#the only time i accept the use of x is if it's in an article or something

[for-thee]

poll time

[cinnamonest]

I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.

I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.

The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:

Most women have rape fantasies.

62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!

The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)

To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:

the "go to therapy!" line

Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)

Here are some particularly insightful resources:

1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.

2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).

3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)

4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.

5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.

the "why would you want that?" line

The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.

the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line

On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.

The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.

No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.

ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.

Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:

(X) (X)

The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth

Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.

The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:

1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)

2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.

What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).

Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.

You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!

[parfaitblogs]

baby it's halloween ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a mutual friendship leads to a run-in with your ex, and it's halloween, which means you can be anything. even normal with him right?

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: garcia party in rossi HOUSE 💜. alcohol consumption. reader's dressed as a swan (stunning gorgeous amazing). pre established friends with benefits (don't fuck your exes). s10 bau team is there in spirit i think. crazy spare bedroom hookup. brief nipple play. oral (f receiving). fingering. p in v. he dresses you afterwards. porn with plot. oral fixation. soft dom!spencer.  word count: 3.8k a/n: ex spencer reid makes a comeback. this is separate from bad idea right? but same pairing same sitch kind of same everything. LOL. thanks for giving me costume ideas guys. parfaitblogs revival!!! happy birthday spencer reid!!! happy halloween criminal minds tumblr!!!

"Penelope, what the fuck are you wearing?"

It was a very loud exclamation, over the sound of party music that certainly didn't match the overall theme of Halloween. It was only nine o'clock but the fox eared blonde in front of you had lip liner painting her chin, a pink flush on her cheeks barely hidden beneath a layer of makeup, and two cans of some multicoloured premixed vodka drink you weren't sure about trying (despite her holding one out to you). 

"Fox costume. I'm Agnes! From Fantastic Mr. Fox!" Penelope says, cheerfully, urging you to take the drink she had in her hand, not relenting until you did.

"We agreed on swans," you huff, feeling awfully stupid now, in your all white costume, a pair of fluffy wings settled on your back. 

Penelope looked genuinely apologetic for changing her costume idea on you with no warning, and so as she rambled about how she got excited after seeing fox makeup on her phone, you decided it wasn't actually that big of a deal. She finished her spiel with a comment about still technically matching because you're both animals, and it was enough for you to accept. 

She led you further into the house. House, because she had convinced one of her coworkers to let her host a Halloween party at his, claiming her apartment was far too small for such a thing. Apparently he was very easy to convince. 

It was a quick tour of where all the most basic of amenities on the first floor were, before she was shoving a shot glass of vodka into your hand, and encouraging you to take it. 

So you did. 

Perhaps it was a loosening up technique she was using in an attempt to keep you from ripping her head off when she began another conversation with you with the words,

"So, I need to preface before you get too drunk—" a sentence you really had never hoped to hear in your life "—that Spencer's here."

You're not too sure why your world begins to crumble around you at that fact. You figured he would be. In fact, when you were choosing the articles of clothing for your costume a week ago, you had the idea of Spencer Reid seeing you in mind. You had mentally prepared for seeing him. And yet; panic. 

However, instead of making a scene about how anxious that thought made you, you force a small smile onto your face and murmur out, "That's fine."

"Are you sure?" Penelope presses. "You can hover around me the entire night to avoid him, if you want. I'll stay away from him. I'm really sorry for inviting him."

You didn't like that. "No. Pen, it's okay. He's your friend."

"So are you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest at her words, a warm feeling spreading throughout it. But, ultimately, you were not the person who wants perfectly good friendships ruined because you're too scared to hold a relationship together. 

"I'll get drunk enough and start talking to him anyways. It's fine," you reassure her. 

And get drunk enough you did. 

You had bumped into him a few times already, making awkward eye contact when you passed him on your way to the kitchen for another drink, or to the bathroom to fix your corset that felt like it was getting tighter every breath you took. 

Yet here you were, stuck between the fridge and him, a collection of things you wanted to both beg him for, and cuss him out because of, sitting delicately on the tip of your tongue, waiting for the right trigger word from him.

Unsuccessfully, for he was rocking back on his heels, clasping his hands around the glass of water he was nurturing, keeping the peace between you two and staying silent. 

And you couldn't have that. 

"Hi. How are you?" you chirp after closing the fridge, a can you were getting for Penelope and not yourself now settled between your hands.

"Hi. I'm good," he says, sending you an all too familiar tight lipped smile. One he always did when he was feeling awkward. "How are you?"

"This is really formal," you say, tilting your head to the side. "I'm good."

He nods his head in agreement, and you find every curse word you had ready to yell at him dissipate in an instant. "I like your costume. Swan?"

"Yes," you nod your own head, forcing the flutter of your heart to stop.

You weren't sure what he was when you had first arrived to the party, but a few short exchanged words between the two of you revealed the fake teeth he had settled in his mouth, confirming Penelope's earlier guess that he was a vampire. 

Fitting, you had almost said then. 

"I like yours too," you say after a few beats of awkward silence and you realising you hadn't said much after his compliment. 

"Thank you."

It was an awkward song and dance around the elephant in the room (your relationship, or lack thereof). An even more awkward interaction of him reaching behind you into the fridge to get out a drink for Morgan, and then a breathless apology when he had gotten a bit too close and you hadn't had a conscious enough mind to step back.

"I don't like this," you blurt out.

"What?"

"This. Us," you clarify. "Being awkward. Not talking. We talk fine when we hook up."

Because yes, there's that secret you were keeping hidden away from Penelope. 

"We're preoccupied during that."

"I'd argue seeing each other naked once a week is much more awkward than bumping into each other drunk, at a party."

"I'm not drunk."

Right. You knew that. Spencer Reid didn't drink. It was why the cup in his hand was only water, and the alcoholic beverage in his other wasn't for him. 

If you were any less buzzed you probably wouldn't say the unfortunately very embarrassing sentence you let leave your lips, that sounded a little foreign even to you. 

"Then do we need to see each other naked tonight to make this not awkward?"

His lips parted and he froze, rightfully so. You weren't sure how you'd react to somebody asking you that either. It seemed awfully blunt for even you, and if you were any sane person, you'd probably be backtracking to take it back. Instead, you were just as frozen as him, fearful for how he would respond. 

"No," he says, but there was a strain in his voice that told you otherwise. Thankfully, you had enough self restraint to not call him out on that. 

"No?" you tilt your head to the side.

"No, we don't need to. Do you want to?"

Does it make you a horrible person to say yes? To take advantage of one of the many rooms littering the Rossi house, and use a situational run-in to have sex with your ex-boyfriend?

Probably.

"Yes. Do you?"

"I like how you look tonight."

Your heart rate speeds up. "That isn't an answer."

"Yes," he says. "I do."

The kitchen was left empty with a glass of water and two unopened cans on the countertop, that Derek Morgan was no doubt bound to discover when Spencer never returns. Followed closely by — probably — Penelope discovering the same about you. Which would probably lead to the discovery of the friends (were you friends?) with benefits situation the two of you had. 

You've barely stepped into the spare room he had located before he's kissing you. Feverishly, devouring you whole, as your back is pressed up against the door. Your wings dug into your shoulder blades, the feathers tickling your arms, and yet you couldn't find it in you to care. 

"Spencer."

His response to your plea of his name is to kiss you harder, fingers entangling in your hair, and you think if he pushes against you any more, you'll meld to the atoms of the door. 

"You taste like alcohol," he mutters against your lips. 

"Funny that."

"Are you drunk?"

"I'll remember this all in five minutes, if that's what you mean."

"Sort of."

His mouth detaches from yours, and there's a desperation in the way he kisses down your neck you don't think you'll ever get used to, no matter how many times he does it. 

It was a heartbreaking reality of the difference between how he would have sex with you then, and now. 

It's his grumbling that forces you to focus on him again, and not the comparative thoughts you have whirring in your brain. His fingers are fumbling with the lacing on your back, as he says, irritation you find almost hilarious in his tone, "I hate corsets."

"You said you liked it earlier."

"I liked it when I wasn't trying to take it off of you."

You smile. "I'll wear something more convenient for you next time."

"Yes. Thank you," he nods, successfully loosening the lacing enough so he could take the corset off of your body. "T-shirts are good."

"Duly noted." 

"Or nothing. Nothing's better," he adds, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands dropping to your chest — completely bare, considering you couldn't justify the wearing of a bra beneath the corset. 

"I'll ask the board."

You feel him smile against your lips, his hands cupping your chest, thumbs delicately running over your nipples to elicit a breathless whine from you. Ever so careful, he uses his thumbs to circle them, amused with just how easy it was to fluster you.

His lips trail down from your lips again, his hands dropping to your waist, using his hips to nudge you towards the bed.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you wince, although any pain dissipates as he murmurs a gentle apology and lowers the two of you to the bed. 

It's quite amusing; the articles of clothing you're removing from your bodies. You didn't think feathered wings and a Dracula-esque cape piling together on the floor would be a sight you ever saw in this context, and yet. 

"What do you want, honey?" he asks you, though your brain is a little preoccupied with his pulling of your skirt down your legs, fingers brushing against your skin. He forces your focus back onto him again with the calling of your name, and a kiss to your inner thigh. 

"What're you willing to give me?" 

"You know I'd do anything."

Your heart soars. Yes, you do know that. He loves to prove that feat to you. 

"I don't know," you shake your head. "Whatever you want. You choose. My gift to you this Halloween."

It was a tradition you had started with him three years ago, on your first Halloween together. You knew how important the holiday was to him, and so you had bought him a plethora of decor for his apartment (on top of what he already had). You had helped him set it up, and later that week he had gifted you a charm bracelet with a pumpkin clasp. Every Halloween since, you bought him more decor, and he bought you a Halloween inspired charm for the bracelet. 

This was your first Halloween where you weren't together. 

"I didn't get you a charm."

"That's okay," you reply, earnestly. 

"You're so wet," is voice is breathless, changing the topic of conversation awfully quickly. For his eyes had dropped to the only item of clothing you still had on, and his fingers had trailed far enough up your thighs to brush over it. 

"Do something about it then," you retort, bluntly, and he smiles amusedly. 

He probably murmurs something about you being a brat, but his hands were pulling your underwear down your legs, and you should not be expected to focus on two maddening things at once. 

Thankfully, he does do something about it. And quite quickly, too. Wasting no time teasing like he usually does, instead attaching his lips to your core, tugging a moan from your lips. 

His tongue licks a stripe up the centre of your folds, circling your clit, expertly so. 

"Oh God," you whine out, breathlessly, head falling backwards and digging into the mattress beneath. Sinful as it was, Spencer's tongue on you did feel like the closest thing you'd ever have to a religious experience, a thought that had crossed your mind the many times he's done this before. 

Once he's sure his tongue flicking over your clit had worked you up enough, you're forced into shock as you feel one of his fingers at your entrance. Lack of hand-eye coordination aside, he's well versed in the art of using two different body parts at once to make you come, and yet you're still writhing beneath him like it's the first time.

Sometimes it felt like it was. 

"Spencer," you nearly cry out, if not for your hand flying to your mouth to muffle how loud you had anticipated you'd be. 

He pulls his lips away at that, instead lifting his head to hover over yours, as he pushes a single finger inside you. Even when your eyes flutter closed and your head tilts back further, you can still feel his gaze on you, as if in awe of the way you looked. 

"That was so easy," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "You really did want me to do this tonight, hm?"

Too wrapped up in the feeling of being touched by him again, all you can do is nod your head, and you feel him smile against your cheek. 

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl."

He captures your lips again, swallowing a string of moans that leave your lips when he begins to move his finger in and out. Finger that becomes fingers, for he's pushing another one in, and you're arching your back up as you attempt to accomodate to the stretch. 

"I know, I know," he repeats when your head jerks back as your lips part in another, this time silent, moan. "I shouldn't have missed last week, hey? I'm sorry I was out of state."

You want to tell him it's okay. That you didn't really mind being celibate for an extra seven days on top of the six the two of you leave between your nights together. Unfortunately, growing accustomed to a once a week cycle meant the interruption of it left you overwhelmingly easy to shatter with the simplest of touches. You did mind, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. 

"Please," you ask him, almost pathetically, when he curls his fingers and your entire brain goes fuzzy.

"Please what, honey?"

You're not sure what. More of his fingers? His tongue back on you? You want it all. Yet, time was unfortunately of the essence, and you were acutely aware of the ticking alarm clock in view on the bedside table. You did not have the minutes to receive absolutely everything you wanted from him.

"Want you to fuck me," you murmur. 

He breathes out a laugh. "I know. I'm going to, I promise. I just need to get you ready first, okay? How're you feeling?"

"Ready." Your voice is an impatient grumble, one that amuses him greatly, which frustrates you even more. 

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, pushing his fingers back inside of you to elicit a sharp whine from your lips. "I want to do this a little longer, anyways."

"Spencer."

Your protest and attempt to bribe him with a kiss is hopeless, for he is continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you, using your arguably selfish kiss to quiet every single sound you make. 

It isn't until you're quite literally writhing beneath him and begging him with an incessant repeat of his name, does he pull his fingers out of you. Tapping your lower lip with them, you take his fingers into your mouth, despite your panting and attempts at catching your breath. 

You want to close your eyes, but the way he's looking at you as you suck on his fingers is borderline ridiculous, and you should probably be locked up for just how attracted to it you are. 

He trails his fingers out of your mouth after a few moments, but any desire to protest that is lost on you when your eyes catch his removal of his boxers. 

He disappears from above you for only a minute, though he knows you too well and says, "I'm getting a condom," before you have a chance to start complaining about it. By the time he's returned, he's kissing you again, and you've forgotten all about your irritation.

The head of his cock pushes at your entrance, and you're already a mess. He's slow as he eases into you, and you're eternally grateful for it, because your entire body tenses up, and he's forced to pause, and ease your muscles with his hands kneading your thighs. 

"I'm sorry," he says, genuinely, when your eyes squeeze shut, and you're back to remembering why you're not happy about the dreadful thirteen day celibacy he forced upon you. But he's so nice, and so apologetic, that as he bottoms out, your hands are wrapping around his neck to provide him with silent forgiveness. 

He stays still for a few more moments, his lips tickling your jawline. His breath fans your skin, warm, and just as desperate as your own, which is comforting. 

"Tell me when you're okay," he says, quietly, breathing out a moan when your walls flutter around him. 

After a beat, you murmur, "I'm okay," and he pulls his hips back, before rolling them back into you, slowly. 

You're a puddle of content and pleasure and love as he repeats the gentle motions of fucking you, moaning and squirming beneath him, despite his hands on your hips in an attempt to keep you still. 

"Doing so well for me, honey," he tells you after a few minutes, and heat warms your cheeks at the compliment. He laughs at your bashful smile. "You feel so good."

He moves his hips a little faster, and you're moaning again, hands dropping from his neck to the mattress. At that, he picks up his ministrations once again. All up until all the tender, slow motions are gone, and he's listening to your throat produce broken whines and pleas, his own presenting breathless groans.

"Spencer," you gasp out at one particular thrust, and he's instantly repeating that same deep movement. "Oh fuck."

"Like that?" he asks you, tenderly, and you're frantically nodding your head. "God, look at you. You're so pretty when I do this to you, you know?"

Vulgarity — in any form — coming from Spencer Reid's mouth should sound foreign, and yet it doesn't. Though, perhaps you're too lost in the pleasure of just how good he feels to believe he's anything but perfect.

"I want to come," you tell him, a disguised plea.

"Okay. I can make that happen."

You know he can. He's proven it a thousand times, you're sure. 

One of his hands drops to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and timing the circles onto it with his thrusts, until you're pretty sure there is no longer a coherent thought in your brain that isn't simply him.

If his aim was to turn you into a mess with very little time, he was excelling above average. Your hands had grabbed fistfuls of the duvet cover atop of the bed, your mouth producing nothing but a constant repeat of, "Please," and "Spencer," one after the other. 

He wasn't surviving very well, either, you found. His breathing heavy and his thrusts growing sloppier by the second, until he was feeling your own walls clench around him with your stomach tying itself into a knot. 

He forced his hips to keep moving, albeit much more messy now, as he moaned against your skin, his own orgasm wracking through his body, while still attempting to chase your own. 

It didn't take much more than that, to be honest, and your entire body went boneless and shattered beneath him as you came too.

Jelly seemed like an apt description for what you felt as you relaxed in the bed and your nerves began to calm down, Spencer breathing heavily above you. Up until he was sliding out of you, and standing up on legs you could see shaking, perhaps just as much as your own. 

He's disposing of his condom as you lay there, attempting to regain your breath, eyes fixated on the ceiling above you. He's shuffling around more than you'd expect for a simple trash trip, but then you feel hands on your ankles, and your head snaps down to find him kneeling at the foot of the bed, gently tugging your underwear back up your legs. 

"I know it's not ideal," he says, when your face scrunches up as the piece of fabric lands back on your hips. "But I also know your skirt is too short to not wear these."

"I'll get over it," you reply, letting him redress you with delicate fingers that leave your entire body hot, with goosebumps rising on the skin.

"Yeah," he agrees, though half-heartedly, expert fingers clasping your bra back onto your body. 

Once your skirt is back on, he helps you up into a seated position, helping to reapply the feathered head piece you had on. 

It's oddly intimate, way he's kneeling in front of you, breath warm against your face as he clips the feathers into your hair. Your breathing hitches as his hands drop back to your thighs upon finishing, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

"Everybody's gonna know what we did," you say, quietly, for it was true. You two had been gone for too long of a time for people to not draw correct conclusions. 

"They already know we do." Hook up.

"What? How?"

"You need to stop telling Garcia things."

Your face falls, and he smiles, sympathetically, thumbs drawing gentle circles on the skin of your thighs. 

"At least you don't work with them."

"I guess there's that," you confirm with a small nod.

He's silent for a few more moments, simply staring at you and studying your face, before he sighs, and goes to pick up your corset. 

"You need to go to the bathroom after this," he instructs you, though gently, motioning for you to stand up and turn around so he could do up the dreaded lacing. 

"I know. Don't worry."

"Good," he replies, your skin tingling with every extra bit of pressure he put on your back as he laced up your corset. "You feel okay?"

"Yes," you nod your head. "Do you?"

"I do," he confirms for you, tying off the lacing and tapping your hip so you could turn back around. 

You do, and your eyes flicker up to his face. "Do you also promise not to make me wait two weeks again?"

"I'll talk to the board."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[formulamar]

she’s a ferrari - part 4

charles leclerc x yn!ferrari reader

fc: Addison Rae

summary: as a child, the great-grand daughter of Enzo Ferrari used to spend her weekends hanging around the paddock. but once she went off to university her appearances became rare. what happens when she starts working for Ferrari? and... one of the drivers steals her heart.

