#their relationship was officially of equal footing

[stebeans]

Arcane F1AU

Sexy time abounds y'all

Warnings: explicit sex, g!p Caitlyn [has a penis]

Can be considered canon-adjacent to my F1AU-verse. These flings still happen in the F1AU...just you know, without the dick if that's your fancy. Just wanted to write g!p Caitlyn landing all the girls (OC's)

Filth. Just utter filth.

Takes place year 4 of Caitlyn's F1 career but first year with Hextech Petronas, end of season after she won the 25' world driver's championship. Exploring Caitlyn's off track relationships and flings.

She's a Lady Killer - Part 1

The Actress

For a person of her celebrity acclaim, under the constant gun and scrutiny of the public eye, Caitlyn Kiramman's personal relationships was skillfully and thoroughly hidden under wraps. Sure there had been the occasional rumors of budding romances with a handful of equally well-known names that the general public ate up but nothing was ever proven concrete.

Standing on the red carpet was like as if Caitlyn had strapped a target right over her chest. It might as well have flashing lights and sirens that announced anyone within a fifty-foot vicinity that she was in a relationship of sorts - complete opposite to her usual smoke and mirrors act reserved towards her casual dalliances.

Dressed to the nines in a custom-made Valentino suit, a navy blue that was almost black with cleverly floral embellishments sewn within the lapels that blended in with the silk material, Caitlyn wore it like it was armor. A deftly tied matching silk bowtie sat snugly around her neck as she posed for the cameras, her hand resting casually around the waist of a blonde-haired bombshell who just so happened to be the woman of the hour at the world premier of the latest blockbuster film.

Rarely did a woman ever exceed Caitlyn in height but the woman standing next to her, so close they might as well been one person, happened to rock four-inch high heels, which brought her a couple inches taller than Caitlyn's own six-foot frame.

"Miss Rivers! How long have you and Miss Kiramman been coupled?"

"Miss Rivers! I'm with the Piltover Times. Can you please state your official relationship with Miss Kiramman on record?"

A grin grew across the blonde's features as reporters shouted out questions regarding her date rather than her blockbuster movie. "Darling, looks like you've stolen my show." She teased with the corner of her lips as she tilted her head and flashed the crowd her, quite literally, award winning smile.

The hand at her hip tightening marginally beneath the skin tight red number that was absolutely sinful, just toeing the line of indecent. "Nonsense. I assure you, all eyes are on you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing. They'd be insane to look anywhere but at you."

"Flatterer." The blonde actress quipped, but felt her stomach flutter at the compliment, allowing Caitlyn to gently guide her further down the carpet, stopping to pose every now and again, ignoring the wild speculations the reporters were pelting them with. All other interests regarding the cast or the movie itself has taken a back seat to the latest development that quite frankly, had taken everyone off guard. Caitlyn Kiramman, for all they knew, did not have relationships. And if she did, she certainly did not flaunt them.

They were nearing the entrance of the building when one last reporter shouted "Miss Kiramman, over here please! Is Lola Conners aware of this development? Sources say you were caught in a lip lock with the supermodel just hours after your race win securing your world championship title in your very first year with Hextech Petronas! I assume congratulations are in order." The reporter smirked behind the multiple flashes, leaving the last statement vague enough to question what exactly he had been congratulating Caitlyn on.

The actress was no stranger to the rumors surrounding the Kiramman heir, star driver of famed Hextech Petronas who had been making waves all season long with win after hard-earned win. She had heard the hushed speculations and gossip within her celebrity circle that the young Kiramman often left a string of broken hearts in her path. She had known of Caitlyn's womanizer reputation, often claiming her career was at the forefront to deal with long term relationships, even when she had asked her agent to reach out to Caitlyn's own people to set up an innocent coffee date months ago, the timing suspiciously close to the last race and cover story "lip lock" with said model.

A strange sensation fell over the actress as she noticed the reddening of Caitlyn's ears from the corner of her eye. Besides the reddened ear that only she had seemed to notice, Caitlyn appeared valiantly composed despite the onslaught of personal questions. Not just a lip lock it seems, the actress thought resentfully, despite knowing that the aforementioned lip lock happened far before they established a relationship.

Very vaguely she realized it was jealousy she was feeling, something she wasn't used to feeling as she had everything at her fingertips. Money, cars, fame and currently it was Caitlyn's arms she was wrapped around for the world to see. Even she knew that was a big step for the world champion driver.

Ignoring the press around her, the actress tilted her head slightly to meet expressive blue eyes. They held a look of questioning but as the actress hesitated, Caitlyn seemed to understand the actress's silent question and pulled her in closer by the hips. Soft lips brushed against her cheek in comfort and the actress heard the frenzied clicking as cameras went off wildly around them. She could only imagine the headlines that would follow tomorrow morning but she didn't care as she embraced the claiming kiss on her cheek.

Later that night

"Jealous, were you darling?" Caitlyn teased which quickly morphed into a long low moan as the actress above her sunk heavily down onto her cock.

Ignoring the jest, the actress continued her rise and fall, chasing her release that she was just on the cusp on. She could feel it. She was right there. Her inner walls quivered, spilling wave after wave of slick down the hardness within her and across Caitlyn's thighs. The wet echoes of their joining was just downright dirty. She whined pitifully as she sunk down once more, her legs weakened but unable to surrender to her release, the girth within her much too thick for her to fully contract against.

They had barely made it past the threshold of the hotel room before the actress was jerking the clothes off of Caitlyn in hasty desperate movements, instantly molding herself along the athletic frame of the world champion driver and caputuring her lips in a passionate lock. Now this was a lip lock worthy of headlines, she had thought absentmindedly.

She had already come once, right there against the door with deft fingers working her over. Another as they relocated to the california king sized bed where Caitlyn had ate her out like a woman starved until she spilled into her awaiting mouth. And now she had taken charge, flipping Caitlyn onto her back before mounting her erect cock, wielding a length that suited her tall frame with a thick girth that betrayed the driver's leanness which had surprised her the first time that had fell into bed. How the driver managed to hide all that within her racing suit was a world wonder.

She paused, leaning forward to rest her hands against defined collarbones, twisting and grinding against the rock hard member within her. The actress whimpered distressingly, still unable to finish and Caitlyn, ever the consummate lover, noticed immediately and rose to wrap the actress in her arms. "Here. Allow me." Caitlyn whispered before twisting to reposition the actress carefully beneath her.

Hooking her arms beneath the actress's long lean legs, she settled them upon her sturdy shoulders as she lifted the actress's hips just slightly off the bed, meticulously adjusting the pliable body - as if it were putty in her hands - to a position which she knew would be infinitely pleasant for the blonde.

Already the actress could feel Caitlyn pressing deeper and against the spongy spot within her warm depths. "Relax, let me do the work." Caitlyn instructed before her hips took off, catching the actress off guard.

"Fuuuuuuck!" The actress moaned long and loud from the unrelenting battering against her sensitive g-spot that past lovers and even toys had a hard time finding. Caitlyn didn't seem to have a problem though. She pushed against it like a woman possessed.

Her mind went blank, ears ringing as all senses focused on her pussy and the most pleasurable ravishing it was receiving. Her hands twisted in the sheets beneath her, head tilted back and back arched as she received the fucking of a lifetime. "Harder! Fuck me harder!" She screamed, uncaring if the occupants in the hotel room next door, or fuck, if the whole building, could hear.

Ignoring the burning muscles of her abs, Caitlyn continued her onslaught, hands gripping slim hips tightly as she pulled the woman closer, hilting deeper than ever and eliciting a cry of pleasure that bounced off the walls.

"Yes, yes, YES!" The actress cried out, her body shaking as her pussy tightened and swallowed the long, girthy cock selfishly.

"That's it." Caitlyn panted, leaning over to hover over the actress, hips driving hard and deep, just railing the blonde into the bed. "Let it go darling. Come for me. I want to feel you come around my cock."

The low raspy voice and the pistoning cock was her undoing. "I'M COMING!" the actress screamed, her pussy finally, finally reaching the edge and diving headlong over it.

Letting out a grunt, Caitlyn gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold on, feeling the walls close so tight around her cock she was so sure she was going to release as well. Thrusting gingerly, Caitlyn rocked slowly into the blonde, prolonging the actress's much needed orgasm.

When the twitching of the pussy she was seated fully within finally resided, Caitlyn carefully withdrew, watching as the actress's fluid rush out now that she was no longer plugged by her fat dick. Groaning at the picture perfect pussy, Caitlyn ripped off the condom and jerked herself once, twice, three times before erupting across the blonde's stomach and chest, painting the round firm breasts with her white milky cum.

Despite the tiredness that settled in her bones after that intense fucking, the actress rested a hand on Caitlyn's sharp jawline. "Come here." She requested softly, voice hoarse from all the screaming.

Carefully, Caitlyn removed the legs from her shoulders, laying them on the bed with a gentle pat before shuffling up along the long lean body until her slowly leaking cock was hovering just over the red lip-sticked lips, glossy and perfect still from the red carpet event.

Unable to help herself, Caitlyn rubbed her cock against those perfect lips, dick twitching as she ruined the carefully applied lipstick, watching it smudge against the flared head of her cock to re-apply a layer of pearly white come instead.

The blonde's tongue darted out, capturing as much cum as she could as she licked at the leaking head until a renewed heat simmering low in her belly rushed through her body. On the next lazy thrust, she tilted her head just enough to seize the blunt head inside her mouth.

"Oh fuck, darling!" Caitlyn grunted out, pushing herself past the ruby red lips until she hit the back of the blonde's throat, pulling back halfway out as the actress slightly gagged at her length. "Shit. I'm sorry." Caitlyn apologized, gently caressing the actress's cheek and inadvertently feeling the outline of her bulge on the other side.

Her cock twitched at the feeling and she felt pre-cum or maybe it was still cum from her last release, leak into the hot wet mouth. The actress immediately swallowed and leaned back to look Caitlyn square in the eye.

"Fuck. I don't care if I gag or choke on your big cock. Just use me!"

Blue eyes flashed with heat and desire, long fingers twisting to grasp a handful of blonde locks before she was thrusting deeply once more into the cavern of the actress's mouth. Her full, large balls slapped against the blonde's chin with every plunge. The moaning, the gurgling, the wet balls slapping against skin, the occasional gagging was down right indecent. And now, the rhythmic thumping of the headboard knocking against the wall joined the cacophony of sex noises that filled the room as Caitlyn's free hand clamped down tightly on the headboard.

Neither woman seemed to be currently aware of the ruckus they were causing but the next morning when the front receptionist was red in the face and unable to look them in the eye as they checked-out, only than did they realize just how fucking loud they were. A wave of embarrassment rushed over them as they politely bartered for the young woman's silence. It was easy enough, a couple photos and signed autographs was enough and a promise to be more...considerate to other guests the next time they checked-in. The two couldn't leave the hotel fast enough.

"I'm close." Caitlyn growled out, her hips churning, taking the actress's claim to use her to heart.

Long, crescent, perfectly manicured fingernails dug into her ass, forcing the cock to seat deep within the blonde's mouth and Caitlyn unloaded once more with a roar, her dick twitching wildly as she shot wave after wave of cum down the actress's throat. It was so much that it began to leak out from the corner of the ruby lips, not to denounce the actress's gallant attempt to swallow every drop. Caitlyn withdrew, finishing off the last few spurts upon the blonde's face.

"Fuck." Caitlyn heaved, dropping to lie down next to the actress, who was pulling in air just as much as Caitlyn, if not more. "Jealousy looks good on you."

TBC

Previously:

F1 Caitlyn Headcanon:

https://www.tumblr.com/stebeans/769238244811505664/arcane-f1au-my-headcanon?source=share

Caitlyn's F1 Interview :

https://www.tumblr.com/stebeans/770436973830848512/arcane-f1au?source=share

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Adelphopoiesis AU

[crescenthistory]

Miracles All Around

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Reader

Synopsis: When the world is equally as complicated for you and your partners to navigate post-war as it was pre-war, you are given the opportunity to find your forever peace in the same place you found your forever love. AKA: the Marauders' journey to being hired at Hogwarts.

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: set after the first wizarding war (that had a canon non-compliant semi-happy ending), references to death and grief, mental and physical health issues, lycanthropy discrimination, short war flashback at the start

Tags: fem!reader, use of y/n, not betaread, established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff, lots of crying, lots of kissing, supportive partners, found family, alternate universe, some snape hate, icon minerva mcgonagall, the black brothers got a happy ending, dorlene didn't

A/N: this is perhaps my favourite au to ever au, i love this universe, and i hope you will too<3 there is more to come for them

The tears were streaming more rapidly from your face than Sirius had any chance to wipe away, even with his hands cupping your cheeks a bit roughly. Your own arms were occupied by James’ circling your whole body into a massive bear hug behind you, his cheers a vague echo in your ear.

Everything was buzzing. Nothing felt real.

You won. It was over. It’s all alright.

It was Remus’ eyes seeking out yours beside you, forehead covered with matted tawny curls pressed against yours. They were the kind of brown that can be best described as amber; it became your favourite colour years ago. His gaze was loving and insistent, as if he aimed to anchor you to the moment with it. You think maybe he did.

Another few bodies slammed into your little huddle, essentially creating some unorthodox group hug on the muddied field turned battle ground… turned field again? The battle was over, there were fanfares in the background, more highly ranked officials finally stepping foot after the 20-something year olds did the hard work and defeated the final members of the Death Eaters. Your friends smelled of sweat, blood and smoke, and you had never been happier.

Another sob made its way up your throat, creating a haunting choir with the cries from what you thought was Lily, Mary and Sirius. James shook behind you too, but you were uncertain if it was with laughter or cries – both would be appropriate. Remus’ forehead was still pressed to yours and you felt his tears trail down his nose onto yours. They were warmer.

You were all warm, you were all here. 

Just as you could start feeling the tips of your fingers again, the shock wave that hit you the second the last dark wizard dropped fading, you were jostled by Sirius ripping himself from your arms and pushing himself vigorously through your huddle of people.

With fear still ready to be deployed at any moment, adrenaline soaring, your head snapped up to follow his movements, legs ready to run to help him – when you saw him launch himself into another boy with black curls, tackling him to the ground. Your fear seeped away the second you saw this was not an attack; this was a hug. A long awaited, well deserved hug. 

For his sake, you pretended you didn’t hear Regulus’ hiccuping sobs as he clutched to his big brother’s shoulders, for once in his life not upset with Sirius dirtying his clothes. Sirius’ cries were just as unrestrained if not more, whispering celebrations and praise. When you felt the tremoring behind you this time, you knew in your bones that James was crying. You leaned further into him and dragged Remus with you as you looked towards your last lover, all encompassed by each other.

“We did it,” you murmured without thinking.

“We made it, dove.” A kiss, two, three to your sopping wet face. 

There would still be endless lists of tasks to do, nothing was ever truly over. But even the officials surrounding you knew this to be a crucial moment for you, and did not disturb as your makeshift family embraced and settled with the fact that even with all that was lost, you ended up with each other.

You could finally breathe. 

​​・・・・・​​⟢

And then you were there again – on a slightly too small seat on a magically fast train headed straight for Hogwarts with months until the next departure, feeling a giddiness that was all too familiar in its warmth yet made a stranger by the years of cold you had endured.

“I cannot believe they are actually letting you step foot back in the place.”

Remus shook his head in faux disapproval, eyes filled with mirth as he waited for James’ reaction. His fingers were skillfully peeling your clementine for you without looking, a tradition established in third year.

“Of course they are!” James exclaimed haughtily, almost clambering up into Sirius’ lap to point an accusatory finger at Remus. “I made that place more fun than it had ever been.”

“Um,” Sirius scoffed. “I think you mean we, don’t you, honey?” James waved him off with a yeah, yeah motion. Remus exchanged a look with you as if you were in on some hilarious secret together.

“All I’m saying is that if Minnie hasn’t received a proper warning that her four favourite students are returning as faculty, she might have a heart attack.”

“Careful Moons, or I’m going to start thinking you don’t want me here, and marriage licences aren’t easy to revoke these days.” 

Your heart was full.

What does one do when the dust settles? How does one react when the sun rises at last and you want to revel in her touch despite your churning stomach?

At first, none of you had an answer to that. Your makeshift family, your pack as Sirius often insisted on calling it, only partly jokingly, at least had the luxury of sitting with a shared feeling of coming up empty. 

Once the dead are buried and the living are hugged, the world is meant to keep turning. It was all you had wanted, it was what you fought so hard for. Only to find that the ‘normal’ you returned to faces its own challenges – more mundane in nature, yet no less violent in sentiment. James with his grief, Sirius with his trauma, Remus with his affliction. It makes it hard to respectively enjoy jobs, keep jobs and even be offered them in the first place.

As for you, the war settled into your bones deeper than you were willing to admit, though you were confident your boys were well aware. Distance became your biggest enemy, chokeholds grasping at you whenever it grew, even if it was just for a grocery run or a short shift. Focus is the least of your priorities when it feels like lives are on the line, and employers don’t much appreciate that, especially when you know they aren’t actually. 

It felt unjust to complain when it was so much more than what most got. You were blessed with keeping your very closest close, though you felt the losses as well. 

Still, you wanted to burn the world down for not being what they were promised, what they gave it all for.

