hello hello! Thank you for inviting me, I've been needing a wardrobe change now that the temperatures are warmer", you smiled as they squeezed your hand back before you put your seatbelt on.

"It's been a while since I've seen you, dear, how have you been?", Reyes asked you while her daughter drove off to the spot where they wanted to spend the afternoon shopping.

"The little ones have been keeping me busy, now that they're on school break, it's a little bit calmer", you replied.

"That's nice, you shouldn't run yourself to the point of exhaustion - no matter how much you love it, you should also take care of yourself! You and Carlos are very much alike on that - your work ethic is excellence", she winked through the rear view mirror.

You agreed with your boyfriend's mother. Both you and Carlos worked extremely hard to get to the point you were in now and sometimes you needed someone - often eachother - to pull you out of a overworking spiral.

When Blanca was trying on a dress, you and Reyes sat on the small sofa while you waited for her and conversation flowed easily like usual, "how has Carlos been? It's been a while since I've seen him too", she wondered.

"He's been working a lot - being without a contact prospect for next year has obviously had a big impact on him", you began, "to be completely honest, I worry he is overdoing it. It's meeting after meeting, then all the workouts he goes on - I'm happy he's healthy for it, but too much of something is never good, right?", you shared.

"I've noticed it, too - I wasn't just asking", she smirked softly, "but I wanted to confirm it with you, a mother's instinct is always worried for her children and maybe part of me was hoping I was just exaggerating".

"I've tried to make sure he feels all the support he has and just be there for him, but I think it's all him, pushing to be better and better", you expressed your worries.

"What do you think about us having dinner at your place? Not to invite myself - even though that's what it is-, but maybe he would feel better and more inclined for a yes? Last times I invited you two for dinner with us he said he had things planned and the plans fell through", she said.

"Sounds nice, don't worry about inviting yourselves in", you chuckled as she gently squeezed your shoulder, "I'm going to suggest it to him, thank you", you squeezed her hand.

"We should be the ones thanking you", Blanca said as she stepped out, leaving you to assume she heard some of the conversation, "you've been his safe place for so long and continue to do so no matter the conditions", she smiled, "you're making sure my very hard headed brother is looking after himself and being looked after - the love you have for eachother is all we could've wanted for Carlitos", she hugged you, "now do we think this looks nice as it is or is it borderline making me look like a cloud?", she looked at the piece of clothing on her body.

You were pulled out of sleep when you heard Carlos mumbled something incoherent, and turning to face him, the sweat on his forehead evidencing that he was probably having a nightmare.

"Amor, hey - wake up, amor, wake up", you shook him awake, "it's just a nightmare, you're okay, you're okay", you coaxed him as he opened his eyes, turning on his bedside lamp while you held onto his hand.

"I woke you up? I'm sorry", he apoligised, voice groggy as he tried to catch his breath and bring his heart rate back to normal.

"It's okay, amor", you smiled, kissing his cheek and brushing the hairs away that were stuck to his forehead, "do you want to talk about it?".

Did he want to talk about it? The nightmares that kept occurring and keeping him up, only until now they had only woken him up? They had been happening for about a month now. He would wake up all sweaty and his breathing erratic, and more often than not, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so he stayed awake thinking about all the possibilities of how his employment situation would be for next year and all of the ways he could improve his performance.

"It's fine", he gulped, "let's go back to sleep, okay?", he encouraged.

You knew better than to push him at that moment, so you cuddled up to him, holding him too as you kissed his chest, "I'm right here, nothing bad is going to happen to you, I'll make sure of it", you whispered before he turned the light off, wanting to believe you so badly and to sleep without his mind running a million miles an hour.

.

It really was taking up a lot of his mind - as well as your and his family's worries - and how it was soon going to be too much if he didn't manage everything well, and after his mother's conversation with you, you knew you needed to do something.

"My love, can I talk to you for a second?", you asked as you walked inside the office, seeing his sat in the long sofa instead of at the desk, "sure, come here, cariño", he urged, tidying some of the papers and notebooks so you could sit.

"I'm not going to bat around the bush, this is going to be straight off the bat - me and your family are concerned you're running yourself harder than you should, and if you keep going at this rate, you're going to burnout soon", you tried, rubbing his thigh softly and encouraging him to really think about it.

He pondered his words for a bit, "I have to do all I'm doing, Y/N, if I stop, I'll fall behind - it's bad enough as it is", he argued.

"But it's not doing you any good, handsome, you're more tired, you barely spend time with your family, with me even", you argued back. You didn't want to play that card or make him feel like he was failing you, that wasn't the point, "you're not doing the things that bring you joy outside of your work, and it shows", you attempted again.

"I have to keep working, I can try and make more time for them, but I can't miss my workouts and these data analysis sessions", he reasoned, "there's so much at stake here and I can't miss any of it because I'm unprepared or unfit".

"Handsome, I never wanted you to stop all of a sudden - and I knew you wouldn't anyway, I know who I'm dating, believe it or not", you smiled, "all I'm saying is you need to protect yourself too, have a place to just be yourself and let loose for a bit", you grabbed his hand and brought it to your mouth, kissing his knuckles.

"I will try my best", Carlos stated, "I'm sorry if I've been neglecting you", he said and you shook your head.

"No worries, now come and help me because your parents are coming over for dinner!", you have him a cheeky smile, pulling him to the kitchen and away from work for the rest of the day.

"This had my mother's hand on it, didn't it?", he wondered.

"She told me she was worried, and I agreed - so I took matters into my own hands because we knew you wouldn't let your mother tell you half of what I told you", you pulled him to you, hugging him tight, "we love you so much, I love you so much - and things are going to work out for you, I know they will", you kissed his clothed chest before looking up at him, "we all want you to be happy at what you do and you're doing the best you can - the universe will do the rest, amor".

"What would I do without you?", Carlos asked, kissing your lips passionately.

"Lucky for you, I don't think you'll ever have to find out", you smiled.