READ PART THREE HERE

DECEMBER 2023

twitter

charlesleclerc16updates

liked by forzararri and 2,372 others

charlesleclerc16updates: CHARLES AND YN RECENTLY!

120 comments

f1fan0: i’m so glad they’re not letting that silly article come between them 🫶

-> scunteriafer: exactly!!!! that article is ridiculous charles would never do something like that

cl16fan: favs 🥹💞

lechairs: was the second pic taken in monaco??

-> charlesleclerc16fan: italy

-> charlnor: OHHHHHHH 🤔

ynferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, fernandoalonso and 112,921 others

ynferrari: galaaaaaa ❤️‍🔥 big thank you to everyone who helped me organize this big event! it was my honor to plan it! had so much fun, see you next year!

8,532 comments

ynscousin: forza familia ❤️

liked by ynferrari

carlossainz55: Gracias for a great party, Yn!

-> ynferrari: thank you for your energy!!! love you carlitos!!!

tifosi1722: UR SO BEAUTIFUL YN

ynferrarifan08: most gorgeous hostesses ever

user: ruining our sport and our team

iamrebeccad: had so much fun 💞

liked by ynferrari

user: so now she’s just getting involved with everything huh...

ynbff: we love planner yn

charles_leclerc: Until next time❤️

liked by ynferrari

-> tifosi1722: SO CONTRACT RESIGNED OR WHAT????

-> charlnor: so there WILL be a next time then???

comments on this post have been limited

twitter

JANUARY 2023

rumorhasitf1

liked by fernandofan97, charlesfan75 and 4,626 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 RUMOR CONFIRMED 🚨

The dream continues for Charles Leclerc in RED.

Leclerc and Ferrari have extended their contract.

430 comments

charlnor: living out his childhood dream 🥹

tifosi028: i’m so happy!!!! the team loves him

princecharles16: further proof he is il pridestinato ❤️❤️❤️❤️

f1fan5: LEGENDARY

charlesfan83: he's staying home :)

ferrarienthusiast38: GRANDEEEEEEE

f1fan33: i seriously can't imagine him anywhere else. life is good.

scuderiaferrari and ynferrari

liked by F1, susie_wolff and 350,892 others

ynferrari: I've had the rare privilege of witnessing the beautiful madness of motorsport right in front of my eyes. I grew up running around on track, moving car sketches from the dinner table, holding the car parts by my fingerprints. A plethora of memories that, sure I adored, but for the longest time was unable to acknowledge the significance of.

It may sound silly but it wasn't until I was a teenager that I began to realize not everyone got to be so close to their favorite sport. When I turned fifteen I got into the habit of walking around the grandstands before the race started and talking with other girls my age. These conversations taught me a lot. At nearly every race, I would hear a variation of "It's my dream to drive an F1 car." After a chorus of "Mine too!" there would be an awkward realization that dream was nearly impossible to accomplish. Women, weren't widely accepted in motorsport. Being a female fan was difficult enough already. Imagine trying to be a driver?

Then, I did start to imagine. Young girls from all around the world dying to experience the adrenaline. Just once. To feel the champagne coat them. Just once. Or even to be able to sit in an F1 car. Just once. A small moment that could change their lives forever.

When Susie reached out to me and shared her aspirations for creating an all-female racing series, I knew it would restore hope in the dreams of young girls all over the world. When she offered me an opportunity to help make this a reality I never considered saying anything but yes. I'm overjoyed to join Prema Racing, F1 Academy and Susie on this journey. I only dream of witnessing other women experience what I have so many times, running on track, peeking at the sketches and touching the car so gently because you're afraid of breaking it. And even more, I hope they cross the finish line with an indescribable feeling pulsing through their bodies. I hope they all hear their anthem on the top step. We can make this happen. Thank you to everyone on this project, thank you Susie, thank you @/f1 and THANK YOU FAMIGLIA FERRARI! (Ferrari family)

147,982 comments

susie_wolff: What a beautiful post, YN. Thank you for believing in the vision.

-> ynferrari: ❤

cl16fan: i'm actually sobbing. i love you so much. thank you for doing this.

-> ynferrari: thank you for supporting it :)

lec4: this is amazing, you're amazing!!!!

lando_norris: ❤

-> lando_norris: btw I'm glad you get to put that degree to use. It looked difficult.

-> ynferrari: oh if you only knew...

ferrarifan62: you described it perfectly.

charlnor: ok did not expect to ball my eyes out first thing in the morning but god this is beautiful.

charles_leclerc: Can't wait to see everything you accomplish ❤️

-> ynferrari: ti amo ❤️

-> lechairs: so after seeing this interaction I started crying again

-> cl16fan: literally me too

lordpercevalfan: i love you girl. you left me speechless. i'm so excited to watch!!!

fernando_alonso: Muy orgulloso ❤ (very proud)

liked by ynferrari

charles_leclerc’s story

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formulaamar🎬: okay please don’t hate me… it’s been forever 😭😭😭 school and work have had me on a leash!!!!!! but here is the FINAL part of she’s a ferrari. i wasn’t originally planning on getting so emotional but i think it makes it special! i’ll try being more active :) REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!!

taglist 🌷🏷️: @agmoon03 @janeh22 @kindestofkings @ttokkisbee @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @lottalove4evelyn@1800-love-me@blushmimi @emryb @majasophieanna@heavy-vettel @tvdtw4ever @harrysdimple05 @chelle1306

[mnnuni]

Domestic

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's perspective of Sam and Reader's relationship; Sam and Reader are two cutie patooties Words: 1450 Warnings: none, very fluffy Author's note: I actually don't know if I love this or I hate it

A solid faithful relationship into the hunters' field was almost rare: if they were married they were either consummed for loss or full of affairs and if they had boyfriends or girlfriends they will fight for the distance or the different visions of life. And then there was the rarity, the true love cases, the one in which they would share their life of hunters as easily as a piece of bread.

Dean Winchester never really believed in those rareness, never really believed in love in general... that was untill he really saw Sam and (Y/N) together.

Their love started slowly, it was one of that things that people would say "we already knew" when they eventually announced their relationship.

Dean was convinced that Sam's heart decided from the very beginning of their story that he would beat out of his ribcage only for her in his entire life; Dean saw it in the way Sam didn't just pass (Y/N) the milk and sugar for her coffee for her second cup of that day on their first case together, but he put them in her mug while she read out loud some articles for Dean. Sam didn't put much thougth in that action, but when she realized (Y/N) blushed because he remebred the exact order and amount of products she used after only one time.

But Dean also knew that he approved of their relationship when it was him that proposed to Sam to pick the impala and take (Y/N) somewhere special, just because she deserved all the effort his brother could put in a date and even more. Sam wasn't so surprised about that because he also saw how Dean had grown fond of (Y/N), to the point she was the only girl ever that didn't receive the "hurt my brother and I will end you" speech but it was the other way around.

When (Y/N) confined in Dean one night he really wasn't expecting what she was telling him, after more than an year of being officially with Sam.

"I know he loves me" that was her premise, and Dean could have screamed "WE ALL KNOW" but he let her keep going "but sometimes i whish things were easier" at this the Whinchester quirked an eyebrow and Y/N started rumbling then "I'm not saying it isn't easy with Sam, I just want to say that ... there's never a period of peace in our kind of lifes and we all accepted this when we decided to be hunters, but sometimes I find myself of dreaming one night together without running from something or cleaning up eachother scars... I need normality"

Dean knew that this was also Sam's dream, his little brother wanted this since Stanford, but he also knew that both of them needed to hunt because that was what gave them the hope to make the world a better place and the adrenaline that every man and every woman would need to go throu life.

After this conversation with (Y/N), Dean almost ran to Sam to order him to organize something special for his lady; he wasn't surprised to find him already writing a list of things he wanted to do with her, "I know I didn't give her the right amount of attention these past weeks, shoul I go for a picnic or romantic restaurant?". Dean tried not to smile at his answer, even if he really admired how Sam could know how his girlfriend felt withouth even say anithing and his commitment to their relationship; "The picnic is cute, but not for this time of the year. No reastaurant. She needs something calm, be domestic dude"

He left him like this to think of something, he was sure his brother would have find the right thing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day Sam was adjusting one of the bunker's biggest room, he bought a projector and a too big amount of movies -even if he thought that he could never do too much for (Y/N)-

He asked Dean to help him put her favorite couch in there and order a lot of her favourite snacks.

Dean was really proud of how Sam behaved with (Y/N) and for (Y/N), never saw him so whipped for no-one.

When (Y/N) got out of her shower, she was ready to jump into Sam's bed and sleep for two days if she could; instead she found Dean in the kitchen with a blindfold in his hands, "I promise, you will lovee what you'll see after this" he winked and then put it on her face.

"I swear to God Dean, if you're tricking me..." they were walking a pat she never did in the bunker "oh please you love me too" "if you think so...", Dean stopped her in front of a purple metal door and took the blindfold off "oh i know so" he whispered and then proceeded to walk away from there.

(Y/N) was left to wonder what the hell was going on when Sam opened said door and smiled "Hi", it had the same emotion he carried during their first date, (Y/N) smiled too and got on her tiptoes to give him a light kiss. He grabbed her hand and walked her into the room, she would have cried if she realized sooner everything there was in that room.

"You did all this for me?!"

It was clear in her voice that she was emotional in that moment and Sam hated the fact that she underestimated her value for him, "baby, that's nothing. Perhaps I should have done something sooner when I first started to notice you needed some time alone" "thank you". Sam smiled and gave her a kiss.

When they finally settled onto the couch (Y/N) was analyzing every detail there was in Sam's preparation: he put three blankets on the couch 'cause he knew he was too tall to tall for them both be covered entirely just by one and also added few pillows because (Y/N) loved the fluffy feeling of them while watching a movie; he made a little table with every kind of chips the market sold and four bottles of her favorite soda, on the shelf under it there were two or three packages of cookies too. Sam also organised something like fifteen movies, all divided by genre and number of stars (Y/N) gave them when they first talked about it.

Sam chose the first movie of the night -obviously a musical- and settled next to his girlfriend. She was so fucking happy about all Sam had done for her.

(Y/N) put her head on his chest while Sam's arm was around her shoulders, drawing figures on her arms to make her relax some more.

Dean snuck in after the first two songs of the musical and rested with one shoulder leaned on the doorframe to look at them: they were adorable. At first when they were on their honeymoon phase Dean felt the need to puke every two seconds, but now he loved to look at them from afar and be happy of their happiness

(Y/N) lifted her head to look at Sam: he was so focused on the screen,the lights of the scenes illuminated his face in a way that made his eyes sparkle.

"I love you", she whispered and Sam's face turned instantly. She still blushed when Sam looked at her that way, "and I love you".

Dean didn't see the kiss because he closed the door immediately after his brother said those words, that was another of the things that made Dean root for them: they never said "I love you too", like they had to say it just because or to not be in an embarrassing situation; every time they proclaimed their love for eachother they made sure to let the other know how much they actually loved eachother and how they really believed in what they said with that "I love you".

Sam and (Y/N) watched another movie and a documentary, they finished almost all the chips and sodas. After about the half of the documentary (Y/N) fell asleep snuggled up to Sam, who was massaging her head -he already knew that after one cookie she was about to pass out, so he made sure to get her in the most comfortable position and help with his hands in her hair to allow the sleep to finally set-

Dean never got back in that room, because he knew that they would have fallen asleep eventually. He made himself a burger and drank one too many beers, but it didn't matter because that night Dean too slept so well knowing that his brother and his sister were okay.

[hiraethwa]

to be loved is to be known

two; here we go again // the red strings bring you back to me

<the collection — to be loved is to be known>

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, one-sided pining, divorced!reader, fluff, healing from past marriage

wc. 6.8k

featured track. haze by LUCY

you have me. even when you think you don't. i was only ever yours to begin with.

kageyama tobio accepted the offer to play with ali roma that following season. 

you had seemed happier in the following weeks with no recollection of the night of your birthday, so he tells himself that he is happy for you that you managed to mend whatever it was in your marriage. not that it ever stops him from thinking that he wouldn’t have allowed it to happen in the first place if he was your husband. if, if, if. 

but he isn’t, so he throws himself into volleyball, the love of his life. between the busy season leading up to the olympics and moving to italy, he didn’t have much time to miss you anyway. 

you didn’t normally text or call each other outside of volleyball, the only thing that threads a very thin connection between you, so he sort of lost contact with you naturally, the delicate string unraveling through disuse. 

it’s been many months since he settled in italy, so he gathers it’s time to move on with his life—move on from you. he thinks he is actually doing alright in that department, chasing after whispers of your name on written articles, posts, updates significantly less than he used to when he first moved there.

once again, kageyama forgets to account for the variable that is you. 

because he finds you knocking on his apartment door as he returns from his grocery run, and his arms slacken, bags falling to the wooden floor. a tomato tumbles out onto the floorboard. he wonders if he is hallucinating—he thought he had been doing so well in the moving-on-from-you department too. 

“kageyama!” he finds himself flustered at the lack of formalities coming from you. 

“kuroo-san? w–what are you doing here?” how did you even find where he lives? 

“didn’t you send me that text to drop by if i visit italy? you didn’t tell me you changed your mind.” you help him with the bags as he fumbles with his keys. why won’t the key fob just orient itself properly? 

wait, the text? he didn’t text you, did he? finally, the lock on his front door registers the presence of the fob and unlocks. he realizes belatedly, as you set down his groceries on the kitchen floor, that he must have accidentally sent you the text that was meant for hinata. 

no wonder hinata never said anything about it. 

kageyama wisely chooses not to mention his mistake to you. he listens to you point out a few things you’ve noticed in your trip so far—the gorgeous architecture, the gelato storefronts that seem to line every other block, the mouthwatering food you tried so far—patiently waiting for you to explain this bizarre situation to him. 

it is extremely out-of-character for you to show up unannounced, and not to mention, formalities and boundaries be damned. and you are rambling, seemingly nervous, your tell of tucking your hair behind your ear giving you away. 

so he nods along with you, commenting here and there, pretending like all of this is normal (when none of it is) as you make yourself at home at his kitchen island, telling him stories while watching him put his groceries away.

kageyama could almost pretend that this is your domestic life. one in another world where the gods favored him.

he recognizes the glint of wildness in your eyes, the look when you take a leap of faith, uncalculated faith, trusting, hoping that you will land on the other side safely. 

“say, if, if aeroitalia smi roma gave me an offer to join them here in italy next season. what would you do if you were me?”

aeroitalia smi roma. here in italy. a barrage of questions appear, one that especially looms above them all. his eyes wander to your hands, noting the absence of the gold band on your ring finger. he tamps down on the blind hope rising to the surface of his heart. 

“i would take it. they’re one of the best in italy.” but what about kuroo-san?

you nod at his statement, mostly to yourself. he registers the faraway look in your eyes as you turn to look out the window at the busy streets below. 

he could almost taste the hope on his tongue, could almost imagine a life shared with you, doing groceries together, having you stare out his kitchen window as you are now on a lazy saturday afternoon, a cup of steaming hot latte in your hands. almost.

“could i ask you for a favor?” 

“anything.” he breathes. 

another lifetime where you would barrage him to decorate his relatively empty apartment, its four plaster walls empty and unused, to make his place feel like a home. 

“i am going to need a tour guide when i come back.” you look pointedly at him. 

he tries not to let his smile shine through too much. “when you come back?”

this lifetime where he would take anything you are willing to offer, make his peace with it. it has been so long he’s almost forgotten it, how easy it was to be around you, natural as breathing, familiar as a volleyball in between his palms. 

as though he’s a desolate tree that survived all winter, the chill that festered in his bones being chased away by your warm gentle rays of sunlight from the unexpectedly early spring.

“you know, if aeroitalia did give me an offer.”

“i have barely been here for a year.” he laughs, coming to a stop next to you, staring out at the streets.

“still barely a year longer than me. plus, you can speak some italian, right?” you elbow him. 

“i guess i will see you then, huh?” he tilts his head at you, dimples showing. you smile back at him—barely, a ghost of what it used to be. 

he makes a vow to the gods that he would do anything to bring it back. anything.