Remus had it the worst. His missions for the Order were arguably some of the most demanding any of you were put through; grueful transformations and roughhousing with werewolves, cosplaying as everything he always hated within himself. You shouted from the rooftops that your boyfriend – and then husband – was a war hero.

The Ministry labelled him a risk.

While James, Sirius and you were offered positions either in or with the Ministry in the immediate aftermath of war, as an extension of gratitude for your services and a requirement of proven talent, Remus barely got a measly medal. One he can put on his resume, sure, but that will be instantly overshadowed by the flagged tab from the Ministry regarding his registered lycanthropy. 

If Remus could not find work, you refused to leave him be with his thoughts and his pains in the flat. You tried to do things together and while your atoms sung at his presence, you both grew heavier by the day. James and Sirius did what they could as they surfed through different positions in the Ministry, both to strategise Remus’ way into employment through their connections and to brighten the moods.

Complicated days are those in the after. It was all you could do to hold onto each other’s strengths like buoys in the dwindling storm.

Lovely nights of intimacy, painful conversations ran through over and over again until they felt more soothed, reliving the small joys you missed when you thought them obsolete; stargazing, steaming tea, folding socks. Kisses for the emotional pains, back massages for the physical ones

“Where’d you go, dovey?”

Remus’ voice gently pulled at your mind’s sleeve, tethering you back down to him with a careful look and a rueful smile. His tawny hair was messy by the evening you had spent curled up in bed, riding out your separate flares. His time with the werewolves had worn his already aching joints thin, while your stint that went awry in the second year of war resulted in thundering magical headaches, residue Crucio’s singeing through your nerve endings. It made it easy to fall into the trap of flashbacks whenever the pain revisited, prompting Remus’ more prominent worry.

You flashed him a soft smile to ease it, mulling it over. “I don’t really know. Nowhere. Everywhere. I’m alright though, lovely boy.”

With a quiet grunt, he shifted his hips so he could lay down beside you where you were wrong-side up in the bed, head by the foot. A warm hand stretched out to cup your cheek, thumb gently saying hello. “Your thinking furrow says otherwise,” he murmured.

Though it wasn’t necessarily funny, you laughed at his analysis. “My thinking furrow?” you questioned, leaning into his touch.

A small smile eventually spread across his face as Remus lifted his hand to smooth out a – nonexistent, in your opinion – furrow between your brows in reply.

“It comes up whenever you float away.” You didn’t have to make him explain what float away meant; you all had different ways of phrasing yourselves, but you were in agreement about what it referred to as you carried the burden together.

You hummed in consideration. “I wasn’t away away, at least I don’t think. Just reflecting. Pondering if you’d like.”

Remus shook his head in adoration. “I do like. You, that is.”

You needed no more encouragement to lean forward and plant a sweet kiss on his lips. “I like this. That’s what I was thinking about, for the most part.” You toyed with his collar with one hand, fingers brushing against the slight freckles scattered on the skin beneath it. “How grateful I am to be able to be here with you like this. How much I wish I could give us the world you so deserve. Who I’d like to have a chat with about the fact that I can’t.”

His eyes went from soft to adamant disturbingly quick. “It’s alright, dove, I’m fine. I don’t want you to have to worry about all of that.”

He never did, did he?

“What do we not want our sweet girl to worry about?” James asked with a grin evident in his voice even before he entered the bedroom two seconds later, and once he did, it was on full display. Still sunny, but with more clouds than when you first fell in love with it.

“Jamie,” you cooed in greeting, carefully exiting the bed to pull his body flush against yours and allow your heart to settle with having almost everyone in your vicinity once more. If James was home, Sirius surely was not far behind.

Remus waited for James to come to his side before he pecked him in greeting, instantly delving into James’ day at work, how he was feeling, what he wanted to do, and anything that could get the conversation away from the worry in question. Oddly enough, his adamance not to be a burden and instead serve as a loving pillar beneath you all, only made you more certain of your conviction.

It took you a few days to work up the courage to do it, but the need to be useful, to provide, to build overtook your lingering fear of stepping outside or exerting yourself.

You didn’t tell the boys – something they would come to marvel at for years after, unbelieving that you could have kept a ‘secret’ in such an open house, regardless of your insistence that it wasn’t a secret, just an unspoken plan.

You did not tell them, not before you had owled back and forth with the one woman who has a solution to everything and a shared undeniable soft spot for the three troublemakers turned battle leaders turned husbands, namingley Minerva McGonagall. Someone who knew of Remus’ condition without viewing him differently, someone with the stiff upper lip needed to take on the Ministry, someone who, after Dumbledore’s final sacrifice in taking down Lord Voldemort, became Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Someone who, upon your letter pouring it all out, did not hesitate to inform you that the professor’s suites easily could transform to house four people at once.

While you always expected her support, you did not know to anticipate her eagerness, considering how much headache some in your little polycule had brought her back in the days. Yet, she informed you in how she had been extra particular about what staff she hunted down to replace the various positions vacated by the many losses of war – those who fell in battle, those who fled without looking back and the occasional few who made unsound choices – and already had her sights on you. Despite the fun of your youths, you had proven yourselves over countless Order meetings with McGonagall and even the occasional shared mission. She saw how able James was to lead, she saved and was saved by Sirius one treacherous night, she planned a visceral attack with you, and when she was unable to heal someone, Remus was the one who had stepped up. More importantly, she had seen how you kept the Order afloat the same way you would family members, with an attentiveness most professors could only dream of capacitating, let alone share.

“Truly, I fear you four were made for this,” she had confided in her final letter before you told your boys.

When you did, you orchestrated a date night huddled together on one of the sofas in your townhouse, legs and hips all muddled together beneath blankets as you chatted away, dishes long since put in warm water to be neglected while you cared for one another. James and Sirius shared stories from work, most of them to complain about the ridiculousness of the rigid structures behind it all, while you and Remus spoke of the different projects you had taken on at home.

With the lull in the conversation caused by the slight downwards twitch of Remus’ lips, a display of his displeasure with only being able to contribute with projects, you took your opportunity.

“Actually,” you started slowly, sitting up straighter while tightening your hand around James’. All faces were already in your direction, and you could tell the perk up at the tone of your voice. “I have found an opportunity that we might want to discuss what to do with.”

Despite making your voice soft and positive, you could see the weariness in Remus’ eyes, feeling as if you could read his thoughts rushing to assume the worst.

It was written all over his face: she’s got a job far away, she is more capable, she is leaving me. You ached to ease it.

“An opportunity?” Sirius questioned, his own eyebrows tellingly shot up.

“I spoke with McGonagall.”

For a moment there was silence. Then, James eyed you with nervous entertainment. “Old Minnie?”

“I reckon you shouldn’t call her that,” you teased, nudging his shoulder slightly by moving yours that was pressed up against him. “Especially if we decide to do this. She would be our employer.”

“Employer?” Sirius asked.

“Our?” That was Remus.

“There are several vacant positions at Hogwarts after the war, and McGonagall – should I call her Minerva? I don’t really know, either way, she–” You took a deep breath. “She thought of us four for the opportunity. Together.”

“You mean as professors?” James’ brows were furrowed together and you could see the clogs turning. You were unsure of how he would react.

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, toying with the hem of Sirius’ shirt that you had thrown on. “She figured James for Flying–”

“I’m sold.” James interrupted you with an oncoming beaming grin, looking between all three of you. “Quidditch? Professor? Oh, Merlin, I’m sold.”

“Prongs, let her finish baby,” Sirius urged through a laugh. James had the audacity to blush a little, nodding as he turned his attention back on you.

Before you could continue, you couldn’t resist giving his cheek a quick kiss. “Yes, you would be Quidditch professor, love. And referee, by default.”

You turned your attention on Sirius, who seemed to still be entertained by James’ reaction, but picked up on your gaze quickly

“There were several positions open that might work for you, but I suggested Astronomy.” You phrased it almost like a question, nervous to be caught misjudging your own partner’s skills and interests. “I know you always loved it so, and you were so great at explaining everything to me before our OWLS.”

Sirius’ smile softened and he reached out to grab your cheek with one hand, reassuringly rubbing his thumb up and down. “That would be the ideal subject, doll. Good choice.”

At last, you turned your attention to Remus, whose gaze was apprehensive, inside of his cheek nudged in between his teeth. He was uncharacteristically quiet, his usual hums of approval and disapproval absent. You could read the hundred questions on his tongue, even with his mouth closed.

“We went back and forth on what would have been the ideal solution, and, while I fully support whatever we decide on… I think it’s a good one, Rem.” You took a steadying breath. “You and I would teach Defense Against the Dark Arts together. McG– Minerva said we had more than proven ourselves capable during our studies as well as the war. We would set up a schedule where we teach some classes together and some separately, on a monthly cycle – that way you would have no ‘absences’ to explain away, it would just be part of the timetable that you have some time off. One week of joint classes, one week of just me during the full moon, one week of joint classes and then one week of just you during your prime period. When we’re not teaching, we will be doing ‘research’ for the subject and writing academic literature, the same solution Professor Tinkwilt had in second year, remember?”

You recognise you were almost ranting towards the end, but you had a burning need to explain yourself in full, to show him how you thought of everything. “Since we would all be going and living together, you three can continue with the moon routine you had while we were in school. I could even finally become a registered animagus like we always talked about.”

Throughout your speech, Remus’ lips had begun to part, eyes wide as he took everything in, yet his face remained impassive. James squeezed your hand to show support.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Remus said at last, squirming a little under all three gazes gauging his response. “That seems too good to be true.”

“It’s true,” you whispered, fighting off emotions and an oncoming Crucio headache from the stress of it all. “Minerva said even Dumbledore had spoken of the possibility of hiring you, Remus, back before–” You cut yourself off before your voice could break. James’ hand moved from yours to wrap around your front in a side hug. “It was you he thought of first, gave her some ideas about how to circumvent the Ministry. She said she knows how and is willing to take on the fight. If that is what we all want.”

“Is it?” Remus asked then, avoiding facing this himself. “Is it what you all want?”

James and Sirius looked between each other before looking at you and Remus.

“I never fancied myself a professor,” Sirius mused. “Didn’t really ever think about it. But the idea doesn’t bother me – I think it might be nice, yeah? It’s like one of those stand up gigs every single day, except you also get to take and give points like a maniac. And talk about Astronomy.”

Your smile was growing while regarding his fond gaze at the thought – then, his face fell and your stomach dropped. Sirius made a horrified gasp. “No,” he whispered. “If we do this, everyone’s going to know how ridiculously intelligent I am. I’ve worked so hard to build a reputation as the hot one.”

Both you and Remus swatted each of his arms.

Sirius made a faux shriek, diving forward from where he was squished between the sofa pillows to hide in Remus’ lap – where, despite him being one of the perpetrators, he found instant peace. 

James acted as if nothing had happened. “I think being a Flying instructor would be bloody awesome. I always wanted to work in Quidditch before all else went to shite, and I love kids. And I loved Hogwarts. Sounds kind of perfect, does it not?”

“We did love Hogwarts,” you said through a beaming smile. Taking in your family considering this massive step.

“And you, dove?” Remus caught your attention. 

“What about me?”

“What do you want?”

The sincerity, the insecurity laden on his face made your body tense with the want to jump on him and hold him in your arms forever. How is it possible for one boy to love you so much? And for you to get to keep him?

Your heart was growing surer and surer that you were on the right path.

“I actually was the one who reached out to Minerva about the idea first,” you admitted somewhat shyly. “That was when she told me she was already considering us, though she said she worried about disrupting any peace we had by asking; I assured her she wouldn’t. I do think I want this – but only if you do, too.”

Remus’ eyes flickered. “Would it be wrong of me to want it? Bringing a threat into a castle filled with children was never a safe idea in the first place, but to do it again indefinitely?”

You all cut him off with shaken heads and various protests before he could spiral down that road. 

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said adamantly, popping his head up out of Remus’ lap to cup his cheeks between his two large hands. “You never were and never will be a threat at Hogwarts, sweetheart.”

“And angel’s right, we have the routine established and prepared already,” James added. “A far more secure one than the one we have now over on the farm. The Shrieking Shack could do with some renovations, but it’s foolproof. Not to mention you have Pomfrey on guard should you get inured, who is still much better than Sirius and I at tending to you like that.”

“Y/N’s quite alright with it,” Remus murmured, shooting you a teasing smile. Warming up.

You leaned forward to bring his gangly hands into yours, tracing his veins with your fingers. “Apart from being hard on yourself, what do you actually think, baby? Do you want to? Because if you don’t want to, we absolutely can say no.”

Renus shook his head minutely – just enough for you to catch it and your heart to settle.

“No, no, I… I want it.” Remus’ voice was rough with emotion and you could catch him working through potential tears. That felt significant; Remus was the one who had cried the least since the war, which you didn’t think was necessarily a good thing. “I actually always wanted to be a professor, if things were different.”

You tightened your hold on his hands and enunciated every word clearly as you whispered, “Things don’t have to be different, Remus.”

A single tear slipped down his face as he cracked a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nodded ardently, taking the opportunity to lean forward into a quick kiss. “You’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes,” he whispered.

“Merlin,” James sighed, slumping back in his seat. He brought his hands up to his face to rub at it, as if trying to ground himself and feel real. “Gods, are we really doing this? We’re doing this? We’re going to work… at Hogwarts?”

“I– yeah, if– if you’re sure?” You were sputtering but didn’t care to be embarrassed – you didn’t have to with them.

“I think we’re sure.” Sirius was grinning as he looked between all of you. “Good Godric, Minnie is going to regret letting us back in so much.”

James and Sirius started all but jumping excitedly in their seats as they laughed, your shared shock finally tipping over into seemingly delirious laughter, unsettled in the feeling of knowing where you’re going. The feeling of finding it.

In their celebration, you climbed over Sirius to set yourself down in Remus’ lap, who circled his arms around you on instinct. You let your fingers brush over his left cheek, the one the tear had traced. You kissed it softly.

“This is happening?” he whispered in awe.

“If you want it to, pretty boy. We’ve found a way.”

Remus dared to let himself grin. “You’re bloody amazing.”

That was the point where he tackled you into James’ front, lathering you in kisses and holding you in ways that tickled. Sirius quickly slid in between you, first to “defend your honour” before quickly joining in on the kissing instead. 

In between gasping laughs, you suddenly remembered one of the best parts, sitting up where you were caged between all three lovers with your eyebrows shot up. “Wait! Sirius, I forgot to tell you one of the best parts.”

“Me?” Sirius asked, pointing at himself almost alarmed. 

Your grin turned almost smug, deeply satisfied with being able to share the news. “He hasn’t told you yet because he was unsure of how to break the news when it involved seeing each other less often. But now that you’re going as well–”

Sirius perked up, eyes going wide as he realised where you were going with this.

“Regulus was offered a position as well. He’ll be going with us.”

The sound that escaped Sirius was neither quite a laugh nor a scream, but was decidedly loud. “WHAT?” was all he let out before shooting out of his seat as if he had been spelled away. Before you could tell him more he was running over to grab his wand, halfway through a turn when he stopped to say “Be back in a jiffy, hot stuff.” 

Then there was a pop of apparition, and you were three people on the sofa instead of four.

“Which one of us is hot stuff?” you questioned bemusedly.

James waved in a so-so motion with his hand. “I think we collectively are the stuff.”

“Ah. Charming.”

“What subject will Regulus teach?” Remus questioned then. He reached out to scoop you up from where you had toppled half-over at Sirius’ departure, holding you close to his chest.

“Arithmancy and alchemy.”

James rolled his eyes good naturedly. “What a swot.”

“That’s a lot coming from someone who is about to be a professor,” Remus volleyed, reaching out to squish his cheek. 

“Who would have thought you can just become a professor? Don’t you have to, I don’t know, turn 150 years old and write a book first?” James had that aloof expression he wore when he was thinking out loud, and you couldn’t help but kiss him soundly, leaving him with an even dumber expression afterwards.

“Usually, there’s more of a process to it, yeah. But, even almost a year later, society is still kind of rebuilding. There is space to bend the rules, and Minerva said she believes our time with the Order substitutes any further education or book-writing.”

He hummed as if that was enough of an answer for him. You suppose it should be.

“Anyone else?” Remus murmured with his lips against the back of your neck. You shivered in delight at the touch.

“Hm?”

He chuckled. “Anyone else who will be brought onboard the teaching staff that we should know about?”

“No one but Regulus has accepted the position yet, and I don’t think anyone but us has been in talks with her yet, with the term still being so far off. But I know that she is considering asking Lily about Potions or Muggle Studies and Mary about Herbology.”

Both boys grinned at the possibility, James squeezing your calves in his lap with excitement. “It will be almost like a family reunion, then.”

You smiled unruly at him, sensing the grief in his eyes at his own words. “Yeah, almost baby.”

“Why is Lily considered for both Potions and Muggle Studies?” Remus asked, diverting away from the sensitive topic while spirits were high. “I mean there is nothing that witch can’t do, but Potions was by far her superiority.”

This was the first time a frown was brought onto your face, one James caught immediately and furrowed his eyes at as if it was a personal offense. “You’re not going to like this one,” you started off, hoping to ease them into it.

“Gods, what is it?”

“She’s also considering Snape for Potions.”

The two boys consequently interrupted each other with indignant exclamations at the revelation. 

