#squints at everyone no stop where have u all come from

[chiliyue-archived]

physical affection

includes; dazai, chūya, ranpo, atsushi

tags; these get just slightly suggestive (but its nothing too much).headcanons + some drabbles & shorts. these r longer than it should be - I got so carried away

I just woke up so if u find mistakes pls let me know :) I'm posting this before I come up with an excuse to delete it altogether

-

—DAZAI

handsy - that's really the only descriptor you need.

honestly, everyone knows you're his partner with how he acts around you; hand on your thigh, waist, shoulder. having to kindly smack him on the back of his head when his hands trailed a little too far-

^ only for him to send you a pout and doe like eyes that fade when you indulge him a kiss. he has zero shame (often at the expense of receiving a sneer from kunikida who had the misfortune of witnessing sometimes. even then, he didn't stop kissing you)

favorite spot is the inside of your palms and knuckles - with a lingering yield on your pulse point. if you ever kiss those areas on him, he'll have cartoon hearts around him & everything

holding his face though? call him your pretty boy or literally anything sappy and he thinks he might just die on the spot.

on the flip side he's also… a bit of a bitch.

traces your bottom lip tauntingly with his thumb, the other is cupping your head to keep your gaze on him. he maintains keen eye contact and relishes in the way you crack while he remains steady.

his mouth is so close that when he speaks, you could feel it vibrate against your lips. but he never closes the distance, he makes you do that instead for teasing benefits :/(if you're shorter than him, it's so over)

revoke his kissing rights and he trails like a lost puppy behind you. " just one, bella?" he whines when you maneuver your head away. it's cute seeing him get all pouty - not so much when his patience runs thin and he takes matters into his own hands

-> caging you in his physique and kissing you hard. fingers calloused are rubbing against your jaw or brushing past your ear to interlock, teasing the surface of the skin as he does so. he enjoys the tremors and shivers it elicits, such reactions becoming burned in the back of his head.

you could barely make a sound with the vigor he expresses his cravings in with your bottom lip becoming captured between his canines

contrary to his theatrical displays, however, i also believe he exhibits a softened demeanor when cherishing you proper (soft dazai agenda)

the tempo of his kisses are slow yet not in accordance with his teasing. while the meandering of his hands grows greedy, when he speaks his voice is reduced to a low whisper, mumbling sweet phrases with each kiss.

✿

dazai wants to blame the bottom of sake for his vermillion flushed cheeks. more alarmingly, he wanted to ignore the way his heart squeezed when you reciprocated the kiss.

" darling," he pulls away, studying your expression. your hair was tousled, a swell blooming on your bottom lip from his recurrent nibbling and ministrations. the moment wasn't perfect, but he could bask in it for a lifetime. " are you getting sleepy?"

the pretty brown eyes you met were half-lidded and blinking. his bangs traced along your forehead from where he hovered, and if you squint, perhaps you would have noticed how the pink of his cheeks deepened the tiniest bit when you laughed at the tickling sensation.

you murmur something intelligible, the words swallowed by his mouth; he shivers when the syllables reverbate against him and the hand at your hip falters slightly. when he reels back, he remains close enough for his forehead to brush yours.

" repeat that, love."

" i said," you mumble, kissing the corner of his mouth. " can we to stay like this forever?"

almost instantaneously his body shakes in anticipation, heart lurching at the sincerity; how can you be so honest to a known liar like him? he slowly nods, his body arching until your chests were touching and breath pricked at your cheek. ever greedily, he seeks out another exchange, this one careful with a lingering touch of desperation.

an "okay" became lost as he gingerly grabs your chin, angling it just the tiniest bit to deepen it. in between the withdrawals and recoil, dazai chooses to ignore the way his breath stills in the pinnacle of moment, made potent when he twines his hand with yours. he provides the appendage a firm squeeze in coordination with the stirring in his chest, your inhales and exhales becoming synchronized.

he can't lie, he's been thinking just as much.

✿

dazai also likes your hands. chances are his are bigger than yours and he finds himself comparing hand sizes with you. his eyes crinkle when your fingers are dwarfed by his.

adjoined limbs are swayed back and forth when you walk together. same applies with intertwined legs, but when he's not busy doing that, he's playing footsie beneath the table.

he needs to be with you whenever he can!! the spot across your table remains permanently empty as he makes a home of sitting as close as possible next to you instead

he can't even be embarrassed with overly sappy displays, not when he's loving it twice as much. " good morning, osamu," you once said, palms cupping his face. he doesn't know if something has ever made his heartbeat spiked as hard as that did. " can I have a kiss?"

if he didn't turn to putty from the request alone, then it was the way you circled your thumbs on his cheekbones when he brushes his lips to yours. tentatively, he curls his hands behind your waist, holding you close before you get too far.

" can i have some more?" his eyes are shimmering in mischief as ever but his skin has progressively grown warmer since you've found him.

dazai is cuddly. getting to hold you close and listen to your heartbeat? yeah, he could die happy right now

unsurprisingly, napping with him is among his favorite passing time activities.

the closest you may get to see a vulnerable side to him is if you card your fingers through his hair. admittedly, he finds it troubling how his built-up walls crumble so easily with a couple of strokes. but the only thing he can focus on now is the sensation of fingers devoid of pain carefully tend through his hair and how warm his chest feels

kisses on the forehead when you're in need of comfort ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

✿

" i'm right here, love." when you glance up at him with red eyes and puffy cheeks he could feel his heart break right into two. even more so when your voice cracks and he tries to hide the way his face drops when it echoes in the somber ambience.

attentively, he cups your cheeks as his lips apply delicate pressure against your forehead. he sighs when he feels your trembling hands subdue and your breathing regulate; its panning against his skin rivaled any other comfort he could ever receive.

" better?" when you nod, he could feel his grin return, just a bit weaker. " today has been hard on you. get some rest."

" can you stay with me?" he already knew the answer in his head but it still makes chest swarm tremendously.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, lips brushing your forehead again. " of course."

he wasn't the one needing comfort and yet he still felt a deep-rooted tingle right in his chest when you hugged him closer than usual. he depised the circumstances behind it, but he couldn't deny the way it made his barren chest feel less akin to a husk when you felt so secured against him.

his hands start to comb shrough your hair, watching as the strands bend between his fingers and he ensures to provide your scalp proper attention now and again.

he wasn't sure if he'll be able to sleep, he was more concerned in making sure you did.

he blinks when you move to press your cheek against his chest, right where his heart should be. " thank you," your words were muffled against clothes, sending vibrations along his bones.

" you don't have to thank me." he places a last kiss to your forehead, the longest one of the night. his legs shift to intertwine with yours, listening keenly to the sound of your breath until it slows into an assuaging rhythm.

dazai can't recall the last time he had to take care of someone. it's made apparent as he grapples with uncertainty - almost becoming overwhelming with how powerless he felt in the situation.

though tonight, he was sure to hold you a little tighter.

✿

likewise if you kiss his scars and the skin beneath the bandages, he could feel the breath in his throat still and his heart do cartwheels. it's been so void of human touch for so long and he appreciates the care you exhibit towards something he considers to be ugly.

" all better now!" you punctuated your words with a kiss to the newly coiled cotton on his arms. dazai could do nothing but swallow hard, his "thank you" mumbled under his breath; he didn't like the pain, but it wasn't so awful when you spoiled him like this ♡

neck kisses + scattering the expanse of your throat with baby bruises you can not hide. afterwards, he traces it out with his index finger while he takes in the markings with great interest.

when it starts to fade he gladly renews them

✿

" that tickles," you murmur, voice reduced to a whisper; you couldn't trust yourself, not with dazai scattering kisses along the exposed patches of your neck. the rehearsal of which doesn't falter, even when you tug on his increasingly unruly curls.

" my apologies, 'bella," you wince as he captures a patch of your skin between his teeth. " i think i've found my favorite form of art." he has the gall to feign a tone of sympathy, lips arcuated at the growing disparity.

in addition to the nibbling, his fingers skimmed along your torso, moving in taunting lines he knew ran your sanity thin. dazai knew all the places that made you shiver, it was a piece of information that became abused with the movement of his hands in that moment.

against your rationality, you sunk into his touch, fingers twitching along his roots. it brought a simper you couldn't see but his satisfaction is made apparent when his actions grow sloppy, scattering along the expanse of your throat and meandering along your collarbone.

" you had every chance to leave," he smirks when you don't reply, content with the way your nails briefly printed on him. predictably, he gives another nibble on your skin, tugging back gently. " this might be my favorite spot."

right on the center of your unguarded throat.

" i can't hide those there."

he laughs, breath cascading skin. " that's what i want, darling." he thinks he might lose himself when you bring a particular tug in his hair, a sound akin to a grunt reverberating against your throat.

" you're being mean." dazai makes the mistake of pulling back, gracing him with your disheveled hair, reddened lips and growing streaks of red. already he finds it to be his favorite piece of jewelry.

" don't look so down," he pressed a kiss to one of the blooming blemishes, grinning as it became more pronounced. " you'll get your turn soon."

-

—CHŪYA

he takes his gloves off when he goes to touch your face. he doesn't want the sensation of skin on skin to be hamper by the piece of article.

kisses to your temples & neck are exchanges he shares on the frequent. though depending on the height difference, it may also be a gesture reserved for when you're sitting on his lap or cuddled up into him. head kisses in particular feel appropriate for anything really

as for himself, i'd say he likes to be kiss on the lips(mainly so he can distract from the growing crimson that tickles his forehead)

but it's hard with the handsome face chūya has. his growing pout tells you he's growing impatient when you favor his cheeks, but the hand gripping your sleeves are so counterproductive

" can you do it properly?" he gruffs, brows furrowing that weaken by your persistence. his skin was growing warm from the kisses you spoiled him with but it hardly compares to the proper thing on his lips, aching for the familar sensation almost painfully.

he shivers when you trail to his mouth, just shy of it and his grip tightens. " like this?"

his eyes flutter shut when you close the distance and before he could realize it, his hands began to sift through your hair. " yeah," his exhale was shaky, voice dropping to a low lilt. " don't stop that."

he sleeps with his head buried in your stomach - his nose is brushing against your abdomen with toned arms slithering around you like a form of cocoon

it reaches a peak when you brush your thumb over his scalp, and you can physically note the way the muscles in his body sink. you can't see his face, greeted instead by a cascade of reds; but his lips pull into a grin at the action

it grants you the opportunity to play with his hair. and sometimes, when he wakes up to find the claw clips and cute brooches that push his bangs aside and show off his pretty eyes, he won't be tempted to remove them right away.

✿

he wanted to roll his eyes when he saw you pull out the collection of hair clips, taunting pastels and neons gawking back at him. but he has to admit, he stopped caring the moment you started to play with his strands of hair. the locks weaved through your fingers, silky and soft stirring a form of ease that compels him to remain still. when he did move, it was only in an effort to bring himself closer, almost like snuggling(though he profusely denies it as such and regards you a scoff that doesn't compliment the rest of his actions).

had he not been treading precariously the boundaries of sleep, he may have been able to pick up on the way his heart quickened; a solace riveting up his spine and leaving in the form of a breathy sigh.

he blinks his eyes at you, nose scrunched up when you start mapping out his handsome features with your thumb. " you're getting distracted."

you acknowledge his statement with a coy grin and chūya felt his heart swell even at its simplicity. "i know." you move to press your lips to his forehead; if the smile wasn't enough to dissipate the frown on his face, that was the drug.

a flash of color peeks in the corner of his eye as you draw another clip. " i was just wondering how you would look in pigtails," you joke and chūya could feel his face twist— eye twitching at your jest.

" you're pushing your luck."

" it won't be that bad, chū."

" i could leave right now." his voice was terribly unconvincing when brooches adorned his head.

" you would have left a long time ago." you grin when he doesn't refute you. " just relax."

chūya knows he's defeated when you thumb his scalp again, eyes screwing shut involuntarily. " you're enjoying this too much," he grumbles. he tilts his head to the side, granting you access to his hair, hands falling pilant against your thigh. it bewilders him how much relief washes over him as you start to pry the strands apart again.

you know he's fallen asleep when he stopped replying to your ramblings; his words going from full sentences, to sporadic words and then slurred vowels. when you peek down, he's resting comfortably on your lap, lips slightly parted and allowing light snores to fill the silence.

chūya is far too deep in his subconscious to contemplate anything, but if he could, he thinks he might just get addicted to this.

✿

a clingy drunk. in addition, the alcohol is effective at loosening his tongue, resulting in declarations of his undying love that are muffled when he goes head first into your stomach (≧▽≦)

in lieu of that, he likes to spoon you, with himself being the big spoon. he has his head in the crook of your shoulder, and you feel his inhales and exhales against your skin.

he likes your body heat, it grounds him to earth and coaxes a soft demeanor that he fails at suppressing

thoughtful when it comes to kissing in the public eye. he isn't fond of drawing that form of attention to your relationship, but he isn't opposed to stealing a couple of kisses now and then.

it's fast, it's simple and enough to satiate you and himself. and it's enough to tell onlookers that he's your bf

it that didn't give the memo, its the gloved hand on your waist that spoke to people that you were taken.

though that doesn't stop him from tugging you closer in a spur of his protective tendencies. it's a subconscious act he does when you pass a group of people or when yokohama is notably crowded. it's not merely because he's short and is worried about losing you to the sea of wayfarers(at least thats what he tells you) - rather, it roots from a concern that's only repleted when he knows you're safe

behind close doors, however, his kisses lack patience if the way he's gripping your clothes is anything to go by. and while he demonstrates a growing restlessness, he remains pensive to his own strength and withdraws to give you proper time to catch your breath.

but he knows exactly what to do intensify each one and make your brain go hazy

cupping your cheeks, tilting your head, voice speaking in a meticulous timbre that shakes your skull. you're far too consumed in the kiss to recognize when his free hand has found its way to your back, gliding along the spine before slipping beneath the hem.

his gloves are cold against your skin, mumbling a faint 'sorry' that's nearly swallowed when he brushes his lips to yours for nth time.

the limbs explore along the dips and contours, pinching your sides and smirking into the kiss when you yelp in surprise (inwardly, his heart is beating so fast, he wonders if you could hear it when his chest is pressed against yours.)

without the gloves, his hands are a hint warmer. but even warmer are his cheeks when you press kisses to it. he knits his brows together in an attempt hide how much he likes; ultimately, he betrays himself when he pulls you closer

✿

" what the fuck are you doing," he stammers as you press a kiss to his warm cheeks. despite himself, he makes no effort to move when you brush your lips on the other - even warmer than the neighboring pair.

"kissing you," you hum. "... want me to stop?"

" no." he hates how fast the words left him and he hates how you grin at that. it was just the thing to crumble his resolve - and more specifically, it's just the thing to make him go mellow, subservient to your ministrations with his heart beating erratically - even within the scrutiny of strangers and coworkers.

" give me a warning next time." he wants to frown but the expression dies when you crane your head to make contact wherever you can reach. in reponse, an arm finds purchase on your hip, shuffling you closer until you are nuzzled up to his build.

he wasn't sure what rumors would circulate if people saw him being soft - and frankly, he couldn't bring himself to quite care much about the prospect either; inwardly, he was already missing the rehearsal of your lips on his, a desire not easily quelled and he was far more occupied with fixing that.

you let out a confused hum when he suddenly taps at your cheek indignantly. " well?" a thumb hooks beneath your chin, bringing you just shy of his mouth. "are you going to finish what you started?"

✿

when he's making kissy faces with his partner, it's nobody's business.

if you have dimples, he kisses those, each one before concluding it off with your lips

chūya just likes to be in contact with you in some way really. longing to hold your hand and scribe incoherent phrases on the palm. reflected in the way his feet nudge closer to yours and how he never fails to hold your hand beneath the table. when handing you items, he reveals a form of reluctance when he detaches away.

i really want to say he does that thing where he places his fedora over his chest when he kisses your knuckles. he tries really hard to maintain eye contact, but it falters when you send him a beam that makes his chest ache from beating so fast.

and lastly, he never leaves without getting a goodbye kiss first.

✿

" you're forgetting something." chūya vexed— furrow brows bruising his otherwise neutral expression. he hasn't moved from where he stood, silhouette stilled by the partition with nothing but the perpetual tapping of his foot to remind you of his presence. it took all of your strength to push back your laughter at his childish display.

" i am?" you question with a tilt of your head. the inquiry rewarded you with a huff from the former, lip twisting into a frown. admittedly, he looked cute when grumpy, pretty dark eyes tracking you behind colored bangs.

" my kiss?" an index finger points to his neglected lips, promptly chooses to ignore the red hue that harbored along his cheeks, tickling his forehead tauntingly.

chūya tracks your movements as you stride forward, cupping his cheeks within your palms. he resists the urge to close the distance himself - as alluring as it was - he sought out satisfaction when you comply with a genlte kiss. against his own volition, a breathy and likewise dreamy sigh leaves him, just barely audible by the exchange.

his hands sneak down to rest on your waist, twitching when you press a final peck to his cheek. promptly, you decide not to comment on the way a grin was threatening to crack on his oh so serious face.

" better?"

"very."

-

—RANPO

yk in the movies where the guy picks up the girl and spins her around when they kiss? ranpo wants you to do that with him but he's the girl.

piggyback rides ! except he's the one on your back :/ " to the detective agency, y/n!" he jabs out a lithe finger, his dimple smile steady even when you meet him with a glare over your shoulder. it makes him more eager than anything, face squishing against your cheek as he loops his legs around your waist.

" don't give me that look" he exasperates, a brow quirk at your nonverbal response. " the world's greatest detective can't be in better hands."

" you can get there yourself," you sigh, averting your gaze back in front of you. it was hard to fight against him, his persistence shaping your decision the longer he clinged to you.

" thats the boring alternative. duh," he breathes, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. " you know me better than that. besides, i like it when you hold me."

likes kissing you. he will rope up any excuse to steal a kiss. he finished a piece of paperwork? he deserves a reward. finished eating a cookie? kiss the crumbs off. you have absolutely nothing else to do? well, his lips are right there, give him a smooch <3

his kisses taste sweet, the faint traces of chocolate and jams coating his lips. it won't be too far from him to make you guess the flavor of cake he had that morning, but really you think he's just trying to pull more kisses from you. cause he is

✿

" tastes sweet." ranpo shudders when the words vibrate against his lips, cheeks deepening to a rosy hue but the playful glint in his eye ceases to falter. " banana or strawberry?" you blink, a pensive look comprising your features.

a hand cups the back of your head, bringing you close enough for your lips to hover his, still glossy in faint syrup. " nope~!" his proceeding laugh was cut short as he closed the distance again, the ache to kiss you too profound. and with you seated on his lap, he utilized the given opportunity greedily.

you resist the urge to gasp when his tongue swipes along your lower lip, with it the tinge of a fleeting flavor; you recall watching him eat something sweet and sugary in the morning.

he smiles against your mouth, savoring your reactions and attempting to draw out the kiss. " that's definitely strawberry," you contemplate.

ranpo whines when you withdraw, grip tightening against your hands in a stubborn display - it was perhaps the most desperate response you've gotten from him that evening. " are you lying?" you tease with a knowing look; you don't think you've ever seen him shake his head as vigorously as he did now.

" i think," he brushes the corners of your mouth, fingers settling against your chin. "you'll just have to kiss me until you get it right."

the possibility to ponder a response was stolen from you, swelling lips already chasing your own with renewed zeal. dumbfounded, you were naive to the abandoned slice of shortcake just a couple tables away. but by the time you discover it, your little game would be long forgotten.

✿

his childish demeanor often seeps through into his portrayal of affection, fond of sweeping you off your feet at the displays(and at times quite literally too)

it varies in forms; one day he can slump against you like a koala, grip like a vice. and the next he decides to randomly squish your cheeks and bring a kiss to your puckered lips

" ranpo-?!" you sputter, disoriented from sudden and hasty movement. you recall looking over some documents, the next you were gazing into wide green orbs and a nose bumping yours. a self-satisfied look curls on his face, relishing in the way your face fumes beneath his touch.

" surprise~"

" what was that for?"

" just wanted a kiss." he evades the hand on your cheek in favor of curling your bangs around his finger. " i'll come back for more."

he's shameless, unafraid and bold. perhaps not to a similar depth as dazai, but ranpo yields an unpredictability that easily leaves you mellowing in his ministrations

blows raspberries on your cheeks and palms just to coax a laugh from you. it's a reaction he can't help but mimic too and implores you with a "my turn!" while tapping his cheek expectantly.

has probably nibbled on your cheeks at some point too…. :/

likes to hold your hand, slipping it into space randomly and nonchalantly. he sticky like that; appearing from thin air and finding your hand trapped with his.

even better if you sit on his lap or vice versa

when you sleep, he lays on top of you because he doesn't want you to leave him alone. plus! it provides him the perfect advantage to pepper his lips on your collarbone or other patches of expose skin

goodnight kisses (and nap kisses) are a must and he turns greatly fussy when denied such "necessities" as he puts it

✿

" i'm only going to get a glass of water," you reassure him, sweeping his messy bangs aside to press a kiss to his forehead. the crease between his brows goes slack, but his grip remains fixed; it was late, and the last thing ranpo wanted was for you to leave your spot on the futon. " i promise."

his eyes surveyed your face for an inexplicable answer and the fidgeting of his fingers against your forearms tells you he's hesitant.

a silence shrouds the dorm before he speaks again, voice weakened and resigned - it almost made you want to stay in bed with him, enveloped by the unspoken words and his endless aura of affection. " okay." you trace your finger over his cheek, pallid and smooth beneath the pad - the gesture was persuasive enough for his grip to grow lax. he didn't let you get too far yet however, an outstretched pinky waiting before you. he bestows you a broaden grin when you accept it, pressing a kiss to the tip of the adjoin digits.

he doesn't leave your side even as you fix yourself a glass of water, your shared blanket haphazardly draping his shoulders and trailing behind him. he lingers by your arm even as the facet runs, interrupting his thoughts with tired green blinking in impatience. and he watches you through his bangs as you replenish your thirst, already looping your arm and guiding you back to your futon.

not a second after your head meets the pillow, ranpo wraps himself around you, dawning a smile now that you're back with him. he didn't care if his elbow was probed at an odd angle, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

" you can't fall asleep yet!" he whines, pulling on the sleeves of your shirt languidly. " it's only fair if you give me a kiss."

" i gave you one earlier."

his gaze shifted to a mixture of displeasure and yearning, small hands pulling eagerly on the fabrics of your clothes. his pleading green eyes made it hard to resist his demands, obscuring into a candid vulnerability you seemingly wielded over him.

" but," ranpo leans close enough for his nose to brush yours, messy fringe framing his sleepy face. his hands flex around your palms, nails scuff on the contours, voice going so low you almost didn't hear him. " i can't fall asleep without it."

✿

pinches your cheeks when in vie for your attention. in any case, he isn't against stomping his foot and whining as a last resort :<

his pout dissipates when you grant him with a collection of kisses or allow him to sit on your lap, fiddling with the ends of your hair or scribbling random phrases on your thigh that he makes you guess

i wouldn't put it against him to randomly jump into your arms or back. the questioning glances he receives hardly impedes him, instead murmuring an "i miss you," into your shoulder. he quivers in your arms when you comb your fingers through his hair, eyes squeezed shut in an air of bliss.

when it comes to deep embraces, he nestles against you akin to a cat, hands pawing wherever he can reach with greedy intent. and that cloak of his can easily encompass the pair of you, performing as a makeshift den of sorts. it feels like your enclosed own little world with him pressing kisses along your face like a butterfly

ranpo is attentive, all too familiar with your habits including the ones you don't cognitively account for. he notes the way you fidget with your fingers, and increasingly it came to be with his fingers you grew fidgety with. if you have a habit of tugging your sleeve, it's not your sleeve you're tugging on anymore but his instead.

he comes to recognize these patterns and responds in kind either with a squeeze to your clasped hand or tapping against your skin in a form of code.

has love hearts in his eyes when you offer to feed him. if he's feeling kind, he'll reciprocate the gesture, though, often at the expense of getting something he wants.

napkins are overrated, kissing off the crumbs or using his thumb are so much more favorable alternatives to him

" say ah~"

you cocked a brow as sugar became smeared on your lip - hardly helped by the titter coming from him. ranpo's persistence was tenacious and the myriad of his treats proved to be bottomless. you weren't sure how many treats you've been fed at that point but it's evident the former found enjoyment from the coddling as evidence of his dimpled smile.

ranpo offers you another confection, a velvety cookie glazed in congealed frosting. when you indulgently take a bite, the filling melts in your mouth and the taste of vanilla floods your taste buds.

" it's good right?" he gives you a smile as he observes your face, brightening when you react positively. " i got them just for you. i knew they were your favorite."

he suddenly pauses, eyes fixating toward your direction. he pays little heed to the look you send him, not when his gaze centers south; that should have been your first sign to up and leave - you want to blame his bribery of treats for your reason to stay.

" you got crumbs all over your face," he said, eyes squinting. while his tone was gentle with a trace of mirth, the way his eyelashes batted innocently at you alluded otherwise. ranpo always held a resurgent glimmer in his eyes, one that he couldn't blink away easily.

he hastily stops you before you could grab a napkin to dapple it away, residing to instead run his thumb along the corners of your mouth. the deliberate proximity catches you off guard and given how his lips shift into a faint smirk; that was exactly the reaction he was hoping to coax.

" much better," he leans back but not without pressing a peck to your nose first.

he plucks out another cookie - and much to your surprise doesn't eat it down right away. more accurately, he crudely cracks it half, revealing an abundance of sugary filling hidden within the confines. without a hint of hesitation, he dips a finger into the cream frosting and messily swatches it against his mouth.

his dimpled smile doesn't leave him for a second even as he slots in front of you directly. his pink cheeks and light stutter chipped away at his facade but his green eyes and lips pulled into a firm beam remained confident.

you almost detested the way it was infectious otherwise you would have rolled your eyes.

ranpo reached out to cup your cheeks, waiting. " it's only fair you do it back, okay?"

-

—ATSUSHI

he holds a lot of hesitation when it comes to enacting anything physical and it shows.

modest, never performing any actions without your explicit consent. even so he exercises slow movement and allows you the opportunity to withdraw if you so desire.

he follows you around a lot though, seeking comfort from being your presence

it shows in the way he inches himself closer to you when you're in the general vicinity. in the way he glances at you for confirmation before lacing fingers. in the way he scoots his chair to close just so his thigh is just slightly nudging yours.

he questions how you're able to be so composed even with something as minimal as brushing clothed skin because inwardly he's going abrack and he can't focus on anything else

" atsushi are you listening to what i'm saying?" your voice broke him from his stupor, head perking up

in the following moment he could do nothing more than let out a nervous laugh, eyes fluttering in companion of scarlet cheeks. " ye- i… erm.. can you repeat that please?"

actually him -> (〃´𓎟`〃)

his favorite physical attributes about you are your hands, i think! they're so strong, and it fits into his perfectly <3 he can spend an hour just tracing the lines along your palm and appreciating the details

as such he's a hand holder as well. he shyly links his pinky with yours before gradually lacing the rest of the digits. when he looks at the joined limbs, it's like a shot of comfort runs right through him.

✿

you often catch him peering at you in the corner of his eyes, mosaic of yellows and purples squinting in intrigue. presently, his hands go clammy, fidgeting against his pants at a random manner; it was a common gesture of his, one that didn't go by unnoticed by you.

" something wrong?" he eases up a bit at the sound of your sincere tone.

" no, not at all," he gives off a nervous laugh, hand scratching the back of his neck. too far into his nerves, he failed to to recognize how the area became chafed. " i was just wondering," he paused, lips shaped into a bashful smile. " can i… hold your hand?"

atsushi didn’t have a mirror on him but he doesn't doubt that his face can put tomatoes to shame.

fortunately, the stiffened muscles on his back go slack at the giggle you release, a nervous chuckle pouring from himself. the erratic beat of his heart meanwhile, resumed its ricochet against his sternum, blood pounding on the lobe of his ear.

"you don't have to be so hesitant about holding my hand, 'sushi." you accentuated the statement by dipping your palm to take his.

it's evident he takes your words to heart, as next time he wordlessly hooks his index finger with yours before properly weaving the rest of the appendage. it was like a perfect puzzle, he reckoned and he gave his head the faintest tilt to gaze at it.

without realizing it, he rolls his thumb over the knuckles, savoring the exchange and the sensation of your fingertips on his. you haven't even spoken a word and already, his heart fills immensely full.

and if you pay attention, you may even catch him grinning at the presumably courageous gesture he mustered himself to do. his clammy palms tell you he's nervous, but it's hard to resist him when he's genuinely trying so hard.

✿

when he does garner the confidence however, he holds his hand out for everything; helping you out of the car(princess treatment w him tbh!), guiding you to bed when you're really sleepy, or when he just needs to be in some form of contact with you. he may even take it a step and pepper some kisses on the knuckles or rub the joints

moving his hand along your back when you're having a bad day of sorts. he may even resort to drawing shapes or random designs with the back of his nail as he listens to all your troubles

whenever your face scrunches up he kisses the pinched muscle until it goes loose again.

" there's that smile." he pushes aside his diffidence for your sake, cupping your cheeks before pressing kisses along your cheeks.

for himself, he finds a sort of reprieve by lying down on your lap. the moment his head makes contact with your thighs is like instant relaxation for him.

and all he can pay attention to afterwards is the sensation tickling his ribs and the way you mindfully took his roots within your fingers.

he seeks stability in such actions; his deep exhale occupying your dorm and meandering with the dust particles that float around him. he doesn't even realize how he's nuzzling closer into your body, eyes squeezing shut when you favor his scalp for a few seconds.

if he could purr, he would

kissing the tips of your fingers and hugging you from behind ♡

its the best form of affection he could ask for when he comes home groggy and sore from work

✿

" i'm home." exhaustion claws at his voice, movements stiff and sluggish as he strips of his tie and other accessories. his eyes surveyed the area, searching until…

a pop of familiar hues sweep into his vision. it revitalizes just enough energy to sustain a pair of open eyes, belied to the fatigue housed prior.

" welcome home, 'sushi." you greet with a smile he couldn't help but mimic even as the muscles in his body disagreed with it.

your mouth moves to mumble something else, but the words become intelligible to his ears. he was more far more concerned in slumping into the crevice of your shoulder, head falling into familiar position.

" miss you," he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against you, affectionate as ever. his hands wander down to your waist, finding the hemline. perhaps his growing daze subdued his rationality, for his hands slipped beneath, pinky faintly hitting skin.

" let's go." you gently tugged on his arm, intending to guide him to your futon; you only managed a couple steps before his grip went firm. almost uncharacteristically. when you turn your head, your met with a pair of fluttering lashes gazing at you - droopy but in its reflection was an intangible touch of fondness.

" this is fine," he brushes his lips to your cheek. the gesture was sloppy but enough to rekindle a grin on your face. " just want you here."

his finger sprawled against your stomach, heart hastening when you leaned back into him. he took the opportunity to douse himself in your comfort, relishing when you brush your fingers past his ear and scratch along his head.

he feels himself sink more when your nail caught a certain spot, just lateral to his head.

if it weren't for your voice breaking the silence, he would have surely fallen asleep at that moment.

" i'm right here," you murmur. " go ahead and rest." he wasn't sure how those words could weigh heavily on him as it did and also provide him the lull to drift off to sleep. but it didn't matter. the real thing is so much better than he can ever imagine.

✿

when you cuddle together, he prefers to settle with his hand or head where your heart should be. the thumping is so reassuring, especially when his insecurities pipe up. he needs to know you're still there :(

on the days he can't sleep, he finds himself playing with your fingers: gently flexing the joints and counting the knuckles

he's docile at anything routley intimate; fuming a pair of uncomfortably hot cheeks and legs reduced to jelly. his words often come in the form of stutters and slurred syllables, the slightest of touches jolting him.

his actual kisses though are gentle and considerate, favoring areas such as your hands and cheeks.

in contrast, the drawn-out gestures are hesitant at first. when it came to the first kiss, he had to swallow down his nervousness.