“i’ll be two doors away if you need me.” you think kageyama was being polite as he helped you lug your suitcases up twelve flights of stairs with the elevator undergoing maintenance. 

you bang your head on the wall in embarrassment. what exactly were you thinking when you showed up at kageyama’s apartment last month, and then pestered him with your stupid questions about moving to italy?

oh my god. he was probably just being polite and didn’t know how to tell you off. your relationship with kageyama had been strictly work-related, but you went off the rails, too worried about the move to italy while finalizing your divorce to be anxious over what he thought of you. 

you ignore the uneasiness in your chest as you fish your phone out, feeling a buzz from it. 

it’s a text from kageyama. you alright over there? shit. that was the wall between your apartments, wasn’t it? you text back a yep! before letting your shame out in a silent scream. 

you make quick work of putting your essentials away, clothes, toiletries, packed food ingredients (as kageyama suggested), and some miscellaneous things that you managed to fit in two suitcases. the apartment came furnished, and two suitcases wasn’t much to begin with, having left most of the items from your previous marriage behind. 

the sun is setting by the time you finish. the apartment looking just a little less vacant with your jacket strewn over the back of your couch, sauces and seasonings dotting the space next to the stovetop for now. 

it’s not home, but it will do, for the time being. until you could fill in the missing fixtures and appliances, like a coat hanger for the front door, some bathroom necessities, kitchen knives. the list grows by the second as you survey your new space from where you are curled up by the kitchen window.

you lean your head against the wooden panels, admiring the yolk-colored ball of fire casting its final rays of light over the bustling city before darkness falls, much like flipping the last page of the chapter. 

you stay there until the last strand of sunlight disappears over the horizon, rome now enveloped in specks of yellow. the sun will rise again tomorrow, it’s time to start a fresh page. 

still, it feels odd knowing you are the only one who will walk through the front door every evening, that you have this space all to yourself. 

your habitual tadaima slipping from your lips to no one in particular as you cross the threshold of your apartment, not that kuroo was ever present physically or mentally to welcome you home with a responding okaeri. on days when he came home after you (which was most), he often beelined for the shower, briefcase left at the front door, which he would come back to later, flipping through project documents past working hours. 

you could probably count on ten fingers the handful of times that he even noticed your presence in the living room and mumbled a tadaima before tugging off his tie in the last year of your marriage. 

it is easy to forget how much your life has changed during the day, occupied with the pace of practice and the frenzy of filling your apartment. so easy to gloss over the kuroo-shaped hole in your heart when the sound of the cities floods out the voices in your head. 

when the night falls, and the city quiets, that’s when it gets loud. the sound of nothing, the crackling static gets so deafening in your ears, your mind, overwhelming your senses. 

the realization that you really left everyone who’s ever loved you behind in japan to find something new, different in a foreign country, its tongue that you are struggling to decipher, the loneliness of being abroad. 

the hollowness in your chest that amplifies the nothingness in your ears. 

you have taken a liking to the city nightscape, eyes staring out at nothing in particular as you sit by the window by your lonesome, trying your very best to adapt and learn to be comfortable alone in your spacious apartment. to allow your thoughts and fears and hopes to speak to you while the static buzzes in the background, acknowledging them and letting them flow over and through you. 

i hear you. 

it gets easier to breathe the more you sit by the window overlooking the city. the sense of loss that once pressed on you at every waking moment dulls to a quiet throb. 

you look out the window, where the first rays of sunlight peek over the city, dancing through the window and illuminating your kitchen in its softness, loosening a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

it’s the first morning you actually see the sunrise, legs cramping, as the sun climbs over the horizon, wishing you a good morning, since you moved in weeks ago. 

it feels like deja vu as kageyama tobio finds you outside his apartment door, arm poised to knock on it, except you don’t. still as a statue, you stand frozen in doubt, the only movement from your fingers flexing and curling catching his eye. 

even the shadows themselves seem to curl tighter around you as he approaches you carefully, as if you were a wild animal emerging from hibernation that would vanish back into the darkness at the slightest disturbance. 

the gods must be over the moon with the new creative ways they are coming up with to toy with his heartstrings. the roles so starkly reversed between you and him, his once brilliant sun reduced to mere echoes of its former glory, leaving him to play what used to be your role and bring you out of your shell.

kageyama wonders if it would be appropriate if he poked fun at you the way you used to at him,  if he would be overstepping his lines. then again, the lines had been blurred and redrawn over the past month, he thinks, remembering the first time you reached out to him after dropping by without notice, not really volleyball related.

hey! what should i bring to italy? you had texted him, the bubble showing that you’re still typing. like stuff you can’t get there.

he had thought long and hard about it before replying—curry cubes. perhaps that one was too specific, as he follows up with another text. sorry. anything you like to eat in japan, it’s hard to get japanese ingredients here. you had reacted to his message with a heart and left it at that.

and then more random messages. 

do i need to bring a rice cooker? probably not…? i bought mine here. [image attachment] maybe i should bring one… 

kageyama couldn’t help but laugh at that one. did you really have such specific preferences?

hey, do you think rome has nice soy sauce? just bring it.

how cold does it get there? tokyo is much colder, just bring your lighter coats.

he could just try. what’s the worst that could happen, right?

“hey.” he feels bad as you flinch at his sudden appearance, having half a mind to scurry back to the safety of your apartment, but it was too late—you have been spotted. “the door isn’t going to bite.”

“oh, hey, i wasn’t sure if you were home.” you rub the back of your head sheepishly. 

“our practice ended late, what’s up?” he spies the stack of curry cube packages under your other arm, the thought of you remembering the stupid text he sent without thinking and bringing him all those boxes from japan making him flush. 

he puts a mental hand over his heart to calm it from jumping out of his ribcage into your hands.

gods above, the effect that you have on him with every little gesture, all of them flying blissfully over your head. that’s one thing he can thank the gods for, at least.

you hand him the stack, tucking a stray curl of hair behind your ear. “a token of appreciation for all your troubles, kageyama.”

and because he was feeling a little bold, he jokes, “are you the same y/n who turned up at my door a month ago?” 

“oh, you’re one to speak,” you roll your eyes, the corners of your lips twitching in a small smile. “there are two wolves in me, okay? one is batshit nuts, you know her, the one you see on court. the other one is me, and you drew the short stick today.”

kageyama knows he’s nowhere close to getting over you with the way the smallest hint of a smile from you sends his heart skittering, the way he is offering up everything he has to the role he has been asked to play so that you might shine freely once again, not for him but for you.

despite the stamped out selfish hope that maybe, maybe you might fall for him this time, he earnestly wants to weather the passing storm by your side, so you might walk out to clear blue skies, cloudless and unburdened. so you might smile freely once more, even if it's not meant for him. 

“wanna come in? i’m making pasta for dinner.” he holds up the bag of groceries he picked up from the corner shop on the way home. 

you hesitate, not unwillingly, more so from not wanting to intrude on his personal space. “you don’t have to—”

“you’ve already shown up unannounced once, what’s another?” 

you flush with embarrassment at the thought of that time. not your brightest moment. “gods, will you ever let me live that down? i really don’t want to be a bother.”

“c’mon, you’re not. promise.” he gestures for you to enter his apartment. 

you lean against his counter awkwardly as you watch him lay out the ingredients, prepping the table surface to actually make pasta from scratch. he notes the surprise on your face.

“i actually can’t cook very well, but making pasta is surprisingly therapeutic.” kageyama explains while he measures out the flour and salt, making a well in the center of the mixture to crack the eggs in. he whisks the eggs before slowly stirring in the flour mixture methodically. 

“wanna try?” he offers after seeing the entranced look in your eyes. you nod, scrubbing your hands with soap before taking over the kneading of the pasta dough from kageyama.

he watches you quietly as you poke the tip of your tongue out the side, attention completely focused on folding and pressing the dough and repeating the motion, taking note of the downward turn of the corners of your eyes, the haunted look in your eyes when you forget to hide it. 

your hand waving in his face breaks him out of his thoughts. “kageyama?”

“what happened to your formalities?” he blurts. where is the line between us?

you give him a questioning look. 

he corrects himself, “i’m kageyama-san to you, and you’re kuroo-san to me, remember?”

“oh, that. i’m not kuroo-san anymore. we finalized our divorce before i moved here. if you prefer that, i can go back to calling you kageyama-san.” you brush your divorce off as if it is ancient history, as if it doesn’t leave an emptiness in your chest where you used to feel love for him. 

“i’m sorry to hear that.” he shouldn’t have asked. for various reasons not limited to the way the hope in him perks its head up at the confirmation that kuroo is out of your life for good. 

“it’s fine, it’s been coming, i just chose to look the other way.” you squint at the dough, suddenly kneading it with more force, your previous child-like delight now gone at the mention of your failed marriage. 

kageyama really shouldn’t have asked. he hates to be the one who took away your fun and soured your mood with that question. that you still look devastatingly beautiful despite the sorrow etched in your soul. 

“you can call me tobio. since we are friends outside of work now.” he hopes that his hair is covering the warm tips of his ears.

“sure,” you shrug, “you know you’re the only one who called me that or oumae-san anyway, right? old man.”

“oh wow, going right to insulting me. is this your other wolf appearing?” he shoots back drily as he nudges you out of the way. “go put something on the tv, we need to rest the dough for twenty minutes.”

your clear and bright laughter fills his apartment as you back out of the kitchen, hands up in surrender, a sparkle in your eyes and that smile appearing on your lips, chasing away the darkness. 

he thinks this may not be as hard as he thought after all, playful banters with you. anything to chase away your ghosts. 

and suddenly the one-bedroom apartment feels like home to kageyama tobio. 

months slip by, summer’s warmth finally giving way to crunchy leaves beneath your feet and cool breezes caressing your skin softly with a lover’s touch. 

kageyama tobio and you are nothing if not creatures of routine, taking turns at your apartments during the weekdays to make dinner since it’s so much easier to make dinner for two than one and significantly time-saving to not have to go through the twenty steps of cooking by yourself every day.

though you find yourself at his apartment more than yours, his skillful hands diligently prepping ingredients, slicing them with precision, following the recipe methodically with you as his assistant (who lounges at kitchen island a little too much, head on hand, watching him work, because gods, his hands, larger than your own, fingers unbelievably slender and elegant despite all the training he puts them through. you are envious of them, and just a tad obsessed.) 

tobio would catch you staring sometimes, and you would look away, pretend to be unfazed, ignoring the blood racing through your veins. gods really do have a favorite. 

you grew to enjoy his company, so unlike the quiet solitude of home that you were used to. his dry humor and his quiet steady presence. his cooking, really. you wonder what his fans would make of that, since he had once admitted to being a bad cook in an interview that lives on somewhere on the internet. 

perhaps that precision of his is the reason the food he makes tastes so sinfully delicious on your tongue. 

you had felt restless at first, unused to having so much time on your hands after being used to spending most of your own free time for more practice, more work, since kuroo was rarely home before the late hours of the night. 

it never quite felt like home without him in that ninety-five square meter apartment—larger than most middle class homes yet so devoid of life and love that makes somewhere home. the luxury that you were able to afford given the size of your paychecks was never quite put to good use in those two years of your marriage.

“i’m feeling like some gelato today, want some?”

kageyama joins you out on the balcony, wiping his wet hands on the black cat apron you bought for him on a whim—a gift. it reminded you of his image in most people’s minds, a hissy and fussy cat who hates people, and to be honest (and maybe a little biased), you do enjoy that side of him. 

it’s endearing, especially since you’re one of the few special humans that the picky cat likes. he really does act like a cat. 

he had moved to italy a year before you, and being more familiar with the local culture, quickly became your go-to person to help you navigate the everyday life responsibilities from setting up your internet to the oddly laxed city disposal system. or the unlucky time your air conditioning stopped working in the peak of summer, barely weeks into your new apartment, your broken italian barely any help as you attempt to call a technician. 

you remember having to resort to knocking on his door with a sheepish smile, rambling about the bind you were in and asking him if he could talk to the technician on your behalf. he had nodded, taking the phone from you and speaking into it, italian rough but so much more fluent than yours. his usually deep solemn voice just half a pitch higher and more expressive.

his unresponsiveness had you twiddling your thumbs in nervousness as he padded into your apartment, still on the phone and with you following closely, and proceeded to slam a fist into the side of the air conditioning unit before turning it back on. 

the unit sputtered to life and you sighed in relief. “oh thank the gods.”

“the technician said he’ll stop by tomorrow in the evening because he has other calls to attend to from the unusually hot weather. i’ll be back from practice by then.” 

“thank you, tobio.” you had smiled at him gratefully. you hated having to rely on other people for help with things that you should be able to do on your own, so accustomed to being hyperindependent, but tobio makes it easy to come to him for help. mostly due to the fact that he never makes you feel bad about asking for help, even though you do still feel bad about bothering him with all the stupid everyday life problems. 

you had somehow wormed your way into his life and he had graciously allowed you to stay beyond all the times that you needed his help, steadily and unknowingly becoming your dearest friend. 

you hum in response, giving gelato another thought since the air is turning chilly as the sun dips lower over the horizon, dusk creeping closer by the minute. “sure, why not?”

now, walking through the streets of rome at dusk in the cool autumnal weather for gelato was not what you expected when you agreed to it. you had expected smooth cold gelato melting on your tongue in the comfort and warmth of tobio’s apartment. not this.

goosebumps scattered across your skin under your sweater, teeth chattering slightly thanks to the cold dessert dropping your body heat further. your stubborn ass had rejected tobio’s offer of a jacket at the door, thinking your sweater would be warm enough for the autumn breezes. 

apparently not if you’re eating gelato.

you didn’t have the heart to tell him no after finding out that the little trip would entail trekking fifteen minutes into the city and then back, with gelato, on a cool autumn night. 

tobio has a way of making you go along with his whims without even trying. 

you let out another shiver, cold fingers gripping the paper cup. he stifles his low chuckle by stuffing another spoonful of gelato in his mouth. 

“what?” you narrow your eyes at the man, challenging him to say it. i told you so.

he shrugs, licking his spoon clean. 

you look away from him, shoving the last mouthful of gelato between your cold cheeks and dumping the paper cup and spoon into a trashcan as you pass by.

a heavy warmth settles over your shoulders as you stick your hands into your pockets, surprise lining your eyes for a few seconds before realization sets in that tobio is draping his jacket over your shoulders. 

tobio, who’s always known what you needed when you needed it. tobio, who’s always done it without guilt tripping you, no ‘i told you so’s or ‘you should have listened to me’s. tobio, who welcomed you into his life and stayed without asking for anything in return, his warm and steady presence providing you comfort just from knowing that he is right next to you. 

the light brushes against your elbows when you work in the kitchen, arriving just as you space out a little too much while waiting for the onions to cook or staring out the window, the task before you forgotten. the gentle touches that grounds you back to reality, a quiet reminder that you are not alone. 

you wonder if he knows how he makes you feel at ease, at home, and sometimes, when you catch a soft knowing smile on his lips at your boisterous laughter, you wonder if he is doing it with intention.

what kind of heroic deeds did you do in your past life to earn the favor of the gods?

you spin around to face him, only to have him take a step back as a biker zooms by, hands gripping your shoulders, pushing you away from the hazard, his back towards the open street. he glances back at the rider who is long gone, frowning at their carelessness. 

his cheeks are pink from the cold, navy eyes sweeping over you to check that you’re fine. 

“are you cold?” you ask him, hands already moving to return the jacket to its owner.

“no, keep it.” 

you nod your thanks and pull your arms through the sleeves. your silhouette drowns in his already oversized jacket. the remnants of his warmth and the thickness of his jacket keep you warm the entire way home, just as it always does. 

tobio shoves his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in the direction of your apartments, towards home. tobio, who had teased you and laughed with you, sat with you in silence and talked to you over dinner, walked with you on that rocky path back towards the light. 

somewhere deep inside you, the smallest bud springs to life on a barren branch, hope, quiet and unsure, stirs in its dormancy.

the lines between you and kageyama tobio keep rewriting themselves. 

lines that were blurred and redrawn, over and over until the first lines were unrecognizable. it feels like drawing lines on sand, only to have waves wiping the slate clean, leaving you to hastily put down some semblance of a line. 

as if the gods are laughing in your face, telling you that you are wrong and to try again. 

so you threw the stick away. 

it was not a conscious decision, not at first. you had just accidentally let it slip, the thing that kept you up at night, the whispers that only quieted at the sight of the midnight skies. the endless expanse of it and the deep blue hues stretching as far as the eye could see, occasionally broken up by wafts of clouds floating through.

lighter than the dark skies of your hometown in rural japan where there was less light pollution from the sparse street lights dotting the farmlands. but it was the same skies, same stars light years away from earth that your obaasan taught you to navigate with if you ever got lost in the forest behind your home. 

the home you left behind to chase after your dreams in the city, and with it, your grandmother. the home you left again once more to outrun your bad decisions. 

tobio, to his credit, had listened intently to you on his balcony that night, both of you sitting cross-legged with your backs against the door, elbows grazing lightly, and assured you that your fears were in fact, not stupid. 

maybe it’s his comforting presence, or the way he ponders over the secrets you handed to him without judgment, but you seem to spill at the seams when he is around, unafraid to bare your soul to your—kindred spirit. maybe it’s the words that fall from his lips meant only for you, roughly thrown together, not without care, merely earnest and unembellished, sincerity clear in his focused gaze. 

though certainly, bringing up one of your deepest fears in the middle of a farmer’s market was the last thing on your mind, and tobio’s, you are sure. yet here you are, words pouring out from your heart at the sight of flowers, one of the last hurdles that still sticks tall. 

“do you think one day i won’t be broken anymore?” you gently thumb the soft petal of an amaryllis, feeling the ever so slight give under the pad of your thumb grounding you from the pain that your memories brought to the surface. 

tobio frowns at your words—he hates them. “you’re not broken.” if you were not in public, with people weaving around the different stalls, he might have tried to shake some sense into you, literally. 

oh, if only he knew. your heart twists, hand dropping to your side, flower forgotten. “he was in love with the idea of me. with an olympic setter as his wife, the trophy to his jva corner office. and i was too blind to see it, even tricked myself into thinking that i was in love, when really all along, we were just in pain.” 

you point at where your heart resides, finger digging into the soft flesh cushioning your sternum. “in here. i’m irreversibly broken deep in here. some part of me that rots in the darkness, never able to see the light of day. despite having fallen out of love with him months ago, stopped expecting anything from him, i fear that i’m still broken, tobio.”

the tip of your index finger—and nail—turning white with the amount of force you’re prodding yourself with. as if you wished you could pluck the beating broken but healing organ out of your chest and replace it with an undamaged one. nothing but a strangled mess of scarred tissue growing over old wounds that bleed with ease, too much ease. still fucking broken. 

“you are more than that. more than that wounded part of yourself that you’re healing. you’re not broken.” he deftly draws your hand away from yourself, holding it because he wanted to, drawing circles into the back of your hand to remind you that you are not alone. the crowd melts away, leaving the two of you in your bubble of imagined intimacy. “you’re not broken.”

“i can’t even look at my favorite flowers without being reminded of the times he would buy them as a late apology and a rain check he never made up for. and i would wonder if there’s something wrong with me, some explanation as to why having a husband is no more different than not having one.” you blink rapidly, fingers tightening on his hand as if he could keep the helplessness at bay that way. “some reason as to why it felt more like living with a stranger i love under the same roof in that last year. he just had something to prove and i just wanted him to love me.”

“when you find the right person, they will love you the way you deserve to be loved, with everything they have. they will make sure you never doubt yourself ever again.” tobio pins you with a determined stare, the words weighing heavy on his heart, knowing that he might have you to himself in this very moment, but not forever. not forever. 

does he have to watch you fall in love this time? gods, they really have it out for him. would he even survive it this time? 

you falter, hand around his slacking in defeat. “you don’t know that.” 

you cannot fathom anyone choosing to love you, with all the jagged edges and uncertainty. 

“i know that you deserve more than him, so don’t settle for anything less than you do. trust that the right person will come along.” he says it with so much conviction that you could have mistaken him for one of the gods that chart your destiny. 

you wanted to ask him why—why he seems to believe that with his whole heart despite yourself—but the brush on your sleeve from a passing shopper breaks you out of the imaginary depths of your fears, shattering the illusion of privacy. 

what had gotten into you today? 

you recover from your momentary meltdown in public, instincts to guard and deflect kicking in among the many ears that could be listening to a conversation that should have been kept behind closed doors. “are you speaking from experience?” 

“never been in a relationship, actually.” he smiles a wistful smile at you, deciding to release his hold on your hand—as if he himself also just remembered that you are in the public eye. 

“huh, i would have thought otherwise.” 

tobio rolls his eyes playfully at your teasing. “don’t even start, i know i’m not good with words.”

“no, really. it’s a wonder you haven’t been snatched up by anyone yet.” 

“now you're just flattering me because you want me to make the carbonara pasta that you’ve been begging me to make for the past week.” 

you gape at him, in disbelief that he would use that against you when you are doing nothing but giving him a sincere compliment.