“No, there is no way they are considering that bloody git,” James all but seethed. “After all he did? To Lily?”

You sighed, agreeing with their sentiments but able to do little about it. “I know, baby. But Dumbledore vouched for him and gave him clemency for his work as a double agent, and he is incredibly skilled. We can just hope he will say no.”

Remus slumped in his seat at the prospect, letting his forehead fall against you. 

“Does this change your answers?” you asked wearily, not having considered that it might.

“What? Angel, no, this is quite literally the perfect solution. I’m not letting Snape take that away.” James quickly assured you, squeezing in even closer to you and Remus, kissing the latter’s hair from where he was resting. 

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I think I’m really quite excited.” You were almost shy in your revelation, less so when you felt Remus’ lips curl against your skin.

James kissed your nose while laughing. “I can’t believe I’m about to be dating a professor.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter, we are doing a little more than dating,” Remus replied haughtily, to which he was bombarded with his own tickling kisses.

Laughter rang through your living room for months on end as you packed and prepared and – to everyone’s remaining shock – studied to prepare for your new life. Or, in some ways, your old life, with some significant improvements. 

Hogwarts was once your home. It felt almost cosmically right to return to it after defending it with your life. It was evident to you; this is what you do when the dust settles. You rediscover what you love.

“Getting cold feet?”

Sirius’ shoe nudged into yours on the floor of the spacious compartment of the hurrying train, loving smile plastered all over his face. You had zoned out at their gleeful bickering, clementine long since devoured, and sticky fingers happily laced with Remus’ beside you. 

The professors' compartments of the train were at the very front, with bigger and softer seats, much to your partners’ enjoyment, as they loved to splay themselves out over everything. It was odd to be somewhere you had been so many times, yet have it feel like a new environment in some ways.

“Are you projecting, Siri?” you teased in turn, manoeuvring your own shoe to hook behind his. “If you’re going to make a run from it before you’re faced with Filch again, you have to do it on your own.”

He barked a laugh, earning him James’ full attention as the bespectacled boy who preened in his lovers’ happiness. “Just checking, dollface. You grew so quiet I feared you might just stay on the train when we get there.”

“And leave poor Minerva alone with you three? I would never.”

You and Sirius wore matching grins as you stared each other down, only distracted when Remus on your side placed his chin on your shoulder in his slumped position. “What were you thinking about then, beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and kissed his forehead. Sirius pouted in envy and you held out your hand for him to grant you his, bringing his knuckles to your lips as well, feeling him melt at even the lightest touch.

“I was thinking about how we got to here. And then, even better – where we will end up,” you revealed with a smile you once thought you may never wear so easily again.

James let his head drop backwards as he stared at the ceiling. “Who would have fucking thought? Not me, that’s for sure.”

“True, but when is it that you do think, Prongs?” Remus quipped from beside you.

“Oi! You kiss my wife with that mouth?”

“Happily.” Remus’ hand snuck up from where it rested around your shoulders to tangle in your hair, bringing your lips down to his in an overstatedly tantalising kiss, tongue already out to sweep across your lips. 

The sound of protests mixed with laughter from the other side of the compartment. You were eternally grateful for the lack of windows on the doors, yet you melted into the kiss nonetheless, never one to back down from teasing James.

When you came apart, Remus sported a smug smile he otherwise never flaunted, raising an eyebrow at James as if to say “and what about it?”

James was huffing in faux indignation, but his cheeks were tainted a beautiful red. Sirius looked more hungry than he ought to be on a train full of students.

“You know you cannot be doing that in the halls at Hogwarts, right?” James made out over what sounded like a gulp.

“Sure I do; ‘s why I did it now.” Remus’ Welsh accent always grew thicker when he was being teasing like this, a side of him James inspired more than anyone else.

“I wonder whether the little shits will be able to pick up on it,” Sirius mused.

“The little shits in question being our students?” you questioned, to which all three boys nodded without hesitation. Right. 

“Pick up on what?” James asked then.

“Us. All of us.” Sirius’ eyes were flashing with the entertainment of someone planning thousands of scenarios and pranks all at once.

You all agreed not to keep it a secret should it come up, but to avoid the topic of your relationship with the students explicitly. Sirius had wanted not to have to change your dynamics and how you functioned together, while Remus wanted a certain atmosphere of distance and professionality with the students, and this was the perfect solution and compromise.

“With the way you lot behave, I reckon they’ll pick up on it within the first week,” you said with a faux sigh, to which Remus poked you in the side.

“Oh, is that how it is?” James raised an eyebrow at you, flashing his white teeth brightly. “How about we make it interesting, Mrs. Potter-Lupin-Black?”

“That is not my name,” you choked through a laugh at the same time as Remus rolled his eyes at James’ antics.

“Details, details.” James waved you off. “My question still stands.”

You righted yourself in your seat, letting Sirius’ foot go to plant yours more securely as you regarded James. You could tell the former boy’s eyes were steadfast on you. “What kind of interesting are we talking about, Professor Potter?”

“Godric, I love these new titles of ours,” Sirius sighed dreamily, leaning forward to rest his head on your knees now that you had edged to the end of your seat. With your eyes still on James, your hand automatically found his black curls, carding through them affectionately.

“We know you do, pup,” Remus quipped teasingly, earning him a blind slap on the leg from Sirius. “But yeah, what kinda interesting, Jamie?”

James had a devious look on his face synonymous with your Hogwarts years. “I reckon that we, in true Marauders fashion, should make a bet. How long it will take for the students to realise that some of us are dating, how long it will take to realise all of us are dating, or who they will guess first.”

Sirius’ head shot up at that with a scoff, clearly the expert on the matter. “Obviously, they will guess Moony and dolly first, they will be teaching a class together.”

“Uhm, no, have you heard yourself around us before, Sirius? Your flirting is outrageous at best, scandalous at worst.” James seemed to mull his over. “And Moony is too secretive and elusive, most people wouldn’t guess he acts on his feelings.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that?” Remus said in the form of a question, bunching his brows together in confusion. You patted his leg consolingly. 

“If you’re going to talk about brazen flirtation, you have to take a look in the mirror, James Potter,” you added to the conversation. You weren’t sure who would be guessed first, but you wanted to add to the drama.

“Whatever do you mean, angel?” Everything about his face in that moment could be described as devilish. 

“I’m placing my bets, Moony and Dolly, no questions,” Sirius declared. 

“Cool, then you’ll lose. I’m betting you and either Remus or Y/N. Actually, it will be Remus because he blushes more easily.”

“I do not. It’s going to be Sirius and Y/N.”

“You’re all wrong, it will one hundred percent be James and Sirius. You two are incorrigible with each other.”

“Great. Then we’ve got ourselves one solid bet.” James was beaming, like this was the last piece of a puzzle coming together before the official start of your new adventure. It made you grow soft once more.

Sirius not so much. “What’s on the table, though, dearest Prongsie? What are we betting on?” There was an evident challenge in his voice, curiosity too.

James seemed to be thinking hard to come up with something enticing enough. “If we want to make this truly interesting, the winner gets to decide what the prize is. A free for all card.”

Remus shook his head immediately. “I don’t trust either of you with that kind of power.”

“I thought you said you trusted me with your life?” Sirius queried teasingly, though thread a bit more carefully given the reference.

“I do. But not with anything you want.”

“And what do you mean either – are you not worried what Y/N would do?” James questions in false offense.

Remus looks at you sideways with a lopsided smile. “Nah, not really.”

James and Sirius both nodded as if to say “yeah, that’s fair”.

You cocked your head at him, narrowing your eyes. “I say we do it. Bets are placed, whoever is correct in who is commonly assumed or declared to be in a relationship by students first gets to decide what they win – within reason.”

Sirius scoffed lightheartedly and opened his mouth to interject, but before he could, you continued. “And Lily gets to decide what is within reason. She will also be the one to determine when a couple is actually assumed by the students.” 

Immediately, Remus places his hand on your thigh with a squeeze, almost as if in appreciation or approval and nods emphatically. “This is why we keep you around dovey, that’s the perfect solution.”

“I’ll give you a couple more reasons to keep me around.” You mirrored his earlier overly sensual kiss, dragging him to you by your fingertips beneath his chin, kissing him with tongue for but three seconds before pushing him back in his seat. He looked dazed and you all laughed.

“Enough of that now, I’m feeling left out,” Sirius declared, moving forward abruptly to scoop you up and place you sideways in his lap beside James, who immediately lifted your legs into his own lap. Sirius kissed all over the side of your face and neck, humming happily.

“Pardon, and what does that make me now?” Remus said scornfully, crossing his arms over his chest where he was left alone on the bench.

“Slow,” James replied through a grin. “Come here, silly.”

And though he huffed with faux contempt, Remus did move over to their bench, where James turned sideways so he could slot Remus between his legs, facing you and Sirius. 

You sighed as you settled into this new arrangement, pleased with touching all of them with at least some part of your body, with hearing their voices laced with contentment and seeing the warmth return to their faces in real time.

Certain feelings might never ease out from your bones, but if you knew one thing for sure, it was that living at Hogwarts with the loves of your life and giving fresh-faced students the same childhood you were awarded there, you might get pretty damn close.

As you could see the castle emerging on the horizon, just some dozens of minutes away, you let a smile take over your face. It felt like there were miracles all around.

[kjack89]

Background Noise

It's been so long I almost don't remember how to do this.

Hiiiii sorry I've been MIA, it's an election year. You know how it goes. Anyway, here's a little something as proof of life. Love you all for sticking with me. I'll be back when I can.

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship. And all of the fluff.

Enjolras finished the sentence he was typing and sat back in his chair, reading through the paragraph he’d just written with a furrowed brow. Well, it wasn’t the best writing he’d ever done, but considering it was a filler paragraph in the middle of a letter to local elected officials that would almost certainly never be read by anyone other than some low level staffer or intern, it would have to do.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face, his hand stilling when he caught what someone was saying nearby. “...Despite the immense popularity of the campaign, sales of Energizer batteries actually went down during the years that the ads ran. Duracell claimed—”

Enjolras lowered his hand to frown at Grantaire, seated at a nearby table in the back room of the Musain and still blithely rambling without looking up from his phone. “What are you doing?” he interrupted, equally parts confused and incredulous.

Grantaire broke off and glanced up at him, and Enjolras noted that he didn’t even have the good grace to look abashed. “Reading the Wikipedia entry for the Energizer Bunny.”

As if that was an even remotely normal thing to be doing. “Why?” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Grantaire shrugged. “Seemed appropriate,” he said cheerfully. “You know, because he—” He broke off, making a face. “It? They?”

“I don’t think the pronouns of a corporate marketing campaign are really relevant,” Enjolras said dryly.

Grantaire raised both eyebrows, amused. “Oh, so respect for pronouns is conditional now. I see how it is.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “I didn’t say that—”

“Anyway,” Grantaire continued, ignoring him, “like I said, seemed appropriate because the Energizer Bunny just keeps on going and going and going and going—”

“Yeah, I get the idea,” Enjolras said waspishly. “But why are you reading it out loud?”

Grantaire just shrugged again. “Why not?”

Honestly, Enjolras wasn’t even sure what answer he expected, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this something that you do often?”

Grantaire scratched his cheek as he considered it. “Define ‘often’.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Grantaire.”

Grantaire grinned, that slightly crooked grin that inevitably heralded him saying something that would piss Enjolras off. “Sometimes, when you’re otherwise occupied and slash or completely lost to the world, it’s a fun little thing I like to do.” His grin widened. “Or at least, it’s fun seeing how long it takes for you to notice.”

It spoke volumes that Enjolras wasn’t even remotely surprised. “Of course.”

“It’s a drinking game,” Grantaire added brightly. “Or at least, I drink while I play it, so that counts, right?”

“Of fucking course,” Enjolras sighed, even less surprised by that. “I should point out that by that logic, and I use the word as loosely as the English language allows, any game you drink while playing is a drinking game.”

Grantaire’s grin sharpened into a smirk. “This is exactly what I’ve been saying! I just think—”

But Enjolras cut him off, far too used to Grantaire’s ability to take a tangent and turn it into a diatribe until someone interrupted him or he otherwise got bored. “As fascinating as it always is to learn how you choose to spend your time, you’re going to have to knock it off.”

“Why?”

Enjolras bit back his immediate response that it was because it was annoying as hell. “Because it’s distracting,” he said instead.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, with a wry twist of his lips. “Heaven forbid I distract the Noble Leader from his all-important work.”

He doffed an invisible cap to Enjolras, who felt strangely tongue-tied and wrong-footed, the way only Grantaire ever seemed to be able to make him. “I didn’t mean—” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“I suppose it’s about time I head home, anyway.”

Enjolras glanced down at the time on his phone and then back at Grantaire, frowning. “You’re heading home before midnight?”

“Sorry, did I say head home?” Grantaire asked, draining his beer and setting it back down on the table with a thud to shrug his coat on. “I meant to another bar.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked back down at his computer. “That sounds more like it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Grantaire.”

But despite his rather pointed farewell, Grantaire didn’t leave, instead lingering for long enough that Enjolras glanced back up at him, his brow furrowing. Just when he was about to ask what was wrong, Grantaire gave him another smile, smaller and tighter this time. “Goodnight, Enjolras,” he said, finally turning and leaving, dropping his beer bottle in the recycling as he did.

Enjolras stared after him for a long moment before shaking his head to clear it and looking stubbornly back at the letter. Ten minutes of staring at it without adding a single word later, he sighed and shut his laptop with a snap. 

Typical Grantaire, he thought sourly to himself as he grabbed his bag to pack up all of his things, somehow finding a way to annoy him without even being physically present.

He’d just have to try to work on it again the following night, ideally without the dulcet sounds of the Energizer Bunny Wikipedia entry. 

Of course, knowing Grantaire, he’d find a new way to annoy him anyway.

— — — — —

Just as Enjolras suspected, the next night seemed like a repeat of a thousand nights that preceded it. After the Les Amis meeting wrapped up, Grantaire lingered while everyone else dispersed, leaning back in his chair to prop his feet on the chair next to him, sipping from his beer as he scrolled through his phone. 

But at least he was mercifully silent while doing so, which Enjolras would take as a win.

For his own part, Enjolras settled in to finish the letter, all too aware that it needed to go out sometime the next day. He worked better with a deadline, after all, so finishing it up should have been a breeze.

Unfortunately, Enjolras instead found himself unable to concentrate, glancing at his phone and clicking over to Twitter as if it would somehow have updated in the prior thirty seconds. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, and he rubbed his face vigorously with both hands as if that might somehow get him to concentrate.

It didn’t.

Instead, Enjolras sat back in his seat, scowling. He was in his favorite place to do work, he’d had the perfect amount of caffeine so he was alert but not jittery, and yet he couldn’t force himself to actually get anything done. It was almost like something was missing, something in the back of his mind that kept him on task, or—

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he looked over at Grantaire, who was still conspicuously quiet. “That thing you do,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced up at him. “Where you say stupid shit while I’m not paying attention?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said cautiously.

“I realize I didn’t actually define often,” Enjolras said. “So, uh, would you say that this is a daily occurrence?”

Grantaire looked amused. “Would you say that you ignoring me is a daily occurrence?” he asked, saccharine sweet.

“Yes.”

Grantaire grinned. “Well, there’s your answer.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered, running a hand across his face before straightening his shoulders. “Right. Well, you can do it again.”

Grantaire’s grin faded, just slightly. “Do what again?” he asked.

“Talk, or read out loud, or whatever other stupid shit you try to get away with without me noticing,” Enjolras said, something resigned in his tone.

Grantaire blinked. “Really?” he asked, equal parts amused and skeptical.

Enjolras shrugged helplessly. “What can I say,” he muttered, well aware he was blushing and equally aware that Grantaire would undoubtedly use this against him at some point in the future, “I’ve apparently gotten so good at tuning you out after all these years that you’ve essentially become a really effective white noise machine.”

He half-expected him to feign offense at that, but Grantaire just laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Well, at least you can no longer say I’m completely useless,” he said, and Enjolras rolled his eyes, even if he couldn’t quite stop his answering smile.

“No, I guess I can’t,” he agreed. He hesitated before asking, “So will you read to me? Whatever nonsense you’ve been reading, or anything you like?”

Grantaire’s expression softened, just slightly. “For you?” he asked, with none of his usual sardonic sharpness. “I think I can manage that.”

He picked his phone up again and cleared his throat before reading out loud, “Neither Kamala Harris nor Donald Trump is campaigning on the coming ‘tax cliff,’ which is rarely mentioned in their paid messaging or stump speeches. In their only debate, Harris talked about taxes far more than Trump, who only mentioned them twice — once to deny that his tariffs amounted to a “tax” on consumers, and once to promise future tax cuts, without much detail.”

Enjolras had been expecting another stupid Wikipedia entry, or maybe something equally inane from Reddit. He hadn’t expected a news article, and even less a news article about politics, one of many things Grantaire always professed not to care about.

He was out of his chair before he even realized it, crossing over to Grantaire. “Let me see that,” he said, reaching for Grantaire’s phone. Grantaire raised both eyebrows but nonetheless handed it over, standing and crossing his arms in front of his chest as Enjolras scrolled through the article in question, his brow furrowing. He glanced back up at Grantaire. “You were really reading this?”