" did i do okay?" he inquires, eyeing your countenance. he feels a crash of relief when a grin curves on your lips and in turn he flashes you a dazzling amiable smile.

"good." he nods at that, removing the space again with the intentions of lengthening it and making it better than the last. good was fine, but he wants perfect when it came to you

when atsushi gets a taste of what physical affection can be like; pecks at his face, squeezing your hand and spooning you close - he's hooked. and he wants more, becoming akin to an insatiable pit. and it's profound.

he yearns for more kisses and lingering embraces that set his nerves aflame. he yearns to be closer to you until it was just impossible.

it also spurs a part of him(and in consequence of his ability as well) a yearning to leave some markings along your skin. he tries to be considerate in where he places it, but he himself is awful at hiding his own blemishes.

✿

a shaky expression drops on his face, the faint pink on his cheeks deepening to a cherry blush. he wasn't familiar to having your lips press beneath his chin, outlining the thrum of his throat - you could feel it's cadence whenever he sharply exhales, in pair of his palpitating heart.

even within his daze, atsushi remained cautious to not sink his nails into your shoulders. in comparison, he fails to suppress his shudder when your lips brush against a particular spot, air knocked from his chest.

when you glance up at him, his face contorts into a form of raw desperation, tugging onto your clothes until you were just shy of his mouth. meekly, he tries to not linger his gaze on your lips as you spoke; " is this fine?"

it's like you're teasing him, puffy magenta lips gawking at him and he wants nothing more than to kiss you again.

" it is." from the corner of his eye he could make out the faint reds that probed from his clothes hemline, dotting along his collarbone like swatches of paint. he doesn't think he'll ever grow use to it, filling him with an exhilaration he reasons can't be replicated elsewhere.

" i like it actually." his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to steady the eruption of red on his cheeks but it did little to quell his racing heart when you cupped his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

" i'm glad, you look handsome like this."

his smile reaches his eyes. "you look pretty too." his nails dug into his palms in an effort of restraint as he returns the gesture in kind.

-

I was originally hoping to include fyodor but this was so long already. w/ him (& unfinished) it would be 8k words. I rlly want to do version for sigma and akutagawa too. ty boxing fyodor anon 4 enabling my behavior TwT

these have so much room for improvement but I've fiddled around with it sm (๑′°︿°๑). if this doesn't leave the drafts now, it never will. I'll fix mistakes laterrr

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandiss @4nthonyyliving @guacamole-roll @sunnyx07

be added or removed here !

[zuhaism]

⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ Y/NRINA FAN FAVOURITES ?! 

[ navigation ] pt2

pairing : aespa5th!member x yoo jimin

synopsis : fan favourite y/nrina moments that convince them that they’re more than friends

genre : fluff

┈ clip 1

“we’re in sydney… nature. there’s y/n sunbathing on the grass”

giselle and karina walked over to you. her already closed eyes tightened as their shadows loomed over her. “she’s enjoying the moment..” karina explained to the camera.

“shes also asleep” giselle said with a giggle after nudging the girl and getting no reaction. “yah.. wake up!” karina poked y/n’s side. she flinched and warned her “do it again and ill jump you.”

karina giggled and poked the girls side deeper than before making her sit up. karina stood up and started running while y/n chased after her.

the clip got cut off to y/n on top of karina in the background of winter saying goodbye to the camera. they were on the grass as y/n sprawled her arms out over karina. if you squint you could see y/n cuddling into her.

y/nsairpods : nahh what they doing back there in 4:59

winterinari : we all saw that y/n

┈ clip 2

“helloooo everyonee !!”

“we raided y/ns room”

the live showed ningning, giselle and winter on y/n’s bed. it was currently 12:40am.

“what are you guys doing up?”

“we drank coffee hihi” said ningning as they looked for interesting comments.

“where’s y/n and karina?” read giselle aloud. “here they are.. unnie ill cover your face.” my’s could hear ningning whisper as they turned the camera around.

showing karina facing them straddling y/n on her gaming chair with her hands wrapped around y/n’s shoulder. while she played minecraft.

“haiii” karina waved with her bare face being covered by winters finger. “y/n say hi” winter spoke up.

she raised the hand that was on her keyboard and waved, her gaze still on the monitor. karina giggled and nestled her head deeper into the crook of the girl's neck, turning her attention back to her phone.

ningfordays : THEYRE DATING CMON

meowrina : mann if my girl aint clingy like that i dont want her (i want karina)

┈ clip 3

“now were done with our japan tour..” karina said still chewing on her food. beside her was y/n who eyed her food and opened her mouth.

karina picked up a piece of pickle and fed it to the younger girl. “you gave me vegetables.” y/n made a disgusted face.

“next time get ur own.” y/n made an annoyed face. “you look like a nerd with those glasses on .. chat do you agree with me. please comment ‘karina is a nerd’ i will be watching when this video uploads.”

y/n said whilst taking the camera from karina’s hands and fighting her off before she could get it back. “stop” karina sulked, going back to her food and ignoring y/n who shoved the camera on her face.

“atleast im a cute nerd.” y/n giggled at that.

“my cute nerd”

┈ clip 4

“hello everyone today i’ll be doing y/n’s make up yay!” karina said as she clapper her hands. she layed out the make up materials. “go wash your face first.” karina said to y/n who looked like she just had woken up. with her messy hair and oversized tshirt and pants.

“today we’re going to stroll around nyc but y/n is tired from jetlag so im helping her with her make up.”

y/n came back a little fresher than before. “come sit down.” karina motioned for y/n to sit infront if her. where she prepped a chair so the camera could capture it.

karina was standing as she did y/n’s make up until she got to her eyeliner. “agh this is hard while standing.” karina groaned as she pulled back from applying the eyeliner on y/n’s eyelid.

“sit” y/n pulled karina down on her lap as she was already towering above her. the camera caught the tips of karina’s ears turning red

y/n held karina close, steadying her as she worked on the eyeliner. making karina have the height advantage while y/n just closed her eyes and looked up.

ninging : ik what u are

tinniewinter : idk if i wanna be karina or y/n

┈ clip 5

“cut!” the choreographer called out. aespa was rehearsing for their synk hyper line tour in japan. everyone let out a breath of exhaustion as they let their muscles loose from posing.

karina approached y/n, who stood at her spot with her eyes closed, caught in a moment of post-performance relaxation. she didn’t even flinch when karina grabbed at her hoodie strings that got in her shirt from the vigorous dancing. fixing her hoodie.

she looked back up to face y/n and made eye contact with her. the camera caught the tip of her ears turning red. before she went in to wrap her arms around the girls shoulder. trying to ignore the flustered feeling from the sudden eye contact.

y/n, slightly taken aback, looked at karina with a hint of confusion. she returned the embrace by wrapping her arms around karina’s slim waist.

[arminsumi]

Why was i stressing over a promt when you have a whole list? *facepalm*

main nsfw #9 with aki? pretty please?

CAN'T STOP CRAVING IT

↳ AKI アキ + fem!reader

#9 : he's obsessed after his first time with you

[ Note ] : oh hehe 🤤💗 hope u likeyyy so sorry this is a bit late!!

[ Warnings ] : 🔞 MINORS DO NOT READ/INTERACT : contains 18+ content, public sex, toys (panty vibe in public), car sex, creampies, daddy kink if u squint, "sl*t"

Your boyfriend tries to act so cool about it, as if he isn't basically drooling when he catches a peek of the curve of your ass under your shorts. It's a hot summer, the hottest he's ever experienced because he had you for the first time.

Let's be honest; no one's ever made him feel as good as you do. So he can't stop craving you.

You'll be humming and going about your daily chores when suddenly Aki's smooth hand cups your pussy through your shorts, and his lips latch onto your neck. He'll give you hickeys, relishing in your moans as he marks you up.

"Angel... 'need you for a sec... can you come to the bedroom?" he always asks so innocently and then it leads to an hour later—

— you have your legs spread wide, Aki's hips snuggled between them as deep as he can be. He grips your hips tight and thinks they're his lifeline. His cock is getting milked and milked and he just can't get over how it feels to be inside you, to move his hips and elicit nasty sounds from both you and your squelching hole.

Aki's not shy in the bedroom. Not at all. He rubs on your clit and coos the dirtiest things into your ear, working up a sweat.

"Cum for me again, I wanna feel it." he groans, pushing ever deeper into your velvet walls.

He's still new to your pussy, yeah, he can't really find your G-spot yet with the tip of his cock but he really tries. Because Aki's ultimate goal is to make you scream "daddy" and squirt all over him. And if you know anything about him... it's that he's determined. Especially between your thighs.

Even outside the bedroom Aki is insatiable. He buys you a panty vibe one day and practically begs you on his knees to use it in public while the two of you meet up with friends.

You're sitting opposite a friend at dinner, talking as normally as possible while trying to ignore the buzzing sensation of the toy snuggled into your clit. And Aki's on his phone next to you playing with the settings of your vibe like it's a toy. He texts you after you cum;

Aki : ur so cute when u pretend ur not cumming in front of everyone like a slut :)

You : fuck you haha

Oh my god and you know, he has to fuck you in his car :( that's one of his all-time fantasies. He thought about it on one date with you. He's a smooth operator, he has you in his backseat, bent erotically for him, taking his cock as he gives it to you how you like; hard strokes with no breaks.

"Fuck... Aki... not so hard, you're making the car rock too much. We're gonna get caught." you moan.

"Y-yeah I know... 's hard... you feel so fucking good... s-so tight from behind..." he grunts and keeps stuffing your small cunt full of himself, big lanky body arching over you making you feel even smaller than usual.

And poor obsessive Aki... he can't just cum inside you once. No, he needs to drain his balls into your cunt until there's not a drop left... I mean, his reasoning is "where else does my cum belong other than inside you, baby?" so he always leaves you with multiple, gooey loads dripping down your slit. Sticky and thick. You and him quickly give up on buying condoms, because the feeling of getting filled up with his cum is too good to deny.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Anon request - "can you PLEASEE give us something super smutty, super kinky, halloween themed either both sam and colby or just colby. kinda like the halloween one you did for sam?"

Basically, this will be reader at a Halloween party and they decide to mess with an ouija board and Colby gets attached to reader, but doesn't reveal himself until reader is home.

Warnings: SMUT18+, Strong language, alcohol consumption, drunk actions, demon! Colby possesses reader, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (both), choking, hair pulling, scratching, filth

Word count: 4.7k | somewhat edited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“Alright guys.” Ray says as he claps to get everyone’s attention, “Halloween game time.”

You walk into the living room, shocked at what you see, "No." You hold up your hand, pointing to the board lying in the middle of the circle, "No. fucking. Way."

The group groans, trying to convince you, "Come on, you really believe in that?" One says. Another chimes in, "It's all fake anyway."

You roll your eyes, "You have no idea what you're messing with. Plus, you all are fucking drunk."

"Come on." Your best friend, Amelia grabs your wrist as you stand up, "You don't have to touch it, but just stay with me.." she laughs slightly, "Moral support."

"You know this could get bad. Fast." You whisper as you lean in, “I am always saying how these things are a bad idea.”

“Can you please just stay.” She more or less demands, and you lean into her, squinting, "You're scared, aren’t you?”

She scoffs, "N-no.. u just.. can you just please?"

You sigh, "Fine. Fine. But I'm not touching that thing."

You sit there, watching as the guys across from you argue about how to get started.

"How do you- where's the instructions?"

You sigh, "You're supposed to cleanse the board first, and it would be better if you would stop-" you watch as someone spills alcohol on the board and you sigh, "Drinking."

"Lighten up, y/n." Sam says nudging you, "What? Are you afraid that we'll let all the dark spirits in?" He laughs, "Hell is empty tonight. So.." he leans over, "Can't summon something if it's already here, right?"

You rolled your eyes, you felt like the only sober one there.

"Alright, everyone, one finger on.. this thing." Ray says pointing to the pointer, "oh, and someone kill the lights."

You close your eyes one the lights flick off and everyone but you puts a finger on the pointer.

"Just do it."

You look at Amelia, "Did you say something?" She shakes her head, "No." you look over at Sam, "Did you say something?" He shakes his head, "No." a smirk grows on his face, "Hearing things already?"

You roll your eyes and sigh, "Fine. Fine." You lean forward, laying your pointer finger on the pointer, "Fuck me."

"Trust me.."

You close your eyes, shaking your head. You regret even being at this party.

You want to take your finger off the pointer but you physically can't.

It's like it's glued there.

Stuck.

"If there is any spirits here, we'd like to talk." Jace says with a slight laugh and you tilt your head as you stare at him.

"Jace, you have to ask nicely. They need to feel safe." You say looking up at him, "We welcome the friendly, positive spirits to talk to us."

The pointer starts to move, "Oh shit." Sam looks up, "Yo, who's doing that?" Sam laughs slightly, "That's not funny."

Everyone denies.

It moves to H then slides over to the I.

"Hi?" You all say in unison, "Hello."

You look at Amelia, "Ask it something." She goes wide eyed, "Are you fucking nuts?"

You sigh, "Fine. I'll do it. What is your name?"

The pointer starts moving, going to C.

Then O.

Then L.

Then E.

"Cole? Is your name Cole?" You ask and it slides to YES.

"Are you a demon?" Jace asks and you all look at him. You shake your head, "You don't-"

The pointer slides to MAYBE, making everyone shut up.

You try to take your finger off but it still feels stuck, and you hear a quiet whisper, "Stay."

"You can't just ask shit like that, Jace." Ray says, "Are you stupid!?"

"What? Are you scared?" Jace says with a laugh, "You said you don't believe in this shit."

The pointer moves, sliding to the letters A, S, K.

“This isn’t supposed to move on its own… right?” Amelia asks quietly as she looks over at you. You shrug and look over at Sam.

"Ask?" Sam whispers, "How many of you are there?"

The pointer moves to 1.

"So it has to be just one." Amelia looks at you and back to the board, "Are you Cole?"

“That was already asked.” Jace says with an eye roll, but the pointer slides to YES, anyway.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks and before you can correct his question, the pointer moves to each letter that spells out your name.

“Y/n..”

"Fuck no. No!" You yank your hand away, "Who did that?" You look around and they all shrug, "I'm serious. Who fucking did that?" Your voice is in a high pitch and you sigh, "I’m done."

You stand up but you get dizzy and stumble backwards. Amelia and Sam stand up, holding onto you.

"Whoa, you alright?" Sam looks down at you, concern on his face, "y/n."

"I’m not gonna hurt you."

You shake your head slightly, "Yeah." You stand up straight, "I'm fine." You smooth out your costume and walk to the bathroom, Amelia on your tail, "What happened?"

You stop, whipping around, "What do you mean what happened? Those idiot fucks moved it to scare me because I didn't want to do it."

"Then why did you?" She holds her hands out and shrugs.

"I felt like I had to." You look at her, "Like something was telling me to."

She walks up to you, laughing slightly, "that's called peer pressure, y/n."

"It wasn't.." you sigh, knowing you're just wasting your breath, "Yeah.. you're probably right." You look up as she walks into the bathroom and you see a shadow standing at the end of the hall.

"Jace? Ray? Sam? Come on guys this isn't funny." You slowly walk towards the shadow, preparing yourself for one of them to lunge at you with a 'boo'.

"You okay?" Sam peaks his head around the corner from in the living room and you look at him. Your eyes move back to where the shadow was, and it's gone.

"Yeah, I'm just seeing shit now." You sigh, "I thought you'd never fuck with an ouija board, Sam."

He shrugs, "Peer pressure."

"That's what I said!" Amelia says in a sing song tone as she walks back into the living room. Sam looks you up and down, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah, that'll do that to you when your name is spelled on one of those things." You laugh slightly, "I just don't-"

"Listen." Sam walks up to you, "It was probably just Jace or Ray playing a stupid prank. I'm sure it wasn't anything. They didn't even do it right."

You shrug, "If I go missing, I'm blaming them."

Sam laughs and looks back the group in the living room, "Come on, I'll drive you home."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

It kept replaying in your head. The pointer moving to each letter. The shocked and scared expressions from everyone.

They couldn't fake the genuine shock, especially with majority of them being drunk.

"Do you think it was real?" You ask looking over at Sam in the drivers seat. He shrugs and rests his elbow on the center console, "I mean, maybe.. but like I said, they didn't do it right. So if anything were to happen, it'll probably be to them."

He laughs and you sigh, "I'm serious Sam. When I was going to the bathroom, I swear I saw something in the hallway, just standing there."

"I'm sure it was just that stupid fake tree that Leah got Jace to buy. I'm sure it was nothing but your imagination feeding off your fear."

You nod, "Yeah, you're probably right." You laugh at yourself, "I'm such a scaredy cat on Halloween."

He looks over at you as he pulls into the driveway, "Yeah. You're telling me." He rolls his eyes playfully and laughs.

You look at the door to your house, "Do you wanna come hang out for a little bit, just until I'm not scared?"

He turns the car off, "Yeah, I can."

You make your way inside and as you open the door, you see the same shadow you saw in the hallway of Jace's apartment standing over by the door to your kitchen.

You quickly flip the lights on and it's gone.

"That shadow was there again." You point and Sam moves in between you and the door, "Stay here." He goes to check it out, coming back out a few minutes later, "No one is here."

You shut the door and sigh, "I knew that was a bad idea. I should have next touched that thing."

"You know, I heard stories or people burning them or throwing them out and they reappear in the spot they were in last." Sam walks to the couch, plopping down and you just glare at him, "Not helping."

"You don't have one of those here do you?" Sam looks back to you and you shake your head, "Hell fucking no."

"Then you should be good." Sam laughs and turns back to the tv.

"I'm going to go for a shower. I'll be back down." You make your way up stairs, undoing the corset on your costume and taking a deep breath.

You move around the room, looking over your shoulder when you feel like someone is watching you, "Sam?" You call out as you walk out into the hallway.

"Still on the couch." He yells back and you laugh slightly, "Alright."

You walk back into your room and close your door as you finish getting undressed when you suddenly feel frozen.

You can't move.

You move your eyes around, trying not to freak out.

"Relax, babe."

"Mm." You whimper as your lips are pressed shut. You feel a hand drag up your back, "I'm not going to hurt you."

A man walks around your left side, stopping when he gets infront of you.

You couldn't lie, he was hot, but you were more worried on how he got into your house. Past Sam on the couch.

"If I let you go, will you stay quiet?" The man asks as he brushes your cheek.

You try to nod, but you can't, "Mhm."

You feel your body relax and you sigh, "How the fu-"

"Lower.. your voice." He walks around and presses his chest against your back, "Don't you want to know who I am?"

"N-no." You hesitate because you were intrigued by him, but you also didn't want to die.

"You won't die, baby."

You look over your shoulder at him confused. He chuckles, "I can read your mind, so that means I also know that you find me intriguing, but you're still scared."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Cole, but I go by Colby. Or-" he laughs, "did. I did go by Colby before.. ya know."

Your eyes go wide, "So that was real?"

"What the ouija board?" He nods, "Oh yeah, that was all me."

"You spelled out my name. Why?" You turn to face him, "Why me?"

"Because I like you. Your energy intrigues me as well." He runs his fingers along the open seams of your costumes, "Why don't you pick up where you left off, yeah?"

You bite your lip, multiple things going through your head.

He sighs, "Alright. I'll answer those questions because you're giving me a headache." He chuckles and steps back, "My name is Colby, or Cole. I am in fact a demon, and I died when I was twenty four, but that conversation is for another time."

You blink, trying to comprehend what he just said.

"And yes. That was me controlling you, I can honestly make you do anything I want you to, but if you're a good girl and do as I say, I won't have to." He winks and walks over to the bed, plopping down onto his side.

"How.. I mean.." you pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes. You sigh and look up at him, "I thought demons had horns and black eyes or other creepy features.."

Colby chuckles, "I have horns, yes. But like what I said about making you do things, i can make you see things, too."

As you stare at him, his image flashes in your mind and you see him with horns and his blue eyes are black. You blink and look back at him and he's normal looking.

"Crazy right?" He sighs and heaves himself forward to sit up, "I can walk amongst the living, just like this and I can even control more than one person.. if I wanted to."

"Why are you here?" You cross your arms, feeling a chill run down your spine as he walks up to you. He looks into your eyes and they flash quickly from blue to black, "Because you want me here."

"I don't remember ordering a demon off Uber Eats." You snap and he laughs, "You're funny and pretty? Jackpot."

He walks around you, his hand sending a tingle through your shoulder as he touches it, "The devil himself would love you. You know why?"

"Why?" You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze and he smirks, "Because you portray yourself as an angel, but really you're just as nasty as me."

Your heart beat picks up pace and it makes Colby smirk, "You don't have to be nervous, darling." He tucks hair behind your ear and sighs, "I won't hurt you. Not unless you want me to."

He winks and you feel a warmth spreading over your body.

"What do you want from me?" You chew on your inner cheek and he stares into your eyes, "What I want from you right now, is for these clothes to come off."

Your hands move to finish taking off your costume, leaving yourself naked infront of him.

"You're such a treasure." He licks his lips and steps towards you, "Tell me what you want me to do."

"I-I don't-"

Colby cuts you off, "I can read your thoughts, baby. But that's not enough for me. I need to hear you say it."

You clench your jaw, trying to keep the thoughts out, but you couldn't. They were strong and you didn't know where they were coming from.

"Are you putting these thoughts into my head?" You look up at him and he shakes his head, "I am not. That's all you, baby."

You're shocked. Shocked because you're so turned on by him when you really should be petrified.

"There's no reason to be afraid of me, baby. The only people I hurt is people that deserve it, and you my dear, are far from deserving of that." He smiles, "I'm here to serve you, if you will."

"Serve me?" You swallow, "What do-"

He cuts you off with his lips on yours and you immediately become his. You can't explain it, but it feels like you belong to him.

His hands move into your hips, warming the skin as he squeezes, "Fuck." He leans back and shakes his head, "Tell me you need me."

"I need you." You whimper out quietly.

He tilts his head, "do you?"

You nod, "Yes." You felt like it was him making you say that, but he assures you it's not.

You pull him back into you, kissing his lips only to pull away when there's a knock on your door, "Y/n? You good?" Sam jiggles the door knob, but you don't remember locking the door.

"I locked it." Colby makes you look at him and his eyes flash black, causing you to stare into them as he speaks, "Tell him you're going to bed."

"I'm going to bed."

"Oh... alright. Well I'm just going to crash on your couch if that's okay." Sam says from in the hallway.

You look over at Colby and he nods.

"Yeah, no that's fine, Sam." You bite your lip, "Goodnight."

"Yeah.. night.." he walks away mumbling to himself and Colby appears in front of you, "Now let me show you something cool."

He stares at you and you feel a pleasure sensation slowly consume you. You furrow your brows, taking a deep breath as you try not to moan.

"Let it out baby, don't fight it." Colby whispers and you moan almost instantly.

Colby smirks, waking around your body, "I can make you feel things without even touching you." You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering close as you feel the feeling you get right before you're about to cum.

And then it stops.

You whimper, sad the feeling is gone.

"Don't worry baby. We have all night. Well." He looks at the clock on your wall and shrugs, "At least until midnight, so we better get to it yeah?"

You look at the clock that reads eleven twelve, "why midnight?"

"We can leave hell empty all night, baby. But let's not worry about that right now." He pulls you to him, lifting you up and your legs wrap around his waist.

He walks you over to the bed, "Spread your legs for me, I haven't tasted pussy in years." He kisses down your body and you bite your lip as gets closer to your clit.

You arch your back, moaning out as his tongue drags up between your folds, "Fuck." You look down at him and his eyes flash black, his voice ringing in your ears as his tongue laps at your pussy, "Don't cum until I tell you to cum."

You nod, closing your eyes as you lay your head back, whimpering out his name.

His voice rings in your ears again, "Say my name, baby."

"Colby.. fuck, yes, Colby." You arch your back, moaning out as your hand slides to his hair, pulling slightly which earns a moan from him.

You look back down at him, biting your lip as you lock eyes with him.

You freeze when you feel the feeling of two fingers slip into you, but his hands are still on your hips, digging his nails into your skin.

Your eyes roll back and you let out a loud groan, "Oh my god."

Colby pulls away, "God's not here baby. You're dancing with the devil tonight."

His words make your lips part and the feeling of being finger fucked heightens. Colby watches you as he controls how you feel.

Your legs start to shake as you approach orgasm, but Colby is holding you back from it, "a little longer baby. Can you do that for me?"

You nod quickly, gasping as his hand moves to rub circles onto your clit, "Tell me."

"I-I can.. I can.. I can.." You needed to cum, and you needed to cum bad, "Please? Please Colby."

"Please Colby what, baby?" He watches as you look up at him, "please let me cum."

He smirks and sighs, "Since you asked nicely." He bites his lip, tilting his head as he pulls his hand away, "Cum."

Your body explodes with pleasure. Your thighs press together and you're pulling the sheets off of the mattresses.

The best orgasm you've ever had.

"I take pride in that, baby. Thank you." He leans down, kissing your lips as you breathe heavy, "I'm only here to give you the absolute best pleasure you'll ever get."

You smirk up at him, in awe of his power, "Don't ever leave."

He chuckles and stands back up, "I wish, but if you only knew what it's like down there. Devil runs a strict schedule."

You can't help but laugh and his face goes serious, "I'm not kidding."

Your smile disappears and he can't help but laugh, "Nah, I'm just playing. But I will be back. I can tell you that right now." He slips his shirt off and starts to undo the belt on his jeans, "you won't ever get rid of me."

And you were weirdly okay with that.

You bit your lip as you watch the demon before you undress and walk over to you.

"On your knees, baby."

Your body moves from the bed and drops to the floor, "Not fair."

"Never said I was." He grips your chin and forces you to look up at him, "You can always tell me to stop. But I know you don't want me to."

"No." You whisper and he tilts his head, "No what, baby?"

"Don't stop."

He chuckles, "That's what I thought." He takes his hand away and you part your lips, waiting for the head of his cock to enter.

He lets out a low, deep moan as you work your head down onto his cock, bobbing it and hallowing out your cheeks.

"Fuck, you're better than i ever imagined." He lays a hand on the back of your head and you feel that finger fuck feeling again. You moan around his cock and close your eyes.

"Eyes on me, baby."

You look up at him, whimpering as you feel the pleasure work its ways up your body, legs shaking below you.

"Such a beautiful sight." Colby groans, "fuck, yeah. Keep going." His fingers wrap around your hair, pulling tight as he pushes your head down more.

You gag around him and he pulls your head off, eyes flashing black, "Stand up."

The pleasure stops completely as you rise to your feet, obeying his order.

"Get on your hands and knees." He nods towards the bed and you comply, walking over to the bed and bending over for him.

He walks up behind you, bringing his hand up to let it fall with a quick smack to your one asscheek. You wince, biting your lip, "Do it again."

Colby chuckles, "Since when did you become the one in charge?"

You clench your jaw and look back at him and his eyes flash black, "You won't be able to cum until I say you can." He winks, flashing you a smirk before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, "How's that?"

You roll your eyes and he gasps, "Are we catching an attitude? Last time I checked.." He reaches up and grabs your hair, pulling your head back and looking down at you, "You weren't the demon in this situation, now, not another word until I tell you."

You bite down on your lip, whimper as you feel his fingers slide up and down your slit, "You're soaked, darling, I wanna hear all those pretty sounds."

He rubs the head of his cock along your folds, slowly pushes past them, "Fuck." You rest your head down on the bed, moaning out loudly.

"That's it." Colby groans as he pushes his hips against your ass. His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you back and holding you on him, listening to each moan and whimper that slips through your lips.

"Let's hear em, babe." He slowly pulls his cock out and thrusts back in, hard. You gasp, moaning loudly he keeps a slow and hard pace, "You sound so pretty."

You grip the sheets, pulling as you try and push back, but you're frozen again, all you can do is moan, hoping he lets you speak.

"You wanna speak, baby?" He taunts, "you wanna tell me how good my cock feels?"

You whimper in response, clenching around his cock and he sigh, "Alright baby. Tell me how good you feel."

"So fucking good." You scream out, "please.." you whimper, "Please don't stop."

"I won't, darling, but you have me so close already." He brings a hand down, slapping the skin of your asscheek, "You are fucking.." he groans and squeezes your ass, railing into you.

"Hands behind your back and keep them there."

Your hands move, laying on your lower back like they're tied together, a moaning, unraveling mess under his control.

And you loved it.

"I knew you couldn't turn me away." Colby moans out, laying a hand over your wrists and holding them, using them to pull you back into his thrusts, "Do you want to be choked?"

"Yes, but I want you to touch me." You squeeze your eyes shut and lift your head slightly as you feel his hand slide up your body and around to the front of your neck.

He pulls you up so you're on your knees, "No one has ever had this much power over me." He whispers in your ear, "No one."

You smirk slightly at both his words and his hand squeezing your neck.

"Such a dirty girl, I know exactly where you're going when it's your time." He thrusts into you, his thrusts quickly getting sloppy, "And I'll be waiting for you."

You moan and tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder, "Colby." You whimper out, "P-please."

He smirks, "Words, baby. I need you to use your words."

"Let me cum.." you moan out, "P-pl-" he squeezes your neck tighter, cutting off your words. He runs his nose up and down your cheek, "If you cum, that means you're mine. No one else's."

A squeak slips from your throat, "Y-yes."

"I mean it." He bites down on your ear lobe, "I know you have a crush on Sam.." you bite down on your lip and he sighs, "But I guess he can suffice when I'm not able to come to you right away."

Your eyes go wide and Colby chuckles, "I'm just kidding. He touches you and I'll snap his fucking neck."

You can't help but moan as you clench around him, “No one but you.” You whisper out, “P-please Colby.”

“Do you mean it?” His thrusts are slow, as he’s trying not to cum himself, “Be honest with me baby.”

Instantly, “Yes, yes, only you. Only you.”

He glances at the wall and tsks his tongue, “Gotta go soon baby. Lay on your back for me.”

You roll over after he pulls out and he immediately slides back into you, a moan pulled from your lips. Colby brushes hair from your face, staring down at you as you look up at him.

You see his natural look flash and a smile grows on his face, “It’s the horns right?”

You bite your lip and nod and he chuckles, “Yeah. Maybe next time I’ll wear em for ya.” He winks and begins to thrusts again, biting down on his lower lip as he watches your face scrunch up.

“C-Colby, please.” Your legs wrap around his waist and your nails drag up his back, forming red lines, “Fuck.”

He says nothing as he watches you beg for him.

You let out a whine, laying a hand on his cheek, “Please.”

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours before leaning just an inch away, “Cum.”

Your back arches up, a pornographic moan ripping from your lips as your orgasm tears its way through your body.

Colby moans with you, as he fills you with his cum, “that’s it baby. Let it all out.” He watches you twist and turn, trying to get yourself under control, but you quickly realize that you’ll never be in control with Colby.

“Alright, relax, darling.”

You rest into the bed as your chest rises and falls quickly as the dizziness fills your head.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, baby. Don’t go too far.” Colby chuckles and when you open your eyes, you’re alone.

You sit up, pulling a blanket around yourself as you frown at the clock on the wall that reads midnight.

You shake your head, wondering if this actually happened or if it was all just an alcohol induced dream, but the quick settling pain in your legs as you stand up, makes it known to you that it’s definitely a reality and not a dream.

You look in the mirror, laughing slightly as you find yourself missing Colby.

You swore you’d never touch a Oujia board, but now, you’re kinda, in a very weird way, happy you did.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

This is kinda short in my opinion, so sorry about that! But I have ideas for a part 2 on this! I have many many requests that I’m going to try and power through, so part 2’s will be on hold for right now!

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[leclsrc]

in so deep ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, charles has a huge crush and is a lovesick bloke, smut, humor, Fluff 

word count: 13.1k  

It takes you many cities, a botched Halloween costume and a failed break-in to realize how much Charles likes you. It takes Charles several years to realize he doesn’t need to do much to have you like him back. title from this

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, praise central, size kink, unprotected sex

auds here… thank u for all ur love during my periods of being awol .... i wrote this over the course of a week and i hope u all like it!!! its very much a self indulgent thing... :P

The first time Charles realized he liked you, you were both posed for a picture.

