#this morning my therapist was like your eyes are red what's going on

[moregraceful]

it was once observed by a dear friend that the hours in which i am most alert are like 7pm to 2am which probably explains a lot about how my posts get worse throughout the evening. but also sometimes i look at today where i was just sort of gnawing the couch all day until about 5pm when i wrote an entire fic in two hours and then another entire post about kaapo which to be clear took another two hours bc i had to chase links and explain my passions in a kind way and this was in addition to a church meeting. i would excel as the person who lights and then extinguishes lamps in the night

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one. | Session two.

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”

[muldj0rd]

“You saved my life. You’re my superhero” || Lestappen

Summary: “I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Warnings: Jos Verstappen’s A+ parenting, Jos Verstappen is a warning in himself, talk about mental illness’, depression, eating disorder, angst, Max needs a hug, Charles gives it to him, internalised homophobia, top Charles, bottom Max, anal, anal fingering, handjob, dacryphilia, praise kink, insecure Max, insecurities, nipple play, Charles being Max’s first male partner

Masterlist || AO3

Growing up, and if you didn’t look too close, Max was a happy child

Good mother. Good sister. Grew up with a father with failed racing dreams

It gave him pressure, sure… But if he didn’t have the pressure… Would he be who he was today?

Today, Max Verstappen was a three-time world champion winner

3 times as more champions than his dad

61 more wins than his dad ever had

Was his dad a good dad, though?

Jos Verstappen was the worst dad, if he even deserved to call himself a father

Max grew up with all kinds of mental illness’. Some he grew out of, some he didn’t

Depression. Stayed all through out his karting days and up until now

Eating Disorder. He didn’t feel valid for having one, and thinking he made it up because he didn’t look like someone with an ED

He wasn’t fit. He wasn’t skinny. He wasn’t…

He’d look in the mirror every morning, looking at his shirt covered chest, telling himself he needed to work out more, loose the fat around his stomach

No matter how hard he tried to loose the fat, he could never look good or how he wanted

He could never look like Charles

Charles was pretty. Who was Max kidding? Charles was hot… Until he slept. Charles was drop dead gorgeous when he slept

Max didn’t care it sounded creepy- it wasn’t, right? They were friends, and Charles had fallen asleep in his company before, so naturally Max had seen Charles asleep. Gorgeous

Max wouldn’t be where he was without his so called father

Max would be dead without Charles

Max wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. It was wrong… That’s at least what his dad had told him after Max had told him a story about Charles that maybe to Jos sounded a tad bit too friendly

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is pretty”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is slightly attractive”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is hot”

Was Max gay?

No.

Red Bull had suggested- Christian had suggested to Max that he tried out therapy, he refused of course, but when Christian didn’t shut the fuck up, he agreed just to keep him off of his back

“Who helped you become who you are today? A three-time champion, that is?” The therapist asked curious

“My dad… I guess” Max shrugged slightly, biting his bottom lip softly, the skin rough from where he had been nibbling at it for a few days, stressed about this session

“You guess?” He asked curious, shifting in his seat

“I wouldn’t be a champion without my dad, but I wouldn’t be…” Max sighed, nails scraping his palm, itching the anxious feeling “…I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t be alive… Without… Without C-Charles” It was if the words were wrong, or a sin of some kind

“Charles? Leclerc?” He questioned, knitting his eyebrows together

“He’s always been there for me” Max shrugged slightly, his bottom lip trembling “When… When everybody was… When everybody was against me, Charles had been there. Always. Picking me up from the dirt of the track, telling me everything would be okay and that people could go fuck themselves” He chuckled softly, his eyes welling up, glazing with tears

“So… You and Charles are friends?” He hummed, writing something down on his notes

“Yeah. I guess…” Max hummed, shrugging slightly, sniffling

“You need to stop guessing, and instead start to know” He sighed “You like Charles?”

“Yes” Max hummed “I mean- no. Not like that. I guess-… I know, Charles is a friend”

“You find Charles attractive?” Max looked up, his tears now dried

“H-He’s pretty. I gue- I know” Max swallowed “Sometimes” He shrugged slightly

“When? When is Charles pretty to you?” He shifted curiously in his chair, the one hour now gone, but he wanted to hear more from Max

“When he sleeps” Max shrugged “His long eye lashes against his cheek bones, his lips slightly parted, pretty lips… Full. Nice. His hair messy… Looks more fluffy that way. I just kinda wanna stroke it, thread my fingers through it” Max smiled softly, not realising what he was saying

“Max…” He sighed softly “I can’t tell you how you feel, but… I think maybe you should reconsider what you feel towards Charles

“I’m not gay” Max said confused, shaking his head slightly “I’m not”

“I’m not saying you are, Max… I’m saying you should reconsider if Charles and you are better friends than you go around and think”

”I’m not gay” Max kept mumbling all the time, in all the languages he knew

“You listening, boy?” Jos asked when he saw and heard Max mumbling to himself “What you mumbling about?”

“Nothing. Sorry father. I’m listening” Max apologised, squirming in his seat where he sat

He wasn’t listening, and he knew his father knew, and he was sure as hell to be beaten over it later

MAX: Can I come over and cuddle with Leo?

Charles blinked his eyes open. He was yet to fall asleep when he heard the ping, but close to

The light was bright in his eyes. 1:36 said his phone when he turned the brightness down

CHARLES: It’s almost 2 am, and he’s asleep. What about Sassy and Jimmy?

MAX: Can I come over to just see you then?

Max always used Leo as an excuse to see Charles when he needed it

CHARLES: Of course you can, Max

’Thank you. I love you’

MAX: Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit

Moments like these came often, so to not wake the whole apartment complex, Charles had given Max a key

Max closed the door behind him quietly. Kicking off his shoes and his jacket, putting them neatly on their respectful places, knowing Charles was a neat freak

Max softly got into Charles bed, careful not to wake him if he was asleep, Leo stirring quietly awake when he moved to lay on his side, back facing Charles’

Max’ breath hitched slightly as he felt Charles pull the duvet up over his body, an arm around his waist, keeping him close, soothing him softly to sleep

Charles asked once at 3 am what happened. Max broke into tears. Charles hated seeing Max like that, so he never asked again

He felt guilty for never asking. Selfish. Max didn’t want to talk about it anyways, so it was all good

Max woke up by Leo licking all over his face, making him groan softly

He was now laying on his stomach as Leo curled into his side, his fur soft against Max’s hand that was stroking him

He got out of the bed, seeing as Charles wasn’t there. His mind worked on auto pilot, his body walking towards the smell of food

“I’m sorry” Max murmured from where he stood in the middle of the living room, looking into the kitchen

Charles’s body stiffened slightly “It’s fine. It’s what friends are for” He chocked out, not looking at Max

Why didn’t he? He always looked at Max. No matter what

“I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Max was the one getting abused, so why was Charles the one going to break down?

“Charles…” Max almost whined, looking up into the back of Charles head “Look at me, please… Charles, I need you to look at me” Max whispered

Charles tapped on the counter with his nail, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the ceiling, hoping the unshed tears would just go away

When they didn’t and he couldn’t stretch it any longer, he turned around, opening his eyes slowly

He shouldn’t have. The tears streamed silently down his cheeks the moment he saw Max’s disheveled look

Max drew Charles into his arms, Charles immediately shoving his head into the crook of Max’s neck, his hands clutching at the front of Max’s shirt

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve saved you” Charles sobbed into Max’s neck, his body shaking

‘You saved my life’

Max’s eyes welled up, feeling guilty that he had made Charles feel like this. Made him feel like he should apologise

“It’s not your fault” Max chocked out, sniffling slightly, holding back tears as best as he could

Charles leaned away from Max neck, his sobbing quieting down, now eye to eye

Max took his hand up to Charles’s cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wiping away tears around his beautiful green eyes

“It’s not your fault” Max tried again

Max wanted to lean in, kissing Charles until they were both passed out from oxygen. It wasn’t the right time… or was it?