Grantaire shrugged and reached out for his phone. “How else am I supposed to be able to effectively argue with you?” he asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it was as obvious as Grantaire saying God only knew what while Enjolras tuned him out.

Enjolras felt a slow smile stretch across his face, and instead of handing Grantaire his phone back, he closed the space between them and kissed him.

For one long moment, Grantaire was perfectly still, but then he kissed Enjolras back, wrapping his arms around Enjolras waist and opening his mouth against Enjolras’s. 

Then, without warning, Grantaire pulled away. “What?” Enjolras asked, just this side of breathless.

“You need to finish that by tomorrow,” Grantaire said, nodding toward Enjolras’s laptop.

“Are you really trying to be the responsible one right now?” Enjolras asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Grantaire said, suddenly serious. “I’m not giving you any excuse to blame me, or this, for fucking things up.”

Enjolras scowled. “I wouldn’t—” he started, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he held his hands up and laughed. “Fine, I probably would.”

Grantaire nodded. “And I definitely don’t want to give you a reason not to do that again,” he said, smiling that crooked smile again, and it took everything in Enjolras not to kiss him again. 

“Fine,” he sighed instead, tearing his eyes away. “But I still need you to keep reading something.” He paused and made a face. “Not that article, though, I really don’t need to hear about fucking Trump right now.”

“Fine by me,” Grantaire said, taking his phone back from Enjolras. His thumbs flashed across the keyboard as he typed something and then he settled back down into a chair, one conspicuously closer to Enjolras and farther from his beer. 

Again he cleared his throat, only this time, he read, “The Constitution promises liberty to all within its reach, a liberty that includes certain specific rights that allow persons, within a lawful realm, to define and express their identity. The petitioners in these cases seek to find that liberty by marrying someone of the same sex and having their marriages deemed lawful on the same terms and conditions as marriages between persons of the opposite sex.”

Enjolras would’ve recognized those words anywhere. "Obergefell v. Hodges?” he asked, amused, shaking his head fondly. “God, you’re such a nerd."

Grantaire glanced up at him. “Takes one to know one,” he said, sticking his tongue out, and Enjolras barked a laugh and shook his head once more before finally returning to his work as Grantaire continued reading, his voice a soothing background to the sound of Enjolras’s typing, the way it had been for years now without him ever noticing.

But he noticed now.

And since he did notice, he had a brand new motivation to get through his work in a timely manner. 

And judging by the grin that Grantaire still wore, he knew it, too.

[fifiphobic]

I gave it some thought right….The epilogue kinda comes full circle. Especially when it comes to Katsuki feeling behind or not enough.

Katsuki internalises the idea that he’ll never be good enough when it comes to Izuku. A huge part of Katsuki’s character is his inferiority complex, which he never seemed to learn how to tackle properly. During the war he was still thinking about how he fell behind from Izuku “izuku…can I still catch up to you” and then Izuku goes and loses his quirk before he can rationalise his feelings properly. Katsuki then spends 8 years on this suit to ‘settle a score’ or ease the idea that maybe he is as good as Izuku, that he is valued, and can stand on equal footing. That maybe what Izuku said on ground beta wasn’t a whole load of bullshit. But when he’s given Izuku an offer to join his agency Izuku rejects it because, at the end of the day, the feeling of inferiority was never an issue with Izuku but had engulfed Katsuki his entire life. What if Izuku did just want to teach and Katsuki was in this one-sided relationship for the last 8 years (we won’t know until the official epilogue comes out) and disregarded Izuku’s feelings about their shared rivalry? That Izuku could still be by his side and could still have a shared love for heroics but just in a different way.

I love the idea of Izuku moving on from the rivalry/co-dependency they had for years. Kinda getting rid of or letting go of Katsuki like Katsuki tried to do all those years ago from middle school to UA. It’s interesting to see Katsuki stuck 8 years in the past when we all thought it would’ve been Izuku (with losing his quirk and all) it’s so karmic. Like wow there was a time when Katsuki wanted nothing to do with Izuku while Izuku desperately clung on but nearly a decade later Katsuki wants nothing but Izuku and Izuku just simply wants to move on.

[meazalykov]

Sight for sore eyes

Salma Paralluelo x BenficaPlayer!R

warnings: short chapter

Nycole Raysla dribbles the ball through Ona Batlle and Ingrid Engen outside of the box. Taking this as a golden opportunity, Y/n L/n moves through an open space to receive a possible pass. She didn’t go unnoticed by the Brazilian forward, who passed the ball to her with her backheel. Y/n taps the ball once with her right foot before taking a shot, with Ingrid Engen missing her shot by a second. Goal!  

The Portuguese supporters erupt as Y/n runs to the corner with her hands out wide. She couldn’t believe it. This is her second goal of the night and the score is 3-3 in the 70th minute. The girl’s teammates ran by her side to congratulate her on the goal. 

“Number 7 Y/n L/n equalizes in the Champion’s League match!” the commentator screams in excitement. 

After the celebration, Y/n looks over at Salma Paralluelo on the Barcelona bench. She was substituted out for Esmee Brugts two minutes before, but she hoped that Salma saw her goal. Y/n wasn’t someone who looked for external validation, but she wanted the girl in braids to be impressed by her goal. 

Salma saw her goal, and she was impressed. 

Salma didn’t celebrate obviously, out of respect for her Barcelona team. She looked at Y/n with soft eyes and a light smile. The Benfica player took it as a silent approval. 

The girls weren't in an official relationship, but they’re in a long distance talking stage through social media. Y/n L/n is a (Reader’s Country) International who was in La Masia before signing to Benfica. She knew Salma for years, but they weren’t friends while attending the same school. 

Salma, who casually scrolled through instagram one day, stumbled upon a captivating Instagram post from Y/n. She didn’t follow her, she saw the post through a mutual friend's story. The Spanish girl knew Y/n from the academy. When Y/n left Barcelona, she didn’t notice because her promotion to the Femeni A team happened at the same time.

Salma was entranced by Y/n's striking features and magnetic presence in the post. The girl had a four photo slideshow of herself on vacation in Albania (Visual at the end). Salma couldn't resist the urge to reach out. With a flutter of excitement and confidence, she initiated a conversation through social media. Y/n was surprised by this reach out, but they've sparked an instant connection. Y/n adored Salma and Salma couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n outside of football. 

The game ended in 4-4 which disappointed the Benfica player. She didn’t want to defeat Barcelona out of hatred or vengeance for the club letting her go, but her competitiveness inside of her wanted to end their winning streak to boost her team’s morale.

As Y/n places on her red puffer jacket and pulls the tight hair tie out of her hair, she looks over at her teammate who walks towards her. 

“Congrats on the goal against your old club!” Jessica Sliva pats on Y/n’s back. The younger girl smirks before shaking her head. 

“Thank you...... Sorry- I feel like I shouldn’t have celebrated it.” Y/n confesses when her appreciation sounded monotoned. Jessica lowers her eyebrows in confusion, “Why?” 

“Barcelona is the club I grew up with. People might consider the celebration I did as disrespectful.” Y/n swallowed. Jessica smirks before looking behind Y/n, seeing a particular girl 40 feet away with her own team. 

“Is it because of that, or is it because of Salma?” Jessica smirks and nods her head towards someone behind them. 

Y/n turns and sees Salma looking at her. The girl blushes and waves at the Spanish, who waves at her back with a shy smile. 

“You’re in love, girl.” Jessica jokes. 

“Shut up!” Y/n laughed, not denying it. 

The girl continued to look at Salma as Jessica walked away. She knew that she had to go talk to her, but she is shy. All she does is admire from afar.

“What a sight for sore eyes.” Y/n thought, looking at Salma who moved to talk to Vicky Lopez. 

Two months earlier....

(Pretend you're in the pictures below)

y/n.l/n

sarandë, albania

tagged: jackie_groenen_14

liked by esmeebrugts, urbestie, and 11,237 others

loving albania 🇦🇱

comments

urbestie I LOVE THESE PICTURES OMGGG

jackie_groenen_14 had a good time 🤩

evagaetino 🥰

wosoplayers457 SO CUTEEEE

barcefemenifan7 come back to Barcelona 🔵🔴

shesaballer you are not beating the psg transfer rumors

salmaparalluelo follows y/n.l/n

an: hope you liked :)

[touch-starved-reader]

Brahms Heelshire SFW Alphabet

not proof read.... enjoy

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

On a scale from 1-10 brahms is a solid 9.

Brahms preferes to show, not tell. He likes to show affection with little acts of service like making you a sandwich. But his absolute favorite is  physical touch all the way. When you first move in he is a little nervous to touch you, but once he is used to it he will bear hug you every chance he gets.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Brahms is a clingy best friend, and he definitely has rules he set up for his friends even when he was young. He will get jealous easily and probably lash out at you. He doesn't want to be mean, but he has rules for a reason, if you would just follow them he would be a great friend.

As a friend he doesn't quite see you as an equal, unlike his nanny you have no right to tell him what to do. He sees nothing wrong with bossing you around and manipulating you. None of this is done with bad intentions, he just thinks he knows better than you. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves cuddles,but his favorite is to hold you like you are a stuffed animal. He most definitely has a body pillow of you in the walls so this is just the position he is used to. However, sometimes he just wants to rest his head in your lap and have you play with his hair. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Brahms can do the bare minimum with cooking and cleaning, he knows how to but prefers it if someone else does it for him. 

In regards to settling down, in brahms eyes as soon as he lays his eyes on you, you are his forever. I don't think he would ever do an official wedding ceremony, but he would most definitely give you a family heirloom ring and would refer to himself as your husband. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

To put it simply, the only way out of this relationship is death. Either he kills you, you kill him, or one of you die of natural causes. This man doesn’t do breakups, and he sure as hell isn't letting you go.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As I said before, Brahms wouldn't do an official ceremony but to him, he committed to you and you committed to him the moment you stepped foot in the house. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He tries his best to be gentle when he can, but the boy is a bit unstable. He has the emotional maturity of a child but the body of an adult, you will get hurt and scared at some point during your time with him, but know it is not his intention and he might apologize for hurting you but will always demand an apology for whatever upset him in the first place.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

His hugs are big, warm, soft and often. At first he might squeeze too hard, but with gentle reminders he will get used to it and give the best hugs. His favorite way to hug you is from behind while you are doing your daily tasks.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He is saying it soon and often. I feel like if he thinks you will leave near the beginning of your stay at the Heelshire manor, he will tell you he loves you and beg you to stay if he thinks you might leave him. Most of the time he says it because he wants reassurance that you love him too. So when he says he loves you, say it back. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

If you have seen the movie, you know Brahms doesn’t share. He might get violent towards the person that he thinks is too close to you, lock you up in the attic for a bit, or just be generally clingy once the person leaves. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The man likes to keep the mask on, but forehead kisses and kisses on the lips are a must. Once he is ok with taking his mask off in front of you, he will kiss every inch of your body you let him kiss. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Why would you want children? You have him. In all seriousness, the thought crossed his mind once, he thought of baby trapping you, but the idea of having to share your affection was enough for him to solidly decide, no kids, ever. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

This man has his whole day scheduled, he will be waking up promptly when the piece of paper says he will be waking up. He expects breakfast to be made by you most days, but after he starts spending less time in the walls he will make eggs on occasion for you. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Read this man a bedtime story and give him a goodnight kiss every night. Otherwise he will be cranky and either sulk or make it your problem. I think he likes to sleep with you in his arms when he can, but his little bed in his room doesn't fit him very well anymore, and it sure wouldn't fit the both of you. However there are plenty of beds in the house, so don't worry. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You are going to find out most things about him on your own, he doesn't particularly talk much. But things like getting to know he is a human, well he will reveal that when he feels he has no other choice, or he just gets extra jealous of the doll. Either way it isn't happening quickly. . 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He is pretty easily angered but just as easily calmed down. Just start going by the schedule and throw in an apology, everything is fine and dandy again.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) 

This man has a shrine and journal dedicated fully to you. He will remember every little detail he can, wether it be to make you happy or to manipulate you, hard to know. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you gave him a good night kiss, not the doll but him. Its not like he felt it through the mask, but the proximity made him absolutely ecstatic. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

This man is a protector, anyone tries to hurt you and they won't live to tell the tale. He is so protective that if he thinks you are in the slightest bit of danger he will step in and do something, it might just be moving the doll to freak out the person threatening you, or he may just break through the wall. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in a lot of effort into the relationship, not always in a positive way but he is trying. He will on special occasions pamper you though. He is the type to do the simple things to show love since the two of you never leave the house. But he may put something nice for you on the grocery list or set up a nice stay-in movie date. Long story short he tries to keep you happy with what he can. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He is childish in a lot of ways, he needs to be told to pick up after himself, and 9 times out of 10 you will be doing the household chores. That's not to mention the temper tantrums. He doesn't know how to control his emotions very well. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He is actually very concerned about looks, he feels like since there isn't much he can do with his face he covers it. He is also very shallow with his partner's looks, yes he is desperate for love but if you weren't up to his standards you would have been on the chopping block. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Oh this man couldn't survive without you. He doesn't have his parents any more and its not like he could just look for another nanny. On a fundamental level he needs you. That being said he would also be sad and lonely without you. He would miss every little thing you do and drive himself mad without you. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

This stinky man loves to take baths and shower, he just didn't have the means to while living in the walls.I feel like he would be very well groomed if he was given the chance. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who is rude or has a bad temper. In a weird kind of way, he wants someone motherly, sonmone who can take care of him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

This man sleeps on a schedule, he may stay up late to watch you through the walls but he is definitely still getting up at the same time every day. I also think he is the type to not move a lot in his sleep. The most peaceful time is when Brahms is asleep.

[bumblesimagines]

Marcus Baker

you never gave me back my things.

i was hoping i'd see you again.

i never like how it ended between us.

you never gave me back my things.

i was hoping i'd see you again.

i never like how it ended between us.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, Gender Neutral!Reader

You released a sigh of relief as you slumped back in the chair and released the pencil, giving your aching hand a much-needed break. You rubbed the area between your thumb and index finger, pleased to have finally finished the five-page essay for English class. You were certain if you had to read another ancient poem and write an essay about it again, you'd have a breakdown alongside your classmates. But with the pressure of the deadline disappearing, you looked forward to taking a break from classwork. 

You stood up from the table and collected the papers, carefully slipping them into a folder and then sliding the folder into your backpack. You nodded to the other students studying and working at the table before slinging your backpack over your shoulder and making a beeline for the doors. As much as you loved the school's library, you never wanted to step foot in it again for at least two weeks. 

"Hey, (Y/N)!" A voice called out, attempting to be quiet but still getting dirty looks from those nearby. Marcus dipped his head apologetically and whispered a few 'sorry's before facing you and offering a sheepish, equally as apologetic smile. 

Before Virginia Miller had strolled into Wellsbury, you might've greeted Marcus with a kiss and told him all about your day. You might've taken his hand, listened to his troubles, and given him as much advice and reassurance as he needed. But he'd chosen to ruin the relationship you'd poured so much time into over a girl he hardly knew well. You half-expected them to boldly continue their secret relationship as an official couple now, but all you saw were longing looks from her and an exhausted-looking Marcus.

"I heard you were going to start tutoring again and- and was wondering if you could help me with homework? I'll pay you, obviously. I don't have a lot but-"

"Silver's looking, too. I can pass her your number and she'll help you with whatever you need, Marcus." You told him, turning on your heel and stepping out of the library. The door shut behind you, only to open again as Marcus followed. The Bakers seemed like a notoriously stubborn family, and yet they'd been a family you once wished to become a part of.

"Actually, I was hoping I'd see you again. I-I wanted to talk about everything, you know? I didn't like how it ended between us." Marcus explained, occasionally stumbling over his words as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. 

"Oh, you mean how you spent months secretly hooking up with your neighbor who was in a relationship with one of your sister's friends and I found out at the same time as everyone else because you didn't have the balls to tell me you didn't want to be with me anymore? It would've saved me a whole lot of trouble, Marcus. And by the way, you never gave me back my things."

Marcus quickened his step again and stepped in front of you, his hands shooting out to grab your forearms and force you to stop. You pursed your lips, your jaw clenching briefly and head tilting to finally look him in the eye. "I fucked up, and I'm really sorry, (Y/N). And I didn't tell you about Ginny because I didn't want to break up. I-I-I was an asshole, I know that. I don't know what I was thinking but I knew I didn't want to lose you. I was confused and-"

"You were confused for nearly a whole year, Marcus? I seriously doubt that. Like I said, you would've saved me a lot of trouble being honest. Besides, if Ginny really wanted you, she wouldn't have gotten with Hunter." You brushed his arms away and stepped back. "Please, just drop this Marcus. It's over and it'll stay over. Maybe I'll forgive you and we'll become friends again but... I don't really want you in my life right now."

[poisonheiress]

To start this lovely commentary, I will place my cards out in the open:

Blitzo is not the villain in his and Stolas' relationship nor is Stolas the victim in this realtionship either.

To some, this statement is a recognizable fact, one the canon caste system even supports. However, many of the current fanbase seems to disagree with this idea, comparing Blitzo to abusive characters like Stella, Crimson, and even Mammon. Others even put him on the same level as those previous characters. Besides this being one of the greater leaps of logic I've seen come out of this fandom, it is simply not true.