It happened at a dinner party in London, in late autumn, thrown by you to celebrate your first year on the paddock as a reporter. Few friends had been invited but, with how noisy everyone was and with the ease of conversation, it felt like a houseful of people in your narrow dining area. Lando was in front of the mirror, tipsy, demonstrating his best rendition of an Irish accent to a genuinely interested Alex and Lily. 

Max was playing with your pet cat, Gene Kelly, and mentally plotting a heist to sneak him out with Pierre’s help. Your boyfriend, Liam, was making himself a cocktail. And Lewis had been roaming around with a glass of dry wine and his brand new film camera to document the night’s festivities—but the host was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to everyone, full off dinner and tipsy off cocktails, you’d ducked into the balcony to find where Charles had run off to for the night.

The music was muffled when you shut the door, leaving it ajar just a little bit. Lissie had played Cocteau Twins and was singing whatever gibberish lyrics played, fully drunk off a bottle of Tito’s. Still laughing over her predicament, you turned to Charles and refocused your attention on him. Is it boring?

What w… what is? He asked, turning to you. Briefly his eyes flitted to your hand, the bracelets clasped onto your wrist. He noticed you held matching bottles of beer but yours remained full, nail tapping idly on the semi-opaque glass.

My party, you responded wryly, cocking your head to the side. A loose tendril of hair fell over your eye and he itched to tuck it back in place, thumb over your ear. You continued, still pressing for an answer. You left to smoke but you didn’t come back. 

I like the view. A half-lie but truthful in some way. He squinted to try and make out blurry, faraway signage. I should move here. Monaco makes me sick. He tried to say it jokingly, but was betrayed by the raw tone of his voice. You hummed quietly, to signify you were listening.

So move. Who’s stopping you? You smiled slightly. Aside from your ludicrous career, of course. 

You had a natural disposition of—something. He didn’t quite know how to describe it, almost like the rest of him had yet to catch up with something only his heart was already decided on. You spoke and acted with some kind of smoothness that only the most popular kids in secondary school could have reins over, but you always claimed you weren’t very popular in your teenage years. He just knew he liked hearing you talk, watching you smile. He felt something—but he didn’t want to name it even if he knew exactly what it was. Instead he played into your joke. Yeah, I’ve been told I should move to Dubai instead, become a prince.

You laughed aloud. You are terribly unfunny, you know that?

Am I? He asked. Just then, as the cotton of his tee brushed against your bare shoulder, Liam brashly tugged the balcony door open to find you. He had this drunk smile on his face, brushing his blond hair out of the way and raising a Leica to the two of you.

Hey, I got Lewis’ camera. Smile, Liam had said, eyes squinted behind it. You remained still, half-turned to the camera, and Charles gave a smile whereas you remained in a neutral, half-smiling pose. And right there, at that very moment, as a giggle escaped your lips from having to pose so quickly and even awkwardly, Charles realized with a damning force that he had a massive crush on you.

Liam had left shortly after to resume taking pictures, but would later confront you over your “weird, odd, fucking closeness with the Monegasque bloke” that you would vehemently deny despite a gut-churning feeling boiling low in your stomach. But that’s later. Your conversation continued calmly, along the passive whir of London and the streets below. You both people-watched as you thought of things to say—finally Charles said, Are you interviewing me next weekend?

I always try to get out of it when it’s with you. You rolled your eyes, feigning irritance, then smiled to break the illusion. I think so.

I’ll make sure I have good answers. You’re too smart. Hurts to be in the same room. 

Like you aren’t, you said back, but the rebuttal is shy in nature, like he struck you with a compliment so high you couldn’t bear to return it. He felt then like this was the kind of moment where you would start holding hands any minute, timid touches between clinks of bottles. He remembered Liam existed and screwed his eyes shut. He wished so hard to be able to kiss you. Abandon all sense and just kiss you.

—

“It’s 2023 and still London has the most rubbish ass, fucking cunt, stupid wanker stoplights,” Lissie huffs beside you, checking her watch. “Right then. We’re going to be late. You know how Lando is when people are late. Especially because this is his event.”

“We’re not people to Lando,” you reason, tapping the steering wheel. The ETA on your navigation app tells you you’re still twenty minutes away. “We’re his best friends. If he can’t forgive us, we should kick him out of the group chat.”

“Ooh, and add Alex,” Lily pipes up from the backseat, where she’s redoing her eyeshadow to pass the time. “I keep telling you guys he’s funnier than Lando.” Both you and Lissie make faint, vague sounds of dissent and she grunts again, deflating.

“No boyfriends in the group chat,” Lissie repeats an age-old rule that’s been around for as long as you three (four, including Lando) have been friends. “Or girlfriends, in Lando’s case, but we haven’t worried about that much, have we?”

You’re all en route to watch Lando crank out a brand-new deejay set, one he’s spent the summer break working on. It’s all house and inspired by beach music, and he’s very proud of it, so of course you’re all showing up to laud him. You’re not the only ones, though, apparently—whoever’s in the city is showing up to show their support, which includes a whole stretch of drivers.

“Oh, my God!” Lily says all of a sudden, eyes wide at something on her phone; you both gesture for her to show you and she does with speed. “Do you guys remember this? God, Instagram archives are a godsend.”

“Your dinner party in Chelsea!” Lissie coos, immediately sidling into a fond awwww! You tap at the story Lily had then posted: a video of everybody eating. You tap again to view the one she posted a few days later, which was a collage of Lewis’ camera scans he’d gotten developed overnight. There in the upper right corner, you almost immediately spot your photo with Charles.

“Oh, Christ, that picture.” Memories of your subsequent arguments with Liam flash past your head. Playfully, all you say is, “And I never had a boyfriend again.”

“Liam was an Irish arse, anyway.” Lissie scoffs. “Nobody liked him. Lewis joked about cleaning his camera after he used it that night. Plus, you actively avoid dating, so don’t complain.”

“Fair,” you say with a slight smile. Your mind lingers on the picture, the imprint of it burned fresh into your mind. 

“You—it’s also because you can’t take a hint, babe.” Lily says matter-of-factly. “Who knows how many guys have, you know… fancied, or, like, had crushes on you, and you just never knew?”

“Are you saying somebody fancies me?” You ask, voice whittling out playfully as your eyes count down the seconds to the green light.

Funnily, silence is all that answers. Beside you, Lily and Lissie exchange a look—one that communicates their years-long amusement over your cluelessness. You whirl back to them, eyebrows raised, and double down: “Wait. Does somebody fancy me?”

“No!” Lily ekes out; you don’t miss Lissie’s poorly-hidden laugh. “No. I’m just—it’s just—no.” 

Truth is, it truly seems like the only person in the entire paddock (team and Sky Sports staff included) who hasn’t caught on to a certain somebody’s boyish crush is the crush herself, oblivious as ever, even years and years later. One might think you’d have realized eventually, but perhaps owed to your type A personality and immersion with work, and Charles’ pathetic and total inability to express how much he likes you, the crush has always remained just that, despite your two friend groups’ best efforts to hint at it.

It wasn’t to say, though, that you didn’t sometimes entertain the idea of liking him, too. On that one rainy race weekend when he’d brought you a plastic cup of soup, and embarrassed, laughed sheepishly at Lissie’s joking request for one; then returned twenty minutes later with soup for everyone in the media pen. Or that time in Monaco where he’d pretended to be your boyfriend at a bar to ward off a creepo from hitting on you any further. Or another time, in Budapest, when he’d drank half his body weight in jello shots and slurred out a goofy, heavy I’m soooo sorry, baby while you helped him into the passenger seat of his car.

That one, singular time in Cancun you told your friends once and never again.

But those are isolated incidents, you suppose; plus, dating someone you work with has never seemed like a remotely good idea to you, and you don’t think it ever will.

For all your thinking on the topic, you fail to realize that you don’t know much at all—you don’t know the fact that Charles has liked you for years, after getting to know just how charming and funny you were as a friend. You don’t know that he still gets gut-churning butterflies when he sees you, hands shaky and face tinged pink. You miss the fact that he’s not had any long-term partners in the years of his liking you. You don’t know anything. 

“Don’t lie.” You narrow your eyes as you rev the car and continue the trip. 

“We’re not,” Lily says loudly and a touch too defensively, crossing her fingers. Quietly, she continues, “You should just pay more attention.”

Whatever she meant to say is lost on you as soon as you make a left and spot the club Lando’s at, already teeming with high-profile guests and their high-profile cars. Half an hour later you’re in—valet and being on the guest list effectively cuts your entrance time in half. You separate at the entrance—you, to find Lando; your two girls, to find your reserved table. You find him eventually, busy behind the booth churning out high-frequency tropical music; he pauses for half a beat to flash a huge grin and a thumbs-up before redirecting his attention to the knobs and sliders you can’t seem to guess the functions of.

These kinds of parties are affairs in and of themselves. They mimic the afterparties during the season—nothing if not shows of opulence and networking: champagne paid for by business magnates, yachts that barely make dents in anybody’s wallets, thick CVs, fruity cocktails spilled on pieces of clothing that cost upward of 3000 pounds. You make eye contact with at least seven skeevy businessmen before you spot your friends, but only because you hear them first—by them you mean Lissie, her loud voice raised even more to match the noise at this club.

“I said I didn’t fu—ugh—I don’t want ye fahkin’ champagne,” she slurs out to an old man in a pressed suit, eyebrows knitted angrily. “Got it?!” Behind her, Lily and Alex (who’s arrived now, apparently) watch, concerned and helpless to stop her but equally (perhaps more) entertained.

You step closer and make a move to calm down the exchange taking place, but somebody whispers a “hey” in your ear and startles you. You turn, and come face to face with Charles. His black tee accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, which you connect to his crossed arms; there’s a shy, boyish grin playing on his face. “Oh, Charles!” You smile. “Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin, straining to raise his voice. “You look—you look well. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m—” You turn to your three friends nearby, and to Lissie’s argument heating up. “I actually have to go.” You raise your thumb, jabbing it toward them. “But hi again… again!” You both laugh, but he laughs much louder. “I’ll see you around.”

“I jus—” He says, and you stick around for a second to hear him say what he has to say.

“Yeah?”

He clears his throat and laughs stiffly, abandoning his previous statement in favor of a new one. “I just…. want… to have a great time.”

“Ohhhh,” you holler, nodding, clearly trying to mask your extreme confusion under a polite smile. “Okay, well… go ahead!”

You smooth down your dress and laugh again, evidently more forced but, unfortunately for Charles, not any less pretty.

You carry yourself in a very pretty, graceful way, loud and quiet at the same time, like your confident voice when you’re holding the mic and asking questions or making drivers laugh. He might sound creepy, though, a touch too observant, if he tells you so. He observes you instead, for a second, the low cut of your dress and the way the red overhead light shines on your exposed collarbones—and then you’re leaving. He watches you walk over to hug Lily, realizes how stupid he’s sounded, and smothers a hand over his face, humiliated. 

—

“I just want to have a great time?” Max’s jaw drops and he shakes his head, disappointed above all else. “Charles, what the actual. Like…. fuck?” They’re all camped out at the latter’s hotel room, around the dining table, in varying states of sober and doing different things to wear off the last hour of the night before they’re all due to train or debrief again in the morning. Charles had relayed the disaster of the night to everyone at some point, but Max is the last to hear of it; this, unfortunately, does not inoculate him from the shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“Pierre told me to—” Charles starts, forlorn.

“Oi, no. I told you to say something like I just wish… I’d seen you sooner,” interjects the Frenchman with a tut. “You know, flirting? Not… whatever the fuck you said.”

“I didn’t—I was—I lost my mind,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. It couldn’t possibly be entirely his fault when you looked so pretty tonight, hair down and a wash of glitter on your eyelids. Just subtle little flecks of them. They brought out your eyes, too. And your blush, the pink flush of it that sat high on your cheekbones.

“…llo? Charles.” He blinks and sees Carlos’ deep eyes, wide and staring right at him, so pointedly he’s genuinely startled.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ. What?” He places a melodramatic hand over his chest. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean with the”—Carlos mimics his confused expression—“I asked you a question, tonto.” 

“Don’t bother with him,” chimes in Pierre, half-distracted by his phone. He looks up with a devious smile and continues. “He’s still thinking of Miss Reporter of the Year.” A round of loud, jovial laughter makes its way across the table, a few teasing quips being chimed in here and there.

“I just,” mocks Pierre from across the table, adopting a sing-songy tone as he bumps his shoulder to Carlos’ with a mocking laugh. “Wanna have a great time.” His voice is much higher and more mocking, which is enough to send Charles into a fit of petulant embarrassment.

“This isn’t sixth year,” he grits out quietly, but the blush on his face could just as well be plastered on the cheeks of a twelve-year-old. “Give it a rest.” 

“Mate.” Pierre’s voice mellows into something more austere. “You do know she’s leaving the reporters’ job at the end of the season? She’s going to London full-time. No more seeing her all year round. You know this. And I keep telling you. If you are really, and I mean really, interested, I say go for it. C’est la fucking vie, yeah?”

“Plus, if she says no, you can go for pretty much anyone else, anyway,” concludes Max with a convinced smile.

“It’s not the same,” he admits helplessly, smothering his hands over his face in bleak frustration. Behind his eyelids he sees you still, beautiful and smiling and funny—he seriously needs to institutionalise himself before he goes even more mad with the years-long malady he’s called a crush. And seriously, for a twenty-something to have something he calls a crush is despicable in itself. He feels juvenile.

“I can’t tell her. She’s always told people that dating coworkers is a bad idea.”

“You’re not coworkers.”

“We’re—well, we still work closely together. It is the same.” He groans. “It’s just… I’ve said it before. If I admit I like her, things will become awkward. I’d rather we remain friends.”

“Well… see, nobody said you needed to tell her,” begins Pierre schemingly, eyebrows raising. Around them, everybody groans at the birth of another Pierre-brained scheme that will, no doubt, need the enlistment of everyone’s help and will likely end in disaster. “What?! I’m just offering… I’m just saying, mate—you’ve liked her since forever. Why not make a move?”

“—I can’t—”

“Without telling her?” 

“Pierre,” groans Carlos, ever the voice of reason, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t—whatever this is you’re planning, it’s going to go to shit. I swear.”

“You are acting like I plan to take somebody hostage.” Pierre shrugs. “You know, girls like when you don’t tell them straight up. You have to show you like them. You know, be interested in the things they’re interested in, compliment them, make them laugh. And then they think, oh, how thoughtful, oh, how adorable, and before you know it, they like you. And you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

“Mmm. Uh-uh. Untrue.” Max says decisively, shaking his head. “I told Kelly I liked her.”

“Yeah, sí. I told Isa I liked her, too.”

“Will you two—just—” Pierre gesticulates and makes a funny noise that insinuates just go with it. “Okay?” he points out to the latter, rolling his eyes. He turns back to Charles with a ready, dazzling, so-French-it’s-scary grin and continues. “I suggest you let us be your wingmen and help you charm her.”

“Whoa, whoa, wh—us? You’re on your own here,” Max quips with a laugh. “It’s your stupid idea.”

“It’s not stupid, and it’s going to work. She probably likes you already.” His confidence carries the lie with gusto. “We just need—you just need to show her instead of saying the dumbest shit to her face.” Pierre leans back into his chair and shrugs matter-of-factly. “Max and I will be regular wingmen, but we have a secret weapon.”

“Don’t—” Carlos starts with a sigh.

“Yes. Lando, Lily, and Lissie are all close to her, eh? Well, perfect—Carlos will get information from Lando about things she likes, you gift her those things or talk to her about them, bam she’s in love. It’s literally a perfect plan.”

Maybe it’s worth it. Maybe—

“No.” Charles shakes his head firmly, setting the record straight. “This will not work. Who’s to say she even needs a boyfriend?”

—

Despite what his best and closest friends—on and off the paddock—might have you believe, Charles hasn’t always been so hopeless when it came to trying to catch your heart. His closest call came in Cancun, after a long weekend of racing and a flight to the area, early into the night where he thought he was the only one who decided to opt out of partying.

Your skin’s peeling. You turned from where you sat on a barstool observing the shore, startled, immediately relaxing when you found him standing there eyeing you. Your hair was still damp, crunchy with saltwater, and your skin had tanned considerably, a sunburn sitting on the bridge of your nose. You stuck your tongue out.

I spent the whole day swimming. He observed your bikini, yellow and green contrasting the colour of your skin. He blinked slowly, ordering himself a drink to hopefully pass the thoughts away. His eyes couldn’t stop, though, wandering, the translucent material of the scarf you’d tied loosely around your hips, the tinge of heat on your shoulders and nose. I’m burnt everywhere.

There are remedies for that. He smiled around his glass.

I’m aware, you said lightly, crossing your legs and sliding your finger along the salt rim of yours. But just in case I forgot, maybe you could refresh my memory.

Your voice was so sweet, so low, so tempting. Already he knew he was wrapped around your finger, the same finger picking up grains of salt to press on your tongue peeking between your smiling lips. You brought your glass to your lips. It had been some time since the dinner in London so he pressed, his voice deep and a little rough, Liam can do that for you, I’m sure.

Pity, you said meekly as you set your glass down and looked back at him. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.

Out of eyeline, the bartender’s eyes widened at the exchange he was overhearing. 

Is it a pity? He asked, leaning backwards and cocking his head to the side. It’s easy, an easy glide of conversation, flirt, something he’s wanted for a while now. To have you playing into him, and have himself playing into you, just like this. It was naturally easy in a foreign city where nobody knew who either of you were, where you were just two strangers flirting at a beachside bar.

Two strangers laughing while they dug their toes into the sand. Two strangers basking in the water, tinted orange by the sun dipping below the horizon, scarf untied in favor of one last swim before night fell. There was nothing keeping either of you from doing whatever you wanted. Nothing keeping Charles from finally acting on the attraction that honest to God crushed him.

You ended up leaning on the door of your hotel room, keycard fiddled in-between your sandy fingers. You combed a hand through your hair and offered a shy smile. So. 

So, he replied, leaning closer. So.

Sooo. You were laughing and your breath smelled like a mint leaf and vodka. You looked up at him, blinking slowly. I have a rule.

What rule is that?

I don’t date coworkers. He wanted to dip down, place a hand on the dip of your waist, and kiss you.

Pity, he said gruffly instead, a smile forming on his face.

Is it a pity? You chewed on your lip and looked at his barely parted ones, pink and pretty. When I’m about to break it? He was about to help you do just that—eyes fluttered shut already—when a crash resounded from down the hall and you both turned to find the culprit. You broke apart and with your separation, whatever atmosphere of tension you’d built up popped, too, leaving you awkwardly standing beside each other.

Oh m… Lissie? You asked, leaning closer as you recognized your friend more and more. You narrowed your eyes, watching the girl crawl her way through the carpeted floor. Oh, Jesus—let’s—get you—

You both hauled her up and wrapped either arm around your shoulders, unlocking her hotel room with great effort and tossing her onto the bed. You stood back and sighed at her half-blacked out state, slightly amused but ultimately relieved she ended her night unscathed.

She pried one eye open and sleepily, she groaned out, what were… you two… doing together outside your room?

Nothing, you said quickly, face warm and eyes wide.

Because you—Lissie raised a lazy finger in your direction—don’t date coworkers. 

I wasn’t—it wasn’t—goodnight, you spluttered, eyes refusing to meet Charles’ even as you both exited the room, paying him quiet thanks as he pulled the door back closed.

Sorry, you said, pretty as ever. The light shone on the red splotch on your nose. Goodnight.

And so he went to his room that night, bummed out and still high off your scent.

—

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m not,” he lies through his teeth, averting his eyes away from your figure by the shore. Sue him if he was staring (which he wasn’t… but most definitely was) but he finds you much too pretty. After the disaster that was the Mexican GP, he figures he could use some sort of stress reliever. Apparently he was not alone in thinking this, considering half the paddock hauled ass to Cancun and prompty partied.

Across Charles, Joris and Pierre share a knowing look that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I said I’m not!”

“So you are not staring at her blue swimsuit then?” Joris tests, mouth twisted into a devious smirk. “It’s black,” Charles says matter-of-factly before catching sight of his friends’ smug expressions and realizing he’s implicated himself. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, petulantly almost. “And I wasn’t. Can you fucking—fuck off?”

“Just ask her out already,” Pierre groans, nodding when Joris chimes in with agreement of his own. “I seriously can-not handle another bar of this shit. It’s been years.”

“I don’t know how to,” he laments. “It’s going to be awkward if I do it all formal, and she’s going—she’ll laugh at me, and it’s…” He blows a raspberry. “Non. Pointless.”

“Just kiss her at the party,” reasons Joris with an easy attitude, shrugging. 

“Joris! Charles didn’t know about that,” Pierre says, trying to lower his volume, but it’s pointless since they’re barely a metre apart. “Fucking tattletale.”

“Party?!” Charles repeats, eyes wide. “Why don’t I know about a party?!”

“It’s a Halloween party,” Joris says, a wacky grin on his face. “And you said it yourself, didn’t ‘cha? You told us not to tell you if any functions were happening because you’re too tired to go to any. Too… too wrapped up racing.” He laughs. “Or something of the sort.”

“Well the season’s ending,” he huffs, wringing firm fingers over his face, his shut eyes, “and I still fucking haven’t… so I think I’m afforded a party.”

“Alright, then come to the party! Dress code, Halloween. Sexy Halloween.” Pierre wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, speaking of our plan, Carlos overheard Lissie and Lily talking about what your girl’s costume is going to be.” He leans in closer and laces his fingers together. “She’s going as a… Christina.”

“Christina?” The other two echo, confused. 

“Christina. I did some digging, and I think it’s this.” Pierre scrolls and dicks around on his phone for a minute before turning it back around to Joris and Charles, who peek with great interest. They seem to be looking at an outdated movie poster of—

“Cas-per the friendly ghost,” Charles reads aloud, trying to get his accent to dissipate. “Huh. What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a movie, idiot.” Pierre shuts his phone off. “Starring who? Christina Ricci.”

“Vraiment? You think his crush is going to show up wearing… a white gown?” Joris asks, his mind stuck on the outfit he’d seen just seconds ago. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Well Carlos and I agreed, so. Two to two. And Carlos says she and her friends always wear silly costumes like these. So if she shows up as Christina, what better way to start conversation than to dress up as Casper?”

Charles’ eyes widen with comical horror. “No. No, no, no. Did the ghost and the kid fuck?”

“No!” The two men across him yell in unison.

“Right!” He gesticulates. “So it’s not a couples’ costume!”

“But it’s still—” Pierre pauses. “It still matches. Trust me on this one, mate.” He smiles. “We even brought the supplies.”

—

The party is a hit as soon as Charles and his group enter. The former finds refuge at the table, unwilling to socialize. Pierre roams for a bit and ends up finding you almost immediately—you’re wearing low-waisted pants, a strappy top, and you sport alternating streaks of blond and black in your hair.

“Hey!” He calls, jogging up to you. “I heard you were coming as a Christina. Guess who I am?”

You rake a hand through the streaks in your hair and smile. “Not just any Christina. The artist. Xtina? You know?” You twirl a bit, the dark material of your strappy pants swishing as you go, as if the movement will help Pierre deduce the costume’s identity. “Whatever. You’ll get it. Lando is—we’re matching tonight, but I g—it wouldn’t make any more sense if you don’t understand it.” You sigh a bit and gesture vaguely to the crowd behind you, referring to the Eminem-dressed Lando, who you guess is currently caught in the thick of.

“Xtina?” Iks-tina, he repeats, clearly confused. “I remember hearing… somebody saying you were going as a… a Christina.”

“Chris-tina, Xtina, yeah. Christina Aguilera.” You smile, fingers pinching at the material of your belt. “Anyway—where is everyone? I’ve only seen Daniel’s costume and then yours.” The recent memory of Danny’s neon orange traffic cone costume bumping into everybody flashes in your mind.

“Save yourself,” he huffs, smoothing calloused hands over the denim of his jeans. “Zhou and Esteban came as Bella and Jacob, Max as a Tifosi. Anyway”—he points to his ensemble—“guess yet?”

Your mental images of each cited costume are cut short. “Aha! You’re, um. Yes! You’re Ken from the Barbie movie,” you crack finally, remembering the revealing denim vest and jeans combo from the film you’d watched four times over in theaters a few months ago. “Wow, even your briefs say Ken. Very accurate. Minus the non-bleached hair.”

He tuts and shrugs. “I’m no Alex. What’d he come as?”

“He and Lily matched—Sonny and Cher.”

“Let me guess,” Pierre starts, and already you’re nodding because you can tell he’s going to predict exactly how the night has turned out, “Alex is Cher?”

“Wig and sequined dress and all.” You nod, laughing and squinting; Alex’s tall figure, head clad in a long, fringey, black wig, stands out above the rest. “Oh, I did see Carlos at the bar. Ricky Martin?”

Pierre really laughs at that, a loud, distinctly French guffaw involuntarily forced past his lip glossed mouth. “What the fuck, mate! Ricky Martin?! He’s El Profesor from La Casa de Papel. You know, Money Heist? Bella ciao? Oh, my God, he’s going to fucking freak if he hears—heard you said that.”

“He seriously gave off Ricky Martin vibes,” you defend in-between laughs of your own. “So that’s everyone? Oh—oh. Charles! What did… I never saw him! He kept telling me how excited he was for his costume, too…” Just a few hours ago, at that—a boisterous voice honing into the your voicemail inbox, boasting about a costume while you prepped for the party with Lissie and Lily. Your eyes peruse the room, but the lighting is too dark and vague for you to make out anything you haven’t already seen.

“Oh. Charles?” Pierre’s voice lilts higher. “Um. Yeaaah. Um.”

You, however, are sufficiently distracted by your own search for him, and you fail to notice Pierre’s clear scrambling attempt to stall you. He takes a long swig of beer and clears his throat. “He’s just, well, around. I should actually—excuse me, I need to actually go look for him. I owe him a drink.”

“Oh? Oh, okay. Well—be careful?”

You’re a bit surprised by his sudden, jolted departure, but bid him a rushed goodbye anyway. He waves back vaguely, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression of worry as he shoves his way back into the crowd and toward the area littered with tables. It’s only then that Lissie surfaces from the crowd, scratching absently at her nose as she crashes into you with a floaty giggle.

“Lis, you’re all sticky.” You place two palms flat against her shoulders and push her off. “Are you high?” 

“Yes but not drunk.” She giggles again, eyes fluttering.

“Oh—that’s not. Whatever, I guess.” You exhale and cross your arms over your chest. “Who’ve you been with?” She listens, plays with the braid in her hair, matching her getup as Lara Croft. 

“Um, the deejay. I gave him my number, but he’s actually pretty fucking weird. Come on, I want to pee.” As always, her speech quickens to something inhuman, an effect elicited by alcohol; giving you essentially zero time to react, she loops a hand around yours and drags you with ferocity to the nearest restroom. She moves so aggressively through the thickly-packed crowd you barely have time to react or say hi to people you’re acquainted with en route.

You whiz by the door, and in the rush, you notice Pierre entering the one adjacent with a worried expression etched onto his face. Just minutes ago you’d been conversing—you wonder why he’s suddenly become privy to worries.

“So the deejay,” says Lissie, effectively distracting you for the time being. You hum to signify you’re listening, fixing bits of your outfit in the mirror as she kicks different stalls open to judge their cleanliness. “One, he was dressed up as James Bond. Which is just about the most fucking pretentious thing ever. Two, all he played was Chainsmokers. You’re telling me this pub—club—whatever—in Mexico could only afford to commission this guy? Three, he was”—she kicks the last door open and a gasp escapes her and morphs into a semi-shriek—“a ghost?!”

“Ghosted you? Already?” Your eyes, focused previously on re-lining your lips, flits to Lissie’s in the reflection. She’s distracted, staring at the contents of a stall with comically wide eyes. “What’s up? S’that a fucking glory hole or something?”

“No!” She yells when you approach, immediately lunging forward to pull it shut. “No. It’s—I saw a roach. Serves us for going to a fucking… pub. Don’t go in there, it’s…” She exhales a long breath. “It was a mama roach and… with eggs.”

“What are you talking about?” This isn’t even a pub, it’s a nightclub—one with a door fee that definitely did not warrant rogue cockroaches in the water closet. “Lis, you’re drunk-hallucinating.” You’re not even sure if that’s a thing, but you shove past her and push the stall door open again, ready to come face-to-face with, maybe, a sleeping Tinkerbell or a puking black cat. Worst case scenario, shit on the floor; worst-er case scenario, Lissie is right and you’ve stepped into a den of roaches.

Weirdest case scenario, though, if that’s an actual thing: Charles Leclerc seated on the closed toilet seat, face painted white, wearing an all-white ensemble of a large white shirt, shorts, high socks, and sneakers. He’s got two hands on either side of the wall, as if he’d been preparing to escape; how or to where, you’re clueless. Why he’s here, you’re even more stumped.

His entire face is a stark white, with black smudges of face paint on his forehead (eyebrows, you’re guessing); his hair’s been curled by the humid air at this club, and he looks like himself in all the ways he totally does not, eyes big and caught when yours click onto them. 

Despite confusion, you chalk it up, as one would rationally do at a party, to intoxication. You spend a few bated breaths staring at him staring at you, his face of pure shock and embarrassment enough to sober up a drunk for a few days. “Hi.” You can hear yourself say it, but you’re so caught off-guard and full of confusion it feels alien.

“Hey,” he says, wiping four fingers over his stubborn face paint with a smile. The smile and the paint barely fade. “I’m a ghost.”

“I see. Classic.” You pause. “I’m Chr… nevermind. Um—are you okay?”

“A bit, uh—a tad bit drunk. I seem to be in the ladies’ room.”

“Yeah, you seem to be,” you recite back to him, amusement quickly overtaking confusion. “I think Pierre was looking for you. Let me go get him. Lis, make sure he doesn’t…” You gesture a puking movement, and the pair watch and listen to your shoes click against the tile, before the door swings open and then shut again.

“Coast is clear.” Lissie’s voice has been lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I reckon everyone you know is already looking for you?”

“This is a disaster.” He rubs frantically at the face paint, but it’s horribly futile. “You know, I didn’t even realize I was in the ladies’ room until you two came in. She cannot see me like this.”

“She already fucking has, mate.” Lissie sounds exasperated. “Whose idea was this? If you say Pierre I swe—”

“—Pierre—”

“—ar to Jesus fucking Christ, Charles—I can’t keep saving you from Pierre’s antics.” She grumbles out a sigh. “What are you supposed to be, even? Have you—did you see how hot she looks? This is like… you look like a… I can’t—” She lets herself taper off, so disbelievingly shocked at his odd costume.

“I’m Casper the Ghost!” Lissie mentally forms a crude picture of the kid ghost, which looks absolutely nothing like what’s in front of her. “Casper was opposite Christina Ricci. Pierre told me so.”

“That’s the dumbest analogy ever, holy Christ. You look like a poster child for some…” She regards him for a moment. “Anemia advert.”

“Take that back.”

“You don’t really have the upper hand here, Charles,” says Lissie with a grimace. “I’m texting Pierre. Are you—did you even get drunk?”

“No,” he woes. “I am totally sober. I had to lie. Pierre went to the table and told me that my—that the costume we planned—it was wrong, and I just—I ran to the bathroom.” Lissie can’t help but laugh at the story, raising her camera to record the incriminating evidence.

Mid-video, Charles’ white face droops and his painted lips part to ask: “You think she found me cute?”

—

Charles likes finding things about you. He supposes the first time he realized just how much he liked hearing you talk about yourself—which you rarely did—happened in São Paulo. He’d been stressing over a spiel to recite in front of a camera, rewriting over words for hours to make everything sound more natural.