‘Fuck it. I am gay’ Max though before slowly leaning in, kissing Charles softly, Charles kissing back immediately

“Thought you weren’t gay” Charles chuckled, tear stains on his cheeks and chin

“What?” Max asked, still dazed from how good and right the kiss felt

“I’ve heard you mumbling all last week” Charles chuckled again, his hands squeezing Max’s waist softly

“Oh… Well…” Max scratched the nape of his neck “I guess my therapist have gotten into my head”

“No… He wouldn’t do that. He’s just given you a push towards something you couldn’t walk towards yourself” Charles said softly, his green eyes wet from his earlier crying

How could Max not want to kiss Charles when looked like that? So he did. Max leaned back in to kiss Charles

Charles kissed back as well, a little more tender than before

Charles wanted Max- no. Charles needed Max. He needed him in a way no other could give him

He kissed Max a little harder, drawing a yelp out of him as well as Charles pushed Max softly up against the island counter, trapping his body

Charles’ hand went into Max’s hair. It was cut. Charles hated it. Max looked better with longer hair, but he always cut it because Jos said ’It made him look like a faggot’

It wasn’t cut too short, so Charles stilled managed to tug softly, making Max leaning back with a whimper, Charles’ lips going to his throat

“You’re pretty when you cry” Max chocked out, closing his eyes, trying to think of anything else than what it might feel like having Charles inside of him

“Yeah? That’s your kink?” Charles chuckled, his tongue lapping at Max’s throat and over his Adam’s apple

“N-no” Max chocked out… Maybe it was, yes. It definitely turned him on a little, but he didn’t want Charles to cry during sex

“Hm. Shame” Charles hummed, his hands on Max’s hips, pulling him away from the counter, guiding him towards the bedroom again

“Shame?” Max asked confused, Charles pushing him softly to lay down against the bed

“Yeah” Charles hummed, sitting down in between Max’s spread legs, hands just below where his shirt ended “Would love to see you cry in pleasure”

Charles leaned down, kissing Max again, his hands traveling under Max shirt, but he stopped him, pushing at his wrists

Charles stoped, leaning back again, seeing Max’s face turned to the side, his eyes screwed shut, hands tight around Charles’ wrists

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to. It’s fine. I’m sorry for pressuring you” Charles said softly, hissing quietly at Max’s strong grip around his wrists

“No, no. I want to. It’s just-… I don’t-… I don’t like m-my…” He had turned his head back to Charles, but his eyes were still screwed shut

“I do. You’re so goddamn beautiful that it hurts to look at you” Charles sighed “And I want to show you just how much I love all of you”

Max whimpered softly. Love? His hands slowly loosening around Charles’ wrists, slowly opening his eyes

“Let me show you” Charles whispered, his eyes soft and wide. Max nodded softly “That’s not enough for me, amour”

“Show me” Max nodded softly

“Thank you. We can always stop if you get too uncomfortable, okay?” Max nodded “Max”

“Yes” He said as soon as Charles said his name

’Good boy’ It sat on Charles tongue. He didn’t say it

Charles didn’t know, but he’d assume that Max had a praise kink- I mean, who wouldn’t in his state?

He didn’t get any praise when he was younger, so Charles had now decided to make it his mission and give Max praise for every little thing

“Lift your arms” Charles said softly

He could feel the hesitation in Max’s hands were they twitched around Charles’s wrists before he pulled them off and over his head, sitting slightly up so Charles could pull the T-shirt over his head

Max fell back against the bed, immediately covering his stomach with his arms

Charles leaned down, kissing Max from his lips, down his chin, along his jaw, down his neck, over his throat, and down to his collarbone

Max whimpered every time Charles moved to a new spot, arching his neck to let Charles have more space, his arms tightening around his stomach

“You’re so fucking beautiful, mon amour. So fucking beautiful” Charles hummed, kissing down Max’s chest softly

Max moaned softly when Charles licked over one of his nipples, causing him to hold his hand over his mouth, giving Charles the chance to kiss further down, closing in on his stomach

Max felt like pushing Charles away, but why would he? Max thought it over

If it was anybody else, he hadn’t let it go this far, but it wasn’t anybody else. It was Charles. Charles who had saved him. Charles who has saved his life. He wouldn’t find that part of his body disgusting. Would he?

Max moved his other arm, letting both arms fall to his sides

Charles looked up at Max, slightly surprised he had gotten him comfortable, but he loved it nonetheless

Max, the broken man with no proper childhood, was comfortable around Charles

Charles continued to kiss Max’s stomach, slowly getting lower, kissing the skin above Max’s waistband of his sweats

Max wanted to thread his fingers through Charles’ hair, so he did. The dark brown locks soft around Max’s rough fingers

“Charlie” Max whined quietly as Charles darted his tongue out, licking at the stubble burns he had accidentally made seeming he hadn’t shaven in a couple of days

“Yes, amour?” Charles asked teasingly, leaning back to see the burns he had accidentally made down Max’s pale body

“Please” Max whimpered “I n-need you” He stuttered, blushing red from the embarrassment of sounding needy and desperate

“Yeah? You need me?” Charles chuckled, to which Max mumbled out a low ‘yes’ “Alright. Sweats and briefs off” Charles patted the outside of Max’s thigh before he went to the night stand, taking the lube from the drawer

Charles turned back to the bed, seeing Max now completely naked and laid further up the bed

“Mon dieu. You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are” Charles sighed with a slight smile, his hands caressing Max’s thighs, watching as his hard cock twitched at the affection, leaking slightly

“This isn’t fair” Max whined, tugging at the hem of Charles’ shirt

Charles took the hint, chuckling softly as he pulled the T-shirt off of himself

Max almost drooled at the sight, but was quickly replaced with a small pout “I’ll never look like you” He mumbled

“I don’t want you to, amour. I want you to look just like this” He murmured, opening the lube bottle, pouring some on his fingers

“Remember; you can tell me to stop whenever, okay?” Charles reminded Max as he warmed up the lube

Max nodded quietly “Amour” Charles said, in a tone that was slightly warningly

“Yes” Max said “Jus’-… please Charlie” Max whined, bucking his hips slightly, trying to show Charles how much he needed him

Charles only chuckled softly, circling Max’s hole softly, making Max moan softly, his hands gripping at the sheets

Though, his hands immediately flew to Charles’ biceps when Charles slowly pushed in his finger

“F-fuck- Charles” Max whimpered, feeling Charles slowly moved his finger, twisting it and slowly moving in and out of him

When Max was loose enough, Charles pushed in a second finger, Max moaning at the action, his back arching

“Dieu. Why haven’t I made a move before, hm? You’re so fucking beautiful like this” Charles chuckled, his fingers slowly and softly moving in and out of Max, his lips attached to Max’s bent knee, most likely giving him burns there as well

“C-Charles. Please- i-i need it so bad. Please” Max had never thought in a million years he’d be begging for Charles’ cock inside him

“Shh. I got you, baby” Charles soothed, slowly pulling his fingers out of Max, loving the whine that escaped Max’s lips

Charles wiped his fingers on the inside of Max’s thigh so he could pull his own sweats and briefs down

When Charles had lubed himself and lining himself up with Max’s fluttering hole, Max held his hands against Charles’ abdomen, stopping him softly

“I-i’ve never… I’ve never had sex with a man- I don’t know what I’m doing” Max said, more confident then when they had started

“I know, amour. I got you, okay? Just lay back and tell if you want to stop or something you want to do different” Charles said, a slight smirk on his lips

Max nodded softly “Yes” He whimpered softly

“Good boy” It flew past Charles’ lips before he could stop it, but when he saw how red Max’s whole body got, he didn’t want to take it back

Max was about to come back with a witty comment, but could only moan when Charles slowly pushed into him, stopping every few inches, letting Max adjust before he continued

Charles kissed along Max’s collarbone, feeling him loosen around his cock

“C-Char… Please” Max breathed out, trying to move against Charles, having no success to get any kind of friction

“Come on. Finish my name. I like how you say your S’” Charles chuckled, thrusting softly once, Max moaning softly

“Charles” Max gasped when Charles thrusted once again

Max had been insecure about his lisp forever ever since they were kids, and Charles had loved the way Max said his name just as long

Charles set a pace and rhythm that worked for him, and one Max didn’t have any problem with

Charles put a hand under Max’s body, angling his hips slightly so it was easier for Charles to hit his prostate, making Max moan loudly and chant his name like a prayer

“Charles- please- I need… I need to come, please” Max almost cried out, nails digging into Charles’ back

Charles wrapped his hand around Max’s neglected cock, stroking him at the same speed of his hips “Come for me, amour”

Max’s nails dug into Charles’ back so hard he was afraid he’d break his skin as he came, covering his own stomach and Charles’s hand with his cum

Charles slowed his hand and hips down, moaning Max’s name softly into his pale neck as he came himself

“I like your hair longer” Charles murmured, kissing Max’s shoulder softly as they sat in the bathtub, Charles’ hand on Max’s stomach, stroking his thumb over his skin

Max sighed “My dad-“

“Fuck what he thinks. He’s not your father. He’s a man who treats a child like a subject” Charles said softly, kissing Max’s cheek bone just under where his black eye shone ended

Max wanted to cry. Charles was right. Jos never treated him like a son. Maybe for the first few years, but when Max became competitive in karting, he became a subject

“Move in” Charles said, sensing Max wanted to change the subject “I don’t like you living somewhere he knows” Charles held Max closer “Please”

Max nodded softly “I will. I want nothing else… But, we’ll have to learn Sassy and Jimmy to be nice to Leo” He chuckled

[smellrain]

𝐧𝐡𝟏𝟑 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

in which: nico and you had met years ago in a cold rink in canada but then lost touch for several reasons. It's hard, growing and correcting mistakes of your past but you try anyway.

tags: written, angst, hopeful ending, mentions of: depression, injuries, hospitals, doctors, etc. (masterlist)

notes: [5.1k] I have no idea what this is? I woke up, wrote the entire thing and passed out again for 2 hours. Tried polishing it through editing? Yeah. It turned out a lot different than the rest of my stuff so far, so it's scary posting this. Come & tell me if you liked it.