Yes, Blitzo does not treat Stolas kindly outside of their sexual agreement with Blitzo appearing to outright ignore him most of the time if not purposefully avoiding him. However, notice the wording I used there: sexual agreement.

Stolas and Blitzo have never been in an official romantic relationship and their current agreement is not one Blitzo entered in on equal footing with Stolas nor out of affection for him. Blitzo agreed to be with Stolas as a means of survival for his business, somethings that is extremely rare for imps to have due to their caste position.

Time and time again we are poorly shown that a rather strict caste system does exist in hell. This means that relationships with people in different castes carry different problems and consequences for those involved.

For those in higher ranking castes in a high-lower rank relationship, the worst outcome of being with a lower ranking demon appears as a diminished social standing and lack of respect, but the lower ranking partner doesn't get that. For the lower ranking demon of the relationship, they risk dehumanization by their partner with them loosing all autonomy and independence. They are no longer themselves; they become an extension of their higher ranking partner, an object that can be tossed away if the partner

Blitzo, who was raised in this system and still suffers under it, is right to fear stepping into a relationship with Stolas, and he has more than a right to refuse to be kind and gentle to a being that is literally hanging his livelihood over his head for sexual favors.

It does not matter if Stolas truly cares about him or not. Their relationship from Day 1 was not something Blitzo could walk away freely from nor even wanted to be in. In physical, social, and economical might, Stolas holds all the cards in their relationship, and nothing Blitzo can do can change that. Stolas could kill Blitzo and no one would turn an eye because he is an imp and Stolas is a Prince.

As a result, Blitzo has no obligation to be kind to someone who is a high ranking member in the system that views him as equal to dirt nor can Stolas be upset about Blitzo doing such when their relationship was born from Stolas taking advantage of Blitzo in a vulnerable situation.

Stolas is no victim here, and if Viv had researched caste systems, the true victim of the relationship would be clearer: Blitzo.

Because at the end of the day, Blitzo remains under Stolas' thumb, an unwilling subject to whatever tasks or desires Stolas forces on him. That is all the caste system of hell allows him to be.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {Epilogue}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: With a new album out it needs promoting and you find yourself missing Charles while you are in New York for a talkshow interview. Warnings: 18+only, flufffff WC: 1.1k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

February 2025 “I wish you were here,” you whispered into the phone that you weren’t supposed to have in the talk show studio. “I’m shaking like a leaf.”

“You’ll do great, my love,” he reassured you and you could hear a lot of background noise from the other people at the airport. “I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner had the call ended that the studio lights dimmed and the live audience fell silent.

“Now our next guest really needs no introduction,” Jimmy Fallon began to say while you nervously paced behind the curtain, until Bea pulled you to a stop, “her debut self-titled album went platinum and I have no doubt her new album, Safety Car, will be just as good. Please, put your hands together for Y/N.”

Bea gave you an encouraging push and you forced yourself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. No matter how many times you took the stage for a concert, or an interview, you still found yourself nervous - but you equally loved the thrill that came with it.

Once you were sitting in the chair the jitters faded away and you fell into the rhythm of answering the questions he fired your way.

“So, Safety Car, talk me through this album. How did you come up with the name?”

“Obviously Charles is a huge part of my life, we have known each other for a couple of years now, and this album was made collaboratively with him. That’s all him on the piano with pieces that he composed, so the journey of this album gives a glimpse into that relationship we have, especially the ups and downs that come with life. 

“I’m not sure if you keep up with Formula One, Jimmy, but when there’s danger on the track they deploy a safety car to guide the drivers through that peril. This whole album is about being each other's safety car and helping navigate the other through those hard times.”

“Wow, that is so wholesome and sweet,” he gushed before looking down at his cue card. “But what exactly is ‘that relationship’? Because we know you and Charles are together, everyone and their dog knows you two are together, but there was never actually any announcement as such and now there’s rumours that you secretly tied the knot while you were at the Vegas Grand Prix this year?”

You tipped your head back with a laugh. “You’ll have to ask him that because I don’t think he ever officially asked me out. We kind of just collided and stayed that way.”

“So you aren’t together?” he gasped like it was some scandalous news but you just gave him a wink.

“We love each other dearly, I mean, we found each other when we were both going through a difficult time and helped each other to heal. Any chance we have at seeing each other we take but we have always been aware that the reality is that our lives are in very different places. Charles’ work takes him all over the world and with my second tour coming up there just aren't a lot of places where our lines intersect.” 

The crowd sighed sadly but you shrugged it off with a smile as you continued, “Neither of us would ask the other to give up on their dreams, that wouldn’t be love then, would it? It’s what inspired my first single Love Is Letting Go. Charles had an amazing 2024 season and has renewed his contract with Ferrari, and his dream is to win a championship with them in particular so he’s very focused on that for this coming year and I’m so proud of him. Maybe one day our lives will be at the same pace but for now we cherish the moments we do get.”

“Oh don’t we know it,” the host chuckled. “We have all seen the photos floating around whenever you two hit the town. Looks like you have some pretty wild nights out together.”

“We do have a lot of fun. Why not? Life’s too short, might as well be wild and free.”

“That is true, but are you free? How else do you explain this photo?”

A picture appeared on the screen that had been taken inside the infamous White Chapel in Las Vegas. It wasn’t exactly clear who was in the photo because of the costumes but it didn’t take a genius to work out who was standing at the altar getting married. 

Pierre’s brown hair stuck out the front of a slick jet-black coifed wig while Bea’s white halter dress barely contained her boobs as she twerked against him. It was a little harder to tell it was you and Charles in front of Arthur, who had bought an online Certificate of Ordination so he could be the celebrant. Your brother-in-law had spent so long trying to find a printer in the hotel that he was last to arrive and left with a Star Wars costume.

“Well, Jimmy, I believe that is Darth Vader, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and Bonnie and Clyde. And it looks like they are having one hell of a time.”

“That’s all you’re gonna give us?” he asked with a chuckle and mock disappointment as he shook his head. “Fine, fine. Can you at least give us a song?”

The small side stage was dark when you took your place at the microphone but when the lights came on and illuminated the piano it wasn’t Bea that was sitting there as planned.

The crowd screamed as they saw Charles and your eyes widened, a smile growing as you drank him in after a long two weeks apart. “You’re meant to be on a plane.”

“I got on an earlier one,” he said, the piano microphone picking up his soft words as he sent a wink to the camera, “so I could support my beautiful, talented wife.”

The air froze for a split second before chaos erupted and the audience cheered.

You looked across the stage at Jimmy as a smile broke on your face. “Uh-oh, busted!” You reached into your pocket and slipped the sedate diamond ring you had chosen, opting for something smaller than the huge rock that Charles would have gone for, and slipped it back on your finger that had felt empty without it. “I guess this makes us pretty official.”

Charles teased the crowd as he played the wedding march tune. “There was never any doubt in my mind.”

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

[pixelatedtaken]

StaticMoth Abuse

Featuring mentions of Angel Dust's relationship with Val

TW: ABUSE, SA

SPOILERS AHEAD ↓

Here's a fact. Vox is not being abused by Valentino.

This fandom is so deep in fanon content that it heavily intertwines with canon. But let's try to understand where Val abusing Vox came from, why it's not true and how it correlates to Angel Dust's relationship with Val.

Let's begin:

In the, now archived, posts on Instagram (or voxtagram), it was revealed that Vox and Val were in a situation-ship, and canon officially confirmed it.

Now, Val as a character is heavily hated and for good reasons while Vox is not. Many people adore Vox and for that, his relationship with Val can be conflicting, adding a bit of difficulty in justifying their like for him.

Here's where Valentino's relationship with Angel Dust comes in.

Val has been shown to be abusive and to SA Angel Dust. First example of that being the Addict music video.

This has created the need for people to give a reason behind Vox's relationship with Val and make excuses for him so they can validate their favoritism.

"Val is so awful! He must be abusing Vox! Breaking his screen and whatnot!"

What people don't take into consideration is the difference in their power imbalance or lack thereof.

One of the core factors in Angel Dust's relationship with Val is the power difference between them.

Val is an overlord while Angel is a sinner.

A sinner that signed a contract with Val and gave his soul. That alone makes their dynamic vastly different. Val feels it's within his right to abuse Angel, to test his limits until he breaks. And up until episode 4, Angel believed he deserved it because whatever Val did to have him sign the contract must have been his fault. Although that's not true, Angel felt so. Heck, he wanted to break himself so that Val would let him go.

Vox and Val, on the other hand, don't have that. Both of them are overlords.

They are on equal footing. There is no power imbalance. In fact, the Vees could have not existed and both Vox and Val, including Velvette, would be completely fine without each other and continue to have their respective overlord status.

The reason it exists is exploitation.

All three can and do use each other so they can have a more powerful front. A mutual alliance of exploitation. Within this, they have created their own fucked up bond. As a result of that, Val and Vox have an on-again, off-again relationship. It's far from healthy, but it's not an abusive one.

Vox knows of Valentino's behavior but as long as it's not effecting their shared partnership, he will not interfere nor will he care about it.

Or maybe the next seasons will give me the middle finger and I'm completely wrong. Who knows? I just read a fic and saw posts about Vox being abused by Val and wanted to give my two cents on the topic.

[senditcolton]

So Tragic and Rare

"It's Almost Frightening" (pt. 23)

word count: 3.2k warnings: none! previous part 🧡 next part masterlist

Andrei’s eyes are fixed to his left, looking out the back window of Keely’s large Escalade with one of her security guards – Issac, he believes – sitting next to him. The city of New York passes by as the car turns left and right, eventually coming to a halt in front of Electric Lady Recording Studio.

And Andrei sighs when he sees a large crowd standing outside, their cameras trained on the car.

There is, of course, a large number of paparazzi but the mass of people includes other fans, both Keely’s and – dishearteningly – his own. He can see the bright red of a few Canes jerseys scattered throughout the crowd. When the news first broke, Andrei had been hoping that not much would change his sphere of their lives; that his fans would still give him the space they always had.

He shakes his head briefly, to knock the negative thought of the people that supported him turning so quickly. There was an equally likely chance that the few Canes jerseys he saw were being worn by newer fans who were unfamiliar with the unwritten rules of sports fandom.

The new garnered attention towards him and the Carolina Hurricanes was one of the many things that had changed after the news that he was dating Keely broke. In the month since that first headline, supported by paparazzi shots of him and Keely in one of her cars, so much had changed in his life.

Security at every arena the Canes had gone to had been beefed up because people were now desperate to see Keely Halloran’s boyfriend. He had to ignore fans holding posters with her face pressed against the glass during warmups. Not to mention the normally incessant updates on Keely’s life were now also focused on him. And the newfound attention directed his way was both extremely positive and wildly negative – just like Keely said it would be.

One of the hardest and most complicated parts of all this change were the talks that Andrei was forced to have with the entire organization: Coach Brind’Amour, his teammates, the social media team, etc.

The talks had been as varied as the reaction to the revelation that Keely and him were dating.

The people inside the locker room were chill about it, somehow implicitly understanding that this was not the way Andrei or Keely wanted their relationship to be revealed. They kept their questions to a minimum – even Seth Jarvis, who Andrei had to slightly thank for the knowledge of Keely’s very existence – instead focusing on their goal as a hockey team. The media team conversations had been less successful. Although Andrei made it clear that he didn’t want his relationship to be front-line news, the crew and employees were anxious to capitalize on the hype now surrounding the team. They wanted to play into it, not to mention that it was hard to hold off and ignore the sheer number of comments they received begging for Andrei and Keely content.

Andrei had to scoff when that point was brought up in these meetings. How did they think that he and Keely felt?

Andrei had managed to put his foot down – at least for a brief time. Since every one worked under the organization, the powers that be allowed Andrei the time to talk to Keely and figure out the next steps. They did, however, make it clear that he had only a short window of time and if he didn’t give them an answer or game-plan soon, they would start making decisions themselves.

That’s when he texted Keely asking to meet. And it was she who once again suggested he come to the recording studio in New York City. The same place of their very first ‘official’ date.

Crazy how much could change in seven months.

Back then, Andrei did not have to clear this brief trip after practice with Rod. He was able to walk down the New York streets himself, refusing Keely’s offer of her town-car. He didn’t need security guards by his side, just a hat and sunglasses. He could enter the studio unnoticed and uncaptured by cameras.

None of those facts were true anymore.

“Ready for your first pap walk?” Issac asks from beside him, Andrei’s attention fliting to him briefly before turning back to the crowd awaiting him outside the door.

Andrei doesn’t think he is but if this is what he had to endure to get to Keely, he would. He knows that he would move heaven and earth just to be in her presence, so he gives a small sharp nod of confirmation. He watches as Issac and one of Keely’s other security guards – Jason – step out and make sure the path is clear. With another deep breath, steeling himself for one final time, he pushes open the car door, stepping out onto the New York street.

The instant he appears, the shouts and screams start. Andrei can’t even piece together the questions being hurled his way, just the sound of his name being yelled over and over again. He keeps his head down, focusing on his white tennis-shoes, only glancing up to make sure that Issac is holding the door open. The last thing he needed to do was make a fool of himself in front of all these people in this wildly unfamiliar and frankly uncomfortable situation.

A small sigh of relief falls through him when the studio door closes behind them all, the raucous muffled. Andrei can still hear it leaking through the cracks into the lobby but the worst of it was over. His nerves are eased more by Jason clapping him on the back and Darcy, the receptionist – the same one from back in March – shooting him a gentle smile.

“She’s in Studio C,” Darcy tells him, her voice gentle and he responds with an equally soft ‘thank you.’

The winding hallways are familiar now, Andrei having been here multiple times. It was a comfortable almost domestic aspect of their shared summer, a few quieter moments outside of the travel and adventures. That wasn’t to say he didn’t love exploring the world with Keely. But he knew he enjoyed watching Keely work more. Sitting in the recording studio, listening to her singing, brainstorming, and creating – it was something magical. He was sure she felt the same way about him when she tagged along to practice rinks and gyms to watch him in skate and train.

The summer allowed them to find their footing and fall into each other’s lives and worlds so seamlessly. Then… this.

Part of him that wishes they could go back, return to a moment when it was just him and Keely existing peacefully in the world without the pressure of outsider’s perspectives.

But when he pushes open the room of Studio C, Keely’s arms wrap around him in an instant and the feeling of her warmth, the scent of her perfume, the sensation of her body pressed against his… that was all the peace he would ever need.

There is no stopping the way he melts into her touch, wrapping his arms around her in kind and burying his face in her soft curls. Andrei steps forward, never letting go of Keely – simply guiding her further into the room. Behind him, he can hear the click of the door closing, leaving him and Keely alone in the small studio.

It takes every part of his strength to even slightly pull away from Keely, just so he can see her face. His brown eyes connect to her beautiful blues and he can feel his heart ache behind his ribcage at the look of concern and sadness in those crystalline pools.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her head going to rest on his chest, the words still falling from her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” comes his gentle reply, his hands gently running over her hair, soothing her. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

Andrei gently directs her to the leather couch pressed against one of the wood paneled walls, the two of them sitting down, their bodies now separate but still close; knees touching, his hands holding hers.

“It’s not okay, Andrei. None of this is okay. I’m – I’m just… I’m so sorry. We should’ve been more careful, we should’ve… I – I never wanted you to get mixed up in this. Not like this.”

Andrei’s hands tighten around hers in an attempt to quiet her racing thoughts. He can so clearly see that her mind is spinning and, in that moment, he realizes that he didn’t know how she had been doing since the news broke: if she was forced to have tough conversations she had to have, how much she was confronted by people about their romance.

He was new to this lifestyle, to the amount of attention that was now directed at him. But he was an idiot to think that Keely was unaffected by this simply because she had been living with it for longer.

The revelation sent shockwaves through her life as well, not just his. And yes, while she was able to put on a mask of apathy and bravado, he knew that underneath that was someone who was just as scared and overwhelmed as he was.

Especially how stark of a contrast this was to their rekindled romance over the summer. Those months they had spent together were beautiful and private – reminiscent of the beginning of their relationship but with more trust, more communication.

Now they were exposed, out in the open for everyone to see and comment on. Now they had to reckon with this.

“We’re going to be okay,” Andrei repeats, looking Keely deep in the eyes, willing her to understand. Hoping that his words seep through her skin, giving her some semblance of peace. He can see Keely only partially relax, her teeth still worrying the dry skin on her lips, her eyes directed to some point in the room, thoughts and attention clearly directed to the outside world. Andrei can almost see the scenes flashing through her head – thoughts of everything that has happened and everything that could happen.

“But…” she begins, trying to piece together her thoughts. “What people are saying – about us, about you. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

A soft smile appears on Andrei’s lips, silently laughing at Keely’s insistence of a plan. A plan that had never existed. Sure, they had talks about when and how to reveal their relationship to the world – mentions of Instagram posts or statements to trusted magazines. Nothing was ever set in stone though.

But he didn’t point that out to Keely, at least not now. Instead, he just nods his head in agreement, letting her find comfort in what she could.

“It wasn’t.”

“I – I never wanted this to happen. I know how much the tabloids bother you – what they’re writing about, how critical they can be…”

Keely’s voice trails off, her gaze still not directed towards him. Andrei can feel the jolt of panic rush through him at the sight: her eyes growing even more distant, her hold on his hands loosening.

She was pulling away. And that fear was confirmed when her next words echo around the room.