Each margin had been hastily written on with pencil, run-on sentences with semicolons in the place of periods. The team scriptwriter didn’t do much to make his lines sound more natural and less like they’d just been spat out of an online translator. You peeked into the media pen and coughed. You don’t belong here, do you?

Tch, he clicked his tongue, turning to offer a smile. I’m working on a script for Sunday. Portugese stuff.

I can help, you responded, walking slowly over toward him. You smiled quietly, approaching slowly like you were waiting for him to greenlight your offer. He did so by pulling a chair out for you, and once you sat you traced a nail over each line, murmuring them under your breath.

You speak Portugese?

You looked up and gave a half-shrug, laughing like you were amused with yourself. Kind of. It’s not very good, but it’s enough. You resumed your editing and he felt content to stare, admire, watch every movement of your lips align with the syllables of the words. You asked for a pencil and began writing something much cleaner. He couldn’t help but let himself be in awe of your intelligence.

You read over the last few lines and turned to face him. Let me guess, you said. You want to make a pun on Ferrari before you say bye.

Ah, he laughs. Yeah.

See, I know you so well, you half-joked, scrawling idle edits on the margins of his script.

He was already looking at you when you turned back to him, seeking his response, agreement, anything. When your eyes met, something caught at your chest—it tugged, tugged, then tugged again, a dull feeling burrowed deep in you. Words failed to wrench themselves free, but once they did, all you could manage was a faint—What?

Nothing. He smiled and shook his head, like he was waiting for you to figure it out. You know… sometimes, I wish I met you sooner. He does. He wishes he knew you back then, when you first learned Portugese. Or when you were in high school, so you could see just how exponentially awkward he was in his own teenage years. He thinks sometimes that he’s lost too much time, met and liked you too late.

Hm, you breathed out, because you didn't know what else to. I know why—so you could always have me. As a proofreader. Right?

Hah. The tilt of his laugh was high and mocking, and he stuck his tongue out, as if to punctuate that. He looked away then, like he wasn’t ready to say certain things to your face just yet. Quietly he added, Always have you… something like that.

—

If you ask Charles what he’s doing hiding in a laundry basket of a luxury hotel in São Paulo, he wouldn’t be able to answer you, either. It’s been some time since the disaster that was Caspergate Cancun 2023, and if he’s perfectly honest, he doesn’t feel like facing you again for the rest of his life. Pierre, of course, has other plans. 

All he knows is last night, Pierre suggested he leave a huge vase of roses for you to arrive to in the living room of your hotel; as he planted it in said room, the door’s lock turned, and he sought a hiding place in the adjacent bedroom. Judging by the prevalent scent of Dior Sauvage, this is Lando Norris’ room.

Did u get to escape??? Pierre’s text irritates him. At the same time, the light flips on; Charles curls in on himself, remaining perfectly still. Lando’s voice trills through the room. “I didn’t leave those roses for either of you,” he’s saying to you and Lissie.

Charles hears you hum. “They’re so beautiful.” His heart swells. “I gotta run for a sec, pick up something from Will’s room.” A few seconds pass and the door opens and shuts, which means Charles is currently alone with Lando and Lissie. Which means he needs to plot his escape as soon as he can. Otherwise he’ll be caught in the crossfire and much too embarrassed to—

A foot meets his concealed body and he lets out an oof! as he’s sent flying out of the hamper, along with strewn-around clothes. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, scared shitless and in a fetal position; he only unfurls when a socked foot kicks at his ass. Above him are Lando and Lissie, both extremely confused. 

“How did you know I was…?!” He asks, aghast.

“My fucking laundry was breathing, mate, s’not that hard to leave alone,” Lando retorts sharply. “What are you doing?!”

“I left roses for her,” he explains fruitlessly, gesturing to the vase outside. “But you came in, and this was the closest hiding place. I was told this would be a great gesture.”

“Right. Where did you even get that advice?” Lando tries to suppress the critical tone in his voice, but judging by Charles’ embarrassed grimace, he’s failed. Beside him, Lissie makes a hm? noise, goading Charles to answer quicker.

“I got it from.” Charles pauses. “A friend,” he ekes out vaguely.

“No shit. Who?”

“Um—” Charles’ eyes are shut. “Pierre.”

In unison, Lissie and Lando both release incredulous gasps, throwing their hands up in the air. Lissie points at the mess of clothes in the corner of the room to emphasize her point and asks loudly, with comical cynicism: “This seemed like proper romantic advice to you?”

“Scratch that. Pierre’s words seemed like proper romantic advice to you? His girlfriend is—!” Lando places a flat palm a few inches off the floor and shakes it a few times to insinuate Kika’s age, his disbelieving expression growing funnier by the second. “Mate!” His voice cracks mid-syllable, though even this mishap seems to be the least crazy thing about tonight.

Charles, burning with humiliation, releases a shaky sigh. “I know! I know!”

“You don’t know!” They shout simultaneously in response, disappointed if anything. Just then the door opens again and your two best friends hurry to throw assorted pieces of laundry on the lying Charles, exiting to make sure you don’t suspect anything. 

“Hey,” you say slowly, because they’re both posed the exact same. “Am I… missing something?”

“A shower, girl,” Lando says, and you flip him off before retreating into your room.

Belatedly you ask, “Did you find out who sent those flowers?”

“Some loser, probably,” he calls right back. Charles emerges to poke him accusatorily, but Lando just shrugs. Charles definitely does not have the upper hand here, anyway. 

“Just get out,” Lissie says, completely done with Charles’ antics. “And stop. Listening. To Pierre.” 

He rinses the odor of laundry off him once he’s at his room, but thinks, despite himself, that you called the flowers beautiful.

—

Are you—

—no. I’m not. You wiped a hand over your face and caught mascara along with it. I’m fine, it’s fine.

What he said, it wasn’t…

I said, you turned to face him, eyes rimmed and mouth trembling. You didn’t finish your sentence, just tore the microphone off your lapel and buried your face in your hands. There was always going to be a first time. Your first time insulted on a live feed, after the Abu Dhabi weekend, was not any less shocking. You felt small. You felt humiliated.

You didn’t want to show Charles any of it. You moved around the green room, picking up shit to throw into your bag. Thank God the season was fucking over, you kept thinking. I feel so, you said, still failing to finish anything you started to say. You’d been called an annoying bitch by a fan of one of the drivers—to your face, as you exited the paddock.

He moved nearer. Charles, you said, a half-sob, and then you were allowing him to crash, allowing him to hug you. Your arms were weak when they wrapped back around him, linking softly in the small of his back. You sobbed hard into his chest until his grey tee was dark with tears. I want out, I just want out.

You’ll lord your career over that prick when you’ve made a million dollars doing this, he said. You do it too well to want out. You’re too smart. You’re too good. You cried harder, your face hurt and every word felt wrestled unintentionally, like it took too much work to say much at all. I’m sorry, you said. You should go. 

No, he said. He held you closer. Not until you feel better.

—

He cries after Abu Dhabi. Bad season, everyone’s said. You snap a few smiling pictures with Max, who wins, and Lily and Lissie and the lot of them, the people who made the year so great. You notice an absence in all the pictures and you find it in a room in the Ferrari motorhome.

You’ve found you both find solace in words. In reassurance. But you’ve also found that your connection enables you both to reassure without having to say anything at all. You sit beside him, lean your head on his shaky shoulder, and wait.

“I was waiting for you to come,” he admits brokenly. “I was just not feeling good.”

“I know,” you respond. “It was a bad race. Shit strat.”

He’s quiet. His breaths are ragged and wet and shaky. “Will you stay? Until I feel better?”

You don’t move. “I’ll stay for longer.”

—

In the kitchen Charles unscrews himself a beer. The sky outside is pink and the sun hides behind faraway mountains, gradually darkening the entire atmosphere, save for the few woolly clouds. He’s by the patio door so he can spot people in the wide yard: Pierre, exchanging a Frisbee with Lando. Max, Alex, and Lissie engaged in an intense match of Uno.

They’re all gathered here in Spain at Carlos’ behest to celebrate the dawn of winter, and the end of the season, Max’s third championship.

He’s yet to spot you—he’d been told earlier you’d be late—but it doesn’t matter. He’s been feeling uncharacteristically himself all day anyway. He wrote that on his notebook this morning, on the flight here, verbatim. Looked up the word to spell it right and everything. He remembers you saying it, that time in London where you and Lando took him around and annihilated Borough Market before lounging on the grassy knoll of a nearby park. I feel so uncharacteristically happy, you’d joked. The syllables were too stunted and too fast for Charles to nail it. But he feels it now. Uncharacteristic.

He tells everyone he’s fine, though, and does a good job of it. Three beers in and he’s beginning to trick himself into thinking he actually is doing fine. Nobody suspects he’s been feeling empty from such a bad finish to the season—the season that was already bad in itself. He hasn’t been feeling his usual drive, his usual appetite. He doesn’t know when it will return.

“Here you are.” Carlos has this goofy smile on his face when he bounds into the kitchen, depositing empty dishes at the sink. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

Charles and Carlos have always shared an easy dynamic—they’ve both always wanted the same thing. Racing has always been at the forefront of their minds. It makes conversation passionate, easy, fun; it was what helped build their now-natural rapport in the first place. “Yeah?” He prods, leaning against the counter and tipping fizz into his mouth.

“I invited everyone here to announce… something important.” Carlos crosses his arms. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Me?” Charles knits his eyebrows and smiles. “Wow.” He gulps, cocks his head. “What is it, then? Are you switching teams?”

Carlos’ goofy smile grows. “Isa and I are engaged. I’m retiring next year.”

“You—you’re—” Charles laughs and shuts his eyes all at once. “Oh, my God, mate! Congratulations!” The overload of information isn’t lost on him, but he channels it all into a hug. “Are you really retiring, though? I mean. Wow, this is amazing news—but—”

“I was sure as soon as I asked,” Carlos says squarely, smiling as if he’s conjured an image of Isa’s smiling face (which is likely the case). “As soon as she said yes. As soon as I bought the ring!” He laughs aloud, so overwhelmed with happiness of recalling everything. “I’m so glad you were the first person I told.”

“Besides Lando,” Charles says, because he knows it’s true.

“Besides Lando.” Carlos smiles. “I’m… dios, I’m happy. I always knew I’d have something to look forward to after racing.” They hug again, and then he clambers past Charles and into the patio, where he resumes the façade of being unengaged and still a driver. Left behind, Charles thinks over it himself. What does he have to look forward to after racing? All his life, racing is all that ever existed to him. 

The announcement comes eventually—when it’s dark out, intermittent stars white and twinkly against the black above. Charles has once again turned into a blushy mess because you arrived a few hours prior, wearing a lovely dress and with your hair down in messy waves and you said hi to him earlier without him approaching first. They present a stupid, but very Carlos-and-Isa ring-shaped cake to announce it, and somebody queues up music and everyone’s cheering. Of course everyone’s cheering—it’d be impossible for this announcement to not come with bouts of yelling and cheering and goodbyes to Carlos, who accepts them with glee and—dare he say—excitement.

Charles remembers their first year as teammates, the jokes they’d made about needing to beat the other out. For both of them, he recalls, it’s only ever been the drive to race. He didn’t think Carlos would even entertain the idea of retiring yet. He wonders when he will. The thought of it alone is enough to send a well of anxiety run deep into him—which happens after he congratulates the couple, so he excuses himself to the empty outdoors area to get fresh air back into him.

He didn’t mean it, but he finds you already there. “Hi,” you say when he slides the door shut. “You okay?”

“Just… yeah, I’m fine.” You smell faintly like smoke. “It’s crazy, huh. Everyone’s… moving on.”

“So Carlos told everyone, then,” you say, pursing your lips and waiting for his response. He closes his eyes and lets a soft exhale escape him, warm air out and fresh air in, a welcome change from the heady atmosphere in the party. “I knew. I bought that God awful cake. I kept saying get a normal one but they both wanted it to be shaped like a ring.” You punctuate your sentence with a crisp laugh, a stunted exhale of air to break the tension.

You have a natural sway over words, graceful and beautiful and commanding, something he only wishes he could be. For so long he’d been told the feedback loop of one and the same thing: you’re good. You’re the best. You’re going to be the next big thing. And this season had just… aggravated every single insecurity he’s picked up in his years of racing. He wishes sometimes he’d been told something else: you suck. You’re normal. You’re irrelevant. Then at least he wouldn’t exist in some odd panopticon of feeling on top of the world and yet looking at it from the bottom of a pitch black abyss.

“Yeah,” he says instead, wringing his hands. He mimics the wrist movements he’s made to do during gym hours. “It’s wild how—I mean, not really wild, but. I just can’t… even picture my life after racing.”

“You’re young, that’s warranted,” you laugh. “You’re also… I mean, even if you drop out of racing tonight, it’s not like you’re going to become dirt poor or anything. You could become a bloody orthodontist and people will still love you.”

“Will they?”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud but out it comes, garbled and rushed and he’s a bit embarrassed for sounding like a child in front of somebody he finds so beautiful. The silence is suspended and dry, and for a minute all he hears and feels is the slow rise and fall of his chest. To somehow mend the vulnerability, he tries again. “It’s not—I just think I’ll be lonely if I decide to stop racing.”

The fact that Carlos can say with so much ease that he’s willing to drop his career to ensure his pending marriage lasts is almost terrifying, because Charles knows he wants that. He knows—he’s always known—that he wants that intimacy, that realness, but for it to come at the cost of something he’s known for so long is so scary it’s almost a dealbreaker.

“Lonely?” You echo, voice tinged with concern. “Charles—”

“Lonely.”

He says it with an edge to his voice, so final, so steadfast. Loneliness is what he’s always feared and he knows, with a deep drawling punch to his gut, that loneliness is what will come if he decides to stop racing. Even if he’s tired. Even if he’s so pent up with frustration and loss and anger. Racing is all he’s ever known, it’s all he is—when he’s not tied to it, who is he? “Like no one… like I’m just standing in front of what I’m supposed to be, and when people see me, that’s all they see—what’s behind me. Right through me.”

“Well, you’re off racing right now,” you respond, trodding carefully. “So, well. Do you feel that way?”

He knows what you mean: it’s winter break, so he’s not driving or doing some form of it every single day. And he knows in turn what to answer: no, not really, he doesn’t really feel detached from it because there’s a low anticipation in his belly that tells him he’ll be doing it all again soon. But he chooses to interpret it differently; differently, but not falsely.

“I th… I don’t feel lonely,” he says, “when I talk to you. You see me.” 

Your stomach drops and your heart begins to pulse a mile a minute, knuckles tightening where they’ve gripped onto the wooden post of the patio. You can feel the air in your lungs pass through every divot of your body as it escapes and arrives in long, shaky breaths. He’s looking at you, his eyebrows knitted like he wants—needs an answer, if you’d be kind enough to please give him one. 

“I…” You bite your lip, every thought in your head at odds with the other.

Time feels like rubber, like it’s been stretched and manipulated and Carlos is ducking out to announce that it’s time to blow out candles on the stupid ring-shaped cake and you’ve taken too long to respond and your body feels too heavy but your heart feels too light and your eyes are blinking, open and shut and open again, and you feel like the wind could honestly blow you away now because Charles has given you a neutral nod and left you alone again, to contemplate the weight of what he’s finally, finally admitted, tonight here under the sky of Spain.

You move a hand over your hair, watch him walk away. The words lodge themselves in your throat, but they’re there.

—

One minute after  you realized you liked Charles, you swallowed the feelings until they were barely decipherable.

In happened in Dublin, at a pub on St. Paddy’s Day, when you’d emerged fresh out of a breakup with the most arseholic Irishman you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. And funnily enough, it happened without Charles’ presence. You’d spent the day at Liam’s, hours of fighting over so many things—the growth of your career and the decimation of his, where your relationship had soured, why you never came to visit him, Charles, the sodding bloke you like so much—until finally, you took your things and left.

Wise, because you might’ve honestly gone insane if you stayed a minute longer, attuning your ears to the deafening feedback loop of his voice. Also decidedly unwise, because you had a piece of luggage and barely any battery, in a full city of people you didn’t know at all.

There was no chance Liam would let you return, and no chance you wanted to, for that matter—the fact still stood, though, that you needed to kill the night before your flight to France left at 6AM. You entered the first pub you heard, deposited your bag at the coat check for an extra couple of euros, and accepted the first pint thrust into your hand and first leprechaun hat plopped atop your head.

In between watching people compare how they poured Guinness pints, Sinead O’Connor songs, and exchanging headdresses with a random stranger, you found yourself impressingly drunk. The Irish did it too well.

A university student stumbled past your stool, tears in her eyes; she stopped to steal a shot of whiskey lying unattended on the bar. You looped a hand around her wrist and stared at her menacingly. Manners?!

Fuck manners, she said wetly, wrenching every word out with great effort. Nobody paid either of you any attention. I just caught my best friend and boyfriend kissing. Her accent was unmistakably Irish and was stronger with the tears.

Oh, you said, loosening your threatening grip. Sorry.

Don’t be. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid, she said, aghast, before finally stalking outside the pub. Half an hour later, you wound up at a table of thirty-somethings, all belting along to a folky sounding song.

Drunkenly you slurred out, I thought it was a stereotype.

What was, love? One of them paused her singing, dipping down to listen to you properly. Your cheek was smushed against the varnished wood, moving with every syllable you eked out.

The songs. You sound like… you belong in the 19th century.

She laughed at that, surfacing and yelling something to the band onstage you couldn’t quite decipher. The song reached its peak, loud and getting the whole crowd singing along, before fading into a familiar opening. S’this better? She asked, her voice slightly raised above the guitar.

You looked up. I liked the other one too, to be fair. M’not a fucking anti-Irish.

Nobody said that, love. Come sing. She hauled you upward, exaggerating her arm swinging in the air so you’d follow suit, which you did. You hummed the opening, eyes fluttering open and closed. You imagined opening them again and finding Charles across the room, already looking, with the same charming, boyish smile on his face that came to you as comfort.

You thought back to the dinner in London, the feeling of his shirt against your shoulder, the way he’d gotten you so easy and laughing and babbly, something you never got with Liam. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled raggedly. Fuck.

Linger’ll do that to you, your companion mused. Around you, the entire pub sang along to the song that served as the backdrop to your all-encompassing romantic epiphany. Missing a lover, huh?

No, just… You opened your eyes, watched the band sing out the rest of the prechorus before they slid into the next verse. A new kind of air had crept over the pub, one that exemplified just how much this song could mean to anyone, no matter who. You shut them again and saw Charles. The green of his eyes, mossy on some days and bright on others. The moles on his face. The grooves of his hand, the way it wrapped around things like pens, mics, bottles, your fingers. His voice, how he curved around words. He always knew exactly what you meant even if it took you ages to get to the point, even if you felt like you didn’t know what you meant exactly. 

You opened your eyes. Suddenly fights with Liam didn’t matter. Whatever little sympathy you had left evaporated as you listened to the lyrics and realized, with a damning force, that you were thinking of Charles. And this was not weak, this was not vague, this was a strong thing that took you off your feet like a gust of wind, hurtling you out of the pub. You thought of every time your eyes met his, both of you already laughing at something else present. Every time he saw you at the end of a busy work day and asked if you were doing alright.

Just this guy, I suppose. His name’s… yeah. We’ve been friends for ages. He’s really very talented. Very kind. Your voice was drowned out by the music but you didn’t intend for anything to be heard, anyway. And he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He always knows what to say. He’s not in Dublin tonight, not even in Ireland, for God’s sake. 

He’s your boyfriend, then?

You closed them slowly. No. T’wouldn’t be very smart to date him.

Is he an arse?

No either. It’s just too late.

I’m sorry, love.

Don’t be, you mused, eyes still shut as Linger came to a close. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid.

—

Charles should be in Monaco. You should be in London. But at four-thirty PM, leaning against the counter of a tiny café in Dublin, you cross paths for the first time in weeks, and everything tilts on its axis.

He notices you first, because he hears you thank the barista quietly. It’s not your reporter voice, not the one you put one when you’re interviewing him or his teammate or his fellow athletes. But it’s your real one, and it’s the one he thinks he could hear through a snowstorm.

A tuxedo-clad man exits and suddenly you’re there. You’re wearing a white top, low neck and thin straps covered by a cardigan. You’re sliding coins into the pocket of your jeans and he watches your hand freeze, drags his eyes back up to you, finds you’re already looking.

You look beautiful, he thinks. You put on a lot of makeup for the cameras, and you looked gorgeous, but seeing you like this—caught, almost, in a moment you didn’t expect to see him—you look unbelievably beautiful. He aches with it. 

“You look well,” he says first when he opens the café door for you. “What’s your business in Ireland?”

“Acquainting myself with my new coworker.” You wait for him to follow and squint when the sun hits your eye. “We’ve been here three weeks, fly back to London next Monday. You?”

“It does seem weird for me to be here,” he observes absently. “I needed a change of pace, I think. Gear up for the season.” He shakes his half-full cup of coffee. “Where are you staying?”

“Just up ahead.” A slow silence overcomes you both. “Come over. I have beer. I know you can’t be fucked to have coffee.” He laughs and nods, following you through the road and up into a flat—a BNB, if he’s guessing. There’s a tiny landing and then stairs to a wider living area, where you proceed to unwrap the croissant you’d gotten a few minutes earlier. You chuck it into the fridge and produce two bottles of beer in one go.

“Sit,” you gesture to the spot beside you, and he sits himself there. “We can talk. We should.”

You’ve shrugged your cardigan off, and he observes every detail of your exposed skin, the way your hair layers atop it. Right as he opens his mouth to respond, a blond girl enters, rings of mascara caking her eyes and a wine glass twiddled in-between thumbs. She’s talking her head off and only pauses when she spots Charles.

“Hhhh…iiii.”

“Salut.” 

“You’re Charles?” She notices how close the two of you are seated together.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Charles, this is Robyn—my coworker’s friend. And by extension my friend.” You pat her knee and point to Charles to get them properly introduced. “She leeches off the apartment.” 

“You love me,” she retorts, mockingly—but sweetly. “Anyway, sorry to intrude. I was just on the phone with my situationship.” She rolls her eyes. “Does he think I give two shits about goodnight texts? It feels impossible to be romantically satisfied these days.”

Charles grunts. “I hear that,” he says, just to make Robyn feel less excluded. You get up then, to fuck around at the kitchen sink—he suspects you’re not actually doing chores—but you come back with wet hands and you sit yourself across Charles, on the loveseat, instead of next to him. 

“The thing is, right,” she gulps wine, “there’s such a thing with dating now,” Robyn says, not missing a beat, her Geordie accent curving round the syllables with a distinctive twang. She stares at the opaque red liquid in her glass, like that will supplement her with more words. “Like a deal. A big deal. Everyone’s making this huge thing out of it, and it’s like, can’t we be in our twenties and fuck around occasionally?” She laughs, a high-pitched, tapered noise.

You shift from where you’re seated, buried into the material of the seat. It’s quiet and beginning to touch awkward, so you speak in a rough voice: “I dunno, I kind of… get it.”

“Oh do you, now,” she responds, voice saturated with wine. “No, it’s—I was joking. Of course you would, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, is all.”

Suddenly you feel all too seen and inclined to touch a fingertip to your cheek, feather light. You blink so you won’t feel tempted to meet Charles’ eyes, because you feel them on you. “It’s—thank you, I mean. It’s nothing to do with that. I just always feel it’s impossible to find someone who loves you. I feel like I’m not very lovable.”

“You? You’re bloody fucking likable!” Robyn’s laugh is so disbelieving you find yourself semi-convinced. “You’re a bit intimidating, yeah, but you’re lovable as fuck, babe.”

You double down anyway, voice thin. “Right. I don’t think I’m very good at being… affectionate.”

“Hah. Bull. You’re affectionate with… with Charles! I’ve heard you talk about him to Jane.”

She turns to Charles before you have the chance to defend yourself. To him she asks: “Is she affectionate with you?”

But it’s basically rhetorical. Everyone speculates, sees the way you two bend the line between friendship and romance, the care with which you treat Charles, the way you two understand each other in ways impossible for anyone else in your orbit. Fuck if it’s not overtly physical. Robyn’s known you three weeks and has never even met Charles until seven minutes ago and already she’s sensed the energy, the difference, even if she hasn’t seen you do so much as embrace.

“It’s—” You say and say too quickly. You wind up slowing your speech so you don’t sound too defiant and lean backwards, willing yourself to relax. “It’s… different with Charles.”

“Different?” She repeats, miming every dip and rise of your voice. “Why?”

“We’re close.” You refuse to meet his eyes. “Be—because we’re good friends. I feel… things are… just. They’re different. That’s all, really.” Barely satisfied with the answer you eked out, you cross your arms over your torso like it’ll help shield you from the interrogation going on. Briefly you let your eyes fall on Charles; he’s reclined, eyes all over the place, blinking in quick flashes.

“But you admit it, at least?” She smiles. “That you’re affectionate, I mean.”

“Only with…” you taper off, unwanting to dig yourself a deeper hole. “Right. Sure, yeah.”

“Well then,” she says, eyebrows raising as she dows the rest of her glass. She sets it down on the low wooden table with a clink. “I’ll get going. Don’t let me keep you two from shagging or whatever.”

“We don’t f—shag,” you interrupt, voice sharp. “And you’re not keeping us at all. Me, at all.”

Us sounds so exclusive, you realize as it leaves your lips. Us. It tastes like sour cherries on your tongue, bleeds all over. Robyn gives you a look. In response, you insist on seeing her out, leaving Charles at the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands toying with the neck of the beer bottle. He can make out faint words but he doesn’t try translating or deciphering them, just listens to your muffled voice peek through every few words. You sound amused, also accused, also endeared—a bit irritated. You end it with a laugh.

You clamber back in after a few minutes and find him at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry,” you wave off, rolling your eyes to fend Robyn’s earlier interrogation efforts of. “She’s very strong-willed.” You climb the stairs, your striped linen shorts folding with every movement of your legs. Finally you make it to the top, on the second-to-the-last stair, staring up at him.

“You know,” he says, watching you ascend to the top finally, but you’re still staring upward. “You should know.”

“Should know what?”

“I missed you.”

You inhale and are grateful to find the air is all him. “I missed you, too.”

“In a different way.”

“Me, too,” you echo again, voice quiet. “I missed you. It feels like I’ve missed you all my life.”

He can hear your still, controlled breathing. “Thank you for seeing me. Even when, you know, it’s… hard. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you say. “It’s never difficult, not…” With you.

He leans down and captures your mouth in his then, like it’s a thirst he’s always needed quenched. You allow it, kiss him back like you’ve needed this your entire life. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—Dublin’s cold. He kisses like he’s smiling, like he’s happy, and you think maybe that’s not far off. He moves downward, to your jaw; lower, along the column of your throat, around your collarbones, cornering you against the wall, letting you lean against it.

Charles’ kisses are light and soft, but also heavy, like he’s trying to waste as little time as possible. You sigh, feeling light, feeling ecstatic. He puts two hands on either side of your face, presses your foreheads together, and shuts his eyes. 

You feel the divots of his fingers on your hip, your waist, places he’s never touched before. “I’m sorry I left,” you breathe into him. “Back in Spain. In Madrid. I wanted to think about it. About what you said. About everything, about you.”

“I’m glad I found you here, then.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again, because now that you’ve had it once you’re terrified you won’t have it again. In-between kisses he picks you up, cages you fully against the wall, and you breathe shaky little exhales. It builds up quicker and harder; you feel his cock at your hip and shiver, eyelashes fluttering. “Upstairs,” you say breathlessly.

He likes knowing you want this, because he’ll give you whatever you want. He’d fuck you for hours. Have you shaking, eking out moans of his name. He’d whisper praise up and down your ear. He wants this just as much, if not more.

“I want you, so much,” you exhale when he lies you both down on your bed. “So much.”

He tugs your shorts off, then your panties. He doesn’t usually lack self-restraint, but he thinks he’s never felt this much temptation in his life. He’s so hard. He brings one hand to his thigh and squeezes his dick through his pants, but it doesn’t provide him with any kind of relief. You’re needy already, whimpering, mind dizzy. He slides a finger up your slit and watches you screw your eyes shut.

Slowly he sinks in, watches you accustom to the stretch. “Wanted this,” you breathe out.

He thrusts in further, feels your warm cunt stretch around him, feels your breaths get hotter and quicker against his lips. But he takes it nice and slow, so he can feel every little ridge inside of you as you take all of him. “You like it?”

You nod, too dumbed down to speak. “Good girl. Pretty, pretty girl.”

He’s wanted this for so long, fucking you deep and slow and desperate. He thrusts harder, watches you unravel and your hot breaths pick up in pace. He reaches down, smears wetness around your clit as your thighs begin to shake. Your pretty, flushed face is enough to send him into overdrive, your eyes rolling back as he goads you into orgasm.

You’re still cumming around him when he takes a shaky breath, pulls you tightly back against him, and lets the pleasure take over. He fucks you full, rides his orgasm out while you ride yours out—buries his dick all the way inside, so each spurt fills your contracting pussy up.

He pulls out and collapses beside you, pressing his lips to your shoulder before lying on his back. “I’ll clean you up in a minute.” It’s quiet for a second, just you two breathing.

Then: “I did, I did think about it,” you say, voice reedy. “I thought about you.”

“Yeah?” He watches you blink at the ceiling, lets you clasp your hands onto his.

“About me, too.” You open your eyes and stare into the green.

“D’you want this?”

“Believe me,” you say, threading your fingers into his tightly. Your hair’s fussed from the sex. “I do. But—”

His heart drops.

“I don’t want to… I want you to not…” You sigh. “You know, I like seeing you. I like being that. I like knowing I make you feel good. And I want you to know you… you make me feel amazing. Like you and I… we understand each other.” You pause. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who understands every inch of me.”

“Ditto,” he says, and you smile.

“I look up to you, you know? I don’t want you to anchor yourself onto me. I want you to realize that on your own. You’re smart. You’re a great driver with a shitty fucking team I hated reporting on last season.” He laughs shakily. “You know I look up to you. You know… you know I love you.”

“I do. I love you.”

“I always have. It wasn’t… it didn’t always make itself clear, but I always have. And I know I always will.” You smile. “We’ll be in different cities, in separate timezones, but if we survived the years of not telling each other how bloody fucking much we liked each other, this is nothing. When we’ve sorted ourselves out, we’ll know the right time to finally call this what it is.”

He’s never thought of himself as a writer, but his notebooks might beg to differ. Many times you’ve told him yourself that he has an affinity for describing things, especially when he lets go of language as a limitation. He wonders what you’d say if you knew the amount of times he’s tried to write about you. Careful letters or typefaces, in an effort to form a coherent picture of you, the way he sees you, the way he loves you. But he’s so scared he tears the pages off before they get too intimate, too personal, crossing the border from having a crush on you to being in love with you.

For once he’s not. He nods. It’s bittersweet, but it’s a segue to a better ending. He moves a hand over your hair and holds you close.

“You could never be unlovable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead because finally, he can. “I mean it.”

[papaya-twinks]

So how about Lando shouting at the reader in anger and then feeling bad and making it to up like full on angst to fluff.. u can include Smut but upto you

Warnings: Smut, 18+, if you squint you see fingering, angst, crying, stress.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - angst is my entire life tbh

“Hi Lando,” you said, walking into the living room as he frowned, waving absent-mindedly as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t pay attention to anything you did, as you sat down on the sofa next to him, craning to see what was on his phone. “Y/N,” he said, nudging your cheek away. “What are you doing?” you brushed it off. “Work,” he replied curtly. “What work?” you asked - you’d had your own bad days too, you weren’t gonna get hurt by it. “Just work, Y/N,” he rolled his eyes as you raised an eyebrow. 

That was new. Lando with a pissy attitude was new. “Why can’t I see? Got a new girl?” you asked sarcastically. Maybe that was good ar as he scoffed. “Oh please, with how nosy you are, anyone would be better then you!” he snapped, standing up as you opened your mouth, no sound coming out your mouth. “And besides, all you do is go around and stick your nose in everyone’s business, it’s just downright annoying and you’re really fucking ti…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you, gulping at the sight in front of him. 