“i’m being real here. whoever you choose to love would be lucky to have you. and if they don’t feel that way, it’s their loss, really.” you gesture with an outsplayed hand, turning back to the selection of flowers, wandering down the row of autumnal varieties. 

tobio presses two fingers to his temple, sighing as he mutters under his breath, exasperated words a soft whisper on the breeze, “too bad she’s too dense to realize it.”

he panics a little at the thought of you picking his words up as you turn around with your head tipped to the side in confusion, “what did you say?”

“nothing, just that the amaryllis is pretty. you should get it.” he blurts, just happy that his muddled brain was able to come with something on the spot. never mind that he just name dropped a flower, one of many that he learnt because you once loved them, still do, it seems, just tainted by your past. 

you shake your head at him, already looking forward. “it’s alright, let’s go look at the other stalls.” moving on from the remnants of a relationship you moved to italy to outrun, and leaving them behind. 

“wait,” a sudden thought pops into tobio’s mind, and he decides to do it without letting himself overthink it. before he loses his courage. 

you watch quietly as he picks out a stalk of carnation, a dusty pink that lightens slightly towards the tip of the petal and hands it to the shopkeeper, exchanging a few words before paying and returning with a very short stem. 

“i know you still love flowers even though they are tainted by your past,” tobio swallows, hoping he does not fuck this up like he always seem to with his words, “but i want you to know that you deserve flowers just because. it doesn’t have to be an apology, or a special occasion. you deserve them just because you like them, simple as that.”

he takes a step closer to you, watching you carefully for any hints of discomfort or anguish that you might try to hide from him for his sake—hoping that you are comfortable around him enough not to. 

you find yourself holding in your breath as you meet his eyes, mesmerized by the blue of his irises up close, warm cobalt shades dancing in the light, as if they were welcoming you, reminiscent of the night skies that fall after dusk, the same navy hues that lull you to safety. 

he tucks your hair behind your ear, his touch featherlike as he slips the carnation over the crest of your ear. “there. one day the first thought that crosses your mind when you see them will not be of him, but of how pretty they are again.”

a blink. “thank you.” the words are choked, as a wave of emotions envelop you whole. you throw your arms around him haphazardly, hugging him tightly with your eyes squeezed shut for fear of your tear ducts betraying you, leaning on him for balance with your weight on the tip of your toes because of his height. 

you yield to his warmth, comforted by his arms sliding into place around you, the familiarity tugging on a memory that you cannot seem to recover, a nagging feeling of something you forgot as seconds tick by. 

“thank you, tobio.” you say it again, releasing him shyly when you realize that you held on for moments too long, brushing at your eyes with the back of your hand for any stray tears, chuckling lightly at how emotional you are being. 

somehow it feels as if a weight has been lifted off your chest after hearing his words. 

“you are loved, y/n, by your family and friends, and your fans. you are the setter who will dethrone kageyama tobio’s rule of the court, remember?” 

you recognize the quote from one of the japanese magazines that you and tobio managed to get a hold of. it makes you laugh—the type that sends tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, leaving you breathless and light and feeling like everything will be alright—and you smile at him.

it feels strangely like coming home after a long day. 

there is a twinkle in your eyes, the return of your genuine self as you ask, “and what of kageyama tobio?”

your smile hits him like the first ray of warm sunlight when snow melts away to reveal the tiny buds sprouting at the nodes of tree branches, that first truly warm day after winter when you know that spring is here. and just like the trees that have weathered the cold season, you are shaking off the cold in your bones, ready to bloom again. 

that pureness in your smile—the invisible pull that drew him into your orbit almost three years ago now emerging reforged.

gods, you are nothing short of devastating. he knows he will never be able to love anyone else like he loves you, describing it as intense does not do it justice. try all-encompassing and consuming, leaving him defenseless and dazed and wanting more. 

is that wrong of him to feel that way? that if given a choice by the gods to do it all over again, he would still choose to love you? that there is nothing he would not do, no hell he would not descend, no winter he would not weather, just to see you smile at him unadulterated?

“he believes that you are the queen of the court.”

your smile does not falter. it deepens, reaching your eyes, curving them into joyful crescents that send his heart thundering at an inhuman pace. 

“thank you for being here. i am beginning to realize what it means to live.” you make me want to live. the unspoken words hanging in space between you. 

for the first time in a very long time, tobio finds himself praying to the gods that have long abandoned him. he can only hope that they are listening. 

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity (gen) @mintgrumpy @noble-17 @box-of-roses (tobio nation) @hiraethwrote @shouyuus @yogurtkags @mcdonaldsnumberone (add yourself here)

a/n. i sprinkled lots of little details in this one hehehe (like how it is apartment to tobio before it becomes a home) how many did you find? *giggles while plotting* it's fluffier than i intended so i hope you enjoyed <33

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

[pitchsidestories]

mirrors II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

masterlist I word count: 938

a/n: hi, the inspiration came from the request here. We'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. <3

It was October. And everyone, football players and fans alike, knew what that meant.

The best of the best were about to be honoured at the Ballon d’Or Award ceremony.

Even as a sports journalist, this was a very special night and you felt honoured to be invited amongst all those big names in the audience.

There was just one face that you could have done without seeing. And of course you were seated right next to each other.

You let your gaze wander across the room, trying not be intimidated by the amount of men in suits surrounding you. Majorly to ignore her.

Someone on stage was about to hold an acceptance speech and you hoped that it would shut her up but no, of course not.

“Come on, you know we’d look cute together.“

You didn’t even have to look at her, the smirk basically vibrated in her voice. You sighed. Apparently she couldn’t behave anywhere. Every time you met, she tried to flirt with you.

Slowly you turned towards her and whispered: “Jennifer. We’re at an award ceremony.“

“Yes, and you look gorgeous in that suit. It goes well with my dress.“, she replied quietly and casually slipped her hand onto your thigh.

For a second you cursed yourself for choosing your dark green suit. The colour was too similar to Jennis floor-length gown and made it look like you intentionally matched.

You slapped her hand away and glared at the football player: “Shh, I’m trying to listen here.“

Turning back towards the stage, you tried to follow what the laureate had to say while jotting down notes for yore next article into a small notebook on your lap.

You shivered as you felt Jennis warm breath against your ear.

“As if they had anything important to say anyway.“, she complained, rolling her eyes.

You gave up on listening and instead considered Jenni. “Men love to talk. But so do you.“

She shrugged: “At least I have something useful to say.“

“You’re flirting.“, you stated, unimpressed by her attempts at maintaining a conversation.

“And?“

“And I really need to write that article.“, you replied, your voice rising with slight anger.

When she leaned over to snatch the notebook from your lap, you had to stop yourself from yelling at her. Instead you hissed at her: “Excuse me?!“

Jenni waved the book around nonchalantly and pouted: “Now you’re just making excuses to ignore me.“

“I’m not.”, you disagreed heavily while simultaneously trying to get your working utensils back.

Maybe it was time for you to abandon your scribbling on paper in exchange for only writing things down on your smartphone or laptop you thought to yourself as the forward wasn’t showing any sign to hand the notebook back to you.

“What do you want?”, you sighed tired of her childish behaviour.

“For you to finally acknowledge that we look hot together.”, she revealed with a devilish grin on her lips.

“You don’t give up easily, huh?”, you replied, your voice couldn’t hide the growing frustration you felt towards her.

“I never give up actually.”, Jenni admitted in a serious tone.

Abruptly you stood up from the chair. The intensity of her green eyes looking at you was getting too much to handle.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”, you announced.

Much to your own surprise the Spaniard decided to follow you. “Coming.”, she responded giddily.

“Fine.”, you muttered.

“Go.”, Jenni said, while brushing your back with her hand. Normally you would say this was purely an accident, but the Spanish footballer certainly did that purposeful.  

Once you reached the bathroom you let out an impressed whistle.

“This is really fancy here.”

Your gaze wandered around the interior: the mirrors were large, and everything looked like marble with golden highlights. It screamed expensive. Something you were still not used to as you grew up under rather poor circumstances.

“It’s a bathroom.”, Jenni chuckled amused.

“Still. Besides I don’t remember inviting you inside with me.”, you remarked.

“It’s a public bathroom. I’m allowed to be here.”, she reminded you smiling smugly.

“You’re lucky you’re hot. Although your big mouth.”, you begun.

“This mouth can do even more.”, the forward claimed, closing the gap between the two of you confidently while swaying her hips in a suggestive manner.

“Yes, I’ve heard about it, you’ve got quite a reputation.”, you answered cooly.

“I do?”, Jenni raised an eyebrow, pretending to be scandalized.

“Yes.”, you affirmed.

“Want to find out if it’s true what they say?”, she gave you a challenging look impatiently waiting for your response.

“I always want to know the true story behind a rumour.”, you confessed playfully, her glances almost left you breathless.

“Then don’t move.”, the forward demanded.

“I won’t.”, you assured her.

“Good.”, Jenni nodded satisfied while brushing her lips first against your cheek before wandering down to your lips until she finally kissed you.

There was an intensity and hunger to the kiss which almost knocked off your feet if you haven’t been sitting next to the luxurious water taps.

The older woman knew what she was doing, the rumours turned out to be an understatement in your opinion.

 For a second you caught the reflection of the two of you kissing in the big mirror. You both were breathtaking as a couple.

“Maybe you’re right.”, you mumbled against her mouth.

“I told you we looked good together.”, Jenni smirked triumphantly.

In this case the mirrors didn’t lie it reflected the desire you both had for each other. While the men held their speeches and felt very important you had found something much more meaningful.

[russellsppttemplates]

charles leclerc x famous!reader, they're rumored to be dating but nothing was confirmed, then reader was helping charles with filming his live (like today's!) and accidentally flips over the camera to herself 😭😭

"Did you see the article about your love life? A lot of people seem to be convinced you don't want anything to do with motorsport, let alone dating an actual driver", Joris teased you as you adjusted your hair so it wouldn't get messed up inside the helmet.

"They really don't have any faith that I would be able to pull her off!", Charles groaned, holding said helmet for you so he could safely strap it on your neck after pulling it on your head, "is this good, amour?", he checked, squeezing you hip softly in assurance.

"Bit don't you guys want to keep it private?", he wondered, "yes, we do! But, like, am I that bad for them to think that Y/N Y/L/N wouldn't date me? Because I'm not, see?", Charles dramatised, holding your hands together as you walked to the track.

"So you'll be okay filming?", he asked, "yes, I'll let you know when I start recording! Everyone, remember not to call for my name, okay?", you warned, getting a nod from everyone in the group, "I need your help to strap me in the kart", you asked Charles.

After you were safely able to drive the kart, you headed in the front, wanting to capture the moments for Charles' live, "in three, guys!", you yelled.

While initially everything seemed to be going well and the fans were having the time of their life as they watched Charles and his friends enjoy the sunny day, it all stopped when you accidentally flipped the camera to yourself, only noticing when you saw your name in the comments, "uh-oh", you said, turning the camera back around and filming the guys.

When you came to a stop, Charles helped you out before you handed him his phone back, "I think I accidentally showed my face", you cringed, resting your forehead on his clothed chest and shaking it. "You did?", Charles chuckled, "That's okay, they don't think you'd be into me anyway".

Joris walked up to you, phone in hand, "people have figured out it way you, Y/N", he showed you a thread, compiling clips and posts you had made about the necklace you were wearing. It was your favourite piece and it held sentimental value, so you wore it everyday and had mentioned its importance in various interviews, the little clips following eachother as you scrolled, "well, at least they have some proof now!", you giggled, accepting your fate as Charles held you against him.

"Oh, wait! There's still a comment saying that it's probably someone Charles wanted to make them look like you, "how much do you bet Charles got someone to make them same necklace so we would think it's Y/N? This man wants us to believe so bad that he could pull THE Y/N" and also "silly little man, like we would fall for this trick",", Joris, doubled over as he laughed.

"Why will no one believe that you love me?", Charles hid his face on your neck, "it's alright, handsome. I know I love you and that's enough", you kissed his neck softly.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[featguler]

hii your fics are written so well it’s captivating and beautiful!!

can u write sumn abt attempting to find out if the reader is single or available w kylian :)

heard the risk is drownin' ────── kylian is charging straight in.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified, but they are described to be smaller than kylian. set in the cannes film festival; reader is a film scholar/film critic and is teaching at a university. reader doesnt have an insta sorry i gotta make this easy for me. kylian is down baaaaad he's also kind of assholeish here but he's also hot so idc. NOT PROOFREAD!! ♡ ────── wordcount : 1,277 ♡ ────── notes : this is such a cute request!! i love him so much, thank you for requesting this 🥺 disclaimer ive never been to cannes but i wish i have. this is a good luck one-shot for france tonight!! title based on risk by gracie abrams ♡ masterlist.

Kylian wants you.

It’s clear to see ever since a friend invited him to her private, directorial debut screening. Filled with pretentious film commentators, Kylian almost questioned his sanity in accepting this seemingly random invitation from a friend he knew from Catholic school over ten years ago.

Almost.

Almost, because you were the lighthouse that helped him navigate the mist that night. During dinner, you seemed oblivious to his superstar status, and initiate the conversation you shared with a fun and lighthearted question about his favorite movie.

“I didn’t know,” you laughed to yourself when he told you he was the Mbappè from 2018’s FIFA World Cup, “Sorry. I guess not everything revolves around films.”

Contrary to others in the revel, you were able to communicate in a way he understands—you didn’t sigh when revealed that he had never seen (heard of, even) a film you mentioned, and you were able to eloquently steer the course of your conversation in a way that is both enjoyable but also challenging for him.

Paired with the way your eyes twinkle under the dim lighting, just like that, he was in love.

And he wants you.

It’s simple for everyone that knows him to see. He repeats your name under his breath—the only thing he learned that night—and shakes his head when he recalls that he cannot find you anywhere.

He wants you. He wants you bad.

He thinks you’re cheeky. When he searches your name up on Google, all that came up were the papers you had written to contribute to multiple visual culture journals and books, or an article of a film you wrote published by a third party website from six months ago. No Instagram account, no Facebook account, no nothing.

Kylian tries asking his agent at least 50,000 times, but it’s not like his agent, or any sports agent for that matter, would have the connection to set him up with someone like you.

And he would ask fucking Clémentine, but she gatekeeps information about you like she is a shepherd clinging on her last dozen sheeps, leaving his messages on read and calls unanswered. Being Kylian Mbappè does not help him at all. Even being her friend does not help him at all.

He guesses that he could send you an email, but what’s attractive about that? He’s desperate, but not desperate in the sense that he would write an email on his iPad and send it to you like some kind of student hoping for a raise in grades. He’s a damn footballer. What he wants to do is take you out on a nice dinner before bringing you back to his house, not ask you to collaborate on an academic paper about film semiotics—or whatever these papers talk about.

And that leads us to today. Let's set the scene. 

The time: the first Saturday of the Cannes Film Festival 2024, first screening of the day; the place: the Cannes Film Festival, Cannes, France; and the characters: Kylian Mbappè Lottin, fucking Clémentine, and you.

Well, he doesn’t know where the fuck Clémentine is, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck where Clémentine is.

Somehow, he ended up finding a spot to sit to your right, and instead of taking in the highly anticipated work of a certain Greek director, Kylian leaned to place his cheek on a closed fist supported by his elbow against the arm rest, occasionally glancing to his left in hopes to get a glimpse of your eyes against the bright screen, testing in every crinkle on your face when a certain scene was shot in a way that amused you.

When will another one of such invaluable opportunities rise?

“So,” As soon as the standing ovation dies down and the theatre lights are turned back on, Kylian turns to you, starting a conversation. “What did you think?”

“Wonderful,” still dazzled, the smile remains etched on your lips. “Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, I swear.”

“Oh, wow.” he laughs, placing a palm against his mouth for a moment. “And I’m here thinking that you’ve seen more films than the average person.”

“Oh, yeah,” you nod, immediately catching up to his playful tone, “I’ve seen at least five movies.”

Quiet laughter is shared between the two of you, and Kylian feels a familiar, comfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. “So that makes this the sixth movie that you’ve watched?”

“In my entire lifetime, yes,” you giggle.

Kylian bites his lips before rubbing the side of his neck, for a short moment which he hopes you don’t notice the anxiety brewing within him. “Well, this is my first film, actually. So I was really excited to watch it.”

“Five more to go,” you notice everyone else beginning to stand up, patiently waiting for their turn to escape from their row and exit the theatre. “Then maybe you’ll have half the experience I do.”

The tone of your reply draws out another laugh from him.

Damn.

All he does is laugh when you are around. You must be the funniest person he’s ever met.

“So,” Kylian clears his throat when you stand, following your suit. “What’s your plan after this?”

“Clémentine and I are thinking of sharing a pizza down the street for lunch before returning for the 2 PM showing,” you shake the watch around your wrist before looking back at him with a dazzling smile. “What about you?”

“Clémentine?” Kylian muses, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”

“What’s with that face?” You begin walking behind the person before you, still somewhat facing him. “I’m sure. You must be busy.”

“Eh, it’s all just show. I got nothing to do most of the times,” he raises his shoulders with a grin. “Well, what’s after the 2 PM screening?”

“I’ve got papers to grade,” you sigh, feeling a slight chill when the summer breeze brushes over your skin the moment you both step outside the studio. You squint your eyes at the sun, turning to him. “Wish I could stay around longer, but I’ve got responsibilities.”

Kylian tilts his head, still smiling at you. “Yeah? I was actually thinking that I can take you out for dinner tonight.”

You blink, and turns your body so that you were fully facing him—only then do you realize how big he looks: his broad shoulders, the shape of his chest pressed under his thin shirt.

“Oh,” you stammer, taking a step back once you noticed how close you two are standing to each other. “I– uh, you know—”

“Responsibilities?” He asks with a light chuckle. “That’s fine. Another night?”

Kylian watches your pupils dilate, shifting to every single thing around you except for him, avoiding eye contact at all cost. “That’s very kind of you, it’s just—”

Then, it clicked on him.

“Oh,” he says with a furrow of his eyebrows, lips pressing into a frown. “Boyfriend?”

You clear your throat, and the nod you give him is timid, but it is a nod.

Kylian takes a deep breath, burying both his hands in his pockets, for a moment staring off into the distance, before turning back to you with a gentle smile.

“Then,” he closes the gap to you with a step, looking around for a moment, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “When you break up with him, let me know. I’d love to take you out for dinner.”

And casually, he straightens his back.

“I’ll see you around,” he laughs softly with a wink, raising his hand to wave at you as he walks away.

[haikyu-mp4]

Hiya! Can i pls request Right Now with Ushijima? Thank you ❤❤

Now playing... Right Now

word count; 866 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

Ushijima wasn’t sure what made him so restless. Maybe it was because every task he did after coming back from work was halved. He made dinner for one, evening tea for one, and watched whatever he wanted on TV without any input from you. Everything he should be doing with you, he did by himself.