The ice was as harsh as it was unforgiving. 

The cold air of the rink has seeped into your bones years ago and the reddend tips of your fingers went numb a while ago, but you were used to it by now. Nothing really mattered when you got like this, too caught up in your head for anyone to reach. 

Not even yourself. 

You had been home and then suddenly not, your body already knowing what you needed before your mind caught up to it. 

The rink wasn’t open, not yet, but you had gotten a key years ago. The owner, David, had been the only one that had looked at you the same back then. There had been a knowing sort of look in his eyes when he had seen you waiting for him at the front door stepps, eyes red. 

He had given you a key, because he had seen you for who you were: a girl whose entire life had collapsed around her. 

Bronze at fifteen, silver at sixteen, gold forever out of reach. 

You could still remember the red pen tucked into your doctor’s coat. The ‘my condolences, but’, the white light, the letter in your hand, the sinking realisation that this was it. 

That you were going to be one of the several girls that had pushed their body too far.

The same way you had done everything back then you had followed the instructions of your therapist to the letter. Stretching, compressions, different exercises. Still, there was no full recovery, no chance of ever skating professionally again. 

That might be the worst part, still being able to skate but knowing that you will never be able to feel it anymore. That you were cursed to be in this limbo, never letting go of it but never being able to live for it anymore. 

The harsh sound of your blade cutting over the fresh ice was as pleasant as it was torture. You wanted more, but you had to settle for this. You had to learn that this was all you were ever going to get. 

These select few hours in the early morning, just before your classes started, before you had to start living your life. 

You could feel yourself drawing harsh breaths, but it didn’t matter. You had pushed through worse, hunger, hurt and feelings just to stand here for a bit longer. The ringing in your ear accumulated when you thought about all that you had lost, that you could never regain.

Suddenly the heavy door of the entrance fell closed. You slowed down, curious who it might be. The clock in the corner of your vision reflected a red 05:57 back at you. It was too early for it to be anyone aside from David or another person with a key, someone like you.

It was a guy, a bag in his hand and another slung over his shoulder. 

You would recognize the equipment anywhere, familiar with it in a distant way. It must be a hockey player that David had picked out out of the hundreds that frequented this place. 

For some reason you already didn’t like him. Maybe because unlike you, he had the chance of actually archiving his dreams. Bitterness was an annoying but frecent emotion that stained the back of your mouth. 

You wanted. You wanted more than this. You wanted the early morning practices, the ones after school, the rigidous schedule, the heavy monitoring. What were you without all that?

The static in your mind had been interrupted by his arrival but you hardly noticed, more focused on the way he walked down the stairs, casually like he had done so hundreds of times already.

It was almost six, which meant it was time to get off the ice anyways, so you circled a few laps, rotating your wrists and shoulders to feel if anything was off, and then made your way towards the outside of the rink. 

“You look pretty,” said the boy from where he was tying his shoelaces up on the benches. “Out on the ice, I mean.”

Something in you hurt at that, as if your heart started pulling at its own strings. It’s been a while since anyone has watched you skate,, since you let someone else watch you. There was a sharp kind of anger rising up in you that it had been him watching you which dissipated as soon as you looked back at him.

It wasn’t his fault. There really was something wrong with you.

You knew your parents didn’t approve of you being here, but they couldn’t look at you anymore when you skated, disappointed that this was how it had ended. Disappointed in you.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice completely scraped raw. You hoped he didn’t notice it. 

“I’m Nico,” he said, approaching you. He held out his hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves yet but his dark shirt had thumbholes that his thumb peeked through which was weirdly endearing on him. 

You looked back up to his face. There was a tired but polite smile plastered on it but you didn’t have the energy to give him one. Instead you simply told him your name and took his hand. Even through his layer of fabric it was warm beneath your icy fingers.

He didn’t flinch at the cold of your hand and instead started genuinely smiling which took you by surprise. People didn’t react to meeting you like this, not anymore. 

Then, without saying anything else, he took off his guards and stepped on the ice, skating around to warm up. You watched him for a bit while scraping off the excess ice and putting your skates away. 

His skating was differentthan yours; not as delicate. The beauty of it had been hammered into you from an early age on which didn’t seem to be the case form him. It was weird, not being on the ice, being the one to watch instead. 

You changed back into your shoes and walked up the steps. 

From the top, which wasn’t all that high because this rink wasn’t that big, he seemed small. You wondered if you looked like that too, if anyone had thought that when you fell down, when they had seen you sprawled on the ice at fifteen, not being able to get up again. 

A sick shudder passed through you. You wondered if you had ever gotten up from that ice.

Then you turned around, your back to him and left without saying goodbye. 

~*~

The next time you saw him again, was two days later, just after six. 

You knew you were going to be late for class but didn’t really care. Today you weren’t as cooped up in your own head, but it was still hard to let go of these stolen few hours of freedom and face reality. 

“Hey,” Nico said, “it’s you again.”

“Hello,” you said in return. He stepped on the ice and you fought off the urge to leave immediately. That would be impolite, a voice reminded you in your head, even if you didn’t want him to be here right now.

“Are you here every morning?” he asked you, falling into step beside you and therefore joining you on your cooldown laps. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Couldn’t he just do his own thing? Did he have to come talk to you? “Yes.” 

"Dedicated. I only come every second day,” he said as if it mattered to you. You might have to leave early every second day now to avoid talking to him, which made your scowl even worse. 

“Okay.” You said instead. 

He hummed in reason but dropped the conversation after. When you took a look at him from the corner of your eye he didn’t seem deterred at your attitude, seemingly just satisfied that he got a response.

After another lap in, you hated to admit it but companionable silence, you left, without saying anything but this time he waved back at you from below. You didn’t return his gesture. 

~*~

Despite your early judgement, the two of you formed some kind of routine over the next few weeks. You came early, and sometimes you left a protein bar for him in the stands and sometimes he brought  you a hot tea for when you got off the ice. 

Still, always without fail, he joined you for a few laps. He talked about his life and sometimes asked you a few questions. Sometimes you answered him, other times you didn’t. He never pressed for answers. 

Nico told you that he was from Switzerland, which explained the heavy accent. He just joined Halifax, and he came early to work on his technique, preferring to do so in silence without his teammates chirping at him. You, in turn, told him that you had skated, professionally, before your injury. He didn’t ask for details about either of these things and you didn’t share of your own accord. 

Slowly, so slowly that you didn’t even notice, you realised that he had become your friend. 

It was strange. You hadn’t made friends in a long time. Before, you had had school friends, but because you never hung out outside of it, always training, it never deepend. 

A weird sort warmth seeped in under your skin at the thought of the two of you being friends like a steady fire that kept you warm at night.

The friends you had made while skating splintered along with your knee. 

It was hard, you knew that, to see their worst fear reflected back at them, but it was still hard for you to reach out, so you simply stopped talking to each other. 

On your bad days you thought that it was all their fault, on your good you knew that it was a mutual mistake. 

The thing about Nico was that he was hard to pin down. He was hardworking, thrived under pressure and loved hockey. He was also afraid of falling and failing, he loved sitting under the sun in the summers, feeling his skin heat up and his favorite colour was green, but he admitted that it changed every few weeks. 

You knew that this friendship wouldn’t last, not really. Neither of you had any way of reaching out to the other, and neither expressed the desire to do so but it was still nice, this tentative kinship.

~*~

“Have you ever played hockey?” he asked you, once. 

It must have been a Saturday or Sunday because you were in no hurry to get off the ice, instead basking in his company. 

“No,” you answered, simply.

He grinned, “you are missing out.”

“Really now?” you asked, teasingly, when you turned around to skate with your front to him.

“Really. I wanna teach you,” he said, leaving the choice up to you without outright asking. If you wanted to you could just brush it off and the conversation would continue. 

Instead you said, “yeah, sure, why not.”

His smile was blinding, the adoration for his sport bleeding from every inch of his skin. It was a good look on him, happiness. Distantly you wondered if anyone had ever thought that about you.

It was different, skating with a stick in your hands but it was fun. He taught you how to shoot and aim at a certain spot which you weren’t half bad at if you stood still.

Hours later when the two of you stepped off the ice your tea was cold but you hardly noticed it.

~*~

Another day you asked him what he was reaching for. 

“Olympics,” he had answered immediately but after a beat of silence he looked up as if the lights in the ceiling were stars he could wish upon. “I think I want someone to look at me and think ‘I want to do that. I want to start playing hockey.’”

You looked at him and the only thought that crossed your mind was that he was the reason you could step off the ice again, that you knew you would always be able to come back, just one more time. 

“I like that,” you said because it was true. 

He tilted his head back to you, and the way his eyes glimmered with a rare vulnerability made your breath catch. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, standing still, alive and just in reach.

Oh. 

That was that feeling in your chest. 

~*~

Yet another day he joined you on the ice and you immediately kicked him off again. 

“What did I say about injuries?” you asked, frustrated in a way only he could make you. 