Your lips were parted with shock, eyes glistening slightly and body shaking. He’d never, ever said anything near as mean as what he just did. “Okay,” you muttered, voice small as you turned around, hurrying out the room. You’d gotten mad at him before, but never to that extent. “Wait, Y/N,” you heard his voice behind you but you ignored it, running up the stairs, tears down your face. 

And then came to questions. The self blame. What if he really he’d been talking to another girl? Would he do that to you? You’d never once considered the fact that your boyfriend, and anyone else, was perfectly capable of cheating. Lando had tried to talk to you numerous times, knocking on the door and trying to plea with you, only to be rejected by your silence, music blaring in your ears. 

Finally, he stopped. Finally, you had peace to debate what to do, or when to leave the damn room. “Y/N,” the door opened, one hour since Lando had tried to talk to you. He hadn’t given up. You looked up. “We need to talk,” he said. You tapped your headphones, showing you couldn’t hear him as he sighed. “Just unplug them,” he gestured, showing what he wanted. You shook your head, turning the volume up purposefully. 

“Y/N!” he groaned, grabbing your phone and slamming the volume down. “What?” you asked, dropping the now silent headphones. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, please listen,” he pleaded, his face full of apology as you sighed, head back and eyes brimming again. “No, doll, please don’t…” he said,d stepping forward to console you. “Don’t, please,” you said, hand pushing his chest away as he inhaled. “You’re right, you have every right to do that,” he said, gulping. 

“It’s just work,” he sighed, “Zak says I’m not doing enough for my seat and I just can’t with all the pressure and I took it out on you,”. You sighed again. “Then you should’ve spoken to me,” you sniffed. “I know,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Princess,” he opened his arms, wrapping them around you as you rested your head on his chest. “You’re pretty,” he said, drawing small circles on the small of your back. “You’re pretty decent yourself,” you mumbled into his stomach as he let out a laugh. 

“Y’know, sex never didn’t help,” you shrugged, eyeing his semi hard joggers from where your hand had rested. He’d never say no to sex. “Apology sex,” he grinned, flipping you onto your back. “Or punishment for you,” you hummed, a small smirk on your face as he scoffed. “Yeah yeah, no thanks,” he scoffed, working his fingers under your panties, rubbing small strokes between your folds. 

“Lando,” you gasped, arching your back slightly. He hummed, acknowledging the sensation. “Pretty when you obey, aren’t you doll?” he asked, dropping his joggers onto the floor. “Not gonna make you wait, pretty,” he said, aligning himself with you. And he was true to his word, pushing into you with a groan. 

As usual, his pace was relentless, hammering into you as you moaned, his name like a chant in your mouth. Your eyes rolled slightly, making him frown. “Stay with me doll,“ he tapped your cheek with his finger as your eyes refocused. “I will,” you whined, hand clawing at his chest as you felt the knot in your stomach. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, repeating the same words as he felt himself spill into you, you following with him. Maybe he should get mad at you often. 

A/N - am grinding through these as quick as I cannnn

[devnmon]

Sheriff's Deputy Morgan

pics are mine, do not steal!

Summary: Arthur comes back to camp one day with a shiny new badge on his chest, and you can't take him seriously. Though you tease him constantly, he gets particularly fed up and finally puts you in your place.

Warnings: arthur's a lil mean but rightfully so, doggy style, unprotected piv (not recommended for irl experiences), teasing, creampie, orgasm denial if u squint

a/n: hi friends! i wrote this pretty quickly after starting yet another round of rdr2 and beginning ch3 again. idk what it wad this time that made the damn badge arthur wears so very attractive to me. i couldn’t help myself from making this a piece of absolute filth! if theres repeated dialogue or stuff, its from my very minimal editing. otherwise enjoy <3

wc: 3.2k

You were tired. Exhausted, worn down, and burnt out definitely were more accurate terms, but all your body could feel was drained. From Blackwater, to Horseshoe Overlook, to Clemen's Point. Would the running ever cease? 

As the next morning sun rose across the vast lake, the temperature was already heating up by mid-morning. It was an uneventful day of mundane tasks with the other girls, until Dutch and Arthur returned to camp with shiny sheriff badges on their chest. To see those of all things accompany their outfits and not blood and bullet holes for once was indeed a surprise. 

"Your cowboy a deputy now, huh?" Tilly began, glancing at you facing his direction. 

"Shut up, Tilly. I'm sure that ain’t really what's happenin'..." you responded playfully, huffing a breath and abandoning the laundry you were in the middle of washing. Ms. Grimshaw's voice echoed in your ear the minute she saw you walking off, but your strides took you away from her just in time for you to make it to Arthur's tent. 

Observing as he sat on his cot when you neared Arthur's tent, your eyes hadn't deceived you; Arthur was wearing a deputy badge, and that meant Dutch was wearing one too. 

"Who in their right mind deputized you fools?" you laughed, catching the blues of the man before you. Arthur met your eye and smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck before standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"Well, it is lovely to see you too, darlin'." he drawled, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. "And that would be the drunken sheriff in Rhodes. Seemed dumb enough, but it was Dutch's idea. So I couldn't exactly say no." 

You grasped Arthur's forearms as they wrapped around you, moving you closer to him with that strength of his. The oaky aroma he always possessed surrounded you completely. 

"Well, good thing you're not really employed by the government. Then we'd truly have an issue." you chuckled, spotting his chipped front tooth peeking out from between his lips while he smirked.  

"Oh, yeah... you wouldn't get away with things that easily now, would ya?" Arthur spoke into your ear as his palms tightened around your waist. 

"No, of course we wouldn't..." you replied, recalling the numerous times you'd teased your cowboy and left him high and dry. Your flirtatious quips always settled in a part of him he couldn't control. Arthur spent many evenings much too unsatisfied until he was able to get you alone. Left only with your words clouding his mind and half hard cock, he was more than sensitive once he was able to satisfy himself. 

Arthur would have to wait until night fell to take care of his bothersome desires with you. He reckoned it frustrating when all you did was get away with it only because he allowed you to. 

He had half the mind to take you where everyone could see and hear, but his pride was too much to bear losing, especially in front of the older members of camp.

“If we wasn’t in the middle of camp with pryin’ eyes and ears, I’d have you bent over an’ full of me already.” He growled, before you pulled him in for a passionate kiss and slipped through his grip to return to your chores.

Arthur has really got to stop letting this happen, scowling to himself as he watched you immerse sensibly back into your chores. He figured the rest of the day would pass by quicker if he did the same. 

You knew nothing good came from teasing a man like Arthur to his breaking point, especially when he’s known for being able to take someone down if prompted. There was no question or doubt he was able to do the same to you. 

Arthur’s strength is unmatched, he’s able to overpower you easily in most situations. Yet, he’s delicate– sensual and gentle with you. In a way, he let you get away with teasing him many times and was still fervent and carnal when giving  you pleasure. 

But recently… pushing his limits like this day after day was getting on his nerves. He tried his best to shove those feelings down but you didn’t ease up on him one bit. 

Upon chopping wood and tending to the horses for the last hours of daylight, Arthur found himself catching your eye multiple times across camp. Your stares bore into him each time he would spot them, while watching you look away trying to feign innocence. Once he spotted you sitting around the campfire eating dinner, he figured that his opportunity to find a seat next to you for company. 

“Well, hi there, darlin’.” Arthur spoke as he sat down, getting particularly close to your hips with his. The gruff sound of his voice was telling enough with the amount of looks he was giving you during the silence as the two of you ate. 

“Hello, deputy Morgan.” you teased once again, taking no shame in staring him down while licking your spoon clean. Arthur cleared his throat tellingly, moving himself flush against your side. 

“Now who told you to call me that?” he murmured lowly in your ear, a ghost of goosebumps covering the back of your neck. 

“I was just doin’ as I’m seein’... Y’got that shiny badge, and you ain’t makin’ much use of it.” you practically whispered back in response. 

“Oh.. should I? Be makin’ use of it?” The gruff of Arthur’s voice bewildered your mind, struggling to calm the hunger gnawing at your lower regions. 

“Maybe you should… deputy. Before things get out of hand..” you snarked, dragging your eyes up and down his body. By the tone of your voice, Arthur could tell you weren’t done with whatever shenanigans planned. To let you spin a little yarn before taking control back had sincerely been his favorite part of his life with you. For you to play a little game just to get him to give himself over to you, each time overflowing with passion and hunger– he must really be smitten. 

Dinnertime flew by, and once the first light of the moon covered the ground, mostly everyone in camp had settled down for the night. After practically gluing himself to the outside of camp to avoid everyone else, Arthur made his way back to his tent. Of course, once he approached, the first thing he saw was you rummaging through his satchel. 

“Excuse me, miss?” Arthur spoke, placing his hands on his gunbelt, a typical deputy stance. 

“Arthur– it’s not what it looks like…” you began, noting his stature and the way his eyes locked on your figure. His chest hair poked through the unbuttoned part of his shirt, reminding you what type of man you were dealing with– especially with that badge. 

“That’s Deputy Morgan to you. Now, why don’t you tell me what you were really doin’ ‘round here.” He took a few steps closer, maintaining such intimidating posture above you. 

“Um… I was just lookin’ for a few dollars. Treat myself to a drink or two. Nothin’ big.” 

“And you couldn’t have just… asked for the money, huh doll?” 

“Thought it would be embarrassing. ’M sorry, deputy..” you chuckled, spinning Arthur’s little spiel along. 

“I’m afraid..” he stepped closer, “that ain’t good enough for me, sweetheart.” His natural tobacco and honey scent overloaded your senses, and all you could see, hear, and smell was him. 

“Well… is there anythin’ I could do to make it alright? Wouldn’t want to leave one of the sheriff’s finest deputies unsatisfied..” His index finger hooked under your chin, lifting your eyes to catch his, blues darkened in the moonlight. 

“Y’can start by makin’ eye contact when you speak to me, darlin’.” Arthur’s husky voice commanded, staring up at him like a deer in headlights. 

“Yes, Deputy Morgan. What else can I… do for you?” His eye contact was intense and captivating, the beginning of a smirk making its way onto your lover’s face. Those perfectly imperfect teeth of his shone as they began to show themselves from between his lips.

“Finish what you started, pretty girl.” The other hand on his gunbelt unbuckled it in one motion, tossing it on the ground before undoing the button on his pants. 

“Yes, sir, deputy Morgan…” Your genuine attraction to the man above you made your sultry voice that much more intoxicating for Arthur’s ears. He had half the mind to take what he wanted, but he knew you better than that. Plus, he loved your hands on him. 

With a quick unzip and yank of his riding pants, Arthur’s length popped out of his undergarments and stood before you. There he stood, red and erect, swollen from being worked up all day long. 

“It must be so difficult, walking around with this irritating you actin’ like everything’s alright.” One of your hands wrapped around the base of him, warm and throbbing in your grasp. Arthur growled at your contact and immediately removed your hand from him, and held it above your head before turning you to lay on your stomach. 

“Arthur–” 

“Hush, girl. You’ve been a pain in my ass all day long. Don’t think I deserve that, now do ya?” You silently shook your head, beginning to breathe heavily at his contact with your skin. That strength of his held both your arms in place, his strength overpowering you without breaking a sweat. Arthur used his other hand to yank your undergarments down your legs, before running his fingers through your folds. He chuckled at how soaked you were without even being touched. 

“Feel that? ‘S just for you.”

“What’chu think suckin’ up to me’s gonna do, huh?” 

“Nothin’... I just want you… bad.”

“Well if that hasn’t been abundantly clear to me all damn day, miss.” His tip prodded at your entrance teasingly. Arthur could tell you were clearly worked up in advance with the way he slotted himself through your folds with no resistance. Just the temptation to slip inside you in that moment controlled him like the wind to the rain and it took everything in him to resist. The groan of approval he let rumble through his chest and onto your back was enough for you to clench around nothing. 

“Look at that. I ain’t even the one been doin’ the teasin’, and you’re a goddamn mess.” 

“Believe it or not that damn badge has turned me on more than I can admit, sir…” you choked out, breathing heavily below him. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, darling.”

“You ain’t even got any cuffs… some deputy you are…” you breathed, ending your words with a snark in your tone. Arthur scoffed, pushing into you completely to shut you up, hearing a whimper escape you. The cowboy was ruthless, slotting himself all the way until your pelvis was flush against his. Arthur’s body was hot and muscular against yours, his rugged figure locking you under him. 

“What you got to say, huh? With the way y’re layin’ under me, you ain’t gonna be goin’ anywhere anytime soon. Now hush.” 

You swallowed upon feeling every inch of him meld to your walls as you adjusted to his size. Out of reflex, you clenched around him, listening to him rummage around and grab something. The top of your head rested against Arthur’s pillow, his hand still restricting both of yours. 

You could feel his hand begin to go sweaty until he replaced it with his other, rope in hand. 

“Arthur– what’re you doin’?” you asked, squirming underneath him and breathing heavily against the tightness of the rope wrapping around your wrists. Once it was secured not too tightly, he’d tied you to the leg of his side table.

“Told you– ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now…” Arthur’s grip returned to your hips, pulling himself all the way out of you and thrusting back in completely. Every inch slid warm and welcomingly against your walls. “I’m gonna take my time with you, sweetheart. Show you how bad teasin’ someone like me can turn out for ya.” 

Arthur sighed with pleasure with his cock twitching inside you, slick leaking out of your entrance. His warm hands caressed your waist desperately, gripping and sinking his fingers into your flesh. 

“Mmh… please go faster, Arthur,” you know that pleading at this point would only piss him off more, but there wasn’t much else you could do whilst pinned underneath him. 

“Nah, nah. You don’t get t’tell me how to fuck you. You made it very clear you ain’t interested in listenin’ to me when ya kept teasin’ me actin’ like I wouldn’t notice.” He pulls his hips away from yours for a moment, only to push all the way back in a bit harder than last time. You stifle a moan as his tip kisses the exact spot he knows drives you crazy. 

One of his hands goes to grab your hair, twisting it around his palm a few times and pulling. Your head jerks upwards, his fullness pushing a bit more against that spongy spot. 

“Y’know, it pains me to be like this, cause I ain’t ever seen someone as fine as you. Why you act like a brat all the time, I don’ know.” Arthur punctuated his sentences with movements of his hips– hard and rough into you. There’s something so filthy about the way he’s grunting in your ear while his hips press against yours so passionately. 

“Jus’ want your attention, Mister Morgan. Can’t– mmmh… can’t take it when you walk around lookin’ the way you do. Fuck… and that badge– you don’ know what it does t’me.” Arthur’s chest grumbles with a deep chuckle, using his free hand to land a smack on your ass. 

“Hm, well look where that’s gotten ya. Dirty girl. Had me all worked up, thinkin’ I’d be showin’ you who’s boss, but ya still got what’cha want.” 

Every hard thrust had you clenching around him instinctively and sending you further into absolute bliss. 

“You have… oh, right there Arthur–” Your breathy gasps and moans pair quite nicely with the feeling of your tight walls that meld to him every time he’s inside you. He’s not one to be short lived in bed, but the way you’re squeezing so hot around him and relishing in how good he makes you feel– he’s shot closer to release, rhythmic thrusts of his hips stuttering a bit.

“Ya really outdid yourself this time, sweetheart. Makin’ it hard for me to walk around camp without wantin’ to let everyone see what you do to me. But… I prefer this instead, havin’ you all to myself.” Arthur’s heavy breathing revealed how hot he’d been for you as you were for him. 

He knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and does a damn good job of trying to contain himself. But the minute you start acting needy, he’s putty in your hands. Arthur’s self control goes out the window when your walls squeeze him, as if you could feel any damn better than you already do. Wet and pleading for only him, siphoning his willpower like a siren and never seeming like you’d ever stop having that effect on him. 

He pistons himself inside you, hitting your most tender parts and feeling that wave of release curling up over his shoulder. 

“Arthur, m’close…” your words come out so slurred that you’re not sure he even understood you. Though when his movements become much slower, when he’s pressing himself deeper into you each time, you know he’s prolonging it. Even if it’s just for a moment, Arthur wants to string you along like you’d done for days on end. 

“Breathe, baby, you can hold out for me a little while longer, can’t ya?” Through your continuously stifled sounds, your head nods and somehow his thrusts become even more drawn out. Arthur’s sure he’s never going to see heaven, especially not when he bathes in this type of affection you give him and is hard pressed to say he’d find it anywhere else. 

“Wanna come so bad, Arthur… promise I’ll never do it again,” your voice, high pitched and shaky, shot through him like a lightning bolt. Immediately pressing his back against yours, Arthur knows you can’t take any more.

“Prove it, honey. Come on, come for me. Be a good girl…” His fingers find your hardened nipple, pulling and twisting away while burying himself into you. 

“Arthur– fuck, I’m gonna–” With his words, you gushed around him, slick painting his thighs like an art piece. Goosebumps coated your skin, walls fluttering with passion. Your release was enough to send him over the edge, hips stuttering with every second that passed. 

His gruff voice spews a string of praises together, growling in your ear and losing himself in the pleasure. 

So pretty filled up with me…

Fuck, you’re perfect every time.

Such a good girl.

And when he comes inside, paints your walls with his spend, his lips press against your neck fervently, till his breathing steadies again. 

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou…” you mumbled, knees collapsing so you lay completely on his cot. Arthur’s weight lifts off your back, pulling himself out of you and pausing to take in the view of you. A bit of him slips out of you and down your leg, and it takes everything in him to not become hard and fuck you again. The sheen of sweat on your thighs glistens in the lantern light, and immediately reaches to untie your wrists, still attached to his bedside table before buttoning his pants back up.

“Here we go, sweetheart. Ya did so well f’me.” A sigh leaves your lungs before turning over to face him. His cheeks are flushed and his forehead is shiny with beads of sweat, but he couldn’t look more perfect in his afterglow. 

“‘M sorry I made ya mad… You know I love you,” you drawled, that sweet voice of yours clouding his mind. 

“Aw, I love ya too, baby. Sometimes, you just get on my damn nerves… teasin’ me like that ain’t good for a man’s head. ‘Specially not when I’m an honorary deputy of Lemoyne. But you jus’ like how the badge looks on me, don’t ya?” He sat down next to you, pushing a lock of hair out of your face. 

“Can’t blame me if I say yes, very much so, Arthur.” Your hand cups his cheek, pulling him in for a soft kiss. 

“Well, good thing pretty girls get off easy from the law. Least, that’s what I’ve heard.” Arthur licked his lips, smirking at your blushing reaction.  Referencing that damn badge again, the thing that started this whole mess, you giggled. 

“Well, I can’t promise to be on my best behavior, but I’d gladly be bossed around by Sheriff Arthur if it meant gettin’ you close to me.” You laid down, holding your hand out for him to join you. 

“I’m already as close as can be, darlin’. How could I ever be closer?” His fingers intertwined with you, scooching up next to you while using his arm to pull you against his chest. 

“Just like this.” your soft words lingered in the cool air as your eyes closed and the two of you drifted off to sleep. Arthur Morgan was one hell of an honorary deputy.

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 22. FINAL.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. timeskip, angst, fluff, little surprise at the end

A/N. this is it!!! thank you for those who have stuck around for the past year, i'm sorry it's taken me this long but i hope it was somewhat worth the wait!!! i enjoyed reading your comments and asks about the series sm. this series challenged me in many ways, but helped me get back into writing. i love u all sm and thank u again <3 ps if u have any questions or want me to answer some “whats if”s feel free to send an ask!!!

-> MASTERLIST.

3 YEARS LATER.

Atsumu is absolutely hyped. 

He’s finally here, the real big stage. The Olympics. 

Never in a million years would he have thought that he’d get here alongside many other amazing volleyball players. He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears his name being announced, leaving from under the stadium seats to run out to the main courts, allowing himself to flourish in the loud cheers. 

Atsumu was on his A-Game, he didn’t care who he’d have to go against, he was determined to win. 

The rest of his team came out shortly after Atsumu, the group of them huddled up near the coaches as the other team was loudly called out. The first match they had was against the U.S, and something about that sounded familiar, though he didn’t bother to think too much into it. He squinted as he listened to his coach yap about doing good out there and not let them get under their skins.

After the other team is lined up, the Japan team is lined up in front of them. There’s some commencement announcements that are being played on the speaker, allowing Atsumu some time to enter the zone. 

When the whistle blows, everyone takes their positions. Atsumu is ready. 

The match starts with the sound of a buzzer. And everyone is on the move. 

The U.S’ team was definitely a challenge for Japan’s, but after the rigorous training they’ve been put through, the win was more than easy to steal, the match ending at the 4th set with Japan named the winners.

Everyone cheered as they celebrated their victory in the main court. As Atsumu’s eyes scanned through the U.S’ team, his eye was caught on a woman who stood by the coaches.

His gaze went right past her at first until he backtracked and looked again, this time more intently. 

The adrenaline running through his body stopped almost entirely as he froze in place.

It couldn’t be, could it?

–––

It’s hard to celebrate along with the rest of the team when his heart and his mind caught on to you. 

After going to multiple therapy sessions, he’d finally found it in him to let you go. From his mind at least, not so much his heart. 

But it felt like all the progress he was so proud of himself for making just washed down the drain. Just at the mere sight of you. Did you see him? Were you proud of him even though you were on the opposite side of the court? Were you involved with any of those men on that team? How have you been? You cut your hair? Seeing you let the many thoughts that he thought he had locked away loose. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was so mad at the occurrence.

Perhaps it was fate’s cruel way of reminding him that his past never really goes away. But even so, he knows better than to go out of his way to find you. The last time he talked to you was a hard time in his life, and you made it more than clear that you wanted nothing to do with him.

“You coming, Miya?” his teammate, Sakusa Kiyoomi, called out to him. The two had been chosen from the MSBY team together, alongside Hinata and Bokuto. 

“What, where?” Atsumu replies, a confused look on his face as his eyes meet Sakusa’s.

“The guys wanted to go to the Olympic Conference party, it’s at the facility down the street,” Sakusa is applying hand sanitizer to his hands as he continues, “Participants in the Olympics are all invited, but you don’t have to if you’re tired,”

Atsumu gets up, stretching his limbs out before finally deciding on going. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air,”

The two of them join the others as they make their way into the shuttle that’d take them to the Olympic Conference. 

The place is bigger than it looks on the outside. He sees people from the swimming events and even the ice-skating events. The amount of people nearly overwhelms him, which is surprising for Atsumu Miya since he usually enjoys parties. He wasn’t quite sure where to go so he opted to follow Sakusa around, joining him in getting a drink by the bar.

“Be sure not to drink too much,” Sakusa turns to the other man as they both down the drinks they were given. Atsumu gives him a funny look, “I’m serious, we still have matches to play,”

“Obviously, I’m not stupid,” Atsumu rolls his eyes, “Just needed something to take the edge off, y’know?”

Sakusa raises his eyebrows in turn before gesturing to Atsumu that he was gonna go. “Oh, I’ll follow,” Atsumu replies.

“You sure?” Sakusa looks back at him.

Atsumu confused, an eyebrow raising in response, “What? Yeah, I don’t have anywhere else to go, Shoyo and Kou already went their own ways,”

“Ookay, then,”

Atsumu is surprised as he follows Sakusa through the crowd. He wonders where they’re going as they leave the big crowd and make their way to the smaller party rooms. 

“Kiyoomi!” a voice calls, and it causes him to freeze in his steps.

The other man walks a bit further up, leaving Atsumu behind. Atsumu watches as a smaller figure embraces Sakusa in a hug. 

“It’s been a while, Y/N,” 

The sound of your name was almost foreign. Genuinely, it feels like he hasn’t heard that name in a millenia. He isn’t sure if he should go or keep standing there like an idiot, but fate chooses for him as you let go of the black-haired man and catch a glimpse of Atsumu behind him.

This is what Sakusa was talking about.

“Oh,” falls from your lips, “Atsumu? Is that you?”

He feels almost faint at the sound of his name coming from your mouth, your voice. His response comes out on his own.

“Y-Yeah, it’s been a while, huh?” He curses himself for the tenseness of his words. 

You give him a smile, saying something to Sakusa that he can’t quite interpret before you walk closer to him. Were you coming up to him or walking past him? His mind turns to goo as you’re a breath away. 

“Did you want to come outside with me? It’s a little hot,”

It wasn’t that hot, it was actually somewhat cold, but Atsumu nodded and followed your lead. He doesn’t want to say too much, he’s scared. He’s scared if he were to say the wrong thing, he’d wake up from this dream.

Atsumu’s getting deja vu as you lead him through the big crowd and through the double doors. 

The two of you stand beside each other, letting the cool air blow past. It’s silent aside from the cars that drive by, and the distant music coming from inside. 

Atsumu is getting anxious with every passing second, he can’t stop himself from speaking. 

“How have you been?” He's thankful the words that escape are normal and not created off the impulsive thoughts he had earlier. 

He hears you take a deep breath before you respond, “I’ve been good, like actually. It’s really nice in California,”

You sound genuine and it makes him a little less tense.

“At first it was hard, since I only understood a bit of English, but I guess Duolingo really helps you out,” you laugh, “But I’ve met so many people, a lot of celebrities especially since they come to the games sometimes,”

“That’s good, Y/N,” Atsumu gives. He’s not sure what else to say. 

There’s a hesitant look in your eyes, “How… how have you been?”

“I’ve been good, too. My brother recommended me to his therapist so I did that for a while,” your eyes widened in surprise at that. 

“That’s good, Atsumu,”

He nods, “Yeah. Other than that, it’s been the same old, just playing volleyball,”

The two of you sit in another round of silence.

He’s surprised when you’re the one who brings up the subject he’s been dying to know.

“Have you been seeing anyone else?” your eyes find a place in the opposite direction of him.

“No, not at all. Not since, well, you know,” he beats himself up mentally for the way he worded that. Was that necessary? “And you?”

“Nope, I’ve been too busy, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve been celibate while here,” you let out a breathy laugh. “Party culture is huge in California,”

Your words prick a little at Atsumu’s heart, but who was he to judge?

“That’s cool,” a faux laugh escapes his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” your words caught him off guard, “I can’t lie to you, I have your name blocked on everything, so I didn’t know you were on the Japan National Team, but I’m proud of you,”

“It was definitely a shock to see your face from across the court,” you continue. “I hate to bring up the past, but I’m sorry for how harsh I was that night,”

“It’s fine, it was my fault,” Atsumu smiles down at you.

“Time away allowed me to really get in tune with my emotions and thoughts, and I finally think I was able to really forgive you. I mean not that it matters, I just think seeing you made me feel nostalgic,”

He laughs, “No, I get it. I feel similar,”

“To be honest, I wasn’t planning on seeing or talking to you at all during my time here. I was hoping we just wouldn’t cross paths, but I’m glad we did talk. Genuinely,”

“Same, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about you since I saw you on the court, and it was really scary considering I haven’t thought about you that much since years ago. But talking to you really helped, and I think maybe I finally got the closure my therapist was talking about,”

You share a small smile, “That’s good,”

The wind blows a bit harsher, the passage of time didn’t really click with Atsumu until now.

“You want to head inside?” he holds an arm out, which you hook onto.

“Sure,”

The rest of the Japan team are huddled in their own little group when the two of you approach them. Shot glasses are shoved into your hands before you can rebuttal. 

“I really shouldn’t–” Atsumu pushes. 

“Just do it, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto smiles.

Cheers, echoes through the air as the lot of you raise your glasses and down the hard liquor.

“I’m gonna find a seat just in case I collapse,” you whisper into his ear. He chuckles to himself when he remembers how much of a lightweight you are.

“I’ll come with,”

He’s surprised how quick you are to start yapping. Laughing as you go on and on about your ventures in California. It’s interesting though. The states made you glow and have definitely changed your demeanor. 

“I miss home, though,” you whine, “But I’m glad I’m coming home soon,”

Your words cause a brow of his to rise, “Soon?”

“Did Omi not tell you?” you mumble, there’s a confused-worried look on your face, “I’m coming back to Japan after the Olympics,”

“What?”

Your eyes widen, “W-Why? Should I not?”

“NO- I mean no, that’s great news,”

He can see you visibly settle down at his words. The two of your bodies melt into the couch as the time passes. He’s looking around, watching the other party goers have their own fun. Your breath falls into harmony with his own. 

The news you just dropped on him was definitely a shocker. He wasn’t quite sure how to process it.

Would you be coming back to MSBY? Probably not, huh? Maybe a nearby team? Maybe he should stop getting ahead of himself. He looks down at you, your eyes are dozing off. 

“Atsumu,” your voice is small as it calls out for him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you still like me?”

FORGIVE OR FORGET

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[headkiss]

hellooo for the summer asks I was wondering about our boy Eddie and going to the beach with him and feeling insecure about our body, but ofc he’s a sweetie so he makes us feel better 🥹 just some hurt/comfort my love 🫶

thank u so so much for ur request baby!!! ily i hope this is okay <3 | 0.8k of fluff, tw for problems with body image

The sun beams harshly on your shoulders from your spot on the sand, a towel serving as the only cushion beneath you, eyes squinted behind your sunglasses.

In a rare instance, the group’s schedules have all lined up and given you the same day off, and immediately, that meant packing up Eddie’s van full to the brim with coolers and towels and more people than seats and driving to the beach.

The drive had been a blast, Steve and Eddie arguing steadily over what music to play, Robin egging them on even though she’d dance along to anything. Eddie’s hand had been a comforting weight on your thigh the entire ride.

Now, hours of sun and swims later, hair messy from the wind and water, cooler much emptier than it had been earlier, you’re watching the gang play volleyball (you say this loosely, because there’s no net nor is there an established court).

It’s fun, to be a part of a group of friends this way, to watch such an uncoordinated game where everyone is smiling and having fun despite there being competition involved.

You’re having fun, too, laughing every time Eddie trips or winks at you and says “this one’s for you” before hitting the ball in a random direction. Then, there’s the way Steve calls “mine!” every time the ball comes anywhere near his side of the ‘court,’ even when Robin was even closer, prompting them to start bickering.

So really, it should be all light and easy. A relaxing day at the beach with your favorite people. And it is, until it isn’t.

One second, you’d been smiling at the game, shifting your sunglasses off of your eyes and using them as some sort of headband instead. The next, your eyes were wandering around the beach and noticing everyone else.

Noticing the way the other people around looked. Girls brilliantly tanned in their triangle bikinis, denim shorts fitting them perfectly. Or the guys in their swim trunks and how carefree they look.

You can’t help but see everything they are that you aren’t. Or, that you don’t believe you are.

Things like this creep up on you in funny ways. Like a chill that just passes through, sudden and unavoidable. A simple thought snowballing into a hundred small ones shaped like arrows aiming towards yourself.

You shift to cross your arms over the soft of your exposed stomach, suddenly wishing you’d brought more than a tank top to cover up with.

Eddie snaps you out of your thoughts with a call of “you sure you don’t wanna join, sweetheart?”

You muster a halfhearted smile as you shake your head. “I’m okay.”

The two words are enough to tell Eddie that you aren’t exactly okay at the moment. Your smile not reaching your eyes the way it should, that line between your eyebrows worried the way it shouldn’t.

When you aren’t looking, he signals Argyle over to take his spot in the game and jogs over to you, sitting down next to you and nudging your shoulder with his. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Eds. You didn’t have to stop playing,” you say, though you can't deny that the warmth of his arm brushing yours feels nice.

“Hey, look at me,” he urges you gently, his knuckles catching your chin to nudge your face up to his. “It’s just me. You can say it.”

“It’s silly,” you shrug. Eddie pins you with a look that says ‘try me,’ and because he’s the sweet boyfriend he is and because you trust him and love him, you do. “I just- I looked around and just noticed all these people and the way they look and I’m not-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, his voice painfully soft. His brown eyes even more so, shining in the late afternoon sun. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not just sayin’ that. I mean, you’ve seen the boners you give me, so…”

“Eddie,” you scrunch your nose and slap his chest lightly, though you’re fighting back a smile.