Playing in the Polish league was amazing volleyball-wise. The players were good and generally taller, presenting him and his team with new challenges and advantages. Training and playing was fun. He was also able to catch a few trips to visit Tendo, which he hadn’t been able to do as often before. Now he wasn’t that far away! But nothing could make up for the fact that you were now as far away from him as Tendo used to be. Unfortunately, your job requires you to stay in Japan.

Every night he felt it. Longed for the light snore he had come to associate with home. He felt it every time he was at his new apartment, and even more whenever something particularly new happened, something he would have to get used to or figure out. That’s when he needed his other half.

And right now, as he lay in bed after a long day of struggling with the language barrier and trying a new dish that didn’t quite work out, he wished you were there with him.

Rolling over and accepting that sleep wouldn’t greet him yet, he picked up his phone. He blinked a couple of times to get used to the brightness from the screen, switching the setting so it was more bearable before finally looking at the latest message notification. If he felt any drowsiness before, it was whisked away when he saw it was a message from you.

Call me when you wake up, my love. I have exciting news!

Wakatoshi checked the time back home in Japan before calling you immediately. It rang four times before he finally heard your voice. “Toshi! I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep. What is the exciting news, dearest?”

You giggled on the other end of the line, and the sound quality switched, so he assumed you had put him on speaker while multitasking. He smiled at the ceiling as he listened, closing his eyes and imagining himself there with you. “You know that company I sent you an article about? The one that’s completely home-office based,” you asked him, and he could sense an impatient excitement in your voice.

He hummed in confirmation. “I do. They seem to manage it very well so far, from what I read. It’s interesting, but I’m wondering how much they save on an office if they’re paying for part of the home-office expenses like they said they do.”

“I agree, but that does mean they get to pick and choose the best workers from all over the world!” you said, wiggling your eyebrows as if hinting at something, only to realise he couldn’t even see you.

“There must be a very large number of applications, I’m sure. I can not understand how they have the capacity to go through all of them,” he answered, seeming to get engaged in the topic, which was one of the traits you loved most about Wakatoshi. He always paid attention to the things you brought up.

“I suppose, but there might not be that many if you consider that people are not sure if it’s a reliable workplace yet,” you suggested. The discussion almost made you forget what you needed to tell him, but luckily he was there to get you back on track.

“You are very right. But are the exciting news related to this company? I did not know you were so invested in their growth.”

“Well, I certainly am now. They want me to work for them!” you squealed, and he could just imagine how you would dance around the kitchen.

His lips parted, and he stared into the nothingness of the dark roof as he registered what you said, and then slowly also realised what it might mean. “Congratulations. I did not know you applied.”

“I know, it felt like such a hopeless attempt that I didn’t want to talk about it. But I got through to the last interview and they really liked me,” you told him. Your happiness practically radiated through the phone.

“Of course they did, and they’re lucky to have you,” he said, and you were thrilled on the other end of the line when you heard his soft chuckle, undeniable proof of his joy. “Does this mean…” He dipped his tongue between his lips to wet them as a smile stretched out. “You could move here with me?”

Your steps echoed in the kitchen as you stomped your feet in excitement. “Yes! We can look at that tomorrow if you’d like. I miss you so much, Toshi.”

And Ushijima squeezed the duvet in the hand that wasn’t holding his phone as this immense relief overtook him.

Right now, he wishes you were there with him.

And soon, you will be.

“I miss you too, so much. I can’t wait to have you with me again.”

masterlist

[ramblingautisticman]

(Okay, for some reason, the repost where I was talking about this just...disapeard?? So here I go. Again. I'm just going to post it as a separate thing.)

(Also, Warning, talking about child hood cancer, experimentation and torture, and the other general dark Logan or Wade things.)

Okay! So- obviously, with the timeline, it wouldn't work- but I can just change that because why not?

Imagine Wade being diagnosed with cancer at 8. He has chemo and some surgeries, then for a good 2 years he is cancer free. Of course, though, it comes back at around 11. There isn't anything they can do this time, though. The surgeries won't work, and chemo will only prolong the inevitable, so Wade has to accept his fate. His parents get approached by someone who promises to cure Wade, though. All they need to do is sign over their legal rights in regards to him, so that's what they do. Sure, they cured him, but only after years of being tortured and experimented on. Wade thinks his parents didn't know at the beginning, but after the first few months, he started to question if they knew what this place was. His parents had never been kind people, and Wade quickly decided his parents probably didn't care what happened when they signed that waver. He survives, though. He gets his mutation, and eventually, the X-Men manages to find the facility that has been doing this. He's glad all of the other kids have been saved and most of them reunited with their parents- he had looked after half of them in that hell hole so he feels responsible for making sure they are all save wherever they go- and he goes back to the school with the other kids who don't have a home to go back to or just don't want to go back home. It's weird to be a whole 17 years of age and not knowing how to function in the world. He knows how to survive, but that's about it. So, it's a struggle to settle into the mansion at first, but he quickly takes on the role of bigger brother to the younger kids. And yeah, he finds it hard to interact with the people his own age, too terrified to deal with the possible riddicule of how he looks.

Logan's been there awhile. He was found by the Professor after a few news articles popped up about some 'strange deaths' and he had investigated. No one at the school knows much about him- they know he lived in the woods for a year when he was 13, and that the Professor found him- but that's about it. Practically all the students avoid him like the plague in the halls and at meal times. It's not that Logan tries to talk to the others anyway, and he doesn't really want too. He's used to being a lone wolf. He keeps to himself, doesn't want to deal with others shit, and he plans to keep it that way. He's gonna leave this place as soon as he is 18 next year. He isn't even sure where he would go, but he refuses to join the X-Men. He can't bring himself too- to many accidents with the claws and panic attacks to be able to help people.

Naturally, Wade decides that Logan is the person he is going to befriend. Even if the idea of being judged terrifies him, he can't help but be interested in the quiet brooding bad boy.

[limeade-l3sbian]

Who was Kagney Linn Necessary?

(the gofundme for her memorial/funeral will be at the end.)

Kagney Linn Necessary was born in Harris County, Texas in 1987, and raised in St. Joseph, Missouri and in Ridgway, Pennsylvania. [x]

In her early years, she moved to California with ambitions of becoming an actress and a singer but entered work as an exotic dancer before signing with LA Direct Models, a pornographic agency. Karter entered the adult film industry in September 2008.[x]

But that wasn't the entirety of who Kagney was. At face value, the only information I could find with a quick search was the basic information above from Wikipedia. All anyone seemed to know about her was who she was when she was in the "industry." I wanted to see what I could find about her, the person. Not Kagney Linn Karter, but Kagney Linn Necessary.

I raked through interviews she had, her personal social media accounts, and any other articles that I could find just to find any little facts about her that I could.

I thought about omitting her time within the porn industry to focus solely on everything else except that. But I feel it would be tasteless to keep it out. I think it needs to be mentioned. I think it is important to show that women pulled into the porn industry are not these separate beings from any other woman with dreams. This was a 36 year old woman who was just like any other woman who was preyed upon.

Necessary released an EP, The Crossover, in 2018. In 2022, Karter released her debut album, titled The Take Over. [x] She would post clips of her singing covers of songs as well as songs from her upcoming EP on her Instagram.

In 2022, she began learning how to play the piano, even posting a video of her progress.

Necessary was also a recovering addict. In 2021, she posted about the things that helped her stay clean and how she was pleased at having a second chance at life. In an interview, she was intentionally vague about the substances she used, only referring to them as "candy" and "a little bit of everything." But with no insurance or money for rehab, she opted to detox herself at her parents home, working at their tanning salon for free in exchange for "produce."

She moved from Los Angeles to Ohio in 2019 and got involved with pole dancing fitness studios before being involved the opening of one in Akron, called Alchemy Pole Fitness. She posted many videos of herself having fun and practicing new/old moves.

In November 2023, she was posting pictures of her new house and how well it was coming together,

[their website leads to a website called Alchemy Space Studios and says that it was founded and run by a separate woman. But upon looking up the LLC for the business, Kagney is named as the registrant and she is named as the owner of the space in two separate articles.]

In 2015, Carter claimed musician Chris Brown paid her $2,500 to be his escort. She reportedly tweeted things like 'I WILL NEVER F*** A WOMAN BEATER EW DISGUSTING' and 'HE IS PURE EVIL' about Brown.

I just felt like adding that because what a queen.

From her students from the studio and friends, she was known to love animals, including her dog, Murphy, and had a deep devotion to the community she was cultivating in Ohio. She was known to be fearless and empathetic, creating her studio as a place for people to feel safe and accepted.

These were the things I could find of her from her personal accounts and the people who loved her. She wasn't an object that will be missed for what "uses" it had. She was a woman who had dreams, who had a community who love her, who had a husband who loves her, dogs she cared for and loved who loved her, and a mother who loves her. I didn't want her story to be another reblog of a lost life.

I know this post is sporadic and clunky, but I wanted to just grab any information I could without crossing boundaries (ex. contacting the family or something tasteless like that). I just wanted to share what she had already shared with the world.

Her friend, Megan Lee, has posted a gofundme that has already surpassed their goal. But I would still suggest donating if you are able. Rest in peace, Kagney Linn Necessary. 💜

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Nine / Thursday, Four Months Later - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Angst!!! 🌶 This one is spicy. 18+ only. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

I do not give anyone permission to replicate or translate my fic.

THURSDAY EVENING, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Bouncing up and down, straddling the handsome man lying on the bed beneath you, your hips rolled together in unison as he thrust up into you, moaning. His familiar hands held your hips in a vice-like grip, lifting you as he filled you over and over again, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Take it.” he rasped, pulling you down for a breathy, passionate kiss as he pressed his cock deeper. You’d never felt so full and it wasn’t long before you were almost there. 

“Cum for me.” he said, “Cum on my cock.”

“Fuck!” you screamed as your companion flipped you over onto your back once more, pushing in relentlessly, leaving you gasping as you shuddered out your second orgasm of the night. The man on top of you wasn’t far behind, expertly pulling out as he too reached completion, splattering your stomach.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said, rolling over to lay beside you, “Why did we not do this again sooner?”

You rolled over to lean on your elbow, your eyes finding his, “Really?” you said.

“A figure of speech.” he said, propping himself up to face you fully, “We should clean up, come and shower with me?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you said, grinning at your charming lover. This was not how you had expected the evening to go when you’d accepted an invitation to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition. But you were not one to complain. Life always had a funny way of working out.

REWIND TO A TUESDAY AFTERNOON, TWO MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Days had turned into weeks that quickly stretched to two months as you tried your best to piece your life back together following your split from George. The pain of the break-up still hit hard but was slowly dissipating with each passing day. It wasn’t easy, the press having gotten wind of the split and done their utmost to link George to numerous other women in the wake of your separation, his photo constantly splashed unceremoniously across the gossip pages. 

To begin with, seeing articles and photos of him with other women had upset you but the saying that time heals all wounds was starting to ring true and the more time passed, the less it was affecting you. You were starting to feel like yourself again, no more worrying about what people thought of you, enjoying being your own person once more, no longer just George’s girlfriend. 

Although brutal, the break-up had brought the clarity that you had long been seeking. Of course, you regretted how it had come about but you didn’t regret it happening. You wished you hadn’t hurt George in the process and you somewhat regretted sleeping with Toto but you couldn’t turn back the clock, you could only learn from your mistakes.

On the matter of Toto, you had felt torn. Despite the clandestine way you had found each other, there was a real connection and you had toyed with the idea of exploring it. True to his word, he had sent you a text asking if you’d like to go for lunch but it had felt too soon so you’d politely declined. A few weeks later, he’d invited you for drinks, but again it felt all too quick. You needed space to heal, to figure out if your attraction to him had been genuine or was just a product of the yacht’s close quarters, fueled by your unhappiness with George.

In a surprising turn of events, Cara had also checked in with you regularly, the older woman sympathetic to your plight. The unexpected blossoming friendship had become a comforting constant, with the two of you meeting every few weeks for coffee or brunch and Cara making you privy to George and Toto’s workplace comings and goings. According to James, their relationship was still frosty but both were professional enough to keep it out of the workplace and the wider team were none the wiser.

You hadn’t heard from George, save for a short text telling you that someone was coming over to collect his things from your apartment. It had been emotional packing up George’s possessions but somewhat cathartic once they were gone. Out of sight, out of mind and it had helped you begin to fully move on.

TUESDAY EVENING

That was until one fateful evening. You’d been invited to a charity auction, auctioning off racing memorabilia for a good cause. You had RSVP’d months ago and forgotten until a reminder popped up in your calendar the day before. It was too late to back out and all you hoped was that George would not be there. 

On arrival you scanned the room, looking out for the familiar mop of brown hair. Breathing a sigh of relief, you saw he was nowhere to be found and milled about, sipping on champagne and chatting with your former acquaintances from the paddock. Ready to grab another flute of champagne, you jumped as a hand suddenly wrapped around your arm, a deep, all-too familiar voice booming from behind you.

“I didn’t know you would be here.” 

It was Toto. Fuck. Your heart skipped a beat, but you steadied yourself, turning to face him.

"Hi," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions. "How have you been?"

"Busy, as always," he said with a small laugh. "And you?"

"Good. Work’s been busy too and I’ve been trying to get out for some hikes every weekend. Take my mind off things, you know?"

There was an awkward pause, a moment of unspoken understanding. "I’m glad to hear that," he said finally. "You look well."

"Thank you, so do you," you replied. "I’ve also had a lot of time to think lately."

"About us?" he asked, keeping his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

"About everything," you admitted. "What happened… it wasn't fair to George, to you, or to myself."

Toto nodded. "I understand. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in it."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “What’s done is done and we can only move on.”

"I agree," he said, his tone respectful. "And if you ever need a friend, I’m here."

You smiled, appreciating the gesture. "I’ll keep that in mind."

– – – 

As the evening progressed, you felt a sense of closure. The chapter with George and Toto was over and you were ready for new beginnings. Your future was uncertain, but you felt ready to embrace it for the first time in a while. 

You didn’t see Toto again that night and thankfully George didn’t show up. You were able to slip out early, knowing that this was a world you were finally no longer part of. It was cathartic and as you walked into the night, you savoured the promise of new adventures and the lessons learned from your past mistakes.

SATURDAY EVENING

As the days passed following the auction, the memory of your encounter with Toto at the charity event lingered. You found yourself replaying the conversation in your mind, wondering if you should have said more. The closure you felt that night started to feel incomplete and you couldn't shake the feeling that there could be more to explore between you and Toto.

Late one Saturday evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, you decided to bite the bullet and reach out. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and typed out a message.

"Hey, it was good to see you the other day. Would you be up for coffee? I’ve been thinking a lot and would love to talk."

You hesitated before hitting send, but you figured what the hell. The message was sent and all you could do was wait and see what he had to say in response - if he responded at all. 

SUNDAY MORNING

Fortunately, you didn’t have long to wait when early the next morning, Toto’s reply came.

"Of course. I’m in town today, I can do this afternoon if that’s not too short notice?"

You replied quickly, texting back and forth as you made concrete plans for the location and timing. Your stomach was already filled with butterflies, you weren’t sure what you were going to say to Toto but all you knew was that your heart had thumped at the sight of him at the auction. He was a striking man and a single flash of that dimpled grin had your heart melting once more.

Arriving at the café, you spotted Toto seated at a corner table, looking pensive. He smiled warmly as you approached and you were struck by how natural it felt to see him again, albeit surreal to see him sat down at a regular table, away from the glitz and glamour you typically met him in.

"Hi," you said, sitting down across from him.

"Hi," he replied. "It’s good to see you."

"You too," you said, taking a deep breath. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since the auction."

"Me too," Toto admitted, his expression serious. "That week was…something. I’ve found myself missing you."

"Same here," you said, feeling a sense of relief. "Seeing you the other night made me realise that. Maybe, if you wanted, we could see each other again?”

Toto leant forward, his eyes searching yours. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that I know this came about in not the best way but maybe we could see where things go?"

Toto’s face softened, and he reached across the table to briefly take your hand in his, conscious you were in public. "I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t want to push you, after everything that happened. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d like that too. Let me take you out to dinner."

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I’d love that. Let’s start again, no pressure.”

"Absolutely," Toto agreed, his dimpled grin returning, chocolate eyes crinkling. “No pressure.”

THREE MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

Over the next few weeks, you and Toto spent more time together, enjoying a cosy dinner, a trip to an art gallery and a walk around the park, dropping back into easy conversations as if no time had passed at all. Toto had behaved like the perfect gentleman, not taking things beyond a relatively chaste goodnight kiss following your dinner. He knew that you were still healing and when you were ready to take the next step you’d be sure to let him know.

With Toto now away for three weeks on a triple header, you kept in touch digitally, dropping each other occasional texts throughout the day, Toto calling you on the odd quieter evening. When he did call, you found yourself chatting away the hours, it was easy and you felt as if you’d known him for years.

Although you were taking things slow this time, you couldn’t wait for Toto to return and swoop you up in those strong arms. You craved his touch and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get close once again.

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, FOUR MONTHS POST-BREAK-UP

The day Toto was set to return had finally arrived. You woke up with an excitement you hadn't felt in a long time, a spring in your step as you went about your morning routine. You texted him good morning, and he replied almost instantly.

"Can’t wait to see you tonight. Dinner at 8?"

"Perfect, Can’t wait," you replied, smiling at the thought of seeing him again. 

You spent the day preparing, tidying up your apartment just in case anything were to happen and spending some time pampering so you looked and felt your best. You were tingling with anticipation at the promise of what the evening held.

WEDNESDAY EVENING

When eight o’clock finally came, you arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, nervously checking your reflection in the window before stepping inside. Toto was already there, ever the gentleman, standing up from the table to greet you with a warm smile.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice deep and sincere.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look good too."

Dinner was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, Toto sharing stories from his action-packed travels and you telling him about the new hobbies you'd picked up during your time alone. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual respect that you knew had not been present in your relationship with George. You found yourself once again falling for the older man’s rakish charm, such a stark contrast from the grumpy persona he seemed to adopt in the workplace.

After dessert, Toto offered to walk you home and you eagerly agreed. The evening was cool, the stars just beginning to peek out from the darkening sky as you strolled through the dark streets. Toto’s hand brushed against yours and you felt a spark return, a connection that was impossible to ignore.

"Can I confess something?" he asked, stopping to look at you, his dark eyes serious.

"Of course," you replied, your heart racing.

"I’ve thought about you every day since that week on the yacht," he said, his voice soft. "I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances, but it is what it is."

You took a deep breath, the honesty in his words touching you deeply. "I feel the same way, Toto."