“I know that you never wanted this. I understand if you… if you want to take a break. Not see each other for a while. Let things calm down.”

“Keely,” Andrei says, his voice tight. “Keely, look at me. Please.”

Something in his tone – the concern, the worry, something – finally causes Keely to look in his direction, her eyes connecting to his again.

“I am not going anywhere.”

He says those word with every ounce of conviction that he can muster, puts in as much gentle force into his tone as he can, begging her to understand. Andrei watches as her shoulders relax, that distance in her eyes shifting, disappearing slightly as she focuses her attention onto him.

“But…” she starts, her voice still a little hesitant. “Before… it bothered you. A lot and it – it’s awful what they’re saying about you. And it’s worse than it was back in April.”

“April? Keely, that’s in the past.”

“But…”

“Sweetheart, we’re different people. I’m a different person. Now I know. When you walked into my house that day in June, I knew exactly what I was signing up for. All this – all this noise – is part of your life. And if I want to be with you, it’s just something we’ll have to face. Together.”

Andrei can see Keely soften more with every word, her body language relaxing almost completely. A small part of him thrums with joy at the comfort he can provide her. It was a testament to the life they had created together – a testament to their strength.

“And yeah,” Andrei continues, his voice becoming lighter, bringing the humor that always painted their interactions into this conversation. “This definitely wasn’t the best way for our relationship to be announced to the world. But, hey: when has our relationship ever been normal?”

The sound of Keely’s gentle laughter hitting his eardrums has always been beautiful but now, in this moment, it was one of the most relieving noises, cutting through the chaos that existed outside of this private room. They fall silent, the quiet enveloping them as they sit and digest everything that has happened.

“I’m sorry,” Keely says, her blue irises darting up to meet him. “For freaking out like that. That was… that was the past talking. I shouldn’t have listened to it.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s a hell of a situation. And a break is a possible solution. But…” Andrei says, gripping her hands tightly within his, a smirk on his lips. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

It is Keely that now makes the first move. She adjusts her body, moving herself closer to him, curling her legs underneath her body. Andrei’s body allows her to find space next to him, his own body relaxing as Keely rests her head against his chest. His arm circles her as they lean back against the leather cushions, Andrei’s hand drawing deft circles on her side, the fabric of her t-shirt sliding against her skin.

“So,” Keely says, her voice breaking the silence. Andrei’s eyes dart down to her to find her already looking up at him. “What are you going to do?”

“What are we going to do?”

“What are we going to do?” she corrects.

“I don’t know,” Andrei sighs, “but we’ll figure this out. Just like we have with everything else.”

The silence falls again and Andrei lifts his eyes up to survey the room, wracking his brain, sorting through every possible option of how to move forward from here.

They could go release a statement to one of Keely’s trusted publications, their words filtered through her publicist and his agent. They could try to remain as private as possible, avoiding the cameras and ignoring the tabloids as best they could. They could go to their social medias and try to control the narrative as much as they could. There was also the option of distancing themselves – not a permanent severance but only existing together in places that were safe and secure: their homes, the recording studio, the tunnels of the Lenovo Center. Or they could –

Andrei quietly scoffs as the idea dances through his head. No. That was insane. Even in the early talks of going public, this option was never even mentioned. But…

“I have an idea,” he gently begins, the sound of his voice pulling Keely’s attention to him. “It’s a little weird so I don’t know if you’d be up for it.”

“Tell me any way,” Keely replies, her body scooting closer to him. “Besides, I can’t say whether or not I’d be up for it if I don’t know what it is.”

Andrei laughs, shaking his head in agreement to her logic.

“Well, I have the Rangers game tonight. And you, you wanted to attend your friend Abby’s album party here later tonight as well, right?”

Andrei watches as Keely nods her head, seeing her eyes swim and her brows furrow as she tried to figure out why he was bringing up their itinerary, trying to guess the idea that popped into his head.

“Well, what if we both go to each event?” he proposes, the words still painted with uncertainty at the insanity of the entire idea. He can see the proposal hit Keely, practically watches it filter through her brain and the realization seep into her bones.

“You mean?”

“Yeah,” he affirms before continuing. “You come to the Rangers game as my girlfriend. I come with you to the album party afterwards as your boyfriend.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just because people know about us doesn’t mean that we can’t live our lives.”

“You know what that means though,” Keely asks, her voice strong as she lifts her body away from him to face him completely. “You understand that the more we go out, the more we’re seen together… we’ll just be giving them more to write about, our names the subject of more headlines.”

Andrei keeps his gaze locked on her, watching every expression that crosses her face, analyzing every single detail. He can see the concern in her eyes, the hesitancy, but he also understands that beneath that fear is her desire for certainty. Her need for confirmation that he isn’t just saying this to be funny or that he would take it back after some time has passed. That he means every word, that he understands what would happen if this is the decision they make, the route they choose.

He lifts his body upright, his hands coming to find hers again.

“I know. But I also know that we’ll be able to handle it, yeah?”

Andrei watches a soft smile tug at the corner of her lips. The two of them sit there, letting the silence fall over them again. Andrei just keeps his eyes glued to Keely, letting her sit and digest everything that was said: his crazy proposal, what it would mean for them if they went through with it, if she even wanted to go through with it.

He is ready for any possible outcome, any words to fall from her lips, be they affirmative or dismissive. But he didn’t need for her to say anything when he sees another smile appear on Keely’s face, her eyes jumping to connect to his.

Because her smile coupled with the light in her eyes… it was mischievous, devilish, bright, joyful. It was the smile that she had directed him so many times. It was a look that he had seen for the first time up in that hotel bar in Toronto.

There she is. There’s the woman he knew, the woman he fell in love with all those months ago.

“Well,” she says, elongating the word, that smirk still painted across her face. “If they want to write about us… let’s give them something to write about.”

a/n: and oh boy, are they about to give them all something to write about! and you all something to read about... later today!! that's right, it's another double drop day!

taglist: @fallinallincurls @laureniray @comphy-and-cozy@smileysvech@pyotrkochetkov@thewintersoldierdisaster@svexhenthusiast

let me know if you want to be tagged in this story or if you want to add yourself to my general taglist, click here!!

[heretichromia]

Thoughts about Gladiia and Kal'tsit

I'm frustrated by (among many things) how little context we still have for Gladiia's relationship with Kal'tsit.

Even post-Path of Life. I was hoping for some more information, but at the very least the MTL of Path of Life is much more sparse with...characterization than I'd have liked it to be. I'm hoping that the official translation reveals things that were lost by automation, but I won't hold my breath.

The juxtaposition between Kal'tsit and her mother in their IS3 dialogue is really interesting. It's one of my favorite passages in the game. There's so much there, but it's also very specifically an early dialogue between them. At the time, they'd only recently met, and we only get snippets of anything that suggests a deeper connection between them in their other interactions.

More on that below the cut.

There will not be any Path of Life spoilers here. I don't really feel comfortable using Path of Life to support my arguments before it gets an official translation.

Does Gladiia see Kal'tsit as a mother figure?

Despite her being an adult woman, she's still—at the time of their IS3 conversation—trapped in the mold that her mother made for her. She reflects and realizes that the very virtues she's always fought for, the greater good she was prepared to sacrifice her life for, were planted in her by her family and her nation, and that she's never been able to "[swim] against the tide." Kal'tsit was the first person who prompted her to consider otherwise, to offer her some form of self-determination. She's attentive to Gladiia, directly contrasted with her mother's neglect. Her voice is cold, but her actions are warm, and that warmth is directly contrasted with her mother's at every beat. It's hard for me to read this passage without coming to the conclusion that Gladiia sees something of a mother in Kal'tsit, the mother she needed instead of the mother she had.

And...that's kind of the only place we really get that! And we don't even get the full conversation! Not that we need to, I think the passage is perfectly fine on its own without going in depth about what Gladiia shared with Kal'tsit and what her reactions were.

...So long as it's also supported by other passages that can help us fill in the blanks. Which we...don't have a lot of.

It's...abundantly clear that Gladiia has incredible respect for Kal'tsit. She's defensive of her, she speaks highly of her, and she actually listens to Kal'tsit when she contradicts her, often without argument. That doesn't mean she always behaves how Kal'tsit wants her to behave, but she clearly values her opinions and her judgment. She's obedient towards her, to someone completely uninvolved in the Ægirian power structure. The mere suggestion that the Inquisition could handle her in the event of conflict bruised Gladiia's ego enough that she turned confrontational in the middle of mission-critical negotiations, but she behaved the instant Kal'tsit pulled on her leash. This has been spoken about to death, so I won't belabor it any further, but it reflects some surprisingly warm feelings on Gladiia's behalf.

But that's...all we get.

We don't even get many looks into how Kal'tsit feels. She's obviously empathetic and caring, but that's...Kal'tsit. That's how she is, always. She's trying to carry the world on her back as much as she can while knowing that it needs to be able to stand on its own. If Gladiia does see Kal'tsit as a mother—

—which, if true, isn't even necessarily an indication that she sees the actual nature of their relationship as that of a mother and daughter, or preclude them from being on more equivalent footing (friends, partners, or even lovers); the entire Abyssal Hunters story is full of familial bonds that aren't necessarily literal—

—it's unclear if Kal'tsit sees Gladiia as a daughter, an equal who's lost her sense of direction, or just another of many, many lost children that she's taken temporarily under her wing until they can fly on their own. Kal'tsit is notoriously hard to read, by her own design.

Gladiia herself is hardly emotionally forthcoming, or perceptive for that matter. I think it's unlikely she knows exactly how Kal'tsit feels. Has she ever given it much thought? Has she considered speaking with her about it? My personal read on Gladiia is that she likely wouldn't unless prompted to, as she's had to be prodded to engage with others on an deep interpersonal level (mostly by Laurentina outside of this one conversation).

This gives a wide range of possible dynamics between the two of them that I would really like the story to actually give a damn about exploring! I find myself straining against the Abyssal Hunter story sometimes. I am extremely invested in these characters but only really interested in the plot by how it develops them. When the plot is intimately personal to the involved characters, like with the Sui storyline, it works wonderfully*—but the Seaborn as a plot device are extremely hit-or-miss.

*I do not actually think the Sui plot has consistently worked wonderfully, and I think it has considerable problems with direction, but I think this one part of it is actually pretty praiseworthy. See: Here a People Sows, where the entire thrust of the plot was deeply ingrained in character motivations.

[bathomet-writes]

science, baby!

summary: You and Donnie were intellectual equals, him with his inventions and you with your college studies. When you spend the afternoon studying in his lab, you can't deny the chemistry you two share.

relationship: Donnie x F!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, awkward flirting, love confessions, kissing

word count: 7,637

author's note: an anonymous request!! hope u enjoy!! 💖💖 (just fyi there's brief mentions about halfway through of...bewbs...if ur unfomfy with that i'm sorry!!)

Donatello knew he wasn’t good with feelings. He’d been getting better at processing and expressing them only recently, no thanks to Dr. Feelings. He supposed it also came from just getting older, interacting with more people and such. But just when he thought he was becoming slightly better at getting a handle on his emotions, there was you. 

You were a fly in the ointment, a wrench in the plans. Everytime Donnie thought about you, he got irrationally annoyed. It made no sense. 

“She is such a know-it-all, and I would know.”

You were one of April’s classmates from college that had slowly been integrated into their little social circle over the last couple of years. Donnie was usually either indifferent or mildly suspicious of most people April introduced his family to, even if she did have good taste in friends. But you had gotten into his good graces only because he found out that you were in the STEM field. You were a biochem major, or was it clinical laboratory science? 

He should probably know at this point, you were talking about your school work a lot more lately. The point being that you were at least a bit of an equal to him, being into science. An inferior science, but still. 

“Ugh…” Donnie sighed, removing his battle shell. 

After a long day of saving the city from villainous teen hackers and general badassery, he needed to unwind. The seclusion of his lab called out to him like a siren song as he shuffled past the living area of the lair. From the couch, Leo gave him a lazy wave of his foot as a greeting. 

“Donald.”

“Nardo.” He grunted.

Leo immediately notices the absence of Donnie’s battle shell, quirking his eyes up from his comic book. He must have had a long day if he didn’t even bother waiting until he was in his own room to take it off. 

“If you’re going to your lab you’re gonna want to stay decent. There’s a weirdo in there doing homework.” He smirks. 

Donnie stops dead in his tracks, his hand hovering over the security keypad of his door. 

“Pardon?”

“Relax, it’s just Y/N. She asked if you would mind if she used your space for a while.”

With gritted teeth, Donnie slowly spun his head around to face Leo. He was a pretty reasonable guy, but his lab wasn’t exactly a study hall. There were rules, we live in a society, you don’t just go into another man’s lab when he’s not around.

“I do mind, actually!” He shouts, nearly spitting. “How did you even open the door?”

“That’s what we said! And she just let herself in.” Going back to his comic, Leo slumps down into the recesses of the couch. 

Donnie’s eye twitched so hard he looked like he might bust a blood vessel. 

“Fascinating.” He growls. 

Alright, that tears it. You were officially the most annoying person he knew. Donnie quickly punched in the code, completed the retinal scan, and charged into his lab to see you sitting there. And in his chair of all things. There were plenty of stools and benches around, but of course, you just had to be sitting in his gamer chair. 

You straighten as soon as you hear the door slide open, the mechanical hiss loud enough to hear even with your headphones in. 

“Oh, there you are! How was your day?” You take out your earbuds and regard Donnie with as much friendliness as you can muster. You had a feeling he would be a little peeved seeing you like this. 

Unfortunately, your prediction was correct. Donnie calmly steps forward after setting his shell on the rack on the wall. With a sharp inhale and his hands folded behind his back, he opens his eyes. 

“Doing a little studying, huh? Some light schoolwork?”

With a soft chuckle, you spin back around to the work table. You almost forgot you still had your thumb on the plunger of your pipette. Carefully, you deposit the rest of the sample into the tube. 

“Yup,” you chirp. 

“Mmhmm. No, that’s great. You comfortable? Could I get you a pillow or a glass of water? Perhaps a more ergonomic chair with custom Corinthian leather upholstery?”

You detect the thick sarcasm in Donnie’s voice, smiling to yourself. You remain focused on your work however, you were almost done anyway. Without looking up, you sense Donnie standing right behind you, practically breathing down your neck. 

“Is that what I’m feeling? You spare no expense, Don. It’s so luxurious.” You sigh, shimmying your shoulders. 

Donnie clears his throat before grabbing the top of his chair to spin you around. He wanted to look you in your cute, dumb face if he was going to lecture you. Wait, your face wasn’t cute. Even if you were wearing green-tinted protective goggles. Lab safety looked incredibly attractive on anyone! But with the way the subtle purple hue of his LED lights hit you…

“What are you doing in my lab, using my equipment?”

Dang, you were even wearing a lab coat. He secretly hoped that it was one of his that he kept in the closet with this other spare– No, enough of that. He was mad at you. 

“I’m using my own, thank you very much. And I needed to get out of the lab on campus. It’s way too crowded right now with finals and everything. Plus it stinks of chemicals.”

Smiling sweetly up at Donnie, you give him a gentle pat on his hand to dismiss him. He sputters watching you angle your foot onto the floor to twist the chair back around. 

“And now my fortress of solitude will as well. Thanks for that.” He makes a point to sniff indignantly at you and the bevy of chemicals you had lying around. 

“Anytime.” 

You screw on the cap of the test tube, moving onto the next one on the rack. It’s a little awkward with latex gloves on, and you feel yourself fumble grabbing the new tube. Maybe it was just nerves from being watched by Donnie. It did feel sort of hot in here all of the sudden. 

Peeking over your work, you see Donnie pull up another chair across from you at the table. He looked pretty steamed, almost like an angry tea kettle the way he was glowering at you. Without thinking about it, you find yourself smiling again. You quickly try and bite at your lip to cover it up. You at least had enough self-awareness to know that you had a bit of a crush on Donnie. Sure, he was kind of a control freak. And somewhat graceless when it came to matters of the heart, no matter how much he insisted that he wasn’t. 

He was quirky. Well, more like a weirdo with a god complex. But you were sort of the same. 

You both had a lot of things in common, a passion for science notwithstanding. When you first met him, you just assumed he was yet another aloof bad boy-type. You’ve been down that road before, and it never ended well for anybody involved. Not to sound like a total stereotype, but there was a little more to Donnie than all that. It just took years of wearing him down to see his true nature. He was fun, and funny! Didn’t help that you found him hot too. 

Donnie’s flat articulation makes you almost drop your test tube when he finally speaks up. 

“You’re lucky the ventilation system I installed in here is top-of-the-line.” He sighs, leaning back into his chair. 

He thankfully didn't notice your flub as he looked up at the ceiling. You try and find something witty to say back, but you come up empty. Instead, you reach your hand out to the box you need from across the table. 

“Pipette tip?” 

Donnie looks back down, his drawn-on eyebrows furrowing. “The what?”

You huff, pointing to the container right beside him. You would get it yourself, but you were a little preoccupied. Plus you had tragically short arms. 

Donnie knows this as well and gives you a smug smirk. His hand comes up and flutters over the box, teasing you. 

“These?” He leers. “Why don’t you just…” 

He deliberately slides them over to you. It’s a painfully slow joke that makes you blush a bit. You shoot your arm out again, only with a little more gusto. 