“I’m serious. Look at me compared to these people, babe. I look different, too. I’m not ripped or anything, and I’m pale as fuck. Like, ghost-level.”

You look at him, the frizzy curls framing his face and the curve of his cupid’s bow, to the tattoos dotting his skin and how his abs are just barely visible beneath the soft of his tummy. The way his cheeks and chest are a little pink from the sun. He’s perfect to you. For you.

“I think you’re pretty, Eds.”

“Well I think you’re fucking pretty, too, sweetheart. That’s my point,” his arm slings itself around your shoulders, tugging you into his side, uncaring of the heat or whether or not you’re sweaty. “Different doesn’t mean bad. It just means different. And I love you and your different, okay?”

You like the way he says it, like it’s a fact, like he’s never once thought otherwise. You like the way he trails his fingertips up and down your arm, too, like it’s an instinct.

And, well, when he dips down to kiss you all sweet and slow and sure, you think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever felt.

[heexseung]

꒰ 🌧 ꒱ ┄ ❛ dark academia ；caeruleum ❜

* pairing: vampire!heeseung x afab!reader

* tags: smut, fluff, romantic, human!reader, degradation (m. receiving), praise (m. receiving), mentions of free use, handjob (m. receiving), overstimulation (m. receiving), bratty!heeseung / switchy!heeseung if you squint, cunnilingus, body worship [kinda] (f. receiving)

* summary: because you two were loud last time, rumours have been spreading around about you two, causing you to receive a lot of unwanted attention from your peers.

* word count: 10k

* a/n: hello babes !! omg i almost forgor about this- but i DIDNT SAUR ENJOY THIS REPOST <3333 tysm for all ur support i wish u the loveliest days ahead c: and if you wish to come drop by my twitch streams, you can dm me and ill gib u my link ehheeheheheh ok thanks baiii

Even on weekends, you'd typically spend all of your free time cooped up in your tiny dorm, studying. Your timetable consists of waking up, getting ready, going to classes, studying and sleeping. You don't really do anything else and you don't really go outside much either.

It's not that you're in love with learning, although you do like learning — it's just that you don't really have anything else to do. Nothing interests you and oftentimes, you'd get so bored that you just end up thinking, well, the books are right there. Might as well do some studying. At least it'll give me something to do.

You thought about going outside and seeing the world; the world that is so unknown to you and many other humans out there, the world that any human would be extremely lucky to see… yet you can't bring yourself to step outside of your dorm unless it's for classes. You wish you had more courage to do so but after your first day here, you decided that it's best to lay low and not bring any attention to yourself. After all, your existence here is already controversial enough.

Thus, you live your life like this. It's boring and repetitive… but it's not like you're doing anything to actually change it. Plus, being here is something that you've always wanted to do ever since you were a kid, so it's not all bad and despite the less than ideal treatment you've got during your time here, there's still nowhere else you'd rather be at.

Besides, the isolation, gossip and rumours don't bother you much anyway. It'll never be as bad as the first week and you're thankful that everyone here usually lets you be — that is, usually.

Lately, you've come to notice that people are gossiping about you again but you're not sure why. You can't really hear what they're saying nor can you really ask someone about it… but you doubt it's because you're human, they've already gossiped about that on your first week here.

Maybe it has something to do with your lab partner, Heeseung. After all, the gossip did start right after the day you hooked up with him. But you doubt it.

Speaking of your lab partner, you wonder where he's been all this time. It's been a couple of days since you last saw him, he didn't even come to class two days ago. You hope he's okay.

You don't think you'll see him today either. After all, you both only share one class together, Intermediate Alchemy, and you don't have that class today. Even so, for some reason, there's a part of you that hopes to see him today anyway, maybe because he's the only person who's actually kind to you here. Everyone else would just ignore you.

As you walk down the hallway to go back to your dorm, the faint sound of an unfamiliar melody stops you in your tracks. You do a double-take, is what you're hearing what you think you're hearing?

It is.

It's the piano.

Someone's playing the piano, and beautifully so. Such beautiful and delicate melodies played with such grace, you can't help but think to yourself, a complex piece like this must take days to learn how to play. Who's playing it? And what piece is this?

Thus, you follow the faint sound of the grand piano, hoping to find the talented person playing it. Besides, you're in no rush anyway.

After a few seconds of walking, you find yourself standing in front of a closed classroom door. The sound of the piano is still a bit hard to hear properly but you don't want to open the door and disturb the person playing so you press your ear against the door, trying to listen to the piano piece as discretely as you can.

Thank God the hallway is empty or else there'd be more weird rumours about me, you can't help but think to yourself while silently chuckling.

But all too quickly, like less than a minute or so, the melodies stop playing. You wait for a few seconds to see if they'd continue but instead, you hear the faint sound of footsteps coming closer to you. You barely have enough time to detach yourself from the door and look unsuspicious before the door suddenly opens and an annoyed looking Heeseung peeks out.

However, his expression quickly changes to a surprised one as he sees you standing there like a deer caught in headlights. Now with his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised, he opens the door a bit more as he looks at you. A moment of silence passes by until you awkwardly clear your throat to break the silence.

"Um, hi," you say to him, hoping that he's not annoyed at you for listening in on him.

"Ah… hi…" he shyly says. His left hand scratches the back of his head as his eyes move away from you, but only for a moment. "Sorry, I, uh… I thought you were... one of those people."

His tone is sharp and annoyed and he rolls his eyes as he says the last two words but then he looks at you again and gives you a smile that reaches his eyes.

You reply, "No, no. I'm sorry I… kinda listened in on you."

"Kinda?" He asks with a teasing tone, his smirk is evident.

You laugh in response. It's short but the lightheartedness of the laugh still manages to dissipate the awkwardness between you two. Heeseung leans against the door frame with a smile and softly says, "It's okay."

And then he pauses. It feels as if some words are meant to be spoken here, right at this moment, but there's only silence as he stares at you. A couple of seconds later, he continues, "Um… do you wanna come in?"

Hell yeah. You've never seen this room and you're curious.

It seems that your facial expressions tell him your answer loud and clear. He gives you a bigger smile, the kind of smile that one can't stop from appearing even if they tried, and takes your hand in his to pull you into the room with him. His hand feels slightly warmer than yours and something that surprises you is the fact that his hand feels like it fits you more than your own. It makes you feel strange... knowing that even your own hands, hands that were created to fit perfectly into each other…

All your life, you've always thought that there's no way someone else's hands would ever fit into yours as perfectly as yours do but as his hand holds yours, guiding you to take a seat in front of the grand piano, you think to yourself, maybe I was wrong.

Brushing your weird thoughts away, you pull your hand away from his and look around the room. It's a bit dark in here because the curtains are closed but you can still make out what's inside the medium shaped room; some bookcases at the wall, a whiteboard at the front, some musical instruments at the left side and this grand piano at the right. Other than that, it's pretty empty which makes it appear more spacious than it actually is.

After putting your sling bag down on the floor beside you, Heeseung, now sitting next to you, starts playing a different tune than before and you watch as his pretty hands gracefully move from one key to another, you listen to the unfamiliar yet beautiful piece of composition.

Soon, the music grows in pace and intensity, you can feel the composer's passion as it goes on. Then it slows down to a soft and romantic pace, somehow reminding you of the beauty of nature despite being in a dark room with none, and then a moment later, it grows again until it eventually comes to a really slow and soft tune that reminds you of the gentleness of a mother bird singing to its nestlings. As you listen to him play, you feel like you're being kept at the edge of your seat, following the music as if you're a leaf in a stream of water. It's exhilarating, really. You didn't know music could do such a thing.

By the time he finishes playing, you're in awe of his talent in playing the piano, fully knowing that playing such beautiful composition takes a lot of time and effort. Before you could compliment him, he's already speaking, "Do you like it? It's called Dreams of Love by Franz Liszt."

"Yeah," you say, a bit breathlessly, just now realising that you've been holding your breath. "Wow, you're so talented."

His laugh is soft in your ears. "Thank you."

Turning to him, you look him in the eyes and say, "I didn't know you could play piano so beautifully."

Your words make him blush a bit; a soft shade of pink dusts his ears and cheeks — it reminds you a bit of the intimate moment you shared with him a couple of days before. As he murmurs a shy thank you, it becomes a bit awkward between you two again. Heeseung starts fiddling with his fingers and he opens his mouth as if to speak but he closes it back after a second or two.

Eventually, he does speak but his voice is devoid of all lightheartedness from before and his face shows a sorrowful expression. "Look," he sighs and turns to look at you. "I should apologise for the… uh… well, the last time, um, you know." He then gives a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands at his failed attempt to communicate his thoughts to you. "I'm sorry, I- We… we shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."

You can only stare at him in disbelief. "What?" You say, your tone sounding a bit too harsh for both of your likings.

Truthfully, his words hurt you, more much than you'd like to admit. In a way, you kind of gave him a part of you, you showed him your vulnerability and you let him touch you in ways you'd never let strangers or even regular friends do... and now he tells you he regrets it. It hurts and you feel a bit embarrassed. You enjoyed your time with him but unfortunately, you guess he doesn't feel the same.

Suddenly, Heeseung realises that what he just said is probably the worst thing he could ever say to you. He quickly tries to take it back, "Wait- nonono, I meant-"

But you're already standing up to leave, not really wanting to hear whatever else he has to say. As you move, he gets up with you, his tone starting to sound desperate as he calls out to you. "No wait, please, please don't leave. I don't think you understand me."

And to think that I thought we could actually be friends.

You might sound a bit dramatic but you can't help what you feel. Now your relationship with him feels weird and awkward. You just want to quickly leave.

Right as you're in front of the door, he grabs your arm as a last attempt to stop you. Calling your name again, he pleads with you, "Please listen to me, it's not what you think. I-"

With wide eyes, his breath hitches as he stops himself from continuing, a bit mortified at what he almost blurt out. You only give him a confused look with an eyebrow raised. After a moment of just staring at each other in silence, he finally breathes out a worried sigh and surprisingly rests his head on your shoulder while intertwining his hand with yours. But what's more surprising is the fact that you don't have the heart to push him away.

What a weird person, you think. First he tells me he regrets having sex with me and now he does this.

"I'm sorry. I'm a mess when I'm with you," he murmurs, his face heating up at the confession.

As much as your heart beats faster at his words, you can't help but ask yourself, why? You're just a human. Heeseung can't possibly like you, could he? He has many other suitors that would be more than elated to be with him. Maybe he means that you just make him nervous — you wouldn't be surprised if you do since you make many people here nervous by just breathing.

Just as you're about to say something, you hear footsteps coming near you both, along with the sound of people talking... surprisingly about you. Although you're not new to people gossiping and spreading rumours about you, it does pique your curiosity; you've always wondered what people say about you behind your back.

On the first week, you heard people saying that you came from a rich family that had relations with the university's administrative staff or that a supernatural family adopted you or that you're not really human. Those were only the light rumours. Sometimes, when walking to class, you'd hear people say that you're working undercover for the human government, that you're only here to destroy the supernatural space and that everyone should be wary of you.

It makes you a bit sad, to be honest, because those words couldn't be further from the truth. However, you don't particularly blame them; humans haven't exactly been nice to the supernaturals, so you try to not take offence.

This time, however, the rumours are something else and it seems to involve not just you but someone else too.

"There's no way that happened," someone irritatedly says. If you could see them right now, there's no doubt in your mind that they'd be rolling their eyes.

"I'm just saying what everyone else is saying," another person says, their tone more nonchalant than the other’s.

"God, I swear, rumours are so dumb, like Heeseung and Y/N fucking in the dorms, really?" Your eyes go wide at the revelation, is that what everyone's talking about? But how did they know? And why is it a huge deal if I get laid? It doesn't make sense to you.

The same person continues, their voice growing louder as they walk closer to where you're standing, "This sounds as ridiculous as the time when everyone was saying that Jake fucked 100 people."

"Ah, but this one could actually be true," the other person thoughtfully says.

"What? Don't tell me you actually believe-"

"There are people who said they heard them," they say as a matter-of-factly, their voice now growing fainter as they pass by you but you can still hear the change of tone in their voice, now sounding more intrigued, "They say she edged him a couple of times and he wouldn't stop begging her to fuck him." Chuckling, they continue, "Must be a fun time."

Heeseung buries his head deeper into your shoulder as they say that, his hair tickles your neck a bit but you don't mind. Plus, you're more focused on their conversation, so much that you almost don't feel his hand tightening his hold on yours.

At the same time, you hear the former laugh and say, "You're so fucking weird."

Their conversation doesn't stop there but that's all you're able to hear, they're too far for you now. However, you're pretty sure Heeseung can still hear them — after all, his hearing is better than yours could ever be. But now that you know what everyone's talking about, you understand why he said what he said. He's surely not fond of the gossip about you two. You feel a bit sorry about it and despite knowing that it's not really your fault that people gossip about you, it doesn't really make you feel better.

A while later, Heeseung finally speaks again but he still doesn't move away from you and his voice sounds grim, a contrast to his usual demeanour, at least from what you've seen. "Sorry. It's my fault. I should've been more careful."

You try to look at him, a bit confused at what he's saying but he's hiding his face from you so you instead simply ask him, "Huh?"

He takes a deep breath as if trying to gather his confidence. Then, he pulls away from you and you're now able to see his face clearly. Ah, so that's why he was hiding.

With an obvious blushing face, he says, "It's not that I regret it, of course not, it's just that I think we should've done it elsewhere because obviously, people could hear and it was so stupid of me for not thinking about that." He gives out a frustrated sigh and continues, his voice soft and sad, "I guess I got carried away... I'm sorry."

Another moment of awkward silence as you try to make sense of what's going on. When you finally do, you can't help but question him, your voice almost as soft as his, "Why are you apologising?"

Giving you a surprised look, he pauses for a moment as he contemplates his answer. "D-doesn't the gossip bother you?"

He looks so sad that you just can't help but tenderly hold his face, making him look at you as you reassure him, "Heeseung, people always talk about me. It's nothing new. If anything, I should apologise since you got dragged into it."

Quickly objecting, he blurts out, "No, it's my fault! If I would've been more careful- if I haven't been thinking with my dick instead of my brain, this wouldn't have happened and you wouldn't have hated me and everything would've been fine and-"

You've never seen him look so distraught before. Seeing him being so uncharacteristically talkative worries you because despite knowing little of him, you do know one thing; he's not the type to word vomit, he always thinks things through before he speaks his mind and when he speaks, his words are fully thought-out. He may stutter here and there but they'd still seem thought-out and planned. Now, seeing him not able to do so and just desperately speaking, trying to convince you that he's at fault... it just doesn't sit right with you. How long had this issue been on his mind? And to what extent does he blame himself?

"Heeseung, calm down."

But he doesn't. He seems to be fully inside his mind, blurting out words as much as he can as if he's blurting out days' worth of worries. You're not sure what to do to calm him down but in a state of panic and with your hands already on his face, you pull him close and kiss him, hoping that the shock would be enough to stop him from overthinking.

Fortunately, it works. He gives a soft muffled sound as your lips touch his and then everything gets quiet. Still, he doesn't kiss you back, most likely too shocked at your actions. The kiss itself isn't long, you don't let it nor need it to be — you pull back a few seconds later. Looking into his almost teary eyes, you apologise for the sudden kiss, "Sorry, I didn't know-"

You're pretty sure he wasn't listening to you because now the tables have turned; now, he's kissing you and the kiss he gives you is way different than your attempt to get him to calm down — it's intense, messy, desperate and so intoxicating that you almost forgot to kiss him back.

When you do kiss him back, his actions only become more desperate. His hands constantly move; first from his sides to your shoulder, then to hold your face, then to your arm as he pushes you against the door, then to your waist, almost as if he's trying to make sure that you're really here. His lips never stop moving to press open-mouthed kisses to yours and as he does so, a small part of you can't help but feel like he's offering every part of him to you through the kiss, stealing your breath away in the process.

Eventually, you both pull away, needing to breathe. For a while, you both stare into each other's eyes. Heeseung rests his forehead against yours, his lips a bit swollen as he pants and his breath feels hot against your lips.

After a moment of intense silence, he speaks, his voice sounding a bit hoarse and it's as if he's talking to himself rather than to you. "You don't hate me."

You reply, "Of course not. How could I?" Gently caressing his cheek with your thumb, you whisper, "You're the only person here who's been kind to me."

Something in his eyes changes — you're unable to pinpoint exactly what it is but you don't ask either. He gulps, still breathing heavily, still looking into your eyes and then asks you with a soft wavering voice, "Why did you kiss me?"

It isn't his question that catches you by surprise but the look in his eyes that make him seem like he's expecting or hoping for a certain answer. If you were to look away, you could answer him honestly; "it was to help calm you down" but you can't look away, not when he's staring at you so intensely, not when he looks like he's begging you to say something specific as he waits for your answer. Your breath hitches as you think, unsure of what to say to him.

But it seems that you were silent for way too long. Breaking eye contact with you to look at the ground, Heeseung takes a step back and his hand rubs the back of his neck for a short moment.

"Did you only kiss me to shut me up?" He chuckles after he says that but the slight bitterness in his voice is evident.

"I'm sorry, I panicked. I was trying to calm you down," you eventually say.

He simply stares at you as if you just said the most absurd thing ever; eyes wide, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open. After realising that you're actually serious, he grabs your hand and slowly brings it to rest on his chest, giving you the chance to pull your hand away at any moment if you wish. "Can you feel it?" He softly asks.

You know what he's talking about — his heartbeat right underneath your fingertips... but you can't feel it nor hear it. Thus, you replace your hand with your ear, resting your head on his chest as you try to at least hear his heartbeat.

Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.

It's faint but you can hear it... and it's beating quite fast for a vampire. You've heard that vampires have a slower heart rate than everyone else's and right now, you'd say his heart is beating pretty fast, just slightly above an average human's. You can feel his breathing too, it's a bit laboured.

When you pull away to look back up at him, you're greeted by a blushing Heeseung who asks you with a small smile, "Get it?"

Is he trying to say that you make him nervous?

Shaking your head no at him, you're still a bit confused as to what he's trying to convey. At your response, he sighs, runs his hand through his hair and then whispers to you, "How am I supposed to calm down when you're kissing me?"

That's when the realisation hits you. "Oh..." you whisper, now getting it.

"Yeah..." he whispers back then lightly chuckles. Placing his hand on the door behind you a moment later, he leans into you and continues in a low voice, "You wanna know how you can calm me down?"

That low voice makes you feel weird things, you just can't resist entertaining him when he speaks like that. "What?" You ask, your voice also low.

"You can hug me." Raising an eyebrow at him, you hum for him to continue, a bit surprised at the answer. "I like hugs," he continues with a boyish smile.

"You want a hug?"

With the same smile, he softly says, "Yeah."

"If you say please, I'll give you one."

He wastes no time. "Please," he says with a bright smile and hopeful eyes.

How could you say no to him when he looks so cute? So you hug him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head on his shoulder. He immediately hugs you back, his grip on you a bit tight but you don't mind, not when he feels so warm and comforting.

After a long moment of just hugging each other, you can't help but playfully ask, "Are you calm now?"

"I don't know," he starts. "Maybe you can check my pulse to find out?"

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he says that. You're not sure what he's hoping to get out of it — maybe he just wants your hands on his neck... or maybe he just likes to tease you. Whatever it is, you can't help but roll your eyes.

Suddenly, a fun idea pops up inside your head and you nonchalantly reply, "Okay."

Grabbing his face with both of your hands, you pull his head back to look at his neck. As your hands move to make him look up, your eyes take in every millimetre of his neck, specifically the spaces underneath his jawline, trying to find a pulse. Fortunately, it doesn't take you a long time.

"W-wait wait wait wait-" He gasps as your tongue probes at his pulse, his hands now moving to grip your shoulders. You only did it to tease him — you like it when he's flustered, but surprisingly, you can actually feel his pulse underneath your tongue. Intrigued, you pause your actions to count his heart rate, as weird and funny as that sounds.

You're not really surprised when you feel it beating rapidly. After a few seconds, he gives out a shaky exhale and says, "Is this a normal thing humans do?"

You chuckle at his words and then quickly bite down on the spot. He gives out a choked moan in response and further tightens his grip on your shoulder. "Aw, is baby flustered?" You tease him, unable to help yourself.

He can only whine your name as your tongue starts swirling around the same spot.

"You're so responsive... I love it," you whisper to him, your voice making him shiver. "And to think, I'm only playing with your neck. Is it that sensitive?"

As you start sucking on the small bit of skin in between your teeth, his jaw moves in an attempt to answer you but you don't hear his voice at all — he doesn't speak, not even when you're done giving him a hickey, not even when you're done giving him three. Pulling back, you take a moment to admire the small bruises on his neck but as time goes by and nothing changes, you begin to realise something.

"Why aren't they disappearing?" You comment, a bit alarmed.

However, Heeseung doesn't seem that concerned. He shrugs it off and replies with half-lidded eyes, "Ah, it's fine, it'll go away eventually."

"Is that normal?" You ask, still a bit hesitant.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry."

Deciding to take his word for it, you continue leaving hickeys on his neck. He hums in approval, his breathing hot and heavy and you eventually lose count of how many you actually gave him. When you pull back to look at his neck again, it's already half-covered with small bruises; all of them still bright red.

Just the sight of it makes something inside you snap and you can't help but ask him, "You don't mind me touching you right, Hee baby?"

With his head a bit dizzy, Heeseung struggles a bit to speak, "N-no, you can... you can touch me all you want."

"I can touch you anywhere?" You smirk, already knowing what you're going to do to him.

"Anywhere you want," he softly replies.

At his words, your hands waste no time moving to his torso, touching every part of it from his shoulders, then to his collarbones, then to his chest. His breath hitches when your hands move across his nipples but you don't stop to play with them — you continue moving your hands down to his abdomen. As you do so, you ask him, "I can touch you here?"

"Mhmm." His eyes automatically close as he says that, wanting to focus on your hands touching his body.

Seeing him relaxed and full of anticipation at the same time only spurs you on and so, you move one of your hands to squeeze his ass. He gasps and jumps in response, not expecting that to happen.

"What about here?" Your teasing tone only seems to make him melt.

"Y-yeah," he breathlessly says as he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands now gripping your waist.

Further teasing him, you slowly move your hand from his ass to grip his dick through his pants. "Even here?" You ask him with a raised eyebrow.

He can't stop himself from moaning and pushing back into your hand at the contact. But before he could reply, you're already talking while feeling him up, "Wow, you're already kinda hard. Does this turn you on, hm? Being groped like a whore?"

Giving out another moan, he starts grinding into your hand as if to show you how turned on he is. He doesn't say anything but you can practically guess what he's thinking right inside his head; feel it, feel how hard you make me. You push your hand against his dick harder and he hisses in response. "You like that? Being my whore? Letting me play with your dick however I want, whenever I want?"

"Yes," he moans. "Just use me."

"Now, now. Where are your manners?" You ask as your other hand starts playing with his left nipple through his shirt.

At first, he stays quiet for a while, not wanting to answer you but as your fingers pinch his nipple, he jumps and squeaks out, "Please!"

"Please what?" You can feel his dick getting harder through his pants and just to tease him further, you play with his tip, pressing and swirling your thumb against it over and over again.

With a groan, he relents surprisingly quickly, "Please use me how-however you want. I really need your hands on me, please."

"I'm already touching you though?"

"No..." He trails off with a hiss. "Can I please take off my pants?"

As you feign thinking, he hurriedly continues, "Please, I need to feel your hands on my dick, please? I'll do whatever you want, I'm your whore. Just please touch me, it feels really good. I need it so much. Please."

"Needy today, huh?" It's a bit surprising, honestly, you were expecting him to give more of a fight based on the last time you hooked up, but nevertheless, he's still cute. Plus, it makes your job easier.

In response, he just hums, simply agreeing with whatever you're saying without a second thought. Satisfied with his pleas and answers, you tell him that he can take his pants off and he quickly does so, his movements hurried and sloppy, desperate to get it off as quick as he can. Once his pants are discarded on the floor like a metre away, you pull him into you by gripping his hips and then you pin him to the door right behind you.

Immediately, he leans against it and his hands go to grip your waist again but you quickly grab his wrists and pin them right beside his head. Leaning closer to his ear, you sternly tell him, "Keep your hands there, got it?"

He gulps and nods at your authoritative tone. You then take a good look at his dick since you didn't really get to last time — you notice that it's lanky, average girth, with a slight curve to the left and circumcised. It's also hard but that's already obvious. In a way, it suits him and you think it's pretty, just like him.

When you look back up at him, you can't help but smile at the shy expression he gives you. Whispering into his ear, you say, "You have such a pretty dick... but do you know how to use it?"

Biting his lip, he slowly shakes his head no. As your right hand go to unbutton his shirt, you continue, unable to mask the excitement in your voice, "Well that doesn't matter. I can always teach you how." You let your fingers brush along his shaft, your touch barely there as you continue, "And when you do learn, I might let you fuck me one day." The response he gives you is cute; he quickly nods his head and pleads with you. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," he gasps, trying his best to not buck his hips. "Please."

"Alright, baby." Finally deciding to give him what he wants and put him out of his misery, you spit on your hand and start stroking his dick. Your spit makes your hand move easily and after a few moments of stroking, he gives out a loud moan, throwing his head back when you suddenly squeeze his dick — hard.

"You want people to hear us again?" You teasingly comment.

He nods and replies, "Yes... wanna... let them know... how... good you make me... feel."

"How dirty." You can't stop your smile of fondness from appearing or the chuckle that comes right after.

"I'm... your whore... remember?" Despite being paired with gasps and moans, his remark still manages to come out playful.

"Go ahead then, baby." He whimpers as your hand starts stimulating his tip. "Let everyone know who's making you feel so good. Your voice is too pretty for you to be quiet anyway."

Your right hand finally finishes unbuttoning his shirt. Without wasting any second, you touch his bare skin, running your hand all over his torso. His body's response intrigues you; everywhere your fingers go, his skin beneath you twitches and you're just using your hands. Imagine using your mouth — luckily, you don't need to imagine since he's right there.

The sound of his moan is so loud this time that it almost echoes across the room if it weren't for the room having many carpets. And to think that all you did was lick his chest. Granted, you did pinch his nipple while tightly squeezing his balls as you do so but who cares? He's so fun to play with, you just want to keep him like this for hours... but unfortunately, you're pretty sure that class is about to start soon, which means many people walking through the hallways.

Thus, you pick up the pace, trying to get him to quickly reach his high. Your left hand quickly moves up and down his shaft, your right hand goes to fondle his balls and your mouth starts sucking on one of his nipples — you doubt he's going to last long since his body is so sensitive. And based on his constant moaning and twitching, you can tell that you're right.

As you continue, he suddenly speaks, "I... I can't get our first time out of my head. I-it's like- it's like you're... haunting me." He moans when you lightly bite down on his nipple, his hips accidentally bucking into your hand. "Every time I close my eyes... I remember it again... I see it vividly... and I... I want to do it again with you... Did you... put a love spell on me... or something?"

As he continues to talk, a small uneasy feeling makes itself known to you — the kind of feeling that makes you feel as if something is wrong. It makes you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion as to what it could possibly be... but as you look at the man in front of you, you quickly understand. Just one look at him and you can tell that he's not in his right state of mind and you're pretty sure that he's just blurting out whatever's coming to his mind at this time. You can't shake away the thought that whatever he's saying right now is too private. You don't believe you should hear this, at least, not right now.

Worrying that he might end up regretting whatever he's saying, you tell him, "Heeseung, I don't want to hear anything else come out of your mouth except those pretty sounds you make, okay?"

And just to be safe, you insert two of your fingers into his mouth. As your fingers press against his tongue, he hums in response, closing his mouth and then he starts sucking on them. His tongue swirls around your fingers as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes.

Your hand goes to abuse his tip, your thumb swirling the precum around and pressing down on it again and again while your other hand continues to keep his mouth busy. His body shakes at your actions and suddenly, he quickly pulls your hand away from his mouth to say something.

"I'm gonna cum, what if-"

"You can cum, Hee baby. Go on, cum for me. You can do that for me, right?" Your voice sounds so sweet that he just wants to do whatever you say.

"But it- it's gonna get messy..." he whines and trails off. Despite his worries, his hips start bucking uncontrollably into your hand, trying to catch his high anyway — he doesn't want to stop but a small part of his conscious brain still worries about how he'll clean up his mess.

"Don't worry, baby. We can clean it up," you reassure him. "Go on, be a good boy and cum for me. And keep your hands back up."

"Okay- I..." He puts his hands back up and sucks in a deep breath as he feels himself reaching his high. That conscious part of him from earlier disappears and now, he's almost chanting, "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank-"

The moment you start harshly sucking on his neck again, he's gone; with a loud and long moan, his hips thrust into your hand and streams of cum messily come out of him, getting all over your hand, onto your pants and even onto the floor. His body is shuddering and his eyes are rolled to the back of his head as your hand starts milking him for all he's got.

You coo at him, "Good boy, baby. Such a good boy for me."

"Please-" He squeaks, head thrown back against the door. You don't stop touching him though, not even when his streaks of cum stop coming out, not even when he starts uncontrollably trembling at every touch of your hand. One of your hands continues to quickly stroke his dick while the other fondles his balls, alternating from left and right. As you squeeze them, he gasps and whimpers your name.

"You're being such a good boy, baby... just taking whatever I give you." You start licking his chest, from his navel to his nipple. Heeseung shuts his eyes tight as his body continues to tremble against his will, his hands now in fists beside his head. As you play with his nipple, sucking on it and swirling your tongue around it, his back arches and he can't stop himself from thrusting in and out of your hand.

"You can cum for me one more time, right?"

He groans in response, nodding. "A-a... any... thiiing... f-for... y-you."

Letting go of his nipple to whisper in his ear, you say, "Right, you did say that you're my whore."

"Y-yes, yes, yes." He gasps.

So you continue touching and stimulating him until he cums again. Throughout it, he doesn't speak at all, only making pretty noises while his body trembles. It doesn't take long before he cums again. This time, it comes as a surprise — he didn't tell you that he's close. Perhaps he, himself didn't know that he was or maybe he wasn't paying attention, too busy being lost in his own bliss. Either way, based on his reaction, it seems that he's also surprised; he cums with a scream, his voice echoes throughout the room, his eyes tightly closed, and his hips stop moving but he's still trembling all over as another shot of his cum comes out of him.

So gorgeous.

You slow down your movements, not wanting to push him too much, until you eventually stop. Heeseung pants in front of you, looking helpless and blissed out.

"See, I knew you had it in you." As you slowly coax him back to reality, you slowly become aware of how uncomfortably wet your panties are. But you push that aside for now.

It takes him a moment to come back to reality and when he does, he still feels a bit dizzy. His hands go to grip your shoulder and waist for support and you hug him to soothe and comfort him, rubbing your hand on his back — the hand that's cleaner than the other. A moment later, he breathes out a soft thank you, feeling a bit spent.

"I'll... clean everything up," he breathlessly says while hugging you. You pat his head while his arms wrap themselves tightly around you.

"That's okay, baby. I have tissues in my bag. We'll clean it up together, yeah?"

He doesn't answer you and instead, asks for a kiss. Of course, you give it to him. How could you ever say no to this man? The kiss is unsurprisingly hot, heavy and messy, your tongues intertwine together just like your breaths. He moans into it and then pulls back to kiss your neck.

"Your turn?" He whispers into your neck, his breath hot against it. You close your eyes as he starts kissing and licking your neck, his tongue hot and wet swirling on a certain spot. You grab his shoulder as he continues, and then, a moment later, you feel his sharp fangs graze against your neck but before you could make sense of what's happening, he quickly pulls away, stopping himself.

"Sorry, can I-" He gives out a shaky breath. "I wanna... make you cum." He whispers out the last part. It was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it.

"You wanna make me cum?" You whisper back, your eyes still closed, now fully aware of the tension in between your legs.

"Yeah." His hands tenderly touch your body as he says that, going down from your shoulder to your breast and finally coming to rest on your waist.