“That they were not to be ignored,” he parroted back, his gaze between his feet as if staring at his ankle would magically heal it. 

“Exactly,” you said. Then, gentler than before, “you need to give yourself time to heal, otherwise you will never get better.”

He looked back up to where you were hovering above him. “Okay.”

You didn’t want him to have the last word. “Okay,” you said firmly and sat down next to him. 

The two migrated up to the changing rooms  where he sat on a bench with his ankle elevated while you worked through your stretches, your knewww aching in phantom pain.

~*~

Today your mind was quiet.

It was your last time and you had wanted to take it all in again, one last time. You were moving, your father had gotten a new job somewhere in New Jersey. You knew it was good, a new start away from everything, a chance to start over. 

But still, you were going to miss this. The rink, the quiet, the place you had grown up in. The place that was your prison as much as it was your salvation. 

As you looked up towards the ceiling, the lights shining down on you, the dark gary that seemed black in contrast, you thought you should cry. This was the perfect moment to, and you hadn’t yet. 

Then, the door opened. 

You were surprised because he wasn’t supposed to be here today. Nico had been here yesterday and the two of you had argued about your favorite brand of cereal, and you selfishly had wanted to leave it at that. 

To leave your friendship without having to say goodbye, without having to ever really let go of him. 

“Nico,” you breathed, before you could stop yourself. 

“Hey you,” he said, as he came up to you. You didn’t even realise that you had stopped moving. 

“It’s late,” he stated. You looked up to the clock and sure enough, it was almost twenty past. 

“Ah,” you said, uncaring. It’s not like you had school today. You wondered when he went to school, if his just started later than yours had. In all your talks you had never actually talked about it. 

And you never were going to anymore, you had to remind yourself. Suddenly it was a lot harder to breathe through the ache in your chest. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you knew he meant it, “you look, I don’t know, sad?”

“I’m moving,” before he could ask anything more, “like tomorrow. This is the last time I’m going to see you in a while.”

“Oh.” The expression on his face was hurt, because he must have realised that you had intended to leave without saying anything. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “for everything.” You weren’t really sure for what, but it seemed like the right thing to say. For your intentions, the way you acted, maybe.

“It’s okay,” he said, but it wasn’t, not really. You knew that and he knew that you knew.

“I’m moving to New Jersey.”

He was quiet for a bit.”America,” he started. Then, “do you want to exchange numbers?”

You ignored the sting behind your eyes. “I’m probably going to have to get a new simcard, but you can give me yours.”

The two of you skated back to the door, from where you had stood still in the middle of the open space. He got a piece of paper and a pen from his bag and then somewhat messily tore off the corner of a worksheet and scribbled down his number in blue ink and signed it with his name.

He looked up at you but neither of you said anything for a while. What was there to say, anymore? 

“Don’t forget about me,” he ended up telling you and you reached out to hug him. He was warm under your hands, steady and you were going to miss this, him.

“Don’t forget me either,” you murmured into the crook of his neck. 

Still, in the back of your mind, you knew that you were never going to use his number. You were going to cut off your old life before it could follow you to your new one. But for once you had told him the truth, you weren’t going to forget about him, probably ever. 

And that was that. You said goodbye, waved and you left him there. He returned the gesture, face unreadable and you were sad that the last time he looked at you he wasn’t smiling.

From the top you looked down at him one last time. He seemed bigger now, compared to that first time you had looked down at him, still filled with bitterness.

Maybe that was just your imagination, or maybe it was his confidence after playing with his current team, after seeing his results pay off. 

You turned and let the door fall closed behind you. 

Then, and only then tears started to well up in your eyes. You ignored them and moved on. Always looking ahead, never back. 

Still, you kept the number tucked away safely hidden in a small corner of your wallet. A piece of him that you would always carry with you. 

~*~

You made new friends, graduated and decided to attend college. Got diagnosed with chronic depression and mild anxiety, got a boyfriend and broke it off again after three months, cried, laughed and finally lived. 

But there was part of you hidden in the corner of your wallet, too.

~*~

If you were being honest, Nico didn’t really cross your mind when your friend asked you to go to a hockey game with you. 

In a way he did, because he had been one of your few friends that played hockey, but it was more of an oh yeah, the sport Nico loved and not oh yeah I’m going to a hockey game and I wonder if Nico is still playing, I wonder if he made it to the big leagues. 

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a lie, but still. You hadn’t expected this. 

The two of you went to the Prudential Center and you were excited despite your earlier apprehension. Your phone with the blocked tags of icehockey and nhl seemed to burn a hole in your pants but it’s not like anyone would know. 

Your friend had told you a bit about the team, but if you were being honest, you could not remember any of their names, much less which position and line they played. 

When the players got announced, the home team first, you froze. Suddenly the noise of the cheers around you were completely quiet until they flooded back to you, a harsh reminder of reality.

Because it was him. That was Nico. Your Nico. Or like your past Nico.

There, with a red thirteen and a small C over his chest, was Nico. He was all grown up now, and instead of thinking wow, he is kind of attractive when he smiled at the camera, you thought, holy shit, he is really, really handsome. 

Your friend picked up on your strange behaviour. “What's wrong?”

I know him, you wanted to scream. I think he saved my life without meaning to, and I think I loved him but I never told him. What came out instead was, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“What?” she asked, suddenly even more worried, “do you need fresh air? Or do you just want to leave?”

You wanted to stay. You wanted to shoot a puck at his head and tell him to look up at you, the way he had done back then. 

“No, don’t worry about it,” you said and when didn’t change at your reply, you added, “I’m just going to get some water. I think it might be the crowd or something.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with?”

You knew how much she had been looking forward to it, and besides there was nothing she could help you with anyhow. “No, really, it’s all good. Just need to breathe for a second.”

She gave you a look, and you smiled despite wanting to curl up in a corner and cry, “if you are sure. But if anything,” she took your hand in hers, “if anything is wrong call me. I’m gonna have my phone in my hand the entire time.”

You squeezed her hand the same way your heart did at her words. “Thank you, really, but it’s okay. I'll be right back.”

Then you fled up the stands and you couldn’t help but think about the first time you had seen him, how you had left without saying anything. You looked down, just once, and spotted him immediately, as if he was the north pole to your south, your eyes drawn to him. 

He seemed even bigger now, as if he had finally grown into the steady confidence he had had, even back then. 

You smiled. He deserved it, genuinely. You were glad that he did end up making it to the big leagues, even if some part of you hurt at that. You still missed ice skating, your rink from back then, David, but most of all you missed what could have been if you hadn’t been scared. 

What could have been if you had just texted him. 

Regret was a useless emotion to feel, but all of a sudden you felt yourself drown in and you coughed once, just to ease that feeling in your throat.

Then you turned your back to the ice and walked up the rest of the stairs to the stands to get yourself some water. 

It was useless trying to think about any of it now, so you pushed the thoughts aside for later. 

~*~

A week later you were drunk. It was a Friday evening and you had finally finished the gruelling lab you had worked on for the entire day. 

You were hanging out in your friend’s room, the same friend that had taken you to the game a week before. Two of your other friends were sat ob the floor, leaning gainst the opposite bed and a warm, content feeling spread through your chest. 

You had friends now. 

“What’s wrong?” she suddenly asked from where she was sat next to you on her bed, her back against the headboard, yours against the wall adjacent to it.

“Nothing,” you answered because nothing was. 

“Don’t ‘nothing��� me, tell me,” she said, “you've been quiet ever since we came back from the game a week ago and I’ve waited long enough for you to say something, so now I’m going to.”

Had you been that obvious? Or did she just know you that well? Either way, she deserved the truth, the full truth.

“I just,” you began and stopped again, starting to peel off the sticker on your beer with the blunt edge of your nail. 

“When I was younger, I skated.” You started. You knew that she had never expressed any kind of interest in skating so you elaborated further, “really well.” Wow, you were really eloquent tonight.

“Okay,” she said, no doubt wondering where you were going with this. 

Your mind was fuzzy around the edges because of the drinks which made harder than usual to focus on your words, but it made it easier to talk about it, too. These people didn’t know about anything that had been, only what was. “I was good enough to win. Olympics, I mean.”

Suddenly one of the other two friends from the other side of the room joined in. “The Olympics?”

“Yeah,” you said, staring firmly at the bottle in your hands, not looking at any of them. “I won bronze and silver, fifteen and sixteen.”

“Holy shit,” she said, as did your other friend, but one of them remained quiet, so you looked at her. 

From the look in her eyes you knew that she knew. “And then I fell, badly. Tried to get up again but couldn’t. Went to the doctor and you know,” you trailed off, “retired. Started physiotherapy, got a lot better but…”

“Not enough to ever compete again,” she finished for you. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “But I couldn’t let go of it, you know? So sometimes, before school, I snuck out to the local rink and skated around just because I didn’t know anything else.”

Your friend that was next to you on the bed made an encouraging noise, and laid a hand on your knee, so you continued. 

“Then I met a guy. I was in a bad mental place, not really talking to anyone unless I had to, but we somehow became friends.”