“TODAY, PLEASE!” You scream, startling Donnie. 

He jumps and pushes the box all the way over. “My god, woman. As I was saying–“

You frown as he tries to bore you with more shop talk. Donnie just could pass up an opportunity to brag about his lab and how much better he was than you. He thought he was better than most people, to be fair. 

Donnie was annoying sometimes, but you much preferred hanging out with him than the other students over at Eastlaird. The other clinical laboratory majors were mostly sorority girls who never talked to you, which was fine. You didn’t really have anything in common with them other than your career interests. The chemistry and biology students weren’t much better though. They were a more diverse mix of people, but they were so stuck-up. Even more than Donatello. College would be much more enjoyable if he was there with you, but moments like these would just have to do. 

You finish up your pipetting before looking around for the trash can. You swore you put it right by your feet, but you can’t find it anywhere. Delegating Donnie as your temporary lab assistant, you call out to him again. 

“Biohazard Bin.” You announce. 

He blinks, spinning around in his chair. He was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, so he didn’t really hear you. 

“Biohazard, what now?”

You get up from his gamer chair and it slides out from under you. “Unless you want infectious diseases all over the place?”

Finally, Donnie gets up as well and helps you search around. How was it that you were able to lose all your stuff in his lab all the time? He’s found plenty of articles of clothing of yours strewn about after you left the lair before. In spite of himself, always managed to gather them up and keep them in a little “lost and found” laundry basket he put by his door. You both knew it was only for you, and you actually found it kind of sweet. 

With a simple look beneath the work table, Donnie finds the red trash bin lying underneath. Of course it was. 

“Here you are.” He grumbles, kicking it over to you. 

You stop it with your foot before it topples over, glaring at him. Donnie sure was being a little stinker today. “Thank you.”

Carrying it back over to the table, you sweep your arm and push all your refuse into the bin. You place it on the floor and move to make the last couple of notes in your lab book. It was mostly full of bored doodles, but it had all your observations and measurements listed out for your reference. Curiously, Donnie walks over to you and leans over your shoulder. He was eager to see what you were even doing, not bothering to just ask you himself. 

To his horror, your notebook looked like a mess. The drawings were fine. They were even a little adorable. But your hastily-written out equations were so…confusing to him. You didn’t even use numbers half the time! You just drew out weird shapes and stuff in place of numerals, it was mind-boggling. He loses his cool when he sees you write out ‘2 + 2 = 6.’

You snicker, feeling his head inch closer to yours. You knew that would get him. 

“You’re not even— ugh! You’re not doing it right!” He grabs at your notes before being stopped by your hand on his wrist.

“Do not rip it up.” You warn. 

“I was simply going to crumple it up and toss it into the biohazard bin.” He sneers, pulling his hand away.

“How would you know anyway? Medical science is my domain.”

You slide past him and grab for your backpack, slamming your notebook shut and dumping it in before he could look at it anymore. You definitely wouldn’t want him to see all the other doodles you did in the margins. There were a couple silly drawings you did of him in there, and you would probably combust on the spot if he were to look at them. 

“Even an idiot could see that your math is all over the place. Hell, I don’t even know what to call it. These are the ramblings of an insane person.” Donnie points over to your backpack as you tuck it under the table with the rest of your equipment. 

“You probably don’t even use that calculator of yours. The Texas Instruments are wasted on you!”

He seethes thinking about how lucky you were to be able to go to school when he couldn’t. He’d looked into online classes, at your behest, but it just wouldn’t be the same. He needed to learn, but he also needed to be around peers. People who shared his love of science, to rub elbows with the academic elites. Donnie really did crave more in-person social interaction, but what with the whole…turtle situation, among other things, it just wasn’t possible.

“Listen, Dee. You do things your way, I do them mine. Who cares about how naturally attuned I am to the natural world and how I don’t need to do fancy equations to do….science?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him mockingly. 

“You’re so right. I don’t care.” He turns, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You mirror his pose. “Really?”

“Nope.”

You walk around Donnie as he stands there, eyes shut in defiance. You can’t help the way your gaze wanders over him, taking in his body language. You found yourself sometimes ogling him and his impressive physique lately. He was mostly brains, but Donnie sure didn’t slack in the brawns department as well. 

Internally, Donnie notices you scrutinizing his form. He chuckles to himself, of course you were taken by his appearance. Who wouldn’t be? He usually prided himself and other people based purely on the mind. Personality and intellect were far more important than physical appearances, but he couldn't deny that he thought you were kind of hot. You know, just because he appreciated you in an aesthetic sense. Nothing more. 

“Dost I detect a bit of jealousy, fair maiden?” You stop in front of Donnie, bending slightly forward to get a better look at his face. You can see the corner of his lips move a bit. 

“Okay, now you’re just making fun of me.”

His eyes pop open when he realizes you’re but inches away from his face. Taking a shaky step back, Donnie attempts to tamp down the blush that tries creeping into his cheeks. 

You yawn and stretch, an even expression on your face to juxtapose his flustered one. “Not making fun, just forming a hypothesis.”

Shrugging off the lab coat, you carefully fold it up and hand it over to Donnie. A bit taken aback, he quietly takes it from you. He didn’t think he was right about you borrowing his clothes, but you did. And so casually too. You even folded it up the way he liked it, with the sleeves wrapped around the coat and everything. 

There it was again. Annoyance bubbling up in his gut. It felt a little more like butterflies in his stomach, but Donnie didn’t know how else to describe the emotions he was feeling right now. 

“Uh-huh.”

Donnie gulps, feeling unusually sheepish out of nowhere. You borrowed and used his stuff all the time, even being so bold as to enter his lab when he wasn’t there. He should still be mad at you, but he wasn’t. He swore you were really testing his bad-boy resolve right now, especially with the way you so easily moved around his space. Like you practically lived there. You opened up several drawers and cabinets to replace other materials you ‘borrowed’ from him, mostly just the protective gear like goggles and gloves. 

Jeez, he felt like he was going soft. Donnie places his lab coat on another counter to hover behind you again. He watches on, almost admiring as you pack up the last of your lab equipment. He recognized most of the materials, but there was one thing that looked unfamiliar. Some kind of plate with an erlenmeyer flask. 

Sucking up his pride, Donnie pokes at your shoulder from behind. 

“What’s that?” He whispers. 

His voice was so quiet, so polite. It kind of threw you for a loop. Turning around, you give him a small frown. “What’s what?”

“That. That thing.”

He points over your shoulder, and you feel your frown grow into a smirk. Maybe you could tease him like he did to you earlier. Feigning naiveté, you look him in the eye. 

“I’m kinda busy here, Don.”

He heaves, picking up the plate and shoving it into your smug face. 

“You know what I’m talking about! This thing that spins the liquid? I ascertain that it’s some kind of magnetic stirring device.”

Donnie moves it around in his hands, regarding with a cold, scientific stare. It doesn’t really do much to cover up the blush forming on his face. You smirk even harder, lowering his hand. 

“The…magnetic stirrer?”

His eyebrows shoot up, looking from you back down to the plate. It wasn’t that straight-forward, was it? You looked pretty serious so Donnie takes you at your word. 

“I see.” He cocks his head to the side. 

You feel your heartbeat thrum in your chest watching him. He looked so enraptured with his head tilted like that, almost like a dog when it hears a new sound. If Donnie had ears, they would most certainly be perked up. You don’t bother to hide the warm smile that forms as you continue to enlighten him. 

“You just put a magnetic doohickey in the flask and turn it on. I like it when the little tornado happens.” You grin, spinning your finger around to illustrate your point. 

“Yeah, that part’s pretty cool.” Donnie nods and hands you the plate while holding onto the flask. The so-called ‘magnetic doohickey’ was just a little pill knocking around the bottom, and he spins it around in his hand, watching it clink against the glass. 

You stand there for a second, him looking at the flask and you looking at him. You were both equally captivated.

After a while, Donnie realizes that you were probably waiting on him to hand you the flask. You were staring at him, after all. What other reason would you have to do that?

“Sorry,” he coughs, handing it back. 

He looks you in the eye as you take it from him, your love-struck gaze nearly knocking him on his ass. He’s never seen that look on you before? At least, he didn’t think so. Donnie wasn’t that great at reading facial expressions either, but with your tinted cheeks and lowered eyelids, you were either drunk or coming down with something. 

His heart dances in his ribcage as you walk past him, leaving him absolutely dumbfounded. You get even more comfortable when you take down your hair that you had pulled up into a loose bun. Your locks were a bit messy, but to Donnie they looked so inviting. He wondered how it would feel to touch your hair, just to see how it felt. For…scientific purposes. 

“Enough science for today. I wanna relax…” You sigh, looking around the lab. “You don’t mind if I still keep floating around your space?”

You looked back to see Donnie absentmindedly wringing his hands together in worry. Or was he rubbing his palms together menacingly? You couldn’t really tell.

Donnie stammers a bit before shoving his hands into his pockets. Or at least at the side of his legs. He kind of forgot that he didn’t have any pockets. It was just the best bad-boy pose he could think of on the spot. Eventually, his hands flounder about until they land behind his head. 

“Do what you will.” He tosses a lazy look your way before marching away. 

“Sure.” You chuckle, strolling over to follow him. 

You were used to following behind Donnie, you always kind of felt like you were trying to catch up with him most of the time anyway. His legs were just longer than yours, giving him a quicker gait than you. You were physically different in a lot of ways, obviously. Intellectually, you felt a little bit behind him as well. Sure, you were smart. You wouldn’t be where you were in college if you weren’t. But more than that, the fact that Donnie saw you as that much of an equal that he let you into his lab so much, let you watch him work on his own projects, it was secretly one of your favorite things you got to do with him. 

You would never tell him that, of course. But you were grateful for Donnie taking the time to show you so much of his private life. It was a little piece of him that not many people got to see. You looked up to him, for better or for worse. 

Walking behind him, you find yourself in a completely new environment. You knew he was expanding his lab all the time, slowly renovating more and more of the abandoned subway tunnels that the turtles called home. But this room was practically a greenhouse! There were countless plants covering the walls, pots and rows of soil laid out in a very organized fashion. So Donnie-like, this couldn’t have been anyone else’s handiwork. 

“Didn’t know I was into gardening, huh? I know, it’s a bit of a shock to most people.” He smiles and stretches his arms out, presenting his organic creations to you. “Behold, my oasis.”

You have half a mind to tease him about it a little. You really didn’t have any idea that he had a passion for plants. You expected to see a man-eating plant, “Little Shop of Horrors” or something like that. But, it was just a regular garden. You marvel at the wide variety of produce he was growing. 

“I didn’t know you had such a green thumb. Well, greener.”

You spin around, taking in all the sights. There were pumpkins, watermelons, carrots, anything and everything you could imagine. Maybe you wouldn’t ever have to go to the grocery store again. 

“Isn’t it magnificent? I’m most proud of the tomatoes, I think they’re just starting to ripen.” Donnie smiles, leading you over by the small of your back to the planter on your left. 

You don’t miss the little bit of physical touch he gives you. Back when you both weren’t as good of friends, you sort of kept a tally of how many times Donnie would instigate a handshake, a hug, anything physical really. You told yourself it was simply for research, but you knew you were lying. 

“Ohh, nice.” You coo, looking over at the tomatoes. Most were still in the early stages, too small and too green to eat just yet. But there were a couple that were ready. You poke at one hanging on the vine. 

“I need to adjust the humidity though. It’s getting a little too hot for the poor things.” 

Donnie taps at his tech gauntlet, adjusting the temperature in the room remotely. Looking down at his wrist, you get a sneaky idea. You haven’t really tried outright flirting with him before, content to just daydream and doodle your crush away. You thought it would go away eventually if you just ignored it. But, it didn’t. And you wouldn’t know if it was worth it or not if you didn’t at least try. 

While he’s still distracted by his screen, you casually try to lean up carefully against the planter. Placing your hands upon the curve of your waist, you playfully wink at Donnie when he looks back up. 

“Aren’t I a hot little tomato?”

You see several thoughts flash behind Donnie’s eyes as he looks you up and down. He looks almost frantic, before finally settling on abject disgust. 

“That is vile.”

Not one to pass up a challenge, you level him with a little kissy face and pop your foot. “Hey, I remember someone mentioning they had a childhood crush on Cheery Tomato.”

Donnie purses his lips. There you went, being annoying again. Even he knew flirting when he saw it right in front of his face. Yes, he did have a proclivity for people who were cute and mean. He hated to admit it, but you fell right into that category. 

“Perhaps I did.” He admits, rolling his eyes. 

You strike another pose, jutting out your hips to emphasize their presence. “And Atomic Lass?”

“My queen…” Donnie sighs, clutching at his chest dramatically. He couldn’t deny his history of fictional crushes. 

“Who would have guessed you had strange tastes?” You drop the coquettish act and go back to a neutral stance. 

Judging by the way Donnie was looking at you, with a little less revulsion, you figure that your attempt to flirt wasn’t a total wash. You’d have to keep trying though, you definitely needed more data points. You watch as he briefly attends to his other plants, checking their water levels and taking notes on their growth. 

“Be that as it may, you are not a quote, unquote ‘a hot little tomato.’ Tomatoes aren’t that attractive of a fruit.”

As he moves to the pumpkins on the ground, he pulls out a piece of tailor’s tape to measure their circumferences. If he was going to grow the world’s largest gourd, he’d have to step up his game. Thinking about plant food and soil salinity management was the only thing keeping him from getting worked up about the way you were standing there. With your stupid, attractive hips and your sultry ways. Why was he so weak to your feminine wiles?

“So what fruit am I exactly? A sassy strawberry? A plucky peach? A beguiling blueberry?” You crouch down next to him, playfully bumping his shoulder. 

His eyelids drop looking over at you. Two could play at that game. 

After giving some serious thought, Donnie tried to compare you to the most applicable fruit. The most obvious answer to him would probably be something more unconventional, like a passionfruit. You were very passionate about most things, be it schoolwork or your shared interests. It was honestly the most attractive thing about you. But that would be too easy. 

“You’re…much more of a meddlesome melon.” He smirks, rubbing at his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Your sensuous smile drops as soon as the words leave his mouth. If there was a sound effect to encapsulate the mood right now, it would be a pane of glass breaking. Or a car crashing.

You stand up so quickly you almost fall over. “A MELON?”

Somehow unaware of your shock, Donnie goes on. He felt Don Suave all of the sudden, a new twinkle in his eye. 

“Yes. Sweet, edible, fleshy.” He purrs, shooting you a lurid smirk. 

Did he really not realize what he was saying right now? Unconsciously, your eyes drop to look down at your chest, then back up at Donnie. 

“I beg your pardon?” You inquire. You’re almost impressed by how shameless he was being. Almost. 

Once again, you see Donnie try and put the pieces together in his mind. Slowly, it dawns on him. The inherent insinuation, the unintentional innuendo. For a split second, his eyes follow yours, down to your–

“Gah—! T-That’s not what I meant to say! I guess my mind just kind of went to—“

He puts his hands out, trying his best to placate you. But he quickly pulls them away, seeing how he was accidentally gesturing toward your chest. His face goes bright red, rivaling the hue of his prized tomatoes. 

You blush, covering yourself up. “Stop talking about my boobs, dude!” 

You’re not really angry with him, and you can’t help but start to laugh. Especially seeing the terrified expression on his face as he runs away from you, back out into the lab. 

“FORGET I SAID ANYTHING!”

“Pfft–!” You chuckle, chasing after him. “No wait, come back!”

You have to book it to catch up with him again. You’re afraid you might have traumatized him by the way he’s curled up underneath his work table. You get on your knees again and crawl toward him. Like a feral cat, he scrambles away before you get too close. 

“Well, it’s been nice chatting with you but, gosh, would you look at the time? I really should be getting back to…science stuff.” He clasps his hands together and paces around to the other side of the table. 

You poke your head out and look up. “Science stuff?”

“Yes, yes. Now off you go!”

Taking the opportunity, Donnie grabs you by your hands and lifts you off the ground, leading you toward the doors. You gasp, feeling him so easily move you around. 

“I can do science stuff too, y’know. Why can’t we do it together?”

Donnie gives you an exasperated look before picking up the pace. “Because you’ll distract me.”

“Oh, will I? Are my melons really that meddlesome?” You make yourself into deadweight, causing Donnie to actually use some force to pick you back up. 

With an impish smile, you watch as his face contorts with barely contained rage. 

“I will resort to physical violence.”

“I would love to see you try.”

Oh, you were really working on his last nerve. With no hesitance, Donnie lifts you up by your wrists and spins you out into the middle of the lab. Your head swims a bit at the sudden motion and you start to see stars. You hear Donnie grab for his tech bo and switch it to its full length, readying himself into an offensive position. 

If Donnie couldn’t best you with a battle of wits, he would just have to prove himself in an actual battle. 

“We may be evenly matched in terms of intelligence, but so soon you forget that I am also a ninja and a master of the mystic arts?”

He smirks, challenging you. After you come back to your senses, you take a moment to see if he was joking or not. You usually knew when Donnie was serious, and he seemed pretty serious. You didn’t have any ninja skills to speak of, so you were suspicious. He wouldn’t attack someone so cute and defenseless, would he?

“You’re all talk, purple. Let’s see if you can back it up!” You shout, shifting your foot placement to blade yourself to him. 