"Sure."

He kisses you again but compared to your last few kisses, this one's short. Pulling away from you, he says, "We should- uh... change positions? Would it be easier for you?"

"Ah, yeah, okay." Despite your voice sounding nonchalant, your pussy throbs at the anticipation of finally getting the attention it craves. After you both change positions, with you now leaning against the wall and him in front of you, his hands go to unbutton your shirt and unhook your bra as he kisses you.

Gripping his hair, you pull him away from you — which earns you a moan. "Go fast, I think it's almost time for class."

"There's still tons of time," he reassures you. "Barely anyone has class in this building anyway. Don't worry."

Trying to reassure you, he gives you a smile and goes back to tenderly kissing your neck. It seems that there's a clash of wants — you just want to cum while he probably just wants to take his time with you. You're about to protest but his hands and mouth on your body make you change your mind, at least for now. With his hands kneading your breasts and his mouth slowly moving from your neck to your breasts, you give out a defeated sigh.

"Fine."

With a triumphant smile, he mumbles a thank you into your skin. His mouth is now sucking your left breast, his tongue swirling around your areola and the nub, making your pussy wetter by the second. The urge to touch your pussy grows as he continues his actions. One of his hands plays with your right breast while the other goes to unbutton your pants.

All of a sudden, he lightly bites down on your breast and you jump in response, unable to stop your moan from coming out. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He moans too but his moan comes out muffled against your breast. After a while, your hand grips his hair and he hisses as you move his mouth to your other breast. "Keep going baby, you're doing so good. Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

The praise only spurs him on, his movements now getting bolder. Wasting no time, he begins to kiss it and then lick it, until finally, he takes it into his mouth, harshly sucking on the mound. You hiss and arch your back in response. With your pants now on the ground, your legs start to feel cold but your core is still hot and wet, demanding attention.

Eventually, he finally moves on, leaving your breasts to kiss down to your navel. Every kiss he leaves you is tender yet hot against your skin, just like his hands on your body. Once he reaches your navel, he kneels down and as you let him put one of your legs over his shoulder, his face is now very close to your crotch. Even so, he still doesn't give your pussy any attention yet. Instead, he starts at your inner thighs, specifically the one on his shoulder, slowly licking up closer and closer to your heat as his hands continuously move up and down your thighs. He stops where your thigh meets your groin and starts taking a small bit of your skin into his mouth to suck and bite on it.

You let him leave a hickey there — it's not like you can't hide it anyway. After he's done, he pulls away to admire his mark on you with a small satisfied smile but just as you thought he'd finally start eating you out, he starts the same thing over again, except this time, on your other thigh. You groan, beginning to get frustrated.

He seems to find it amusing, given by the fact that you can feel him softly chuckling into your thigh as he kisses it. "Heeseung." Your stern yet breathless voice only makes him smirk.

"Hmm?"

"You're being a brat," you hiss at him.

Pulling away from your thigh, he looks up at you with a defiant smirk and coyly says, "I'm only taking my time."

But as he moves to continue his actions, your authoritative voice makes him pause and shiver. "Heeseung, I will literally slap you." You're in no mood to take things slow, you just want to cum. That's all you want — to finally release all this built-up tension in your pussy.

"Kinky," he mumbles with a pout. It's not because he doesn't like being slapped — it's actually something he's willing to try especially during sex as long as you like it, but he's just pouting because he didn't get to-

Giving a frustrated sigh, you say to him, "You can leave a hickey there after I cum, damn it."

His face lights up as you say that and his hand grips your thigh. "Promise?"

"Yes!" You hiss. "Now be a good boy and make me cum."

Wasting no time, he hums and nods at your command, moving his mouth to your clothed pussy. He buries his nose and mouth in your heat, you can't stop a moan from escaping at the contact. His mouth starts kissing you, over and over again as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Fuck," you mutter, your hands gripping his hair tighter as he starts licking a long strip. It's relieving honestly — your pussy finally getting the attention it so craves... but it's not enough. You want his mouth on you, without anything else in the way. Thus, you tell him to take it off and he hums, acknowledging your command... but after a while, your panties are still on and he hasn't made a move to remove it, he just keeps on slowly eating you out with a smirk. When you finally realise that he's doing this deliberately, you snap.

"Heeseung!" Your voice is louder than you expected. "Take them off, for fuck's sake." Then, as if your mouth is on auto-pilot, you continue, "Do you want me to fucking slap you, huh? Is that what you want? You want me to fucking snap, don't you? Want me to pin you down and fuck you till your brain doesn't work anymore?"

At your words, Heeseung feels a bit intimidated but he can't help but also feel turned on at the same time. He moans into you and as he pulls away to pull down your panties, you continue, "Finally starting to take me seriously, huh? You're such a fucking brat, I swear to God, Heeseung. You just want to get punished, don't you?"

"God, you're so wet," he moans into you when he finally buries his face into your pussy again, without your panties this time.

Finally feeling his mouth on your heat, you moan in relief, pushing his head closer to your pussy while leaning against the door. His tongue starts licking up all your juices while his nose continuously bumps against your clit. Then, he starts sucking it, causing you to arch your back. "Fuck. That's right baby, keep going," you say, your tone now way calmer than before.

He hums into you as he continues to eat you out just the way you like, swirling and pressing his tongue against your pussy, sucking it, slurping up all of your juices. Your free hand now goes to play with your breast, massaging it while stimulating your nipple at the same time. His cums smears on your breasts as you do so but you couldn't care less about being clean right now.

When he inserts his tongue into your core, you loudly moan, your hand squeezing your breast tightly. And as he continues, sliding his tongue in and out of you, your pussy starts tightening around it and you gasp, "Fuck, I'm getting close. Don't you dare stop, you little brat, you hear me? I know you're thinking about it."

Gripping his hair tightly, you grind his face into your pussy, using him like a toy as you keep up a steady rhythm. He doesn't mind, of course he doesn't. He did say that you can use him however you want. And to help you reach your high, his hand moves to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Here it comes, the release you've been seeking; there's that familiar knot in your stomach and with the help of his mouth and hand, you finally reach your climax with a moan, cumming all over his face as you bask in your release. Heeseung continues eating you out throughout it, taking in all of your juices in his mouth, not letting a single drop escape. His movements grow slower as time goes by until he eventually stops and pulls away, only to leave that hickey he so wanted on your thigh.

By the time he's done, you've gained your consciousness back. Still breathing heavily, you caress his head and softly say, "Thanks."

He licks your thigh one last time and then gets up to kiss you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug while doing so. You let him, not really bothered by the taste of you in his mouth. But the kiss doesn't last long since you're still breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you say after pulling away from him.

"It's okay," he says, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing also still heavy. Your hands move to cup his face and with a swipe of your thumb, you collect your cum on his face and feed it back to him. His lips part when your thumb touches them, and he obediently sucks it without protest.

"Good boy," you praise.

You pull your thumb away from his mouth. As his arms unwrap themselves from you, you lean against the door and give out a heavy sigh. Looking back at him, you say, "We should clean ourselves up and get dressed."

With a nod, he agrees, going to get the tissues from your bag that was by the piano. When he comes back with it, you both clean up the mess you both made; first, you both clean yourselves — although Heeseung prefers to clean you more with his mouth than with the tissues, then, you clean the floor and the door that still had streaks of his cum on them, and finally, you clean your clothes.

It's when he buttons up his shirt, you notice something strange.

"The hickeys are still there," you mention, now alarmed again.

Heeseung also gets alarmed, quickly taking out his phone to see himself but then chuckles a second later when he sees how he looks through the screen. "Damn, I looked fucked up," he mumbles.

His hand grazes the still bright red bruises on his neck and his eyebrows furrow at them when he doesn't see them healing. He turns to you and asks, "Did you drink something?"

"What?" You question as your hands are buttoning your shirt.

"Did you drink a potion or something today?" He asks, still looking at himself through the screen, his eyes looking slightly dark.

You pause your actions as you try to remember.

Potion...

Oh!

You remember now. It was during Tuesday's alchemy class where Heeseung unfortunately wasn't there. You remember that your lecturer taught the class about a new potion. Apparently, it's a consumption potion which means it only works if you consume it and he so kindly let you drink some of it after he finished explaining its properties. The colour of it was a very rich shade of blue and it smelled like the ocean... but the taste was... unpleasant, to say the least.

His voice rings across your mind, "So what it does is that it drastically slows down someone's regeneration ability, not yours but anyone you touch. Use with caution, alright. Don't be killing anyone. That's against the law."

"Oh... yeah, yeah I did. During alchemy class yesterday," you say, continuing to get dressed.

"Was it blue?" He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues buttoning his shirt.

"Yeah."

"Ah... no wonder."

You expect him to continue speaking but instead, he keeps quiet and simply tries to smooth out the wrinkles on his shirt. Eventually, you ask him a question that's on your mind, hoping that he's not annoyed or angry at you for leaving too many obvious hickeys on his neck. "But what are you gonna do?"

Please don't be angry at me.

"Oh, for these?" He shows you his neck, tapping the bruises on it. Then, with a smirk, he continues, "I'll keep them. Thanks."

"Are you sure?" You stare at him, surprised at his response.

Nodding, he reassures you, "Yeah, It's no problem. It'll go away eventually."

For the second time today, you decide to take his word for it. However, you can't help but wonder how long the potion's effect will last — maybe a couple of days? Hopefully not.

When you both finally finish making yourselves look presentable again, the comfortable silence you both share suddenly turns tense and awkward. You're unsure why but the reason makes itself known to you as you make your way to grab your bag.

Heeseung calls out your name. He sounds a bit nervous as he softly asks you, "What are we?"

Grabbing your bag, you think about it for a couple of seconds. "Hm, I guess... friends with benefits?"

"Oh..." He slowly nods, looking down at the floor.

"Unless you don't want that. This can be a one-time thing if you want."

"Nono, I-" He quickly says. "I just..." Taking a deep breath, he brings his head up to make eye contact with you and continues, his voice soft and a bit unsure, "I want something more..."

You look at him as soon as you hear that; he stands there, still near the door, with his posture straight and his face serious as he looks at you. "What?" You can't help but say.

Gathering all his courage, he nods to himself and continues, "I want to date you."

Surprise is the only word that describes how you feel right now. Never in a million years would you ever think that someone here actually likes you, much less want to date you. You've never even thought about dating a supernatural before either. And although you do like Heeseung... you're still unsure if you like him more than just a friend or not. Unsure of how to reply to his sudden confession, you end up just staring at him.

At your lack of response, his cheeks begin to turn pink again and says in a shaky voice, "If that's... a bit too much then it's alright." He gives you a reassuring smile, hoping that you don't feel pressured to reciprocate his feelings. "I don't mind just being friends with you."

"Heeseung, I'm sorry, I'm not too sure," you begin. "I mean, you're the only person who's been kind to me here. I'm not sure if I like you that way... and I wouldn't want you to fall in love with me, only for me to realise later that I never really liked you more than a friend in the first place."

Silence fills the air again as he takes in your words.

"Would you... give me a chance, at least?" He finally says. "Like at least let me take you on a date? Please?" As he looks at you with such cute and innocent eyes, you find yourself smiling at him. "I can show you the world if you want..." and ever so softly, he says his next sentence, "If you promise to show me yours."

His voice sounds melodious as he says that — you could hear the genuineness and hopefulness in his voice. And as you both stand there, just staring at each other, you begin to think to yourself; why not?

"Where would you take me?"

His face immediately lights up as you say that and you can't help but laugh at his cuteness.

"Anywhere you want," he replies with a bright smile, the kind of smile that could make the whole world stop and stare.

"Okay," you softly say, walking closer to him and giving him your hand.

For the first time in your life, you find yourself feeling excited about leaving your dorm, you find yourself anticipating to explore the world that you were so hesitant to get to know. It's as if your worries about laying low suddenly don't exist. And even though you're not really dating, you still can't stop the wide smile on your face as he meets you halfway, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together.

"Thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to place a soft kiss on it.

"Thank you," you reply.

"For what?" He looks at you with a smile, slightly confused at your words.

Many things — for being kind to you, for being your friend, for not judging you just because you're human, and honestly, many more. But what comes out of your mouth is a simple, "Not every human has the honour of having a potential vampire boyfriend."

His laugh is bright and rich, music to your ears. His eyes crinkle as he laughs and his smile is wide. Just the sight of him laughing wholeheartedly makes your heart feel full. When he finishes laughing, his demeanour changes a bit to a playful one, leaning closer to whisper in your ear with that low voice and that signature boyish smile, "I can be much more than a vampire boyfriend."

"I have no doubt about it," you say to him as you try to calm down your beating heart.

Grabbing your bag from you with his other hand, he says, "Let me walk you to your dorm."

"Okay."

As you both reach the door, you take a look back and scan the room, just to make sure that everything's as it should be. You look back at him when you're done; he has his hand on the door as he asks you, "Ready?"

Nodding at him, you let him open the door and walk you to your dorm, your hands entwine together the whole walk.

[quirklessidiot]

title: Y/N and her boys [sneak peek] pairing : Upper classman/popular kid!Gojo Satoru x F!reader, Exchange student!Eren Jaeger x F!reader, MMA Fighter/Celebrity!Ryomen Sukuna x F!reader, Childhood Bestfriend!Aki Hayakawa x F!reader, Varsity football player!Itoshi Rin x F!reader (use of she/her pronouns) Genre: Alternate Universe-University setting, romance, fluff, angst (if you squint), slice of life, drama, all cliche romance genres unite! (Based on the Manhwa, Bunny and her Boys)

Summary: Y/N’s denied the existence of pretty boys and god forbid she’d ever end up dating one yet with one horrid break-up, she decides that relationships aren’t just meant for someone stupid like her but the problem is — five of them suddenly appear and god, why does it seem like they can’t get enough of her?

General warning for the story: mild sexual content, cliche tropes (help), mahito is his own warning, minor character death, mentions of depression, a lot of second-hand embarrassment from y/n's part (shes not a cool girl, SHE IS A BUBBLING MESS AND THATS OK <33), insecurities, bullying, and mentions of cheating Notes: english isn't my first language! (dont judge me) this multi-chaptered story will probably be 20-30 chapters (idk) in ao3. you can totally tell this story is rooted from self-indulgence LMFAO. Im not sure if i should cross post it but im leaning towards ao3 more either ways, can't wait to release this on friday!

also can u guess who she ends up with :P rb’s are appreciated yay FULL VERSION IS RIGHT HERE!

SNEAK PEAK

“Maybe…Maybe we should break up.”

There's another round of silence between you two, and you know that you can’t exactly take it back anymore since you had said it loud and clear, “Woah, woah, I told you I wasn’t with Misa.” his voice turns louder, and the background noises are good as gone as if he had left the noisy place, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you-”

“I said,” you try to control the stammering of your voice, trying to avoid the stares of the people who cast odd glances, “We’re done. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” and before he could let another excuse out of his mouth, you end the call. It is only now that you notice how your legs have been quivering and your mouth has gone dry, seemingly like a pup who had just been born and trying to walk. You lose your footing and sit down on the dirty pavement.

No tears were shed at that very moment, probably because you were only stupefied, and it was written clearly on your face that this wouldn’t be something you’d recover anytime soon. Heck, you couldn’t even grasp the idea entirely that someone you’ve been friends with for years and, eventually, a lover would do that to you.

Was it as easy as a snap of a finger?

“Miss? Miss?” someone calls out, but it only bounces back to him like an echo in a cave. You remain still, eyes blinking rapidly while the rest of your face is slack. Everyone around you continued to move, but you remained there like a decorated statue.

“Miss? Christ, you’re about to be–” the husky voice also stops, and it’s only now that you look up to find a man. He seems stocky but, simultaneously, smaller, as if he didn’t want to come off as intimidating when he maintained eye-to-eye contact. 

He is incongruous with everyone who walks by since he desperately tries to hide his features with a baseball cap and a dark face mark. The only thing you can see are strands of his bleached hair, his eyes that resemble the sunshine that peeked through the glasses of whiskey, and the swirls of ink becoming visible underneath his coat when he stretches out his arm.

If this were any other day, you’d run in the opposite direction because he looked like an unscrupulous loan shark, but your body remains in a state of unknown fatigue that you just wanted to stay still. 

You watch as his face softens, the lines on his forehead somewhat disappearing when he watches the color bleed from your face. “...Alright…” he stops, squinting as he crouches to your level. His thick thighs encompass the rough expanse of his straight jeans, and you wondered if he had been an athlete or something. Aside from his built, his presence was rather invigorating,  “oh…” he continues, “Sorry, you-uh…” The confidence he had to throw you off is gone like the evening dust as he motions his index finger up and down his face.

At that moment, you feel something wet running down your cheek. It seemed like the waterworks were late.

You didn’t want to be a pity party in front of anyone, and you’d expect there to be only bystanders, not ‘good samaritans’.

You sniffled, violently wiping the tears away as you felt your ribs were too tight when you took one long breath, “I’m fine…” you respond monotonously.

Who were you even fooling? 

“Right…” you carefully watch him take out a handkerchief, “Fine, sitting on a dirty pavement near my car doesn’t make you look fine, Miss.” he prodded.

“Well, what do you care, anyways?” you tried to keep your voice from cracking, but the stranger showed no qualms of anxiety or fear, nor did he seem mad at your snappy attitude. The blue handkerchief is laid on his palm, waiting for you to take it, yet you exhibit no signs of accepting his kindness. Instead of forcing you through like the usual status quo, he returns it to his pockets.

The odd man.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to run your feet over since I’m parked over here,” he thumbs towards the black jeep that’s parked in front of you, “And my mom didn’t raise me to leave a girl sitting alone, crying her eyes out…”

“Well, did your mom tell you to mind your own business, as well?” your body remains heavy and distant from the stranger, not minding if it came off as rude, but you’ve always been wary of them, especially the ones who claimed to be nice. You wouldn’t be swayed even if you were in a vulnerable place.

He sucks in a deep breath, quite surprised that you had the energy to exchange a vehement response to him. Weren’t you just about to bawl your eyes out?

“Well, you honestly looked like you deserve some niceness after whatever happened.” he conceded, remaining suspiciously friendly, “Piece of advice, though, if it’s a guy, he’s not worth it.” 

“I-what makes you think it’s a guy?” there it goes again, the unknown tightening of your throat and the way the gummy lids on your eyes would heat up as if a pipe of water was about to burst and flood the segways any moment.

“It’s always an asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a woman right.” he lamely explains, and slowly but hesitantly, as if he was waiting for you to move away, he places one hand on top of your hand. 

Unlike a while ago, you weren’t as hostile, but you were confused about why the stranger suddenly did this and didn’t seem to tilt away like you usually would, “So go home tonight, Miss. Cry it out and wake up tomorrow for yourself. You’ll be fine.”

You don’t even see his entire face, but the way he gently caresses your hair as if you were a long-time friend had your lips quivering, and without even realizing it, your torso bends forward. You bury your face in your arms, finding solace in your makeshift fetal position.

The stranger says nothing more; honestly, you didn’t even mind. His newfound presence is comforting.

[its-time-to-write]

This may be a bit of a strange idea (Feel free to ignore this request)

But since your about Jaime Tartt baby fic. I had the thought of Jaime trying to give reader a break takes the baby in a stroller to training with Roy and Roy is just kind of like WTF and other hijinks ensue like maybe someone flirts with Jamie with the baby or roy gets left with the baby at somepoint or Reader is freaken out cause the baby is gone. IDK just an idea that has been stuck in my head since I read your baby fic

Dude this request was not strange AT ALL. It was actually nice because it was similar to something I wanted to write, and I haven’t been able to do that because I’ve been doing requests. THANK YOU.

i’ll still be right next to you my dear

Your daughter Bea is five months old. You’re still sleep-deprived, but less than you were a month ago. Jamie does his absolute best as her dad and your husband, but the weight of it still falls to you. Things have gotten considerably less tense, too, since you moved out of the flat and back into your house. It was weird at first, both you and Jamie walking on little eggshells around each other. 

The tension was broken with an all-hands-on-deck moment at 1am, when Bea had a stomach bug or something, and you two had no choice but to just laugh in resignation at the sheer enormity of the mess she made. There go the beginnings of sleep training. 

Bea had her own schedule, one that involved being an early bird like her dad. She would wake up five to ten minutes before his 3:30 alarm went off, and it got to the point where he barely even set it anymore. 

Jamie would get out of bed, throw on some pants, change her, and then zip through his morning routine. He’d put her back to bed, give you a half-awake kiss, then be out the door before Roy could knock. 

(Roy made that mistake early on, waking Bea. You thoroughly chewed him out in an exhausted rage. Jamie says it’s the closest thing he’s ever seen to Roy crying).

Anyway, at 3:55 this Saturday morning, Jamie kisses you, says, “I’ve got Bea, so sleep in,” and is gone before you even know what’s happening. 

You flop back on the pillow and are out in seconds. 

—

“The fuck is this?” Roy says the moment Jamie steps out the door, pushing a happy Bea in her jogging stroller.

“The fuck does it look like?” Jamie replies. “Her mum needed sleep, so Bea’s joining us for training.” He leans over the stroller to look at his daughter and coos, “Isn’t that right, angel?”

Bea makes a delighted gurgle and Roy grunts.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me the great Uncle Roy is daunted by a silly wee baby?” Jamie says, grinning. “You are Bea’s favorite.”

Roy glares at Jamie. “Don’t fucking lie to me, everyone knows Sam’s her fucking favorite. She even likes fucking Isaac better than me.”

Jamie pouts. “Don’t listen to him, Bea. We know you love Uncle Roy, even though he’s being a twat.”

Roy just grunts and looks at Bea. “You know how I feel about you, kid,” he says. She babbles. She knows. 

“Alright, come on. Suppose the stroller gives your dad some extra weight while he runs.”

Jamie grins, and starts jogging down the street.

—

You wake up to the sound of silence. No Bea, no Jamie. Just birds chirping and the sun shining. You squint at the clock. 8:37am. You reach for your phone and see a selfie from Jamie of him, Bea, and Roy marked 7:02am with the caption, headed to breakfast! 

You now have a hazy recollection of Jamie saying something about taking Bea when he left, but it felt like a dream at the time. The silence makes more sense now. 

You smile and send heart emojis. I love you! you type. 

love u 2, Jamie replies. Then: I hope that was for me not Roy?

You shake your head. That boy. He thinks he’s a comedian.

You roll out of bed and stretch. Time for a nice, long shower, then a good coffee from Jamie’s complementary espresso machine. You’re not gonna lie, there are certain perks to being married to a footballer.

—

Meanwhile, Jamie and Roy have stopped for breakfast at a café that Roy says fits in with Jamie’s diet. He says no coffee and Jamie makes a disgusted face and replies you’re not the boss of me, which is why they’re letting Bea decide if Jamie gets coffee or not by seeing who will get her to smile first. 

Jamie wins, of course. It’s part of being a dad. 

They’re sitting at a table outside till 9am, Bea out of her stroller and in Jamie’s arms. They’re on their third cups of coffee and Bea’s draining her bottle of formula like there’s no tomorrow. Jamie is in the middle of stroking Bea’s nose (a miniature version of yours) and watching her eyes blink slow, when two girls walk up to their table. 

“Ohmygod, no way, is that your baby?” one girl asks. 

Jamie looks up and gives a polite, perfunctory, “yeah,” and turns back to Bea. Roy’s sitting back in his seat, ready to watch this unfold. 

“It is like, so totally adorable. There’s something so sweet about a baby, don’t you think?” the other girl says, putting her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. He shifts away as politely as he can. 

“I just think that like, men with babies are so much hotter than men without babies,” girl 1 continues, oblivious to Jamie, who has shifted Bea onto his chest and is displaying his left hand as conspicuously as possible. He taps Bea’s back with his ring finger in what he hopes is an absentminded manner. 

Roy holds back a snort.

“Especially single dads,” says girl 2. “Soo hot. I’ll give you my number if you ever need a babysitter.”

She’s barely done speaking when Jamie blurts out, “I’m married.” He looks so harried that this time Roy can’t hold back a laugh. The girls turn to him with a glare, then back to Jamie. 

“She doesn’t have to know,” says one of them. 

“Pretty sure she does,” Jamie replies. “And anyway, I ain’t interested. Have a good morning.”

Bea, the angel that she is chooses that exact moment to start burping. 

The girls give her a disgusted look and turn away. 

Roy looks at Jamie, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smile on his face. “Nice fucking move with the ring finger,” he says. “If it were me, I’d’ve fucking given them a different fucking finger.”

“That’s where you and me differ, granddad,” Jamie replies, wiping spit up off his vest (waterproof, thank god), “I’m a gentleman.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

— 

The windows are open, the laundry is spinning, and you’re dancing around the house. You love Bea, but god you also love good rest. And a clean house. And Jamie Tartt. Man, you love him. You can’t believe he took Bea out for the whole morning and knowing him and Roy, they’ll be out until at least 11am. You smile. That gives you time to head to the shops and pick up some flowers, which will make you feel like a civilized human being, one who has her life together and can take care of her child and her husband and maybe, just maybe, one who is in the mood to get laid tonight. 

—

Jamie and Roy are strolling through Richmond, passing by shops and enjoying what feels like the first lovely day in ages. Jamie hasn’t heard from you since you asked is this shirt clean or dirty? with a picture near the washing machine. He knows Saturday cleaning is like a ritual to you, one you picked up in high school and carried on through college. You have a system and you take your time, windows open and music playing. He can picture you spinning around the house putting things away, and that mental image is enough to make his face split into a smile. He remembers the Saturdays you spent before Bea, you cleaning and dancing, and him, well, not helping but certainly dancing with you and promising that he’ll give you more dirty sheets to wash if you’d just take a tiny little break? In the bedroom? With no clothes on because they need to be washed, wink wink?

It usually worked. 

You’d lay in bed for precisely ten minutes afterward, take a no-nonsense shower, then kick him out of the house. He’d be gone for an hour, buying you that chocolate you liked and whatever flowers he thought suited the day. There’s a good thought. He should get you flowers, a reminder of their early days of romance. And maybe, just maybe, Bea can sleep soundly enough that they can revive other traditions, too. 

“Roy,” Jamie begins.

“No.”

“Oi, you didn’t even let me finish!” he says indignantly.

“Fine. What do you fucking want.”

“It ain’t for me,” Jamie says, “it’s for Bea. And my wife. I want to get her flowers, but it ain’t easy to push the stroller and look. Can you take Bea around the green? I’ll come find ya when I’m done.”

Roy stares at Jamie, and Jamie is sure he’s going to say no. But then Roy walks around to the front of the stroller and crouches down in front of Bea. 

“If your dad fucking goes and gets flowers for your mum, do you promise to be alright for twenty minutes? I know I’m not fucking Sam or Isaac, but Phoebe thinks I’m a good uncle. She’s a proper fucking dweeb, but a good judge of character.”

Bea just stares at him. Roy slaps his thighs and stands up. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jamie grins and says, “Bye, Beatrice. Be good for Uncle Roy.” He gives her a kiss on her forehead, a boop on the nose, and is gone, weaving through Richmond, man on a mission. 

“Your mum’s a fucking saint for putting up with him,” Roy says to Bea. Bea says nothing. She’s fallen asleep. Roy shrugs and starts pushing her in the direction of the green. Better asleep than crying. 

—

You’re showered, dressed, with just a touch of makeup, and you’re on your way to the flower shop. There’s this little one you and Jamie used to go to. You know the owner a little, but you suppose Jamie knows her better because he’s been in more. She’s about the age of his mum, and has a soft spot for him. He overpays and always leaves one flower for her. He hasn’t had the time to be over since Bea, so you say hello and show her some baby pictures, and then some of Bea and Jamie. You both laugh over your favorite, Jamie passed out on the couch, mouth open, wearing gray sweatpants and a single sock, with Bea on his stomach in a gray onesie and a single sock. She’s drooling on him and his hair’s a mess, but you think it’s adorably hilarious. Like father, like daughter. 

Now, you’re perusing the flowers. It smells wonderful, the warm weather diffusing the fragrances through the shop. You turn a corner and bonk straight into a man with his back turned to you. You open your mouth to apologize and he turns, and out comes, “Jamie?”

He smiles and you peer behind him. “Where’s Bea? Oh my god Jamie, did you lose our daughter? She had better be close by, I swear to god, Jamie Tartt, how do you lose an entire baby, especially one as noisy as Bea?!” 

You’re oblivious to Jamie’s attempts to interrupt your rant, so when you pause for a breath he says, “love.”

You turn to face him, from where you were trying to stand on your tiptoes hoping for a glimpse of Bea’s stroller. 

“I didn’t lose her. She’s with Roy. D’you really think I’m that irresponsible?” 

He looks so hurt that you realize what you’ve been saying. Your hands fly up to your mouth. Of course Jamie wouldn’t lose Bea. He loves her. He looks at her as though she makes the stars shine. 

“Babe. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and then I wasn’t expecting to see you without Bea, and I thought I’d surprise you by getting flowers before you both got back, and-” you stop. Jamie is gently holding your face and smiling, no longer hurt. 

“Babe,” he says, “love of me life and best mum around, it’s ok. I know whatcha mean.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bit funny we had the same idea, innit?”

You smile. You’d been so caught up in your split-second worry about Bea, you didn’t even realize what was happening. 

“Guess some things don’t change,” you reply. “You pick out any good ones?”

Jamie places his hand over his heart. “Love. I only pick out good ones. I picked you, didn’t I?” You laugh at his sparkling eyes, and put your hands on his waist, pulling him close. 

“Pretty sure I picked you,” you reply. 

Jamie hums. “That’s a fuckin lie, and you know it.”

Your feeble retort is cut off by his lips on yours. 

—

You and Jamie walk toward the green, hand in hand. He’s holding bright yellow daffodils in the other. 

Jamie spots Roy first. “Oi!” he yells, “look who I found!”

You wave, jog over to Bea, and crouch down. “Hi baby! I missed you! Did you have fun with Uncle Roy?” Bea babbles at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh good,” you reply, “he is your third-favorite uncle, after all.”

Roy nods. “You fucking get it. Jamie tried to feed me this fucking bullshit that I was fucking number one.”

“Jamie!” you say. “Everyone knows it goes Sam, then Isaac, then Roy.”

Jamie puts his hands up defensively. 

“Honesty,” Roy says, “Such an admirable quality. Remind me again why you’re with this fucking prick?”

You pretend to think for a moment then say, “For his money.”

Jamie says “Oi!” so you quickly amend, “And his smokin’ hot body.”

Jamie nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Roy is looking at Jamie in disgust. “You two are so fucking adorable, it’s fucking disgusting. C’mon Bea. I see Sam over by that bench. Let’s give these fucking idiots some time alone.”

You and Jamie turn to each other. 

“He said we’re adorable,” you say, grinning. 

“He said we get alone time,” Jamie says, grinning back. 

“Roy!” you call, “how much time do we have?”

“Three hours!” Sam yells back. “I want to walk Bea to my restaurant!”

You and Jamie turn back to each other, giddy. 

“You know what that means,” you say. 

“Sex,” he replies immediately. 

You laugh and grab his hand. “C’mon, babe. Let’s enjoy our alone time.”

As you walk away, Jamie says, “Oi, need to tell you about these girls who were trying to flirt with me. But don’t worry, I gave them the finger.” He holds up his ring finger and you slap his arm. 

“This is why I love you.”

“Really? And here I only thought you were with me for my money,” he replies. 

“And your hot body. Don’t forget that one,” you say. 

“How could I forget?” he says. “When we get home, let’s put it to some good use.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

After handing our shoes over to the teenager at the counter and replacing them with the generic and ill-fitting bowling shoes, trying not to think too hard about how many random strangers have worn them before us, we make our way over to where Ash and Lex have already reserved a lane, bickering about how to enter our names into the machine.

Just as we’re sitting down, Lex leans over and bites Ash on the arm. “Ow!” He pulls away from her and rubs at the spot where she sank her teeth in, “Competition makes you so mean.”