He smiled, stepping closer and taking your hands in his. "These last three weeks have been torture. All I wanted was to come back and see you. It’s been driving me crazy.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you. "I missed you too."

As he leaned down to kiss you, the world seemed to melt away. His lips were soft and warm, and you felt a sense of rightness as if this was where you were meant to be all along. When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, his forehead resting against yours.

"Let’s take it slow," he suggested. "No pressure, just us."

"Just us," you repeated, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you walked towards your apartment, hand in hand, you knew that this was the start of something new. It wouldn’t be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long while, you felt hopeful. More mature than George, Toto was different, the breath of fresh air that you had needed.

THURSDAY MORNING

The next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face, the memory of Toto’s kiss still fresh in your mind. Something about it felt right and you couldn’t wait to see him again.

You rolled over and checked your phone, pleased to already see a message from him.

"Good morning beautiful. Last night was wonderful. Looking forward to seeing you again soon."

You replied quickly, your heart fluttering. 

"Good morning! I had a great time too. Can’t wait to see you again."

Toto was straight to the point, playing no games. He had told you exactly how he felt and you believed him. You had heeded Cara’s warning of him being a playboy but he had given you no reason to fear so far.

As you set about your day, you kept catching yourself smiling for no reason in particular, glowing from your evening with Toto. You had been invited to a friend of a friend’s art exhibition that evening and you were looking forward to spending time with your girlfriends and spilling the details of your budding romance. You hadn’t shared what had happened on the yacht with many but you knew if your relationship with Toto was to grow, you couldn’t keep him a secret.

THURSDAY EVENING

Walking through the doors of the small gallery, the room buzzed with conversations, the walls adorned with large, vibrant pieces. Your friends were yet to arrive so you decided to take a look around. As you moved from painting to painting, you heard a familiar voice behind you. Turning around, you saw George standing there, looking as surprised as you felt. 

“Hi,” you greeted him, a bit unsure of how to proceed, aware that you were exposed in public.

“Hi,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same,” you said, forcing a small smile. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” he said with a shrug. “You?”

“Good. Just taking things one day at a time,” you replied.

An awkward silence hung between you, and you decided to break it. “This is weird. Do you want to talk somewhere else?”

George hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Dropping a hasty text to your friends, telling them a white lie that you weren’t feeling well, you found yourself outside, alone with George. The evening air was cool and refreshing and as you walked side by side in silence through the quiet streets, the city lights cast a soft glow around you.

“I’m sorry, George,” you said, breaking the silence. “I’m so sorry for everything. For cheating on you, for hurting you. You didn’t deserve that.”

George looked at you, his expression softening. “I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend. I got caught up in my career and forgot about us. I’m angry, yes, but I also understand that we both made mistakes.”

You shook your head. “It’s not at all your fault George, please never think that. It was my fault entirely and I just hope we can both move on from this and find happiness.”

“I hope so too,” George said, his tone softening. “I did love you, you know. A part of me always will.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I loved you too, George. I still care about you and I want the best for you.”

He gave a small smile, a hint of the old George you knew. “Same here. Let’s just try to be better for ourselves and whoever comes next.”

“Agree.” you said, “Whoever that is is a lucky girl.”

“I appreciate that,” said George, “And likewise, although I think we both know who that is.”

You raised your eyebrows, George interrupting you before you were able to deny his suggestion, “I know you’re seeing Toto. We’ve spent the last few weeks together and I’ve seen him glued to his phone when he’s not working. He’s been grinning like an idiot.”

Smiling weakly, you shrugged, “We’re just friends. It didn’t feel right to do anymore.”

Looking unconvinced, George turned to face you, “Look, I’m sure we’ll run into each other, I hope we can be friendly?”

Surprised that George was being so amicable, you reached around to hug him, his arms wrapping around you in return, “Deal.”

Stood in George’s embrace, you felt a sense of relief and closure wash over you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. Sure, George had not been the perfect boyfriend but you would always cherish the moments you had spent together and you could only wish him well.

– – – 

Having bid goodbye to George, you returned to your apartment, feeling lighter than you had in months. As you settled in, your phone rang. It was Toto.

“Hello?” you answered, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, is now a good time to talk?” he said, a warm tone in his voice. 

“Of course,” you said, thrilled that he already wanted to talk to you again.

“Are you home?” he asked, “I’m close by, I wondered if I can come up?’

Surprised that he was inviting himself over, you looked around, scanning the mess you’d left in your apartment as you’d hurried out the door earlier, “Sure, how far away are you?”

“About twenty minutes.” he said, “I’ll ring when I’m close by.”

“Perfect,” you said, “See you soon.”

“See you,” he said ringing off. 

At that, you bolted from the sofa frantically, chucking the dirty plates and cookware that you’d left in the sink in the dishwasher and running to your bedroom to put the laundry you’d been too lazy to fold away back in your wardrobe.

You’d hardly managed to tidy anything when the buzzer rang. Twenty minutes your ass, Toto needed to work on his timing! You pushed the button to let Toto up, making your way to the kitchen to dig out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Not long after there was a soft knock on your door and barely containing a smile, you made your way over to answer the door to the older Austrian, mildly embarrassed at your excitement. You took a breath, steeling yourself to calm down and greet Toto normally.

However, nothing could have prepared you for who stood on the other side of the door. It was George, grinning widely, clearly tipsy, holding the largest bunch of white roses you’d seen in your life.

"George," you said, taken aback. "Not that it’s not nice to see you but what are you doing here?"

His grin faltered for a moment, replaced with a flicker of uncertainty. "I know this is unexpected. But after we talked earlier, I felt like there were still things left unsaid. I wanted to come by and see you."

You hesitated, glancing down the hallway, half expecting Toto to appear any second. "George, this really isn't a good time..."

"I won't stay long, I promise," he said quickly, sensing your hesitation. "I just need to say this."

You stepped aside, allowing him to enter and he handed you the roses. They were beautiful, but the timing felt wrong. You placed them on the kitchen counter and turned to face him.

"Thank you for these, but George, we really said everything that needed to be said earlier. We have to move on."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But I’ve been thinking too. I realised I never properly apologised for my part in everything. I was so wrapped up in my own world, I didn’t see how unhappy you were. I’m truly sorry."

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. "George, honestly, what I did to you was the worst thing in the world. Unless you were some abusive boyfriend there was no excuse. I’m the biggest piece of shit for doing that. There is no need to apologise.”

He gazed at you, unconvinced, “I don’t know about that. I miss you.”

Your eyes widened, not only were you not expecting George, you certainly hadn’t expected this one-eighty. If things had been the other way around you were not sure if you could have forgiven him.

“I miss you too,” you confessed, “But it’s natural, we spent a lot of time together, good times.”

“Exactly!” he said, his eyes a little crazy, “And I’ve been thinking. I think I could forgive you. I know you’ve been chatting to Toto but c’mon, you can do better than that old man.”

Suddenly well aware that the old man in question was currently en route to your place, you tried to remain tactful, “I appreciate that but I honestly think it’s better if we both just move on. You can do a lot better than me!”

“No. No, I can’t.” he said, his eyes looking saddened, “I’m still in love with you.”

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable  @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen@amandadesantasworld

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part One : Part Two

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Three

(Or Alastor learns it’s never to late learn your kinks, hell welcomes all)

18+ from here on out to be safe.

Warnings: entering smutty content near the end, written by an amateur. No smutty smut, but it’s beginning from here on out. I am opening that can of worms.

__

You really hoped you were harder to kill in hell, because these people simply had no sense of preservation of life in them. First full day in hell and you had been invited to a BDSM club, thrown off of a roof and hid from gunfire trying to keep the creepy little janitor from jumping into the crossfires. Trust exercises were not supposed to be life threatening, but the mania of the day had certainly made it harder for you to focus on your situation for the time being. Back at the hotel you gratefully accepted a drink from Husk as the group recapped the day they had just gone through. For a bunch of terrible sinners, they were pretty alright. Like when you were all alive, the group of you was simply trying to get by day by day.

You had learned that Angel was a porn star in Hell, Nifty’s kinks were both frightening and dangerous (mostly to her, but still), Husk you were certain liked nobody, and Vaggie was an aggressive woman who had no issues throwing you through the fire if she thought it would make you a better person on the other side.

You supposed there were worse people to attach yourself to given your situation. Part of you was grateful that you landed in a place that offered you a place to stay, food to eat with a generous host who made sure you were dressed and comfortable all around. Even though you had processed your death fairly quickly (that was normal, according to Angel) you did know that you could have it so much worse and be dealing with everything alone.

Grateful that everyone was heading to their own quarters when Alastor had returned with the little egg creatures, you made sure to avoid hovering your attention in his direction and ran upstairs after Angel, who had the room next to yours. While passing by Alastors room he had pointed a finger towards his open mouth and gagged, to which you could only respond with a forced chuckle. You waved goodnight to him as you opened your room door and found yourself falling onto the bed and passing out before your head even hit the pillow. Day one, over.

After a few weeks of Hell, you had settled into a comfortable routine. In the mornings you would join the others in the lounge for breakfast and coffee, you would all chat and discuss the next redemption plans before everyone would set off on their own plans for the day if Charlie and Vaggie didn’t have an exercise planned. You still had not left the safety of the building, knowing from your first day that it was strictly mean streets out there. Charlie had grabbed you a few more articles of clothing to complete your meagre wardrobe, and you were not picky in the slightest so you accepted your role as a doll she could dress up. She had picked a lot of modest, but cute A-line dresses, shorter skirts with turtlenecks, a suit - she had a clear preference of clothing seeing as your new items closely resembled her and Vaggie’s overall style. One thing you were grateful for was that the shoes she chose you didn’t require you to wear socks. Like your arms, your legs were black from the end of your limbs until your joint, where the black faded after it passed the knee. So it always looked like you were wearing little stockings. In your time in Hell getting comfortable in your new skin you had also discovered a scattering of black and white freckles on your shoulders and upper arms. You found yourself to be one of the luckier sinners, because your feet were still feet. Many souls like yours had come to hell with hooved feet, but you received a tail instead, which was not quite as common.

Angel had been your link to the world outside, he was constantly on his phone and for some lucky reason the underworld had a similar system of communication like earth. Cell phones, social media, advertisements, etc. It was truly not a far cry from what you knew. He had given you an older phone of his to use, the hotel members being the only contacts in your phone (minus Nifty & Alastor, for which you were grateful) and the two of you texted on the daily, him quickly becoming the closest member of the group to you. Even though Husk was the most recent being to die aside from you, Angel was the most willing to adapt to change. He effortlessly weaved through this complicated lifestyle with ease. He was confident, smart, and an all around great guy. If he would consider easing up on the partying and perhaps manage a way to distance himself from his industry he really would be an excellent candidate for redemption.

Alastor had still not spoken with you since your initial confrontation. Not that you were complaining but it was getting to the point that Angel had noticed his distance from you. It was if he was deliberately avoiding any chance that the two of you would end up in the same room. When asked about the radio, you found that even if you wanted to mention what you thought were unimportant details of it, your tongue snapped to the bottom of your mouth, preventing words from coming out. You had lamely said it was a motel item that got caught in your descent and you really had no idea why it followed you. Charlie had simply declared that possessions must occasionally follow a soul, but usually souls don’t fall in a space with decent people who won’t steal your stuff. It was simply considered an anomaly and after the first week thankfully people seemed to forget about it.

And while Alastor might have prevented you from mentioning anything to anyone about the symbols that were in the radio, it didn’t prevent you from researching the symbols. Charlie had a very extensive collection of books in the hotel library that you had been working your way through. Since you had no job and minimal expectations, you were sifting through the books quickly. And because Angel had left in a rush for a shoot earlier in the morning, your recent hobby started a few hours earlier than usual. You had made your way through a large portion of the ‘Historical Literature’ section before hearing a commotion outside of the library. With your ears being so sensitive it was easy for you to not make a sound while honing in on what was being said. It was more Husk and Angel bickering, but this one sounded worse than usual, ending with Angel storming out of the hotel and Vaggie immediately harping on Husk about his behaviour.

You shot a quick message to Angel by text, getting a read notification but no response. Oof, he was really in a mood. You sent another one telling him you were there when he was ready and a heart emoji, which resulted in a heart being sent in return. Husk had followed him shortly after so you weren’t too worried about how his night would go.

You had started sifting through the next category of books, which appeared to be something of a ‘Human Magic’ section. It appeared to start right at the beginning of humanity’s creation, which meant this was another hefty subject you’d have to filter through. You were only going shelf by shelf because you had started with ‘Runework’, ‘Salem Witchcraft’ and ‘Hell’s Overlords’, hoping to find the information right away with no luck.

Your phone vibrated and you absentmindedly opened the message from Angel, and your stomach dropped.

‘I need help.’

You tried calling and the phone went straight to voicemail, disconnecting as his mailbox was full. You shot out of the library and looked around. With Husk going after Angel, was he in trouble as well? Damn you wished Husk carried a phone. Vaggie and Charlie were also absent from the hotel or at least very very quiet with whatever they were doing.

You decided there was no time to hesitate and you went out the front door, running straight for the Vee’s district in an attempt to remember every bar that Angel had mentioned frequenting in the past. He was a famous porn star, surely someone had noticed the giant spider passing by them on the street. It wasn’t as if he was capable of being a wallflower after all.

You had started into a light jog as soon as you hit main street, the people out and about making you nervous. You were grateful that your new form allowed you to run without any difficulty, the benefits of being a deer hybrid being in your favour today. You ran quickly towards the bright district, making it there in a short period of time, and merging with a larger crowd entering. It seemed dangerous making it obvious that you were out on your own. You were due for trouble after all, it had been a fairly calm life since keeping your distance from him.

The group you had followed went straight into an arcade bar. Great. You were certain that Angel wasn’t here, games weren’t his thing but the giant windows peering into the establishment made it easy to recognize that he wasn’t present. You had made it a few blocks before trying to call Angel again, with it still failing. During your second attempt you noticed that there were a few people heading your way on the sidewalk so you shrunk over to the edge of the building to give them room to move past you.

But you found yourself bumping into one of them who deliberately stayed in your path, and when you looked at their face you came eye to eye with a wolf demon smiling and growling down at you. You glanced around you and noticed that you were surrounded by two additional wolves and your back pressed against the wall behind you in an attempt to create some space away from them.

“Hey baby,” The one you ran into started, “Eager for a good time? Can’t keep your hands off of me?” The other two laughed, one even licking his lips before his friend continued. ”You look cute, how about we find some privacy?” He stepped towards you with his arm reaching for yours and you took a step away, right into the other wolf. Shit. The three laughed at you shoving the one aside and walking backwards to try and make a gap, but they were advancing quickly. Panicking, you threw the only thing you had on you - the phone - with which the corner smacked one of them squarely in the eye, making him shout in pain. Another jumped at you and you quickly dodged his lunge by bracing a hand on his head and leaping over him to start into a sprint once your feet hit the ground.

Note for next time: Heels are super cute, but super terrible to run in, because they caught up to you quickly, despite your quick escape. One wolf immediately punched you in the face, causing your nose to have a minor explosion of blood shoot out of it, which made your brain rattle.

”You might just be cuter like this,” One guy said, pulling your arm so hard you lost your balance and was dragging behind him as the three took you into the closest alleyway. “We could have had a nice night, but you had to go and fuck it up. Now you’ll get what’s coming to ya.” The one who held your arm roughly lifted you back to your feet and slammed you against the brick wall, making your head hit it just as hard. It was getting hard to think about a way out, your head was so foggy.

“Hey this bitch was texting Angel Dust!” One of the guys said, probably the one who had her phone thrown to his face. “She’s got to be a dirty slut! Have you seen any of his shit? It’s messed up man, we got ourselves a wild one here!” He cheered, whooping with the other demon who wasn’t holding you up. You made eye contact with your captor and he was growling low with a sinister smile on his face.

”Lucky us! Prime meat for free? Baby I’ll make your night better than anyone you’ve ever been w-“ his words were cut off, as his neck suddenly had a black tentacle wrapped around it, squeezing so hard his eyeballs were protruding out of their sockets. You fell to your ass, legs bent on the ground, hands trying to steady your swaying head. Looking over you saw the bodies of the other wolves, already separated into a few pieces, some appendages being swung around by the tentacles.

Looking forward you noticed who came to your rescue. It was Alastor, and he was pissed. Thankfully not at you, although you certainly had a concussion so there was a chance you were misinterpreting the situation. He said something to your assaulter about how to be a gentleman and ‘perhaps he would discover how to treat a lady in his next life’ before all the tentacles had wrapped about his and his friends bodies before disappearing with them into the ground. Your surroundings now quiet except for your heavy breathing, you watched Alastor take even, steady steps towards your fallen form.

“Well now! Haven’t you got yourself in a bit of trouble, hmm?” He taunted, entirely too chipper. Closing one eye and squinting the other to avoid seeing double, you noticed that he had blood on his face, under his nose, which you apparently pointed at, because he raised a brow and questioned it.

”Blood on your face.” You said with a bit of a slur, “S’little bit here.” And pointed to your own nose, fingers getting coated in blood. His hand reached up to his face and he touched his nose, only for blood to begin to flow from it. Shocked, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at it while he frowned at you before offering a second handkerchief to you. You shook your head, well tried too, and said something about being sleepy.

”Now, now, sleeping after a head injury is most certainly bad for you!” He chirped, putting his handkerchiefs away now that his face was clean. He leaned over to inspect your injuries, taking note of your head and nose specifically.

“Care to explain why you are wandering about on your own my dear? Itching for a second death?” He asked in a condescending manner. “Quite foolish of you really, to come without an escort - why you are quite lucky I happened to be around, darling!” He waved his hand about in a dramatic fashion before offering his hand to you, lifting you up. On your feet you dusted off what rubble had got on you, found your phone settled on the ground a few feet away and began to try and walk to it only to find that your balance was way off course. With one hand holding your head you reached for your phone, noticing new texts from Angel.

‘with my script later, are you free?’ Followed with: ‘Sorry babe! That first message didn’t send all the way, love ya xoxo’

For fuck sakes.

”Hmm?”Alastor hummed, looking down at your phone, reading the messages. “Oh-ho! So you were on a rescue mission were you? Noble indeed, considering your naivety and lack of knowledge of any part of Hell outside the hotel.”

You shot him a nasty glance. “I was worried.” Augh. Pathetic response.

“Very stupid thing to do, really.” Picking at one of his claws, attempting to be indifferent. “Very stupid indeed, especially since I have just had an unfortunate revelation.”

”Hmm?” You responded, still trying to get the throbbing in your head to settle down. “I know it was stupid,” agreeing with him made him in a good mood, Husk had told you, “But I had to try and find him, I don’t think he has many people to depend on.”