Donnie and you stare daggers into one another, waiting for someone to make the first move. Looking at you draw your hands up into fists, he gets a much-needed reality check. He wouldn’t actually use his bo on you. Even he was above something so boorish. 

However, he wasn’t above using other means of subduing you. His eyes flit over to your backpack, then back up to his own collection of chemicals. He quickly pads over to his stockpile, throwing the cabinet open and cackling like a mad scientist. 

“What the–?” You turn your head, watching him rifle through a bunch of unlabeled containers. 

“I’ll show you. I can create bioweapons just as good as you.” He chuckles, his eyes going dark and sinister.

You suddenly feel yourself become a little threatened. But, you try to keep your cool. Surely he wasn’t going to do weird experiments on you or anything. Not that you wouldn’t let him, in a much less hostile context. 

Huh, where did that come from? You shake your head and turn to fully face him. 

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, make elephant toothpaste?” You joke. 

Donnie chuckles lowly, taking two unmarked plastic jugs in his hands. He didn’t really remember what was what in his cabinet, he was still in the process of alphabetizing everything by elemental names. That wouldn’t stop him from unleashing a little bit of hell on you though. 

“Mere child’s play! Watch as I combine a simple pnictogen hydride with some sodium hypochlorite, and…” 

Your eyes go wide, and Donnie reaches for an empty beaker at his desk. For a smart guy, he was honestly kind of stupid. You step forward and put your hands on his his, stopping him before he manages to pour the liquids. 

“Wait, that’s ammonia and bleach.” You frown. 

Donnie shakes his head and chuckles at you again, a little more condescendingly. “You’re quite astute, but I suppose the layman's terms are more your speed.”

Okay, maybe you would die, but you really wanted to punch him right now. 

“You’re making chloramine gas.”

He looks down at the containers for a moment before his eyes slowly meet yours. “Which is…?”

“Donnie,” you sigh. “It’s mustard gas.”

You mourn the fact that Donnie’s education was basically all self-driven and restrained mostly to what he could find on the internet. But you thought it was kind of common knowledge that you should never mix household chemicals like that. Donnie’s irises shrink, suddenly cognizant that he was this close to making a lethal gas. 

“…Ah.” 

He stills, about to put the ammonia and bleach away. 

Then you both watch in slow motion as the tiniest drops from each container spill out and drop into the beaker. With lightning-fast speed, you launch yourself onto the table and shove the entire piece of furniture out of the way. With a loud crash, the beaker shatters onto the floor and the two potentially deadly drops land somewhere on your shirt. In your haste, you fall unceremoniously to the floor as well. 

“Oww…” You hold your hand, a sharp pain shooting up your right arm. 

“JESUS CHRIST!” Donnie shouts, picking you up and moving you to the counter. 

He makes quick work looking you over, assessing your injury and making sure you’re not too hurt. 

“Look up, how many fingers am I holding up?” He points up all six of his fingers to wiggle in your face. 

“Less than ten, like usual. I’m fine, I promise.” You smile, shaking out your wrist. “Just landed a little wrong. But what about you? Were you trying to kill us all?”

Donnie sputters, bringing his hands down to look at them. They did almost kill you, even if it was by accident. 

“I don’t understand. How did I not realize?”

Sometimes, Donnie couldn’t see the forest for the trees. He was so preoccupied with flexing his stupid knowledge on scientifically accurate chemical names that he didn’t even realize what he was doing. His hands drop to his sides, feeling positively shameful. 

You feel your heart sink a bit seeing him so dejected. With a gentle kick to his side, you try and console him. 

“Because the only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.” You quip. 

When Donnie doesn’t reciprocate your joke, you realize maybe now wasn’t the best time for it. 

He rubs at the side of his arm, too embarrassed to even look you in the eye. 

Sighing, moves to sit beside you on the edge of the counter. “I guess I just have a little too much intelligence.”

You give him another little nudge, bumping your foot against his. 

“Not a whole lot of wisdom.”

Finally, Donnie looks up at you. The DND reference isn’t lost on him, and he smiles a bit.

“Sorry for almost killing you. I want to say it won’t happen again, but…” He scratches at the side of his face awkwardly. 

“It’s fine. I’ve accidentally made poison plenty of times. Just let me handle the chemicals from now on, okay?”

You reach your hand up and stop just before you touch Donnie’s back. You knew he was really sensitive about people messing with his natural, leathery shell. You don’t want to make the comparison to him having a tough exterior that housed a soft, sensitive inner self, but you can’t deny that it’s an apt comparison. 

When Donnie realizes that you’re asking for his permission, he gives you a small nod. He’s actually a little touched that you’re being so delicate with him, when all he’s done is be unnecessarily rough and callous with you. 

With the lightest touch, you pat him on the top of his shell. The velvety, slightly ridged texture was such a contrast to his brothers’. It feels a little weird, but nice. 

Those wretched butterflies return to Donnie’s stomach, as well as the blush on his cheeks. He couldn’t really refute it any longer. Now that he was feeling you pet him so tenderly, he realized the answer that was staring him in the face all along. 

He had a crush on you. A massive, embarrassing, debilatating crush.

After a minute or two of Donnie staring unabashedly at you, you try to break the tension. 

“What?” 

Without breaking eye contact, Donnie murmurs softly to you. “Nothing.”

You pull your hand away and place it back on your lap, twiddling your thumbs. You look around the lab, thinking of how best to navigate this situation. Donnie was giving you major heart eyes right now, even if he didn’t realize he was. Maybe you would have to be the one to take the lead on this. 

“Seems to be a lot of chemistry going on around here lately.” You raise your hand up and cough into it, peeking back over to Donnie. 

“C-Chemistry?” He stutters. 

In his head, a million thoughts raced. Donnie had an internal dialogue with himself, trying to figure out the next course of action. 

Oh my god. Did you just stutter?

No, this is not happening. Keep it together, man.

This is just playful banter. Don’t think about it like flirting. Now say something, anything!

After the voices in his head quiet down, Donnie takes a deep breath and says the first thing that comes to his mind. 

“You’re pretty.”

You stop looking around the room, angling your head back to him. “What?”

Without thinking, Donnie tries to backtrack. He did think you were pretty, he really did. But playing the role of the emotionally distant loner just wouldn’t let him give you a genuine compliment. 

“Pretty dumb! Hahaha, just kidding! Unless?” He spits, folding his arms and laughing awkwardly. 

Okay, anything but that.

You watch as sweat begins to bead on his face, almost making his bandana darken in color. Donnie was a bit of a novice when it came to flirting, apparently. It was sweet. 

“You’re pretty dumb too. Pretty and dumb.” You smile, scooching closer to him. 

Abort mission. Disengage, Donatello. Don’t make it worse!

Donnie unfolds his arms and waves his hands around, defaulting to lecturing you instead of acknowledging your flirty comment. Info-dumping was sort of his only form of defense at this point. 

“Love is just a mix of dopamine and oxytocin. Therefore, I am not in love with you. I am just feeling a chemical imbalance within my brain.” He states matter-of-factly. 

With a mock gasp, you put your hand to your mouth. “That’s awful! Do you think it’s contagious?”

Donnie’s eyes search your face, not reading your tone at all. “That’s not— do you not know how the hypothalamus works?”

You’ve had just about enough of this cute charade, and you slide until your thighs are flush with one another. It shuts Donnie up completely, and your eyes meet. 

With a cheeky smile, you lean even closer to his flustered face. “I don’t think you know how any of this works.”

Donnie’s face shifts in a multitude of shades, going from jade to scarlet. It’s a little weird to see a turtle blush, but you kind of liked it. But you didn’t want to torture the poor guy any longer, deciding to just cut right to the chase. 

“For your own sake, I’m going to say this as plainly as possible: I have a crush on you.”

“Oh.” Donnie’s eyebrows raise. He’s a bit astonished, but he’s grateful for your straightforwardness. 

So far so good, now to go in for the kill.

“May I kiss you? On the mouth. Sorry, I don’t know why I had to specify that.”

You blush in spite of yourself. You were usually pretty smooth, but for some reason Donnie’s dopey look was making you weak in the knees. 

Donnie wets his lips a bit, growing slightly more aware of how dry they felt.  

“Maybe just…mouth adjacent? To start with.” He shudders.

Donnie couldn’t believe it, but he felt all the tell-tale signs. Heart palpitations, limbs tingly and numb. He thought he was having some sort of episode. 

“Sure,” you smile. 

As you close the gap between you two, you make sure to just narrowly avoid hitting his lips. You gently place a kiss upon his cheek, lingering there for a bit longer than you ought to. To your delight, you feel Donnie’s tense shoulders immediately relax when your lips touch his skin. 

“My god.” He sighs, leaning into you. 

With thinking, Donnie starts to twist his head around. He thought he would be able to control himself from jumping straight into it, but your warm breath on his cheek was just too much. 

As he turns his head, you move yours as well. 

“Wow, I didn’t think I was that good.” You chuckle against his chin. 

Donnie doesn’t even have enough of his faculties to give you a snide retort, too blissed out to speak. He somehow blushes even harder. 

“Aah…” A soft sigh was all he could muster. 

Jesus. Donnie was kind of cute when he was shy. Taking his silence as your okay to keep going, you cover every inch of his face in kisses. He never said you couldn’t smooch him multiple times. You grab him by the sides of his headgear and plant a couple more onto the vast expanse of his forehead, making him giggle.

“Ghehehe!” He chortles. 

You stop, pulling away to look him in the eye. It seems that it took you both by surprise. 

His eyes then begin to shift around nervously. “Uh…I didn’t mean it.”

“Aww!” You gush, smooching him on his snout. “Muah, muah, muah!” 

“Hey, quit it already!” 

Donnie shakes you off of him before pulling your hands away. He doesn’t realize the position he’s put you in, holding your wrists to the side and allowing him to tower over your form. You have to crane your neck just to maintain eye contact. 

“Sorry, too much?” You give him a lopsided smile. “I didn’t realize you were such a hothouse flower.”

He nearly chokes hearing you call him such a delicate term. But you were unfortunately right, Donnie was vulnerable around you. More vulnerable than he let himself be around anyone else. His annoyance fades away looking down at your slightly flushed expression. 

“It's weird, you’re like a whole person, who likes me…and I didn't create you in a lab. You’re real.” He smiles, a genuine show of his true emotions. 

“What was that?” You wouldn’t just let him slip in that bit without a questioning look.

With a small chuckle, he drops your wrists. “Nothing.”

You absentmindedly bring your hands up, your fingertips brushing against your lips. You just realize you just confessed to Donnie, after nearly years of pining after him. Where did you stand now?

Donnie, feeling a little more comfortable, lets his head fall a bit. His forehead knocks against yours. He didn’t know how, but he figured he should probably give you some sort of response. 

“I don’t hate you.” He hums into your hair, covertly reveling in your scent. “I mean, you know…”

You smirk. “Not exactly the declaration of love I was expecting. I suppose I should take that as a compliment though.”

“That’s the idea.” He sighs, snaking his arm around your waist.

You don’t mind Donnie sublimating a more traditional ‘I love you too’ with some physical touch. Maybe that was just how he communicated his feelings that were too big to put into words. You understood, without having to tease him too much. You’re happy just to be this close to him. 

You make the move to place a hand on his upper thigh and return his embrace, hoping your touch was enough to tell him he was doing just fine. He still seemed a little nervous about holding you like this. 

“I’ve never given you a compliment before.” Donnie muses to himself, moving his other hand up to pet your head. “Now that I think about it.”

“That’s absurd, of course you have!”

You try to list out an example…but you honestly couldn’t think of any. Your mouth opens and closes dumbly, making Donnie laugh. 

“See? I’m bad at this.”

While he’s preoccupied with his private pity party, you reach over to his other leg and swing Donnie so that his legs lay on top of yours, effectively making him sit on your lap. The audacious move startles him, and his arms wrap around your neck seemingly by themselves. 

“If I may be so bold…” He blushes, pushing your head into his chest. “I have a feeling you’re going to be working in my lab a lot more now.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look, Donnie.” You smile, cuddling up against him. 

You’d be doing a lot more in his lab, but it probably wouldn’t be studying. 

taglist: @saspas-corner

[winns-stuff]

Two things:

1 a. I don't think kidding someone's feet automatically equals foot fetish. If you have someone a kiss on the shoulder doors that mean you have a shoulder fetish?

1 b. Even if he does, that didn't automatically make him evil or a creep. Kinks and fetishes are not moral indicators and acting like they do is juvenile. It might not be for you, or even make you uncomfortable, and that's okay. Live and let live.

2. I don't think it's fair to call Persephone a homewrecker when:

a. Minthe and Hades were not exclusive. Minthe was sleeping with Thanatos - Hades' adoptive son - and Hades was sleeping with Hera anyway.

b. Minthe was emotionally, verbally, and physically abusive to Hades. I feel like everyone forgets that she literally hit him. He shouldn't have been in that relationship anyways.

Okay first off, I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was kinkshaming at all. I was honestly just joking about that comparison and one of the main reasons why I said that it reminded me of Dan Schneider and that I was repulsed was because of the “creepy” aspect of it being placed in there, it was around the end that the person said that the kink seemed like it was only given to creepy guys. I don’t care about kinks genuinely and trust me I do mind my business when it comes to those things, again my apologies if I did come off immature.

But you’re right, his kink doesn’t make him a creep but the fact that he literally is creepy, manipulative, and an overall messed up person makes him a little bit more warranted for those kinds of comments since that’s literally how he represents himself in the comic. Hades is a slave owning, hypocritical, child neglecting, abusive, and overall tyrant to everyone who’s not kissing his ass and it’s not me exaggerating it’s literally just how he is that’s him as a person overall.

And I do think it is fair to call Persephone a homewrecker based on the very fact that they were seeing each other and breaking a lot of boundaries after Hades and Minthe officially made it official. Mind you, it was Hades who wanted to close the open relationship so yeah now seeing other people and touching them beyond the appropriate interaction between an employee and boss especially is now inappropriate and not something that you can just wave the “we’re not in a closed relationship” card at. Also, by definition Persephone was one of the sole reasons that Minthe and Hades broke up since Minthe started noticing just how overly affectionate they became with each other while working so yes, she is a homewrecker. She broke a home and please don’t comment by saying “there was never a home in the first place” because there was, you can’t just give homewrecking and emotional cheating a pass because you don’t like the character they still had history.

Also, trust me when I say no one forgets that Minthe hits him. Every single time I post about Minthe I make sure to acknowledge the fact that I don’t condone her actions and actually a lot of critics do as well since there’s a lot of people like you (not saying this in a bad way by the way) that do believe that many people are Minthe stans every time you discuss her without stating that fact. But even though yes, it was a fairly toxic relationship on both sides and they should’ve broke up much sooner like I said before there was still a relationship there that they were both in. It’s still emotional cheating and homewrecking on Hades and Persephone’s part, also Persephone doesn’t even know how Minthe treated Hades she just never cared about her feelings to begin with and pursued her boyfriend basically.

Also last thing but do you know what slap everyone does tend to forget a lot? Hecate when she slapped the ever loving shit out of Hades, now I’m not saying since that happened just forget about Minthe’s behavior at all but I am saying that we should all react to that slap the same. We all agree that it’s never okay to put your hands on someone so why should we condone it when it’s not Minthe?

[river-blue]

RUSAME HEDCANONS🇺🇲🇷🇺

- Their relationship was a slow burn of them having to be civil towards eachother for the sake of everyone around them, slowly realizing they have things in common, slowly starting to hangout more on their own accord, realizing they may have more than platonic feelings for eachother (they were attracted to eachother for a while, they just thought it was hatred). The confession would be less of a confession and more of a boiling point where they both act on their feelings

- I think Russia actually would have realized his feelings first, he would just deny them for longer (internalized homophobia :/)

- Even after they act on their feelings, they wouldn't immediately be official, but they would get more flirtatious (really just America would be more flirtatious and Russia would tolerate it more). They would start going to eachother's houses more, not really going past making out or anything though.

- the way they become official is a casual conversion of America just being like "I actually really like you. So to be clear, you are my boyfriend." And Russia's just like "okay. Don't think that's how you're supposed to ask but. Okay."

- Also, I rly don't like when people make America in in the ship like uwu soft gay twink bottom...like that's just...not it. First off, if either of them are actually gay gay, it's Russia. Bro has never enjoyed a tit in his life. Secondly, they're both extremely strong, scary ass world superpowers (which is also partially why I think they work, they're on equal footing), neither of them are super submissive or twinks

- I think in the early stages of their relationship they were really bad at expressing their love through words, especially Russia. So, physical affection became more important to them. They would slowly improve on this, especially after they exchanged their first "I love you"s, but they're still much better with actions than words (they're also both touch starved so)

- !TW for references to sex! Listen, honestly this topic kinda makes me uncomfy but I do wanna share my headcanons...I said before I don’t view either of them as very submissive, this is true in general and in bed. They both view themselves as very dominant and act try to act that way. At the end of the day tho...not to get to graphic but, one of them has to take and it is America (usually). But he's like, very annoying about it, and still tries to be in charge. Also the reason it is America is in large part becuase Russia still has issues with his sexuality so Russia (usually) is more uncomfortable being in the other position. Okay back to our regularly scheduled program

- I actually don't have anything more rn, might add more later