“You being a dick makes me mean. Now delete it and walk away.”

I look up just in time to see the U and S disappear from the end of her name and chuckle under my breath. Even I know better than to use her full name under any circumstances lest I lose a limb.

Laughing, Ash hops out of the seat and walks over to us, lifting his sleeve to reveal teeth marks. “Can you believe this?”

“Yeah,” I say, “what did you think was going to happen?”

“I didn’t think she’d bite me,” he pulls his sleeve back down and turns to Dawn with a cheerful smile and says, “Hello,” giving her the opportunity she’s been itching for since I first told her about him.

“Hi! I’m Dawn.”

“Ahh, the twin! I’m Asher. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” She looks over to give me the “he’s cute” look which I do my best to ignore.

Ash plops onto the seat next to her and leans in to speak quietly, “So, this is probably an annoying question, but do you guys have any secret twin powers?”

“Of course,” she replies and then looks around to ensure no one is eavesdropping, “Telepathy. We can read each other’s minds.”

“Fascinating. What’s he thinking now?”

She looks over at me and squints her eyes. I’m suddenly worried about what she might say to him. As far as she knows, Ash is just a friend from work that I have a crush on and maybe had some weird dreams about. I give her a slight shake of my head and mouth the word, “Don’t.”

She turns back to Ash and says, “He wants me to keep my mouth shut. He’s afraid I’m going to say something to embarrass him.”

“Are you?”

“Probably.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun. I like you. Do you want to team up?”

“Absolutely.”

Fantastic.

I deflate a little at being teamed up with Lex. Don’t get me wrong, I love Lex, but I think a part of me just assumed I’d be with Ash. Seems like a silly assumption now that I think about it, but I’m disappointed, nonetheless.

As Lex takes her turn, Ash and Dawn continue to chat about me as if I’m not sitting right next to them, making me feel more anxious and awkward by the second.

“So, Atlas tells me you’re an artist.”

He glances at me, then back at Dawn with a sly smile, “He can’t stop talking about me, can he?”

“Not for a second. He’s obsessed.” She’s all too happy to play along, probably assuming Ash is fishing for confirmation that I like him or something. She has a tendency to meddle, always thinking I need help when it comes to dating when in reality, I just move at a different pace than she does.

“It’s sad really,” he tells her, “He needs to move on.” He gets up to take his turn as Lex cheers and skips over to me. I look up to see that she got a spare and am about to congratulate her when Ash looks at me and mutters, “We’re just friends, after all,” before he turns to walk away.

My smile falters as the sting of his words rushes through me. I clamp my jaw down, grinding my teeth and feeling foolish. How did I think for one second that changing our environment would somehow ease the tension between us?

I watch as he steps up to the lane, holding the ball in front of him with intense focus before stepping forward and tossing it toward the pins with perfect form, because of course he does. It spins down the lane with such force and precision that every one of the pins crashes down on impact, earning him a strike. He turns to us with bow as Dawn cheers and Lex yells out, “Fuck!”

I had no doubt I’d be the worst bowler out of all of us, but I didn’t expect everyone else to actually be good. I start to feel self-conscious about going up and taking my turn.

I suddenly see the whole night play out in front of me: the tension and passive-aggressive comments from Ash reminding me what an asshole I am, Lex getting frustrated at my lack of skill and being the reason we lose the game, and Dawn being so charmed by Ash that she’s completely oblivious to my misery while she tells him how he gives me butterflies and invades my dreams, only making the tension between us worse, and I wish we’d never come here at all.

“Don’t worry,” Lex pats my knee, “he got lucky. You got this.”

No, I don’t. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. But I don’t want to be dramatic about it by storming off. I have no choice but to suck it up and get through the night, so I might as well attempt to have fun.

I take a breath and stand to take my turn, picking up the ball and trying my best to focus on the weight of it in my hand to keep my increasingly dark thoughts at bay.

I step forward and toss the ball down the lane sloppily, surprised that it doesn’t slide immediately into the gutter. Instead, it skims the edge and takes out a single pin on the far corner before disappearing.

Normally, I’d make a joke about it, getting overly excited about my one pin, but I can’t bring myself to do that now. It would feel stupid and awkward and forced. I just want to slump back down in my seat and disappear into the background, but I can’t. I have to stand here in front of all of them, waiting for my ball to return so I can throw it one more time, hoping it goes slightly better than the last.

Lex calls me over and I apologize immediately, “I told you I was a terrible bowler.”

She shakes her head, “Nonsense. We will not lose this game, understand?”

“I don’t—”

“Just listen. The problem is, you’re too stiff. You just need to loosen up a little, relax your grip, and make sure not to swing your arm in front of you. You’ve gotta keep it straight.”

“Lex, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything straight in my whole life.”

She snickers and swats at me playfully, “Alright then, at least angle your body a little to compensate.”

“I’ll give it a try.” Her cheeriness and optimism make me feel a little better. I still don’t know why she’s being nice to me after what I did, but I’m grateful for it. I’m realizing that she’s become one of my closest friends over the last few years, and it would be devastating to lose her.

I toss the ball with more intention this time, keeping Lex’s advice in mind. At first, it looks like a nice roll, but in the end, it lands in the gutter, taking the last shred of my self-confidence with it, and leaving my remaining nine pins standing. At least now I can go sit down.

Dawn gives me a smile as she walks by me to take her turn, “You just need to warm up a bit, that’s all.” Right. That’s what I need.

I sink into my seat, staring at my hands when I see Ash out of the corner of my eye scooting closer to me. “I hate when that happens,” he says, “Heading right down the lane, you think you know exactly where it’s going and then, boom, takes a turn and lands in the gutter. Hurts, doesn’t it?’

I look over at him, at his eyes, uninviting and devoid of their usual brightness, and I wonder if this is how things are going to be between us now; I wonder if keeping our friendship intact was as foolish an idea as coming out here tonight. All I can muster is a quiet, “Yeah.” Then, I stand and turn to Lex, telling her, “I’m going to get some air,” and I escape to the nearest exit.

Prev // Next

[hero-of-courage]

What if each of the Links' biggest phobias/irrational fears were based upon the trauma of their predecessor?

Some of these are angsty and some ended up kinda funny.

Creepy Enemies (Disembodied Hands)

Hyrule hummed thoughtfully as he tossed a short stick into the campfire. He glanced up at the other boys seated around and asked carefully, "Are there any kinds of enemies that really creep you guys out? Just curious."

"Disembodied hands," Twilight answered quickly.

"Hey! I was gonna say that." Wind grumbled.

Legend pondered a moment before squinting at the flames and replying, "Actually... the same as them."

Hyrule raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Not fans of wallmasters huh?"

"Hands that come out of the ground are worse..." The youngest shivered.

"Oh," Twilight grimaced. "Yeah. I don't like the sound of that."

Water

"Come on, Hyrule!" Wind called across the gap. He studied the other boy's expression as Hyrule hesitantly inched closer to the edge of the dark water. "It's okay if you get wet! I have an easy way to dry off!"

"That... That's not the problem..." Hyrule replied with a shaky voice.

"What?"

"I can't swim." The brunette backed away from the edge and locked his worried gaze with Wind.

"Really?" Wind tilted his head curiously. "Why?"

"I never learned. Deep water... makes me anxious." Hyrule crouched with his palms on the ground. Magic vibrated under his skin as he readied to jump. "You might want to stand back!"

Hyrule launched himself over the divide filled with the dark abyss of water and stumbled to safety. His friend joined him at his side with a kind smile.

"Are you good?" Hyrule nodded after a moment. Wind continued,"I'll try to avoid deep water next time."

Sneaking up from behind

"Four."

A hand gripped his shoulder. Four jolted.

"AH! NAYRU!" He swung around franticly and his fist collided with the unfortunate person's stomach.

"Gah!" Warriors doubled over with a groan. "Gods! You've got a killer left hook, Smithy..."

"Captain! Ah! I'm sorry! It was his own fault. Why did you sneak up on u-me?!" Four's eye color changed rapidly before landing on grey. He breathed slowly soothing the chaotic colors in his brain. "I'm sorry, Captain. Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine..." the man ground out as he straightened his posture. He kept his hand pressed to his gut. "Everyone is turning in for the night so we should head back. You wouldn't want them to worry would you?"

The short teen marched past him. "Of course not. Let's go."

"Are you okay, Smithy?" Warriors raised a brow at the teen's unusual behavior.

"Yes I am. You just... startled me."

"If you're sure..."

Ghosts

"Can we not go into a suspicious probably haunted basement?" Warriors glared at the old rotting staircase leading into the dark.

"What's wrong, Captain? Afraid of ghosts?" Legend snarked already half way down.

"Yes actually!" Warriors growled. Ghost were dangerous. They can injure or possess people and the like. What's worse is that they aren't easily defeated by the sword. "Why aren't you?"

Legend shrugged and descended into the darkness. "Eh. They get old after a while."

Warriors stared at the inky abyss that Legend submerged into with an unsettled stomach.

"Come on, Captain! We don't have all day!"

Steeling himself, Warriors carefully crept down the creaking rickety stairs. He sucked in a sharp breath as an unnatural cold gust rushed past his ear. He shivered and at last he had reached the floor.

He scanned the dark for movement and for any glimpse of a blue cap. Finding nothing but his growing unease, he called out, "Vet? I can't see where you are!"

Legend's voice hollered back sounding painfully far away, "Keep up! Honestly, I had no idea you could get like this!"

The Captain stumbled in the direction of his friend's voice only to be yanked to a stop when his scarf tightened around his neck.

"Agh! What the hell?!" He choked out as he tugged on the fabric to loosen it.

Nearby something slammed on the floor. Warriors felt his breath leave his lungs as the sudden need to be silent paralyzed him.

The cold gust whispered in his ear once more as a creeping sensation crawled up his back. His heartbeat thundered in his chest. Too loud. Too loud. They'll hear...

Thumping footsteps echoed in the dark. They're coming...

The greeting of a warm glow of a lantern caused the terrified hylian to squint.

"Captain?" Legend called as he approached. His tone was carefully maintained as indifferent, but to those who knew the hero of legend he was poorly masking his concern.

"There's something here..." Warriors responded barely above a whisper.

Legend frowned at his uncharacteristic behavior and grabbed the man's wrist attempting to pull him along. "We're wasting time."

"Wait!" Warriors coughed and tugged on his scarf again. "I'm stuck."

At his strained voice, Legend stopped immediately and glanced behind them. The scarf was taut and lead into the darkness where the light of the lamp didn't reach. He released Warriors' wrist to examine the cloth closer.

Warriors stumbled backward, but the scarf remained strained. "Come on!" He groaned as he struggled against it. Impossibly, the scarf seemed to tug back and Warriors began to lose his footing.

Realizing too late what would happen, Legend frantically reached for his hand again. As their fingertips brushed against each other the Captain's feet slipped from underneath him.

"Legend, help!" Warriors cried out as he was yanked into the abyss.

Shrill laughter swirled around the maze of a basement and the cold gust snuffed out the glow of the lantern.

Legend cursed his luck. So much for finding the others as soon as possible.

(Giant) Spiders

"Wild. Wild! Stop walking!" Twilight's voice ahead of him caused him to glance up from his sheikah slate. To his immediate horror he was met face to face with a huge white skull which had eight spindly legs growing out from the sides.

"Ahhh! What?!" He cried as he fell back away from the monster. "What is that?!"

With a grunt, green goo sprayed the ground and the monster disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

"You almost walked into a Skulltula." Twilight reported as he shook the revolting goo off his sword. "You gotta be careful around them. Their bites are nasty."

"That's what the giant spider is called?" Wild shuddered as he followed the rancher further into the cave. "I thought that the largest species of spiders only grew to about the size of a dinner plate! This is so much worse!"

Twilight threw a smile over his shoulder. "I'm guessing you've never fought an armogohma before? Good for you."

"What's that? A spider the size of a guardian?" The Champion crossed his arms with a disturbed expression.

Twilight's smile grew sheepish as he seemed to regret his words.

"Eh... it's best you don't know..." He turned around and continued on into the cave.

"Wait... wait no... That means that it's even bigger!" Wild impossibly looked even more disgusted and clutched his bow like a lifeline.

Bells

Bong bong bong

Link shot up in his bed. What was he doing?! He didn't have time to be laying around like this!

Bong bong bong

He was too late! The world was ending! Everyone would perish because he had wasted so much time!

Bong bong bong

The final tolls of the bell rang out declaring his failure to the world. Where was his ocarina? He rummaged frantically through his bags.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'll fix everything," he muttered aloud.

"Time?"

A soft voice cut through his mind numbing panic like a ray of sun through a storm. He heard the sheets rustle as Sky nearly tumbled out of the other bed.

With shaking hands, Time placed his instrument back into his travel bag and set the bag down. He turned to the younger hylian as he groggily walked his way over.

"I'm alright, Sky..." he whispered to the young knight. Gently, he placed his hands on his shoulders to steady the boy. "You should go back to sleep."

"You didn't sound very alright earlier," Sky mumbled completely ignoring the second half of Time's words. He yawned. "Wha's goin' on?"

"I had a... an episode," Time decided to answer honestly yet vaguely. He steered Sky back to the bed and sat him down. "Don't worry about it. You helped me out so I really should thank you."

"Oh..." Sky blinked at him for a moment before he reached up and brushed his hand over Time's cheek.

Time froze at the action. A mere moment later he took notice of the wetness of his cheek. He had been crying in his panic then?

"Are you going to be able to sleep too?" Sky asked, turning to squint at the window. "Those bells were kinda loud for people to be ringing this... late? Early?"

Time nodded in answer. "I just need to get some water first."

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Sky slid under the bedding and tried to get some more sleep before the morning.

With a heavy sigh, Time exited the room and closed the door with a click.

Bonus: Claustrophobia/Imprisonment

The knight of Skyloft slowly blinked away the tendrils of unconsciousness from his eyes. It was dark. Pain lanced his temples when he raised his head. He winced. His hair was matted on one side and stuck to his face. That discomfort was accompanied by the metallic scent of blood.

He groaned at the throbbing in his skull and made an effort to touch it. To his distress he found that he could not move his arm. Frantically, he glanced to his right. His arm was stretched outward and chained to the wall with no slack to grant him movement. He was suddenly very aware of the ache across his shoulders and back. A glance down at his legs revealed that he was fixed above the floor and currently incapable of moving his legs either as the were shackled to the floor not unlike his arms.

"How... how did I get here?" He wondered as he glanced about his cell. An inkling of anxiety began to grow when he noticed that all of the walls were made of dark stone and the door appeared to be a thick sheet of metal. It was impossible to know what was happening outside of the room because of the lack of windows.

The darkness seemed to curl in on him even though his eyes had adjusted to it. The air was cold and it bit at his lungs as he breathed it in. He shivered, causing the chains to clink.

"Where is everyone?" It was so quiet. His breaths sounded painfully loud to his ears. "No one's here..."

His breathing picked up and his head and heart started pounding rapidly as panic settled in. This room was too narrow. The ceiling was unnervingly low. It would crush him. He needed the sky. He needed to see the sky.

He yanked fruitlessly at the chains sending a twinge of pain up his arms. He cried out in frustration and panic before letting himself droop in exhaustion. Eyes wide yet unseeing, he breathed shaky breaths as his ears rang unbearably.

***

"The shadow is retreating!" Twilight yelled to Time over the din of the battle. "Go find him! We'll take care of the rest here!"

"Alright! Be careful!" Time answered his successor. He turned to their shortest member. "You're with me, Smithy."

"Got it!" Four confirmed and followed after.

A moment later Wild ran alongside them. "Let me come too."

Four's eyes narrowed slightly at the older boy. He sighed. "Fine. Be sure to keep your emotions in check Champion."

Wild merely grunted in reply.

Finally, they arrived at the dungeon underneath the abandoned castle. It was cold, dark and damp like a cave. Almost all the way down the hall of cells the doors were open. They carefully made their way through, wary of any traps that might presently spring.

When at last they stood before the only closed door, Four glanced about cautiously. "There weren't any traps. Strange... It's almost like the shadow wanted us to find Sky. It gave the battle up so easily... What's it's motive here?"

"It's like it's observing us, our actions, how we react to what it does." Time hypothesized as he watched Wild break open the lock on the metal door.

The door was shoved open with a shriek of metal on stone and Time heard Four gasp upon entering the room. Glancing up, he rushed forward.

"Sky! Are you alright?" Time gently lifted the young man's chin off his chest to see his face.

Sky blinked slowly but he seemed to stare straight through the hero of time with his eyes clouded. His breathing was harsh and shallow and his frame shook with each breath.

Time frowned. He glanced to the boys next to him. "Smithy, Champion, get the chains off him. I'll make sure he doesn't fall."

"Got it!" Four replied already digging out his fire and ice rods. He handed one to Wild and set to work. "Freeze the right one. Lower the temperature as much as you can then switch with me."

Time turned his focus back to the boy before him. He wrapped his arms around his torso and braced himself as he listened to the humming magic, the licking of flame and the chime of ice.

With a snap and the clanging of chains against the walls, Sky slumped into Time's embrace. He groaned. His arms and back still ached terribly.

"We'll get you out in a minute and then we'll take you back to camp to rest." Time whispered to him. Slowly, he sunk to the floor and maneuvered the boy so he could see his face. Sky's expression remained blank. "Sky? Can you hear me?"

When he was met with silence again, he reached for the boy's hand. He gave it a little squeeze and rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. To Time's relief Sky's pale, cold fingers curled around his own.

Sky fixed his gaze upon the face of the man who was cradling him. The hero of time smiled faintly in return, the corners of his lips slightly quirking up. "Hello. Are you with us now, knight of Skyloft?"

The boy in question squeezed his hand shakily, his deep blue eyes never leaving Time's face. "Please, get me out..." he pleaded breathless and quiet as a silent tear slipped down his cheek. "I can't breathe. Please..."

Time felt a sudden twinge in his heart at the boy's words and a righteous anger simmered under his skin. He held him closer and ran a hand through his crimson stained hair detangling it in an attempt to soothe the young knight. "They're almost done. Just a second. Only a second and then we're out."

Another snap rang out in the cell and Sky was scooped up and raced out of the dungeon.

When the four Links finally burst out into the forest, Sky found he could breathe deeply once more. He calmed down significantly, yet he was still unnerved by the manacles around his wrists and ankles.

Four smiled at him sympathetically, his eyes shining a rose red, when he was noticeably staring at them. "Sorry, Sky. It would've been too dangerous to remove those while we were in there. I'll take care of them when we get back to camp, okay?"

Sky nodded in response. He made an effort to ignore the metal bands; however, it was hard to when the small length of chain still attached to them clinked with every step Time took.

Turning around to face him as he continued to walk backwards, Wild piped up, "I'm sorry too, this probably wouldn't have happened if I had been watching your back."

Sky waved a hand. "It's not your fault. I should have been more vigilant. The shadow was targeting me and had me drift away from you during the battle."

"Exactly why we should prepare so it doesn't happen again," Time cut in.

Wild sighed and turned forward again before adding, "I have the Master Sword in my slate just so you know."

Sky let himself relax in Time's arms. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds chirping and the leaves rustling in the breeze. "Thank you, Champion."

The group broke into the clearing where the camp was nestled in the center. They settled down and moments later the rest of the Links joined them with smiles of relief just as the sun sank low in the sky.

I did not mean to write a whole one shot for Sky. Please, Courage try not to be so obviously biased.

Anyway~

Lege, Twi and Wind get their fear of Wallmasters, floor masters and other things from the hero of time. Who has fought those enemies plus deadhand and bongo bongo. I think Lege might also have a fear of getting lost. He loves his maps.

Hyrule gets his fear of water from Legend. YaBoi went sailing one day, caught a storm and got shipwrecked and then Link's Awakening happened and he accidentally erased everyone on koholint, including his girlfriend.

Four gets his fear of being attacked from behind from Sky. Four hasn't had the best luck when it comes to betrayal especially in the manga. And then there's Ghirahim.

Wars gets his fear of Ghosts *cough*and basements *cough* from our beloved hero of the winds. Wars was hard to decide for and I ended up basing it purely off of Wind rather than something that paralleled. The ghost ship in Phantom Hourglass is pretty creepy and so is the labyrinth under Grandma's house in Wind Waker.

Wild gets his fear of giant spiders from Twilight. This one was also difficult to decide so I did a thing similar as with Wars. Twilight Princess's Armogoma is freaking huge arachnid that you have to squash with a statue. Did you know that the boss fight could have been a chase sequence instead? There's a small clip in a TP trailer where Link is being chased through the hallways by a gargantuan spider. No thank you.

Time gets his fear of bells from Four. I'm sure most of you reading this know about the hero of time's adventure in Termina. The clock tower in the town counting down the days hours minutes till the end of the world slowly but not slow enough. The people never knowing how many times they had lived those three days over and over. Never knowing that their lives were in the hands of a child too old and too young. Four was a child too when he was tasked with saving his best friend and the world as well. He raced against time and the tolling of the bell, tearing through enemies as fast as he could to save Zelda from her soul being ripped out and being turned to stone forever.

Sky gets his fear of imprisonment and claustrophobia from Wars. Ah no. He gets it from the first hero, the knight of Hylia. At first I didn't know whether to include Sky or not but of course me not being biased at all had to (big mistake). The first hero(who I call Chosen) was imprisoned for seven years on unjust charges by his own people. Then when calamity struck they released him and had the audacity to ask for his help. He decided to help them but YaBoi needed a sandwich first and didn't get one so he died in battle.

I wrote everything above in September of last year lol. It’s also no longer spoopy season anymore but I thought y’all might enjoy this.

[planetpiastri]

do you know that I would be so honest to god grateful if you did the comparing hand size prompt w roosty? i just am already jaw dropped thinking about it

this blurb is brought to u by this lovely req + me watching fant4stic way too late at night bc i was in a miles mood. enjoy anon<33 | [wc - 1k]

Bradley’s arm around your shoulders was heavy and comforting, and it was all you could do to keep your eyes open and focused on the television screen. You could hear the others chatting in the kitchen, and you were pretty sure that someone had turned on the grill outside. Was that bacon sizzling you smelled?

All in all, it was a pretty normal kickback at Hangman’s.

The movie you were watching wasn’t even particularly good; it was yet another low-budget Fantastic Four remake. Fanboy had turned it on, promising everyone would be amused if not at least entertained, and fifteen minutes in he and everyone else had promptly gotten up and stopped watching. The only ones left were you and Bradley, curled up together on the couch—and you’d only stayed because to get up would be to abandon extreme comfort.

“Hey, that guy kinda looks like you,” you mumbled, squinting at the screen.

Bradley snorted, and the sound reverberated through you from the place where your back was pressed to his chest. “I don’t see it.”

“Who’s hungry?” called Payback, coming in from the back porch with Fanboy following behind. They both carried big plates that confirmed that, yes, it had been bacon you’d been smelling.

Everyone immediately swarmed the two, oohing and aahing.

“Nothing excites drunk people more than bacon,” you mumbled.

“Why is that guy made of rocks?” Bradley said.

“Get me some bacon,” you said, swatting at his arm.

“Like, why wouldn’t he just get the ability to grow rocks? Or harden his skin? Why does he have to be made of rocks?”

“Bradley!” you said, laughing and jostling him. “Bradley, bacon!”

“Okay, okay. Move.”

You shifted upright long enough for him to disentangle himself from you and stand up. Then you flopped back down onto the cushions, appreciating the leftover warmth his body had left. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, burrowing your nose into the soft fabric and breathing in deeply. It smelled mostly like Hangman and the aftershave he swore by, but there, buried in the fibers—Bradley’s cologne.

God, you loved that smell. It smelled like home. 

“What is the deal with you two?” said Fanboy, sitting down at the end of the couch so suddenly that you yelped in alarm.

“Mickey!” you gasped, pulling your feet out from under him. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Bacon!” he replied, like that was a normal place to go during a party. “How’s the movie? Hilarious, right?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“Are you gonna answer my question?”

Your cheeks burned, and you pulled the blanket up to your nose, hoping Fanboy wouldn’t be able to pick up on your nerves. “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said, gesturing with a stray piece of bacon, “the deal. The carpooling, the cuddling, the sleepovers. I’ve never seen Bradley so… happy,” he said finally. He took a bite of bacon, chewing thoughtfully. “None of us have.”

You really didn’t know what to say to that. You’d never considered that there might be more to your relationship with Bradley. He was your best friend, and that was as far as you’d gotten. You’d met him fresh off a new heartbreak, and you hadn’t been eager to throw yourself towards another one. You knew him well enough to know that heartbreak was the most realistic outcome if you did get yourself involved, so you stayed away from any feelings like that, and you stayed friends. 

And you were fine with that. You were happy with that. 

So why the hell did Fanboy have to go and say something lovely like that and throw you off?

“Okay, budge up,” said Bradley, stepping back around the coffee table and waiting for you to sit up so that he could position himself behind you again. Once you’d settled back into his lap, he handed you a napkin delicately folded over three warm slices of bacon.

You weren’t really hungry anymore, but you didn’t want Bradley to think Fanboy had been saying anything weird, so you picked one up and took a dainty nibble.

“What the hell happened?” Bradley said, staring at the screen. “I was gone five seconds, how are they on a different planet?”

“Isn’t that the greatest part?” said Fanboy. “I was here for the last few minutes, and I don’t even know!”

“You’re not eating your bacon,” Bradley told you.

Embarrassed warmth flooded you. “I am!” you said defensively, taking a bite to prove it. “Thank you very much for getting it for me.”

“This movie completely wastes Michael B. Jordan,” said Fanboy to nobody in particular.

“You’re still not eating it,” said Bradley. “I thought you liked the crispier pieces.”

“I do!” you protested, but it was no use. Bradley was already pulling your napkin out of your hand and giving you his instead, with his juicier, fattier slices of bacon.

Then his hands stilled over yours and he said, “Have your hands always been this small and I just never noticed?”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “They are not small.”

“They’re tiny,” he insisted, setting both napkins of bacon down on the coffee table.

“They’re not!” you argued, holding them up to the light. “They are normal, proportional, human-sized hands!”

Bradley’s arm around your shoulders rose up, and one hand traced the inside of your wrist briefly. Goosebumps erupted down your arms, and you were thankful you’d decided to wear long sleeves. Then he pressed his palm flat to yours, turning it this way and that in the light, seemingly assessing whether your hands were as pitifully minuscule as he seemed to suspect.

“See,” you said, your voice sounding far away even to yourself. “Normal sized hands.”

“Hmm,” said Bradley. Then he shifted his palm by the slightest margin and pushed his fingers forward, lacing your hands together.

Electricity jolted through you, and you were sure he could feel your heart pounding. At the other end of the couch, Fanboy was staring at the tv so hard that he couldn’t have actually been paying attention.

“Yep,” Bradley said decisively. “The perfect size, I’d say.”

“You doofus,” you said, pleased warmth flooding your body. But you tucked his hand against your chest and curled against him, and you felt pretty happy to be watching a terrible movie on the couch of a party with this lovely man.

[enid-rhees]

Hii, could you mabye write one with Michonne where she found you in some abonded store? Where you're kind of hiding yourself with the corpses? If not thwt's fine :)

you’re okay || michonne x fem!reader

warnings: angst if u squint

a/n: thank you so much for your request, anon! i hope you, and everyone else enjoys :D !! 🫶🏻

“Michonne, you go look through that store, i’ll take this one.” Rick instructed, pointing over to the store across the street. he then pointed to the one he’d be going into.

she nodded and reached behind her to take her katana off of her back, and held it in front of her as she started to make her way towards the store. there was one walker stumbling across the lot. when it noticed her and started to slowly walk over to her, Michonne effortlessly used her katana to slice his head off.

when he fell to the ground, she realized there were practically piles of dead walkers surrounding her. someone else was here. with that new knowledge, she was more careful when she walked into the store, keeping her katana at the ready.

the store was quiet, the only sounds you could hear were the buzzing flies that swarmed walkers and Michonne’s soft breathing. she began to walk around the store, taking anything that might be useful for Hilltop or Alexandria.

the walkie in her pocket began to release static sounds, and then Rick’s voice came through. “have you found anything?” Michonne reached for it and held it up to her lips, “a few scraps of food. still looking. you?”

“nothing yet. i’ll let you-“ Michonne suddenly heard shuffling somewhere near her, and she took her attention away from Rick. she debated on telling him what she heard, but instead chose to deal with it on her own. “okay. just let me know.” she said into the walkie, putting it back in her pocket.

she rose her katana in her hands and began to walk towards the room where she heard the noise. when she finally walked all the way into the room, a girl sat in the corner of it. she was covered in blood, and surrounded by more piles of walkers. she put her hands up the sight of the katana. her hands were shaking.

“please- don’t hurt me!” she cried out. “i-i promise i was just hiding. please… don’t hurt me.” Michonne looked at her with furrowed eyebrows for a few seconds, and then put the katana down. she then slowly kneeled down on the ground. Michonne reached out her hand, “you’re okay. i won’t hurt you… i promise.” the girl was hesitant in taking her hand, but she did anyways and allowed Michonne to pull her away from the walkers.

now that she was standing, Michonne could see that she covered in blood entirely, from her face down to her legs. the girl couldn’t have been any older than Michonne. “did you take out all of those? even the ones outside?” Michonne asked her, and she nodded. “yeah… but then there was too many to handle and i ran in here and tried to hide, but there was even more. so then i killed them too and hid behind them so they wouldn’t smell me.”

the girl kept shifting her eyes on Michonne and then to the ground. but Michonne couldn’t stop looking at her. “what’s your name?”

“Y/N.” she told her, and Michonne nodded. “Michonne. are you alone?” Y/N nodded, “always have been out here. are you?”

“no, my partner is out looking in the store across the street. but don’t worry, okay? i’m sure he’ll let me take you back our home.” Michonne was not the type to let a stranger come back with her like this, but Y/N… she was different. and she needed help. well, Michonne wanted to help.

“home? you have a home?” Y/N was almost in disbelief. “we do. and i can get you cleaned up, only if you want. you don’t have to come back with us.” Y/N stared at the ground as she contemplated. “how- how can i trust you?” she then asked.

“i know that i can’t prove it right now, but if you come with us, you’ll see. we have many others living with us.” Michonne told her. Y/N thought again, and then nodded after a few seconds. “okay… i’ll go with you.”

Michonne pulled out her walkie. “hey, Rick. i found something. you may want to come here.”

after another long intervention with Rick, Y/N was finally at Hilltop with him and Michonne. she had never seen a place like this before. she got out of the car and Michonne was already by her side. “i’ll get you inside and help you clean up, and i’ll give you some clothes as well.”

Michonne led her inside the huge building and took her upstairs, and into another room. she instructed Y/N to sit on the bed as she grabbed the supplies she needed. “this place is huge. and really nice.” Y/N told her. “it is. hopefully you’ll stay with us. you’ll be safe here.”

Y/N let out a laugh and Michonne couldn’t lie that it was such a pretty sound. “i think i’ll definitely stay here.”

Michonne took a wipe and began to gently wipe it across Y/N’s skin. “i could also do this myself, you know.” Y/N smiled, biting her lip as well. it took strength for Michonne to stop looking down at her lips. “i know,” she hummed, continuing to wipe off the blood.

once she was done, she walked over to her closet and started to dig through the clothes she had. she pulled out a shirt and jeans, and walked back over to Y/N. “here’s some clean clothes, i’ll be back after you’re done changing.” Y/N took the clothes and Michonne walked out as she began to change out of her bloody ones and into the clean ones.

Michonne walked back in a few minutes later and she took the clothes in her hands. “i can have someone wash these and they’ll be clean by tomorrow.” Y/N smiled and nodded, “wow. um… thank you, Michonne. seriously.”

“it’s no problem, really. you’re better here than out there.”

she noticed Y/N hesitate in her movements. Y/N began to lean forward, but pushed herself back. then after a few more seconds, she leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Michonne’s cheek.

Michonne’s face burned, and then Y/N pulled away. both of them couldn’t help but smile at the other and nervously look down at the ground.