Then you looked at them, “I don’t know, it was a weird friendship because we only ever saw each other at the rink every few days, but I felt something for him anyway. It wasn’t quite love but could have been, maybe.”

The others were still listening, and the words rushed out before you could stop yourself. “Then I moved. Wanted to leave before saying goodbye because that would hurt too much. On the day I was leaving I saw him anyway. He gave me his number but I never used it.”

“You wanted to make a clean cut?” your friend asked. 

“Yeah. It was sefish, because it wasn’t just about me, you know? I should have told him how I felt, but I didn’t.” You shook your head, “but that’s not even the point. I saw him again at the game.”

“Oh,” your friend that had dragged you to it, said. 

“Yeah,” you answered, and your other friend asked, “why didn’t you talk to him?”

The other friend, the one that had never asked you about your skating, even though she had known, even though she had every opportunity to, said, “because he was playing, right?”

“Yeah,” you said and you wanted to cry. You could still hear his name announced by the speakers. “Funny, all the time we spent together and I never knew his last name.”

“Who is it?” she asked, gentle, and you knew you could just not answer. You could bury it deep down, once and for all. But that’s not what you wanted to do, not anymore. 

“Nico Hischier.” And your friend laughed. 

“Of course it’s the captain,” she said and you couldn’t help but join in, the effects of the alcohol cursig through your veins. What were the chances, really? That he ended up in the state you had moved to all those years ago.

The others joined it. “He changed his number by now, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” one of them said. 

All of you were quiet for a second. “Wait, I have an idea,” she said and moved her hand from your leg and grabbed your phone. 

She gave it to you and made a motion for you to unlock it. You did and gave it back to her. From where you were sat you weren’t able to see your screen, much less what she typed on it. 

After a few seconds she gave it back to you. 

It was Nico’s instagram profile. You hesitated before clicking on his most recent post. Your other friends that had been sitting on the floor climbed up to join you. 

“Follow him,” one of them said. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest. This was not the account you had used to document your wins and training back then, but it still had your first and last name in the username, but it was on private. 

Underneath your thumb the button changed colour. “Fuck,” you said.

The other three laughed at your exclamation. “Wait, do I text him?” you asked, turning to the others. 

They all looked back at you, and one of them asked, “do you want to?”

You did. You really fucking did, but you had no idea what to say. “But what do I say? Hey, sorry for being a dick to you when we were like seventeen, I was half in love with you and didn’t know how to tell you, so I just cut you out before anything could possibly hurt me.”

One of them leaned her head on your shoulder. “If you leave out the half in love part, it’s not too bad.”

“You should also ask if he wants to meet and talk in person,” the other said. 

You opened your notes app and the four of you composed a message to him. 

Your hands were shaking and your heart was beating too fast. This was it, this was your chance and you weren’t going to let go again without a fight. This time you would stay and he could make the choice: to stay or to leave. 

Then, you hit the small blue icon and sent it and let out a quiet scream. You wouldn’t be able to take it back, not anymore. 

You threw your phone away from you onto a small patch where the blanket you were sitting on was still visible. 

Over an hour passed and you still hadn’t heard back from him. Soon after you pased out, but a quiet acceptance had settled in your stomach. He forgot. Or maybe he didn’t see the message or maybe he didn't want to talk to you again, which you couldn’t blame him for. 

But when you woke up the next morning, you had a single notification from him. 

For a second you debated not clicking on it, but that would mean standing still. It would be different this time. You would be different this time. There was an unfamiliar, new kind of determination that flickered up your spine and it reminded you of the steady ice under your skates, of the final hug the two of you had shared. Harsh, unforgiving, certain. 

You clicked on it and there was no going back now.

Nico Hischier Hello, it’s been a while.  Of course I remember you, didn’t I tell you?  For sure, I'd love to meet up and talk. Does next weekend work for you? I have a home game which makes it easier for both of us. 

notes: So. How are we feeling? Thoughts? Part 2? Please talk to me about this one because this lives in my mind rent free.

[car-o-line]

Hiii. The recent chapters of tbhk really got to me, and literally got me feeling empty like 😭😭.

Can I have dating hcs for the tbhk characters?

A.N: don’t you dare remind me😭 and yes you can, maybe

Dating Tbhk characters hcs

Nene Yashiro:

Stop she’s such a simp

Flabbergasted when you accepted her confession

Constantly questioning if she's good enough for you

”AH what if they hate me and are just dating me out of pity!!” - Nene

“I’m going to hit you” - Hanako

Hanako is so done with her constant blabbering

”O.M.G. Did you see the new shoes they were wearing, they’re so adorable I might just faint! Oh and also, they had a new phone case and it was sooooo pretty! It totally matches their style!”

Compliments you nonstop

Totally isn’t planning yalls wedding

Unfortunately, if you’re dating you might just get dragged into the whole apparition thingy

She doesn’t want to put you in danger of course!

She just wants someone to help her that’s not a ghost or a stupid earring boy😢

Hanako:

Met you through Nene or you summoned him

Makes you play cards with him

It depends on what you both face but sometimes he’ll just unintentionally get you into danger

Like- “Oh y/n what are you doing here? I dragged you here? What!? I would never >:(!”

But don’t you worry because he’ll save ya

And then loses track of you, but he’s very focused while trying to get you out of danger!

Never and I mean never does he want you to meet Tsukasa

He’s worried Tsukasa might kill or injure you in any way

Plz listen to his warnings about Tsukasa, he’s begging you

Gives you cringe nicknames just to embarrass you

But he does it out of love!

Very touch starved because of him being alone for so long

So except what’s to come

Kou Minamoto:

Sweetest boyfriend ever and no one can change my mind

Oh you sent a good morning text? That’s cute. Here’s a five long paragraph about how happy Kou is to see you today

Of course, that’s later in the relationship

At first he’d be red just by looking at you

Ecstatic if Teru(platonically) likes you as well

Wants to show off his skills as an exorcist but fails miserably

Baking dates are a must

Especially if you know how to cook then you’d both do a bake off

It’d be like “nail it” except Tiara is the judge

#Tiara4President2025

Overall best of the best boyfriends out there

Mitsuba Sousuke:

Literally the definition of a tsundere

His love language is making fun of you🩷

But he means it fondly!

Clings to you like a leech 24/7🙄

Can and will take photos of you and keeps them in his pocket

Very, very, annoying when his attention needs are not met

“Why aren’t you around? Do you not love me? Do you not think I’m adorable?”

”I had to go home..the school day ended..?”

Okay maybe not like that but still

VERY disappointed when you aren’t around😔

But he loves you so it’s okay

Tsukasa Yugi:

Choosing him is crazy/hj

Blink twice if you need help😦

Very obviously obsessive and possessive(an unhealthy amount that is)

If you thought Hanako’s clinginess was bad erm..

He’ll literally does that thing where he wraps his whole body around your waist no matter how tall you are(like he did with Hanako)

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to shoo him off he’ll just stay stuck there

Like superglue or smth

Definitely will have a tea of muffin date with you, but that’s basically everything day so idk

Sakura needs at therapist at this point

#FreeSakura

Sometimes you’ll be minding your business and just see a kaku-joudai in the corner of you eye(thanks Tsukasa)

Sakura Nanamine:

She is thanking every lord or being that may or may not exist in the world of your existence

She loves you to death and you make her life so much easier

Very very relaxed/chill girlfriend

Treats you like royalty

“Oh you want a cup of tea? What flavor? Hm? Oh, I have 5743 kinds. Just name one I’ll bring it.”

You both have to deal with the hell of taking care of Tsukasa and Natsuhiko so it’s kind of like a bonding experience between the two of you

Her love language is acts of service, fight me on that😠

Nap dates, I’m sorry she just seems so sleepy all the time😭

Or muffin dates idk

Natsuhiko Hyuuga:

Honestly, you’re either both be stupid idiots in love or you’re just patient as hell

Talks about you all. The. Damn. Time.

”Your s/o got you flowers? Pff, well on March 22nd-”

You’re either Sakuras lifesaver or hellspawn

He's the boyfriend who if someone hits on you he’d perk up and agree with them

Down bad, but not in a Nene down bad yk

Calls you the weirdest crap

”Hellooooo my beautiful lightbulb”

”huh?”

He really believes that you’re the best person to ever exist

And anyone who says otherwise, he’ll get Tsukasa or smth

Idk he’s just a funny tall man

Teru Minamoto:

Either a very expected relationship or a unexpected if your popular or not

He’s a silly man so sometimes if he’s bored he’ll just call you to his office and just say hi, then send you back😐

Like sir????

Anyway he’s not afraid to use you as a barrier so girls leave him alone

Proud to have you as his s/o🥳

Makes sure to keep you tf away from anyyyy supernatural stuff

“Just play horror games or something.”

Sometimes you have to force him to sleep

Then he’ll tell you that you yourself need sleep??🤨(a hypocrite at his finest)

You are the new babysitter for Kou and Tiara, if he’s away ofc

They like you thankfully!!