He gave you a look of contempt. He really did not care for anyone other than himself.

“You and I need to have a chat darling.” His eyes narrowed as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, painfully putting pressure on a new bruise from the previous baddie. He dragged you alongside him, holding you so close to him you could feel the heat of his body through his jacket. “Say nothing until we make it to the hotel my dear, there are always eyes on us out here.” He gestured with his microphone cane in a wide sweep, indicating literally every where could be listening. You obeyed him by not responding which kept Alastor in a good mood during the walk home.

However upon arrival, he dragged your sorry ass through his shadow travel again, but thankfully to your room. More specifically your bathroom. He gestured for you to sit down, which you did on the edge of the tub, and watched him gather a pathetic amount of first aid. He removed his coat and rolled up the sleeve of his right hand, almost all the way up to the elbow. You noticed his arms were covered in scars that stood out from his black skin that was similar to your own pattern, except fading away before the joint of his elbow. The scars were all thin and bright white, a stark contrast. However what he was looking at intensely was a large bruise that had formed right below his elbow, right above the fade of his black skin. He then turned to you and grabbed your right arm and lined up the two. You had a much darker bruise that matched his. Weird. Didn’t Pentious say that no one had landed a hit on Alastor before? And that a small piece of coat was all he himself had managed to get? So how did those stupid wolves get up on him? And when?

The room had a massive chill fill the air as Alastor processed what he was thinking. What was he thinking? Could you talk now? Should you? You should at least thank him.

”Thank-“

”Quiet.” he interrupted. No filter on his voice for that one. Just a deep, sharp command.

Your lips tightened into a thin line and you nodded despite your killer headache. He released your arm and went back to the counter. With his jacket off you could see that he, too, had a small deer tail on his backside. It was red and black, much like his hair. It was probably the only cute thing about him, and you’d die before you said that out loud. Alastor came back to you with a warm wet cloth and some antiseptic. He instructed you to wipe up the blood on your face and he wiped a few of your more surface scrapes that were on your legs and knees. You narrowed your own eyes, why on earth was he doing this? It was as if he was trying to memorise every little injury you had received. Once you felt as if you had removed all the dried blood from your face you braced both hands on either side of you as you watched Alastor tend to your wounds. When he was quiet and focused he wasn’t too terribly frightening, but in the way that a poisonous snake might be. Obviously dangerous, possibly venomous, and could certainly kill you given the chance, but still captivating to watch. He released a huff of air when he was done checking out your head, just a bump he said, he moved to your nose. He had gently grasped your chin and moved your head from side to side, where he traced some of the worst damage with his free hand.

“Not broken, my dear, but guaranteed to have a couple of black eyes by this evening.” He announced. “You shall not be leaving your room until you have healed or found a way to cover those up.” Man was he bossy. He put his coat back on and leaned into the mirror to check his own face before tapping the floor with his microphone for your attention. His shadows enveloped the small room, and it was as if you were sitting on a void of nothingness, large symbols hovering around you in green. And just as quick as the dark arrived it disappeared with another few taps from his cane.

“Preventative measures darling, we cannot have anyone listening in on us.”

”Uhh…okay? Okay. Why?” Why are you so creepy?

”Creepy keeps the fear alive darling.” Well shit, that last bit was said out loud. Stupid concussion. “I think it is time to discuss the Radio, because you have proven to be a thorn in my side that I cannot simply be rid of with my usual methods.”

You nod along with each word slowly and focus on the last bit - the usual methods? “Do you mean eating people?” the statement escaped your loose lips, feeling drunk from the head injury .

His smile turned even more wicked if that was a possibility, eyes and teeth glowing like dim lamps. “Among other things…” He trailed off, closing his eyes and being sure to cock his head up in a very proud manner. He seemed pleased you had heard some of the more…graphic methods of dealing with other demons. His cool composure only lasted a moment. Once he opened his eyes, his mood was icy, eyes sharp and narrowed as he came a little closer without overwhelming your personal space and spoke bluntly, radio voice effect gone, “It appears as if you have linked our souls into an agreement that even I am unable to break.” He stared into your eyes, his fury palpable. You frowned in response out of both confusion and fear.

“What do you mean? I don’t even know who you are! I still don’t know who you are, how can we possibly be…like that…?” You ended lamely, hands wildly gesturing between the two of you. He had surely made a mistake, because this sort of thing just didn’t happen. Besides, you had only met him after death, so there was simply a misunderstanding. You shook your head in denial, causing blood to leak out of one nostril.

“A-hem” He said, getting your focus back on his face. His nose, same nostril, now had a slow trail of blood trickling out. He stood straight and a handkerchief appeared in his hand to dap his face while you grabbed some bathroom tissue off the roll beside you. It was hard to meet his eyes as it was obvious he was upset with you.

Attempting to end the silence, you spoke up. “Did you get hit as well? Your nose has been bleeding just as much as mine.” His eyebrows arched so high it was lost within his hairline, the stretched skin the only visual evidence of his reaction.

“No. I do not get hit.” He scoffed. “This is a result of the damage you incurred today my dear.”

Your lack of reaction, compounded with the cold molasses that was currently your brain, made him sigh and begin his explanation.

”The Radio was mine as a young man. It never worked quite right, so I was constantly repairing it. But this was before my Radio Show! So fixing instead of purchasing new was all I could do at the time. I would have kept it forever if I could, it was one of the only things my mother had given me on her own.” He had started picking under his middle finger with his thumbnail, trying to appear indifferent to his admission. You caught on to the way his voice softened when his mother was mentioned but you weren’t inviting death over tonight so you kept a straight face.

“Just before my career took off, I had been dabbling with some other gifts that came from my mothers side. Her ancestors were practitioners of creole magic, something that I am familiar with, but not proficient enough to use in my day to day.” Eyes back to you, he continued on. “The symbols in the radio were a deal I made with it, naively, early on in my practising. I was certain I would become a radio star, first of my kind, and well, sometimes we do questionable things while drinking.” He rolled his eyes at that, resulting in a smirk on your own face. “A friend and I had quite a night out! She knocked my radio over and the back panel came off. I cut myself on a stray piece of metal inside, cutting myself quite deep-“ He opened his palm with the scar to stare into it. “Beyond my better judgement I wrote, in my own blood, symbols I was not familiar with and apparently created unfinished magic that was only completed and sealed when your blood went over my runes.”

Still confused, you gave him a look that caused him to roll his eyes at you, as if you were the malicious force at play here and continued.

”What was a foolish act of an immature man at the end of a bottle of rye has now tethered our souls together. Akin to,” he shuddered, “Soulmates. However where fate might have chosen different paths for our souls, we have become united through dark magic powered behind the power I hold now, which is significantly stronger than when I wrote the symbols within the machine.” His smile was tight, still present as always, but certainly not the smile of a happy man.

But wait - “I don’t have any magic though, so why…?” You started, trying to steer the conversation away from the dreaded admission of the demon.

“Your being has little to no effect, my dear. The deal I was attempting to make with the Radio relied on magic supplied by me and me alone, as one cannot make a Radio respond to such a request.” One hand came up to his temple to put pressure on it, like you would do when you had a headache. “Foolish, foolish man.” He said, quickly and quietly, your ears picking it up as if he made no attempt to remain unheard. “And because the deal was made in blood, with the same instrument, on the same hand, even - I suspect that blood is our tether. Some link love or minds, so they can reciprocate feelings and thoughts to a person of their choice. And due to my being well, dead, the only thing we were able to link was our blood. In layman’s terms, darling - you bleed, I bleed. Your blood rushes to an impact, my blood rushes to an impact. You blush and, augh, etc. Do you understand?”

”Yes. But that honestly sounds ridiculous, and would be hard to believe if I didn’t die and land in hell a month ago. But I will admit, my knowledge of creole magic is absolutely zero, straight up nothing, so this was honestly just an unfortunate…mistake, that we can possibly undo?” You said with hesitancy at the end, but Alastor shook his head before you were even done speaking.

“I have looked into it extensively, and I am afraid it is not something we can separate - not even with Death. You die, I die. And I have far too much unfinished business to bow down to death just yet.”

“Oh, super duper!” You replied, chipper like Charlie. His face dropped at your tone, frowning down at you.

“No, not ‘super duper’, finger quotes around his snarky repetition, “Quite terrible for me actually. You have become my greatest liability. I am not worried I will get either of us in any kind of danger, but as we have both learned this evening, you are incapable of even walking on your own without getting into trouble.” His microphone now bracing both of his hands in front of his body.

Well excuse you for being a basic, simple individual without knowing everything about everything in the whole wide world, and also not knowing anything about the thing that Alastor told you not to talk about? This guy was an asshole on so many levels that you missed when he just left you alone.

”Well, I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, because it was totally my plan for this to happen.” Giving him a deadpanned look that made him smile tighter out of…well, you didn’t really know. He wasn’t that easy to read when he wasn’t angry.

“That is quite enough funny business for today, I am afraid that your galavanting around Hell will stop immediately. You will stay within the confines of this hotel. You will stay in your room during the extermination-“

”This is bullshit! I am a free person to do whatever! You can’t control me like this-“ He was growing again, filling the small bathroom with his demonic figure.

“Foolish girl, I can do whatever I want with you!” He growled, tendrils coming up from the shadowed ground to wrap themselves around your calves and wrists, another wrapping itself in your hair to control your head, forcing you to look right into his demonic eyes.

“I have been kind, considering your unfortunate and pathetic self has been on my nerves since the moment you arrived. You are a senseless creature who-“ he choked on his words, pausing as his smile lowered. You were breathing much harder now, and suddenly it made sense why you were so unbothered by the BDSM club Angel brought the group to. This was turning you on, being helpless and controlled by such a force like Alastor. Still staring at each other face to face, you could see a blush start to spread like a brand across his cheeks. His breath began to match yours, and you shifted your ass that was still seated on the bathtub edge in a vain attempt to get comfortable. In record time you had become wet from the situation. You were turned on, girl, and he was feeling the same effects. Wherever the blood rushes was no lie.

You started to laugh at the situation, manically as you realised what had happened. He was still frozen in place, clearly unsure of how to proceed. He needed to teach you a lesson, to know who was in charge of this unwanted union but obviously this was doing nothing but cause your blood to rush to your cunt, because he felt a pressure almost unfamiliar to him below his navel. He was disgusted that you were causing this reaction from him, he was an elevated creature with no need for carnal pleasures. And now you were laughing at him.

The tendrils released from your person so quickly that the movement caused you to slide back into the tub, hitting the bottom of the tub with your ass, but catching the sides with your elbows to prevent your head from smacking backwards. Alastor had returned to his usual form, blush still visible on his cheeks but definitely going away as you yourself had woken from your horny stupor.

“I believe I have made my point. Perhaps I am being far too protective of you, we will have to discuss a proper method to exist in spite of our situation. I expect reasonable suggestions when we revisit the topic. For now I will leave you be, as your injuries have been attended to and have already begun the healing process. Does all of this sound reasonable to you?” Wow, how quickly the tables have turned, being turned on was obviously not something he had thought of dealing with, and it was easy to get you going. Certainly more so now that you had so much more peach fuzz on your skin as a deer hybrid - you were extra sensitive to any touch. Perhaps that was why Alastor disliked physical touch as well? Your smiling of this thought clearly made him wary of you at this moment. He repeated his last sentence again.

”Yes, Alastor, it sounds reasonable. We can talk about a game plan later, and I promise I will try to make it as easy as possible.”

He nodded at your answer and narrowed his eyes with a slight smile, “Good Girl.”

You felt the shocking return of arousal at those words and released a very small “oh!”, and he sank into his shadows immediately, leaving you alone in the bathtub bruised and turned on.

Well, turns out you had a praise kink too.

***********

First three parts is over 11K word wise. I can’t stop writing, I’m at 32k now, I just keep plugging away editing/writing/thinking. I’m so grateful for all the likes and comments.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016

[greynatomy]

football or football?

lucy bronze x reader

lucy won the very close poll.

been seeing the whole taylor swift and travis kelce thing on tiktok and got this idea.

this became longer than Iithought it’d be. was supposed to be a ficlet. oh, well.

let me know what you think!

-grey

———

For the past two weeks, you’ve been trending on twitter. At first you don’t know what it’s about, but your publicist caught you up saying how there’s a footballer — American footballer — who keeps mentioning you in interviews and on his podcast. It was honestly getting pretty annoying, not just to you, but also to your very jealous girlfriend.

You’d both decided to keep your relationship private, with you being a popular musician and your girlfriend being a top footballer in the league. Except, the media has been labeling your relationship as friends, best friends who support each other. Never once has there been an article where you both are speculated to be dating.

You’ve both been fun with it, being able to not have to hide anything, but with the whole Travis Kelce using your name to stay relevant to the media, your girlfriend is getting fed up.

“I don’t know why he keeps bringing you up? Not once have you mentioned him on anything. ‘The ball is in your court?’ Like what does that mean?” Lucy rambles.

“Honestly, I’m getting tired of it too. I’ve been so busy with touring that I didn’t even know about it until Sarah told me.” You reply, cuddling up to her on the bed, your head on her chest.

“Did Sarah tell you what you should do?”

“Sarah’s pretty much fed up like the both of us so she said it’s up to me. She doesn’t care if I tell him to fuck off, I’d do it anyway without telling her.”

“Didn’t you say he invited you to a game?”

“Yeah, he did. Why?” You we’re getting skeptical with the way Lucy has a smirk and mischievous look on her face.

“Don’t you think it’s time for us to come out, no?”

“Been together four years. Probably long overdue.”

“Well you better tell him that you’d love to accept that invitation, with a plus one of course.”

“I’m liking the way you think.”

———

Now a week later, you and Lucy were dressed up in red, arriving at Arrowhead Stadium. Lucy had a red England bucket hat on that she took off your head. You were being escorted to the friends and family box by security, running into people who recognized you. One hand holding Lucy’s the other waving to people as you passed.

Walking into the box, you were met with lots of people, Travis’ mom was the one to come and greet you.

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Kelce.”

“Oh, please call me Donna. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your music, been wanting to meet you ever since Travis said that you’d both started talking.”

“That’s so nice of you, thank you, but unfortunately all the conversations your son had with me are one sided. I’ve never once entertained anything he said. The only time I’ve texted back was to tell him I’d love to attend a game. Never been to an American Football game before.”

“Really? My son said you guys were getting along.”

“Unfortunately for him, we haven’t. But I’d like to introduce you to my partner Lucy.”

“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you as well Lucy. I’m sorry if my son cause any trouble between the two of you.”

“It’s no worries at all. Excited to watch the game.”

“You’ve got an accent. Where are you from?”

“From England.”

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for accents. But let’s not let the situation get in the way and enjoy this game.”

———

liked by fan1, fan2 and 23,749 others

ynupdates yn seen at the kansas chief’s game

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fan1 NO WAY SHES THERE

fan2 MAMA KELCE IS WITH HER

fan3 is ynvis real?!?!

fan4 is everyone gonna ignore lucy bronze right next to her

———

The game just finished. Everyone is cheering as the Chief’s won a game at home. You and Donna hug each other close, jumping up and down. Lucy was actually awestruck by all the people celebrating their team winning, thinking back to all the times fans of hers and her team celebrated like this.

Moments after, you follow Debby to the hallways, no doubt leading to her son. Travis comes out freshly showered and changed a bit after, going straight to his Mom for a hug. Then he turns to you opening his arms out for a hug, so you give him a side hug, not wanting to be mean. Cameras click nonstop towards the two of you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says to you.

“You as well. Great game you played out there.”

“Thank you. Wanna go somewhere more private so we can hear each other better without the prying eyes?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He leads towards the exit, you following behind him, your hand holding Lucy’s tightly, who Travis hadn’t acknowledged at all. Exiting towards the garage where his and your cars are parked, you relax a bit, relieved to be away from the cameras. Lucy walks a bit off to the side to let you two talk, but still close enough to hear, in case he says something he shouldn’t.

“Im glad you accepted my invite.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ve never been to or seen an American Football game.”

“American Football?”

“Well, yeah. The U.S is the only one that plays this sport. Football is played throughout the world.”

“Wow, you’re gonna be like that?” He says, thinking you’re flirting with him by saying his sport isn’t widely played.

“Be like what?”

“Never mind. But I just wanted to ask if you wanna hang out right now? Get to know each other a bit more.” He steps closer towards you, but you step back.

“I’d have to decline. My girlfriend and I have to get back to England. She’s got a couple Football matches coming up.”

“Girlfriend?” Travis is shocked by the information. “I didn’t know you were even with someone.”

“I’m surprised no one knows. They see two girls and automatically think they’re best friends or something. But, no, been with that girl right there four years. It was very obvious.” You wave Lucy over. “Travis this is Lucy Bronze, my girlfriend—”

“—Actually fiancé. Proposed a couple weeks ago, so there’s still some getting used to. It’s nice to meet you mate. Heard you’ve been talking ‘bout my girl pretty often past few weeks.”

The look on Travis’ face is laughable.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, we’re very private people. But now that you’ve met my girl after being all up in her DM’s, you’d stop using her name to stay relevant yeah? ‘Cause it’s making you look desperate.”

You didn’t interfere. You’re stood off to the side, a proud look on your face.

“Yeah, of course. Never again.”

“The last thing you should talk about in that little podcast of yours is a public apology using her name for fame like many men have in the past.”

After a moment of Lucy staring at Travis she speaks up again. It was a bit funny how intimidated he looked at Lucy, seeing as she’s almost a foot shorter than him

“Well, mate, we best be off. I’ve got some Football to be preparing for, my girl by my side always. Best of luck to you. Hope you find someone that isn’t taken.”

With that, she takes a hold of your hand, leading you to the car. You give him a little wave, leaving him speechless in the middle of the parking garage.

———

liked by leahwilliamsonn, lucybronze and 10,375,829 others

yourinstagram Thank you travis for the invite! Had a lot of fun at my first ever American Football game with my Fiancé. Congrats to you and your team on the win! #KansasCityChiefs

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lucybronze very different from football for sure

↳ yourinstagram very different

leahwilliamsonn where was my invite?

↳ yourinstagram you didn’t get one

↳ leahwilliamsonn rude

fan1 SHES ENGAGED

fan2 ynvis isn’t real thank god!

fan3 OHMYGOD ITS LUCY BRONZE ALCJHD

fan4 this is a very polite way of saying ‘keep my name out your fucking mouth’

[daydreamer-in-training]

The cave

Penguin x f!reader

Description: You are the new crewmate on the Tang, separated from the rest of the Heart-Pirates and stuck in a cave with Penguin, you get the chance to get to know each other more; Penguin opens up about his past; realization of feelings; Reader is implied to have had a difficult past

✨Inspired by, and a precursor to this gorgeous fic by @fanaticsnail, strongly suggest on reading that as well!