Tiara forces you to play dolls with her tho

[cloudyskydreams]

scent drabbles!

UNDERTALE!

Sans smells like pine and rain

You groan as you lazily smack at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Sweet silence fills the room once you finally manage to hit the snooze button and you consider getting up, for a very brief moment you really did think about it but your skeletal mate clinging on to you destroyed any thoughts of getting up and starting the morning early. You snuggle into him and inhale deeply, his scent has always been so calming. The smell of a rainy day trampling exploring a pine forest filled your senses and you sigh happily.

"heh did you just sniff me?" His voice makes you jump a little and blush in embarrassment.

He looks up at you with a brow bone raised and squinted sockets."Uhm... No?" your voice is a tad meek.

"don't worry I'm not scent out of shape about it." He chuckles and you shake your head at his pun. He pulls you back into him burying your face into the tank top he sleeps in. "it's too early to be up." He whines and you sigh snuggling into him and enjoying the comforting smell pulling you back into sleep.

Papyrus: smells like citrus and clean laundry

You and Papyrus are in the kitchen together eating breakfast. He lovingly made you both pancakes and you happily dug in when the decent sized stack was set in front of you. There was some for his brother sure but he wasn't going to be awake for a few more hours the lazybones. Papyrus worked on the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper while you munched on pancakes occasionally asking you for advice.

"EIGHT LETTERS, UNWAKBLE STATE" you think about it as you chew.

"Maybe ... Comatose?" He checks it with the spaces and other answers he already has and nods.

"THANK YOU SWEET PEA." You smile at the nickname and stand up to set your plate in the sink.

After you're done you creep up behind him and lean over his shoulder resting yourself against his back as you peer at the crossword. He Nyehs and leans his head against yours. You smooch his cheek and sigh contently before nuzzling into the side of his neck. He smells wonderful like a productive day inside cleaning laundry and munching on freshly peeled oranges.

"Papyrus darling you smell so yummy I could just eat you up" he blushes at your words and you chuckle noticing that the citrus stands out more when he's flustered.

"(Y/N)...DONT DISTRACT ME FROM THE DAILY PUZZLE I MUST KEEP MY MIND SHARP!" You know he doesn't mean that from the way he's pressing himself against you but you chuckle anyways.

"Sorry clementine, I'll let you focus." You smooch his cheek again and he leans into the touch. Heading away from the kitchen to leave him be you decide for once you're actually motivated to get some laundry done.

UNDERFELL:

Red smells like campfire and apple pie

Fellby had called you complaining of the drunken red stating he didn't want his brother to come pick him up and to call you. You sigh and tell Fellby you're on the way. You grumble to yourself the entire way out of your apartment complex and to the bar. Once you make it to the bar you search around and spot Red perched on a barstool dozing off as Fellby stands close to him behind the counter crackling with his fire looking a little brighter than normal.

"Hey fell, m here for him don't worry" you say as you help Red off the bar stool he clings on to you and Fellby does the equivalent of an eye roll before walking off to serve patrons.

"heyy sweetheart, nice ta see ya" he slurs and you sigh bracing his body with yours as you help him stumble to the door.

"Jesus Red the suns not even down yet... Did you and edge have another fight or something?" Red's silent at that and he mumbles something stopping in his tracks."What?"

"i said i love my brother." Guess you hit the nail on the spot.

"Never said you didn't bud... Have you been seeing your therapist?" You get him walking again and he groans as you pry into his personal life.

"yeh e'ry two or so weeks" he huffs and you nod satisfied.You gaze at the stars for a bit as you stumble red back to the apartments and help him do the walk of shame into the elevator.

"Your place or mine?" He looks at you confused. "If you got into a fight it wouldn't be the best look to come home in this state..might set him off again?" You prompt and he nods looking a bit taken aback.

"guess yours then doll thanks for offering." His voice is gruff and there's a slight red hue to his face you brush off as the influence of alcohol.

"It's not problem babe I'm used to babysitting you " you chuckle and lead him to your apartment. He stumbles and collapses on the couch and you go and get him and cup of water from the kitchen.As your setting it on the coffee table he gives you a soft look and you pause to stare at him. You awkwardly look at eachother before he inhales sharply and looks to the side.

"keep me company?" You melt at his request and sit on the floor next to the couch.

"Wanna talk about it?" You prompt and he steels his face slightly, you take that as a no."That's okay... You should sleep this off."He nods in agreement and lays his head back after receiving a small smooch from you,you're sitting pretty close and you can smell his scent coming off of him it's like a fall night eating apple pie with friends around a campfire. You tell him about your day gently as he drifts out into drunken slumber and when you're done you stand up and stretch. These brothers and their emotional constipation, they have to get over it someday. You head to the kitchen intent on using the fresh apples you have to make a pie.

Edge smells like gasoline and cherries

You had ran into Edge in the hallway and had both gotten on the elevator at the same time. Unfortunately for you the elevator decide now would be the perfect moment to break down mid descent and leave you standing awkwardly across from the tall pointy skeleton who's looking more and more stressed with each second.You notice his breath is labored and wonder why he even needs to breathe before noticing he's sweating slightly.

"Hey.. you okay edge?" He looks at you and glares

"I-IM PERFECTLT FINE ITS JUST A LITTLE CRAMPED IN HERE PRINCESS." You would think he would know better than to lie to you at this point. He's obviously in the early stages of panic.

"Hey it's okay we won't be stuck for long... They're probably working on fixing it already" you press the emergency button on the elevator just in case. You sit in tense silence with edge for a bit more before actually sitting on the floor, after a few moments edge follows suit. You smile at him and gently start humming hoping to calm his nerves. He looks at you gently blushing slightly and listening to you hum as his breathing calms. The scent of gasoline dissipates the more you hum leaving the sweet after scent of cherries hanging around and after awhile the elevator springs back to life. Edge scrambles up and away from you to the furthest corner of the elevator and clears his throat.

"THANK YOU... TELL NO ONE YOU SAW THAT." his voice holds a threat to it but you just smile at him and his flushed cheeks.

"Have a good day edge." You hum as you exit the elevator after kissing his cheek now intent on going to the store. You have a craving for cherries now.

UNDERSWAP

Stretch smells like honeysuckle and honey

You sigh as you stretch out further on the couch. Today was lazy Sunday and you decided to spend the day with Stretch and Blue. Blue tried to join in on the tradition but couldn't sit still long enough and left to go about his day. Stretch however matched your laziness twofold so here you two were lazed out in his living room watching some nature documentary on bees.

"hey honey, what do bee's chew?" You think about it for a second before shrugging."bumble gum" he chuckles and you roll your eyes that was awful."what's a bees favorite sport?" You groan hoping this isn't going to be a rest of the day thing.

"I don't know honey bun what?" You coo and he flushes a bit at the nickname but smiles as he sits up in his arm chair.

"Fris-bee." You chuckle at that one and he beams at you proud to have made you laugh.

"Okay Mr comedian no more" you say and he throws up and a okay sign standing up and gesturing for you to move your feet. You do and he sits down so you spread you're feet back over his lap and he sets a hand on your calf rubbing it lightly. You guys enjoy each other's company and eventually you fall asleep to the monotone voice of the speaker on the documentary.

When you wake up you're cuddled to Stretches chest and he's asleep a little bit of orange drool leaking from his mouth. You giggle at the sight.He smells sweet like summer honeysuckle and the regular honey he likes to drink, it reminds you of your childhood and summer days. You nuzzle into him and he pulls you into his hoodie clad ribcage. You drift off back to sleep as you cuddle the clingy skeleton

.Blue smells like mint and snow (stole this one couldn't think of anything lol)

Blue and you bustle around the kitchen as you cook together.

"NOT TOO MUCH SUGAR ANGEL WE DONT WANT IT TO BE TOO LUMPY." Blue reprimands and you halt on pouring in the sugar as he mixes the cookie dough.

It's winter time and you're making sugar cookies to ice and give out to neighbors. Blue and Papyrus had plenty of stuff planned for the winter season and you were invited to join in on them.

"Alright now we let the dough chill for a bit," you hum and set the dough in the fridge. Blue nods and starts to wash up as you head over and wait for your turn. You wash your hands and head to the living room with Blue.

"IM GOING TO TURN ON THE NAPSTATON GYFTMAS SPECIAL! ITS A CLASSIC THIS TIME OF YEAR!" He calls out and you nod. You can't decide if you like Mettaton or Napstaton more but you don't really watch them without the boys so it doesn't really matter in the long run. Blue bounces over to the couch and gets comfortable as he turns on the special he's talking about. He looks at you for a second and there's a sparkle in his eyes a he gives you puppy dog eyes. "CAN I PLAY WITH YOUR HAIR?" You chuckle and nod sitting in between his legs to which he immediately shoves a bony hand in your hair. You lean back into the sensation and let him work out knots and braid and unbraid as you watch the musical drama in front of you. Blue seems content to simply play with your hair and as you lean back you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells like freshly fallen snow and peppermint a nice combination and perfect for these winter days. You find comfort in the scent and sensation of having your hair played with and subconsciously lean into Blues touch as he starts to massage your scalp. Once the shows over you two hope back up and start on rolling out the dough and shaping it. It's a fun time and you and Blue take turns picking out different cookie cutters. You can't wait for more winter days like this to come.