Word Count: 4.300+

Imagesource

Notes: First fic i am uploading on this account! <3 And what better chance to dedicate my first upload to @/fanaticsnail for her birthday. That was yesterday and i missed finishing this fic at said day by 20 Minutes. Its not a fanfic about Heat or your gorgeous OC Tobiuo, but i hope you‘ll enjoy this anyways Snail! ;-; I probably would have never done this without you! <3

Please note that English is not my first language and i am very tired while uploading this :D Enjoy everyone✨

Spoiler Warning: for the non-canon events of the novel, which contains the story of how Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin met. I haven't read it myself, so i‘m basing this off of the fandom-wiki article and i‘m mixing my own interpetation with it

TW: the word fuck, bit violence and blood in Penguins backstory, so its canon-typical violence i guess

„I think she doesn‘t really like me, Shach.“ Penguin let out a frustrated groan as he couldn't play a card in the game he and his best friend were playing.

„Well, if you think that, because she's stubborn as hell and can‘t accept any help, I suppose you're right,“ the redhead said nonchalantly and played another card „She must hate us all then“.

„Shame, she's really something…“ Peng murmured more to himself, more concentrated on the game than on what he was saying. He pulled another card from the deck. Shachi raised an eyebrow at that, his grin bared some of his sharp teeth.

„Give it some time“, both of them looked up as they heard Law's voice, he was leaning on a yellow wall of the Polar Tang next to them, arms crossed in his usual stoic manner. He must have overheard them talking. „She's only been here for a handful of days, “ he thought about what he said next for a moment „And it's not easy to like you two from the start, you know? I‘m talking from experience here!“ the dry humour in his voice was evident, but he got the Middle finger from his best friends for that comment anyways. He chuckled lowly at that and pushed himself from the wall. „Seriously… it wasn‘t easy for her, at least what she told me about. But I think she fits in here very well, so give it some time.“

The two men's obscured eyes met for a moment, and they nodded, „Aye Cap!“They both saluted him half ironically with a grin, and he left with a satisfied look on his face.

„So… she's really something huh?“ Shachi teased and played another card that earned him the win to this round. Peng groaned again and rolled his eyes.

~

„It's nothing, really!“ you protested, hiding the limb as best as you could „It barely even hurts!“. But Penguin could see how your eyebrows furrowed in pain just a little bit. He grabbed your forearm gently to make you stand still. You looked back at him annoyed. “What!?“

„Sit down, before you make it worse.“, he gently pulled at your arm, agitated by your stubbornness and worried that you got hurt for him. „We don‘t know where we are going or where the others are anyways“ he added in an untypically stern way as you didn‘t move a bit to sit down.

You and Penguin were separated from the rest of the crew by an attack by the residence of the island you made landfall on earlier that day. They don‘t seem too keen on having pirates around and made that known quite quickly. As you were all exploring the nearby area, the cliff you were walking on got hit by a large missile.

You were talking to Bepo about the map you had acquired when the explosion hit the rocks and made the earth underneath you shake. Suddenly the view around you was obscured by thick smoke. You could barely make out the large boulders that fell down from the cliff above you. One is directly falling towards Penguin and Shachi, who were standing closest to you.

Instinctively you did the only thing you could think of and tackled Penguin out of the way. You felt a sharp pain in your ankle! Disoriented, he let out a scream of surprise as you two tumbled down the cliffside. Luckily it wasn‘t too steep. Nevertheless, you two rolled for a good couple of moments before coming to a halt in a bush at the base of the cliff. Penguin managed to grab you and hold you close to him, all while protecting your head with his large hand while you two were falling.

A moment passed between you two in which you stared into his obscured eyes.„Fine“ you pouted, sitting down on a rock nearby. „We should call the others“ you suggested tiredly, roaming around in your bag “I have the Den-Den here somewhere…“

Penguin used your distractedness to crouch down in front of you and take a sneaky look at your ankle. He wanted to grab your boot gently as you pulled it away. „I`ve already told you, it's not-“ You regretted that motion instantly, yelping as a sharp pain shot through your whole leg. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you looked away from his face, pouting.

„Nothing huh?! Just let me take a look, aye?!“, he looked up at you, his eyes covered by his hat but his mouth twisted into an annoyed grimace. He knew you hated getting help from others anyway, he figured that much out since you joined the heart-pirates a few weeks ago. Being vulnerable and all that wasn`t easy either when everyone was still a stranger to you, he understood that.

You opened your mouth to protest him, but he wasn`t having any of it. „No! No arguing anymore“, frustrated by your stubbornness, he took off his hat and threw it to the ground in front of him to blow off some steam. „I`m a trained medic, you know?! It's not just Law that knows these things!“

It was always just Law-this and Law-that with you. You obviously admired their captain, but somewhere deep down, it knawed at Penguin.

“Just let me help you“, his eyes were displaying the full dimensions of his emotions right now. Annoyed and tired and most of all worried, he looked up at you, his eyebrows meeting in the centre of his forehead in a silent plea. „Please trust me!“.

You let out a quiet little gasp, taken aback by Penguins' actions just now. It wasn`t his outburst that made your thoughts come to a halt, no. It was his eyes.

Those shining light blue eyes were like arctic ice, swimming in the ocean. They contrasted beautifully with his dark hair. You didn't expect him to have such beautiful eyes, so full of emotions. Is that why he was wearing the hat all the time? Because otherwise, everyone around him could bear witness to his emotions all the time.

You were transfixed, staring down at him with round eyes, your standoffishness had left your body completely, leaving you speechless.

His gaze softened at that. How cute! „You are part of the crew now. The heart pirates take care of each other, promise“, he assured you, his voice much softer now. You gave him a nod to confirm that he was allowed to take your boot off now, still unable to say a word.

You were watching his nimble fingers gently unlace the boot, trying not to inflict too much unnecessary pain. „S´might hurt a little…“ he warned you, so you could brace yourself as he took off the boot. You clamped our eyes together but remained brave, bearing the sting that came with the loss of the shoe. You immediately feel more vulnerable, now that the bootshaft wasn't there to stabilize your ankle anymore.

You winced as you saw how blue it already was, it didn't look like it was part of your body anymore. „Oh damn, it's super swollen“, he looked at it with a curious fascination only a medic could display, chuckling a bit. The dark-haired man immediately grabbed his bag and took out a medical kit and looked through it. „Be right back“, he murmured as he stood up to search for something.

You wordlessly watched him take off and rummage around on the ground nearby while taking his famed hat from the ground in your lap, to brush off the dust gently. A happy „aha!“ in the near distance signalled that he had found what he was looking for, running back to you with a spring in his step. You gulped back the lump that formed in your throat while watching him take care of your injury so intently, still patting his hat gently. He didn't even notice that you had picked it up as he came back, to focus on his task of bandaging you up.

„I will make you a temporary brace, s`alright?“ he presented the two twigs to you that he had found and resumed taking out bandages and tape. „This will keep you stable until we can put you back together properly on the Tang.“ he assured you while gently taping the sticks to your skin to hold them in place while he bandaged your ankle.

Your fingers gently graced the pompom on his hat to keep you occupied. “I trust in your skills Penguin, I`m sorry… I didn't mean…“ Your voice shook a bit as you held back a tear. You were in pain and very tired. And on top of that, it was new to you that someone else took care of you in this way.

Peng's head snapped up at the tone of your voice, his heart skipped a beat as he saw your sad expression. His gaze flickered for a moment. Then he gently grabbed the hat he just now realized you had in your lap and put it back on his head, his stunning eyes now hidden again. As he took it, your fingers gently grazed his, sending electricity through his body. In that moment he was glad his gaze was hidden by the fabric again, or it would give his tender feelings away immediately.

„Well,“ he chuckled to lighten the mood „I might have to amputate the leg still! Looks reaaal bad y´know?!“ now he was the teasing, old Peng you`ve come to know. While he resumed bandaging you up, making sure it was snuck against your skin, he continued his musings „We`ll make you a neat wooden leg, then, aye?“ the suggestion making you chuckle „But You`ll have to wear the heart pirates jolly roger on it! Cap will make you! But don't worry, I will paint it onto the wood myself, promise!“ his bright grin was infectious and you found yourself in a much better mood now.

He looked up at you, proudly presenting his finished handiwork on your ankle. It felt much more stable now. The corners of your mouth twitched a little as you looked down at the goofy man grinning up at you. You couldn't help your lips turn into a smile. „Thanks, Peng…“ you whispered.

A raindrop landed on your nose, and then another on Penguin's head. „Oh no“, you said in unison while looking up at the grey clouds shrouding the sky. „I saw a cave over there, let's get shelter there!“ he suggested and stood up, holding his hand out to you. You nodded and took it to stand up carefully. After a bit more bickering and you refusing to lean on him or be carried by him, you two made it over to the cave, right when it started pouring buckets.

„Guess we should stay the night, it's late anyway.“, his casual suggestion made you go stiff. Stay the night with him in a cave? Alone?! „W-we could try to call the others, “ you said instead of agreeing „Maybe they are close and we can return to the Tang“. But as you took out the tiny Den-Den Bepo gave you earlier, you found it to be broken. Unfaced by your fruitless attempt to avoid this, Penguin turned around and scanned the cave for anything dangerous as well as a good place to make a little fire with the branches he picked up on their way here. The sun was starting to set and it was already dark in the cave as it was.

„Sit down and relax. I‘ll prepare a fire.“ he gave you a tired look that left no room for argument. You furrowed your brows and opened your mouth but closed it again immediately. You were exhausted and a stinging pain reminded you of your injury. „Okay…“ you murmured in defeat and sat down at a spot Penguin deemed worthy for your „relaxation“.

You slowly lowered yourself and stretched out your insured leg while he built a little firepit nearby. You grabbed the bag you had with you and searched through it for the little food you had on you. That must do for the night. He was starting to be satisfied with the way the fire looked, which would keep you cosy for a good while.

Mesmerized and tired you stared into the flames that were starting to grow bigger and lighter. Then, out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed him standing up and pulling down his Boilersuit from his Torso.

„O-Oi, what do you think you‘re doing?“

He looked down at you and grinned mischievously “What? Does me undressing you make you that nervous?“ the low tone he used to tease you with made your heartbeat go a little faster. He dared to make eye contact with you as he slowly pulled the fabric from his arms. You tried to remain unfazed by his provocation, keeping a stoic face. But your gaze flickered over the defined muscles of his arm and torso that were now only clad by a black tank top. „As if!“ you quickly tore your gaze off of him and pouted, your face hot. But your bashfulness wasn't lost on him as he tied the upper half of his boiler suit around his waist. „Relax… I‘m just a bit warm from the fire s‘ all“ he chuckled and crouched down again to stoke the fire a bit more.

From the corners of your eye, you checked if he was still looking at you, and when he wasn‘t, you allowed yourself another good look at him. It was strangely intimate seeing him without his usual attire. It never occurred to you before that underneath the Boilersuit was the body of a… well a strong and trained fighter, which was honestly a bit idiotic of you, since he was one of Law's most capable fighters. As you slowly trailed the muscles of his arm with your eyes, you stopped at a huge scar that seemed to stretch around the main part of his forearm like a bracelet. It looked like he almost lost his arm at one point. Your blood froze in your veins at the thought.

As he softly called your name, you snapped out of your ogling, a bit anxious he caught you. „Look…“ he said breathlessly, his eyes flickered around the cave. You followed them and gasped as well. The cave walls were littered with shimmering purple crystal clusters of all sizes, and the big stones on the ground as well. Now that the soft light of the fire illuminated them, they sparkled and shimmered. It was as if you were surrounded by purple stars.

You barely noticed Penguin sitting down beside you, transfixed by this beauty. For a little while, you two were sitting shoulder to shoulder, admiring the Amethysts sparkling around you. „This is beautiful…“ you whispered, not wanting to destroy the comfortable silence between you two. „Yeah, beautiful indeed“, he whispered close to you. But his eyes weren't on the amethysts, they were on you.

His hunger made itself known then by a growling noise in his stomach, that made you snort. „I guess you're hungry?“ you grinned up at him and he nodded. You pulled out the little snacks you bought with you and handed them to him. „Here, eat that. Sorry it's not that much, but it's at least a little something.“ Penguin and you shared the small portion in comfortable silence. When you where finished, he stood up again to add some wood to the dying fire. You used that chance to examine the scar on his arm again, and this time you saw it was actually circling his whole forearm.

„Peng…your arm…was it…?“ the words tumbled out of your tired mouth before you knew it, but you managed to stop yourself before you asked the intrusive question. He followed your gaze down his arm to his scar and nodded in confirmation. „Yeah, it was torn off“. You gasped at this blunt answer, shocked by his casualness and the fact itself. „S-sorry…“, you cursed your stupid ankle for hurting so much, else you would pull your knees toward you and bury your face in them.

He sat down next to you, a gentle smile on his face. Nothing in his demeanour indicated that he was angry or uncomfortable with you. „I don't mind you asking…“ his fingertips graced instinctively over the scar tissue on his forearm, his days of feeling insecure about it were long over. You looked up at Penguin again, scanning his half-hidden face. You wished you could see his eyes just now, wondered what they would tell you about his feelings. The dim light of the dying fire painted his features in a soft and warm way. „How did you… how did it happen?“ your sleepiness gave your curiosity free rain. Your shoulders touched his as you leaned closer to him.

Your heart clenched at the thought of that. No kid deserved to experience this kind of stuff. „One day we met Law. We were little shits at that point. He confronted us for beating up Bepo before, we wanted to beat him up for that as well.“ Penguin laughed honestly at the memory. You looked up at him curiously. „And what happened? Did Law give you the scar?!“

He reassured you with a nod, his smile widening at the memory of the scar. "It's a scar that is very dear to me. It's how me and Shachi met Law and Bepo," his quiet confession hung softly in the air for a moment. "Wow, that was more than eleven years ago," he realized now. Your weight began to weigh on his shoulder, and he opened his arm invitingly. You looked up at him, confused and stubborn, but you gave in, blaming it on your tiredness and exhaustion. With a huff, you leaned against him as his arm wrapped around your shoulder. His touch was warm and comforting.

„My parents were killed in a storm when I was a young teenager… Shachi and I were sent to live with his aunt and uncle. They treated us like shit, those bastards.“ he spat those last words bitterly. He sighed and resumed „It was too much and we ran away and lived in a small shack in the forest. Swallow Island was fucking cold in the winter and we survived by stealing food and weapons from the nearby village.“

The dark-haired man looked down at you, his blue eyes shimmering mischievously under his hat. „Kinda yeah. He knocked us out with his devil-fruit power. But that wasn't the last time we saw him of course. And our bad luck did not end there either.“

Lost in his story, his fingers trailed small shapes on your arm, it made you shiver a bit. „A few days later, we were searching for berries in the forest when a wild Boar attacked us. We must have provoked it somehow… I was so scared.“ his arm around you tightened as he looked into the flames of the fire. „It gave Shachi a huge gash in his stomach, the white snow was red all around us. I tried throwing a bomb but I panicked and it blew off before I could and that damn boar tore off my arm, “

Penguin swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued. His fingers lazily went up and down your upper arm again. He remembered seeing his severed arm in the white snow, it felt so sureal to him back then. It still does. „And Law and Bepo.…they found us and treated us, even though we were compleat assholes to them! We would have died if it wasn't for them and a man named Wolf. Law managed to reattach my arm, he gave his everything.“

Your heart ached for Penguin. He went through so much, but at the same time, it made you feel less alone with your past experiences.

„Peng….“ you whispered into the silence that replaced his story. He looked at you wordlessly, and you couldn't make out much of his face, since the fire was now just gleaming ambers in the firepit. But being so close to him, you were able to look into his eyes again and you didn't need to see more, because they said enough. „Thanks for sharing that with me…“sleepiness laced your voice.

He slowly looked from one eye to the other, then to your lips, that were so close to his. “We should sleep now, we need rest, “ he said, damning himself a little. You closed your eyes and nodded. Sleep found you quickly as you leaned against his strong shoulders. He waited till your breath was even and he was sure you sleped. Even though you were stuck in a shit situation, he considered himself lucky right now. His lips lightly graced your temple „Good night…“.

~

The next morning you woke up still leaning against Penguins, his arm was a comforting weight around your shoulder. Aside from the pain in your ankle, you did sleep quite well. Peng was already awake for a little while before he felt you moving. To be honest, he didn't sleep much, and how could he when you were so close to him? „Good morning“ You didn't have to look at his face his wide grin was evident in his voice alone. You sat up slowly and nodded „Good morning��“ feeling a blush creep onto your face, you avoided eye contact. Before you had enough time to think about the situation you were in and your feelings about it, you heard your names outside the cave.

~

“Aaand?“ Shachi teased his best Friend, poking his elbow into the other ribcage „What happened in that cave?! You had the whole night to yourselves after all“, his voice was teasing and lighthearted, „Did you finally make a move? Is she a good kisser?“. „No!“ the red-haired man blinked in confusion at the sharp answer, it came out harsher than Peng intended. He looked away, pulling his hat further into his face to hide the intense blush on his face, „Sorry man…“ he murmured, „No…nothing of that sort has happened…“. He could feel his heartbeat quicken again, as he recounted the memory of your little cuddle session to Shachi. A reassuring hand landed on his broad shoulder and made him look at his best friend, who had a soft grin on his face. „Crushing hard?“. Peng let out a defeated groan, he would never hear the end of it now.

Your laughter echoed abroad the deck of the Polar Tang, making Shachi and Peng look towards you, talking to Hakugan and Bepo. And there it was again, that smile of yours that made Penguin's stomach burst with butterflies.

A dorky smile crept on Peng's lips, he shook his head at his friend's suggestion. „No Shach… not crushing“, he confessed as he leaned against the railing, turning his head to the sky, „She`s it, man.“ he turned his head to his friend, who had nothing teasing to say for a change, just listening intently. „I want her to be mine…forever…“. As he said it out loud, he turned the amethyst geode he took from the cave with him in his pocket.

Shachis neutral expression twisted into a wicked grin, baring his sharp teeth. „I guess I have to step up my wingman game then! With your measly flirting skills, you wouldn`t have a chance without me!“, he teased and earned a light punch on the head from Penguin. „Shut up, you jerk!“ he shouted for everyone to hear.

You watched the dynamic- duo of the Polar-Tang bicker from afar, giggling at their antics. You were transfixed on Penguin, who had fun as he started to chase his friend across the deck playfully, cursing at him. Your heart swelled fondly at the tender moments you two had shared last night and you wondered if you would be able to stare into those beautiful eyes again soon.

✨