[uluvjay]

Injuries- T.Zegras

In which your baby of a boyfriend is home for a few days nursing a lower body injury

Trevor zegras x Established relationship reader!

Warnings?; kissing, talk about sex

Lightly proofread!

-

Trevor had gotten hurt a few days ago against the Avalanche and since then has been home with a lower body injury. Your boyfriend was tough..on the ice, at home however he acted like a baby.

He could pick a fight with veteran players that tower over him but needs you to shower with him because he ‘can’t wash his hair right’ and needs you to scratch his back or play with his hair before he can fall asleep.

And due to how nervous you got after seeing him limp off the ice and how you rushed down to the medical room, he was making sure he exaggerated his injury around you as much as he could. 

All morning for example his leg hurt so he needed all the kisses he could get because they made him feel better, and you had to let him use your heated blanket because the heat helped. He also was in to much pain to get up and make his bowl of cereal.

Currently you were in your shared bedroom getting ready to join Trevor at his checkup with the teams doctor and physical therapist.

“Where are you going?” He asked as he walked into the room to get changed.

“With you”

“What why?”

“Well you know, since your in so much pain still I figured it would be best for me to come and learn what I could do to help. Plus I already asked your Pt and she said it was okay” you told him as you turned to face him with your arms crossed

“You dirty dog” he said laughing

“What? I’m just trying to make sure my poor boyfriend gets better” you said walking over and kissing his cheek “oh and I’m driving”

“What no, your cars so low” he whined

“I know, that’s why we are going to take yours ” you said giggling knowing how he was about people driving “His baby”

—

After a long ride of Trevor acting like you didn’t know how to drive and keeping his hand tight around your thigh, you made it to the arena.

Trevor walked around to your side as you were getting out and took the keys off you, “My poor baby” he said as he tapped the hood of his car.

“Z I am not a bad driver you drama queen” you said laughing as he grabbed your hand

“Mhm whatever’s makes you happy babe” he said cause you to push him and you both laugh.

When you made it to the team’s physical therapist Lauren he stopped right outside the room. “Are you sure you wanna come in? I mean so you don’t have to hear me describe my pain” he tried

“Trevor shut up and get the hell in there” you told him causing him to drop his head and walk in.

After saying your hellos she had Trevor sit on one of the table things they have in there and started to ask him about pains and their scale and where they’re located.

“Honestly I’ve felt a lot better over the past two days, I’ve been stretching every morning and not doing excessive movements or anything” he explained avoiding eye contact with you.

“Okay I do have to ask, have you had sex?” She asked causing you both to blush profusely.

“No she put me in the dog house, didn’t want me to get injured more by the thrusting” he said with no shame

“Trevor!” You scolded getting even more red

Lauren however was laughing and found lots of amusement out of the situation. “Okay, we’ll we’re just gonna run some test and then you can come in to practice tomorrow and coach will let you know what he wants you doing” she told him.

After he was all finished and you were walking back to the car you brought up his pampering over the last few days. “So, drama queen now was it being pampered these last few days?”

“I was not being a drama queen!”

“Z, you literally just told her you’ve felt good for the last two days and this morning you begged for my blanket and kisses because you were in pain” you said laughing.

“Okay fine..I might have been a slight drama queen” he said as you made it to the car.

“Mhm slight” you said laughing and he pulled your door open for you

“So since I’m cleared does this mean we can have sex when we get home?” He asked a few minutes into the ride back home

“Jesus Christ Trevor” you said laughing

“It’s an honest question!” He replied laughing as well

“Yes Trevor, we can have sex tonight” you told him watching him fist bump the air like a child.

—-



[its-all-papaya]

landoscar with 24 pls

kiss prompt fills are back bby!! and this one got rlly out of hand!!

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

24. as a reward | landoscar | 1.8k (but like. i rounded down. a lot.)

“Therapy,” Oscar says, apropos of nothing, on the first Thursday of summer break.

Lando looks up from his fridge, where he’s been poking around looking for breakfast, and knits his eyebrows together over his shoulder. Oscar is right where Lando had left him at the kitchen table, sweat from their run drying his shirt to his skin. He looks pleasant enough with his elbow propped on the table and his water bottle wedged between his thighs. Not like he’s just ambushed Lando about anything, least of all that fucking word again.

“Been talking to Jon?” Lando bites out. He turns back to the collection of containers and picks something at random. He’s got a feeling he’s not going to be hungry in a few minutes anyway.

Oscar’s fingers are tapping absently on the tabletop and it’s making Lando’s skin crawl. It goes like this every time anybody brings it up, like his body can’t physically bear the thought of the conversation.

“Not any more than normal,” Oscar says, which isn’t even a real answer.

Lando stares at him, deadpan, for a handful of seconds. Then he pries the lid off the container and sets about preparing the contents.

“Do you want anything to eat?” He asks Oscar.

“That’s alright,” Oscar responds, still unbothered. “Have you thought about it?”

“About eating?” Lando asks, incredulous.

“No,” Oscar says. The other thing, then.

“Yeah,” Lando says after a beat. He places the container in the microwave and sets the timer. It’s not even a lie - Oscar would know if it was; he’s scary good at figuring those things out when it comes to Lando. Also, Lando knows one word isn’t going to cut it in this conversation, but if Oscar wants to discuss this stupid subject, Lando’s going to at least going to make it difficult.

“What about it?” Oscar asks, tone exactly the same as it’s been all morning. Like they’re discussing the weather, or what route to take on their way back to Lando’s.

“That I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” Lando says. His eyes stay locked on the microwave plate, turning slowly behind the tinted glass, “All my…” he raises a hand and waves it half-heartedly, knowing Oscar will understand. He always does, somehow.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Oscar says. The microwave timer ticks down. “But I think it’s getting kind of close to one.”

Lando clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. “Yeah?” It sounds a bit mean, even to him.

“You’re not sleeping well,” Oscar says. Lando’s fingers tighten on the edge of the countertop. He’s going to run out of muscles to tense if Oscar keeps going. Oscar does, though, still measured when he says, “Might help you relax if you have someone to help sort through everything up there.”

“I don’t need to relax,” Lando says, “I need to drive better. A therapist isn’t going to fix that, I just have to get my shit together.”

The microwave timer goes off. Lando could slam the door closed if he wanted to, Oscar probably wouldn’t even react to it, but what he’s feeling isn’t even really anger. He’s not a child. The annoying thing is, he has thought through it all. He thinks through it every fucking Sunday, when he’s miserable in the shower after handing over another P2 trophy to the team and kicking himself about losing, kicking himself about not being happier about it. It’s not new, it’s just more, and it’ll all go away if he just starts performing. He doesn’t need a therapist to tell him that.

“It’s not about fixing things,” Oscar says as Lando carefully moves the container to the countertop. It’s hot still. He licks the tips of his fingertips where they’ve gone red from the heat.

Oscar keeps talking. “It’s like… you see Jon when you’ve got a backache, right? Or for a massage. Or it’s like the cold tub. They don’t change your driving, but you can drive better when your body feels better.”

“You have been talking to Jon,” Lando looks up at Oscar with something next to a glare – a little less hostile, though – as he locates a fork from his silverware drawer.

Oscar shrugs, “When we run into each other.” Lando’s eyes go back to him, and he at least has the sense to look a little apologetic, “You’re the main thing we have in common. It comes up.”

Lando had originally had plans to eat at the table, but the distance between himself and Oscar feels safer at the moment, so he stays put. “My brain?” he asks around his first bite.

“Sure,” Oscar says, “and how you love to deflect.”

Lando stops chewing to make this glare more effective. “Stop meddling.”

“I’m not meddling, Lando,” Oscar sets the water bottle aside and crosses the kitchen easily, leaning on the island opposite Lando like he knows abandoning the separation completely might send him over the edge. “I love you,” he says then, “and I want you to feel your best. I know you want to get better on track, but it’s not one or the other.” Lando’s about to protest, to say that’s not what I even said, but when he thinks about it for a second, it sort of is. Not this argument, maybe, other than kind of abstractly, but definitely in other arguments with Jon. Maybe even one with Oscar in the past – Lando loses track of who’s said what with how closely their arguments clearly overlap lately. And more than he’s said to either of them out loud, Lando knows that dichotomy is buried at the bitter end to every circle he runs in his own mind in those post-race showers and the long, long nights after. If he stops telling himself that what he’s done isn’t good enough, what if he starts believing it is?

He sets his fork down. His shoulders are still drawn, cheek still caught between his teeth, but he’s stopped adding new tensions to that list.

“What if it is one or the other?” he asks. His microwave beeps behind him. He’d forgotten to shut the door at all.

“What if learning how to be a little nicer to yourself makes you worse on track?” Oscar asks.

It’s not a good-faith question, but Lando doesn’t have the voice to unpack it. It’s close enough, anyway, so he just nods.

“Then you stop.” Oscar says.

Lando looks up. Oscar’s hand is laying in the middle of his countertop, palm up, and his eyes are set on Lando’s face.

“Really?” Lando moves his hand towards the center of the island, fingers splayed on the cool marble.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, “I mean, I can’t control what you do anyway. Obviously. But if something doesn’t work, don’t do it. Clearly nobody can force you, and you’ve got a lot of practice deciding what does and doesn’t help you. It’s like upgrades. Dev can talk them up, but we don’t know until we’re on the sim and in the car. They might be kind of shitty, but you won’t know until you actually drive with them.”

Lando presses his lips together to keep from smiling. Stubborn. Leave it to Oscar to come up with a fucking car metaphor for his broken fucking brain, though. God.

“But,” Oscar continues, “most of the time the upgrades work. Because the team knows what they’re doing. And the test drivers know what they’re doing, too. They see our data and they know our cars and they take our feedback and they know what to do with all that.”

Lando’s getting a little lost in the parallels Oscar’s trying to draw, but Oscar can clearly tell, because he closes the last of the gap until their fingertips brush together and says, “Just like Jon, babe. He knows you really well. He’s good at seeing where there’s a little room for improvements.”

Lando taps his fingers one by one against the counter. Oscar taps back, the pads of his fingers drumming against Lando’s nailbeds.

“Can I think about it?” Lando asks. The first thing he’s said in a long while.

“You can,” Oscar says back. His hand is completely covering Lando’s now, thumb rubbing up and down the side of Lando’s forefinger, “but can you text Jon and tell him you’re thinking about it?”

Lando’s eyes narrow, but Oscar’s already moving around the side of the island and flipping Lando’s phone over so it’s face-up on the counter. “Please?” Oscar says.

Lando concedes. Oscar’s hand rests low on his back while Lando taps into his messages and finds his trainer’s thread. He starts and deletes half a dozen different texts, but Oscar’s eyes feel heavy over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits eventually.

Oscar’s arm slides fully around his waist, and Lando is surprised when his own body melts easily into Oscar’s side. As soon as they’re pressed together, Oscar shifts his grip up until he’s squeezing some tension out of Lando’s shoulder with firm fingers.

“You could just ask him to schedule the appointment,” Oscar says. Lando knows if he had the nerve to look at Oscar’s face, it’d be that self-satisfied grin on his lips.

“This doesn’t feel ethical of you,” Lando says.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Oscar’s voice is light, amused, “but I can tell you to do it, if that would make this easier.”

Lando elbows him in the side, just gently, and Oscar tightens his grip on the side of Lando’s neck for a moment.

“Okay,” Lando says.

“Okay,” Oscar says back, “just ask him if he’ll set something up for you in the next week. That way if it sucks, you can forget about it before Zandvoort.”

“Okay,” Lando says again.

“Okay,” Oscar says back.

Lando types out the text while Oscar watches, thumb rubbing soothing little circles into the skin of Lando’s shoulder the whole while. When it’s finished and delivered, he tosses his phone back onto the counter and turns fully into Oscar’s arms, buries his face in Oscar’s chest to counteract the overwhelmed tremor he can feel starting in his muscles. It helps. Oscar presses kisses and shhh’s into his hair until Lando feels a little normal again. It smells like sweat and still a little bit like Lando’s body wash from the night before, there against Oscar’s shoulder. They’re going to need another shower. If Lando asks nicely, he wonders if Oscar might wash his hair, since he’s so worried about what goes on with Lando’s head.

Eventually, Oscar tips Lando’s chin up with a hand under his jaw and kisses him for a long, long moment. He nips at Lando’s lip and licks over it after, just the way Lando likes.

“Is this a bribe?” Lando asks when they part.

It makes Oscar smile and earns Lando another short kiss on the mouth. “You’ve already made the call, love. I can’t bribe you to do something you already did.”

“A reward, then.” Lando tries again.

Oscar’s smile goes sticky soft, “You don’t have to earn anything from me.”

“But?” Lando lifts an eyebrow.

“But.” Oscar says, hands on Lando’s waist, “I’m proud of you.”

[adventuringblind]

Hidden In Plain Sight

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Angst to fluff

Summary: A misunderstanding about profession leads to fluffy confessions

Warnings: Misunderstandings

Notes: This is what healthy communication looks like... my therapist would be proud

Masterlist

Psychology is one of those things that relies heavily on the power of observation. She isn't going for a doctorate in the subject for nothing. Watching and understanding is something she thrives at.

It's one of the reasons she and Charles have been together for so long. He gets lost trying to communicate and she helps him get to wherever his point is trying to go. She gets stuck over analyzing and he helps her process.

The one thing she's noticed in their time together is Max. Charles is his number one fan. It's a given, undeniable fact that she has come to love. Every interaction they have leaves Charles a mess and he's admitted to having a crush on the Dutch.

She doesn't mind one bit. Sure, her and Max might not be close, but they've had a few conversations here and there. If the human heart was only made to love one person then earth would be a sad place.

She's not surprised when Charles comes running up to her one day looking disheartened. He'd been talking about Max and his struggles. Specifically, the fact that sometimes Max gives hints of information just to shut down again.

Hence Charles asking Max to hang out more often. Specifically with her because where Charles fails in his responses, she knows how validate the small pieces Max gives them into his head.

She was never intentionally hiding what she does, she just didn't say anything about it and neither had Charles. Max had been adamant about not receiving help because he's fine and the two didn't want him to think tlthat she was going to be pulling tricks out of her sleeve. All they want is to make sure he knows that people care about him.

Max ends up coming around more often then not. She finds him around the paddock and makes sure to tell him goodluck. They go out to dinner and stay up in the living room playing games til ungodly hours in the morning.

Until Max found out. It was inevitably going to happen at some point. How is she supposed to keep masters, soon to he doctorate, in psychology hidden. Especially considering how close the three were becoming. She just wished it wouldn't have been the way it happened.

A knock at the apartment door alerts them close to midnight. They were in bed, ready to sleep and incredibly cozy.

Charles stumbles out first. A look of concern in his eyes as it could be a friend with an emergency. Which isn't wrong. Technically speaking.

She falls out of bed when the Dutch accent of Max fills her ears. It's angry at something and she's nervous Charles is about to get the brunt of whatever triggered Max.

She hops out of bed and scurried down the hall. "Max?"

His eyes are red and bloodshot. Muscles tense and rigid with squared shoulders. He's defensive. "You lied to me!"

Charles is standing like a dear in headlights. He looks clueless and lost on what to do. "Max, please-"

"What did we lie about, Max?" She gently takes a few steps closer to Charles and taps the Monegasque on the shoulder. A signal that he can relax a bit. Well - more like needs to for her sanity. She'd rather not have this escelate any more then it is.

"A psychology degree? When we're you planning on telling me?" His voice cracks. "Our whole relationship is a lie! Was this sone kind of sick ploy to use whatever I said against me, Charles? Using your girlfriend to get into my head?!"

She looks at him in understanding. "I can explain everything in the way you deserve, if you'll let me?"

Max reluctantly takes a seat in the living room. It's comfortable here. Less formal then the dining room table.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"That was my idea and I apoligize for that." She starts and Max seems to relax a little when he sees he apologetic look. It was never Charles' idea. "I wanted you to feel comfortable around me without you thinking I was trying to look into your head. Charles had wanted to become better friends and that included me being around more. I didn't want to ruin what you two have because of my profession."

Max's gaze becomes infinitely softer. His lips part just a tad and his eyes have a glossy screen over them.

Charles takes a deep breathe and she places a hand on his knee. A gentle reminder she's there with him. "The truth is, Max-" he shudders a but before continuing. "-I've liked you for a very long time. It was selfish of me to want to get closer to you. You just seemed so down recently I wanted you to feel cared for because I truly do care for you - both of us do."

"Both of you?"

"Yeah... the more I got to know you the more I could see what Charles sees." She laughs a bit at herself.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. I was just so upset that you didn't tell me. I - I guess I felt betrayed because I like you both. No, wait, we're being honest here right?" Both her and Charles nod him along in encouragement. Max looks at the ceiling, then the floor, then back to them. "I think I love you both? It's weird to think about, loving two people at once. I wasn't sure how I felt until I heard and then I realized how angry I was that I'd been played. And I just - I want you to know that I appreciate how kind you both have been to me. Maybe, if you're both willing, we could give this a try?"

Charles' eyes go wide. She thinks that he may pass out in shock until he starts talking. "We're cuddling. I don't care what either of you say. I think we all need it."

It may not have been the best way for Max to find out, but it led them here. Max comfortably tucked into the middle of the bed, all of them knowing how cared for they truly are.

[roosterbruiser]

idk if you’re still taking requests, but i would love somethin about hangman and his wifey getting caught by their teenage kid in the middle of sex and then getting absolutely grilled about it later because we all know they have jake’s sense of humor

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

you're both smarter than this. Really, you are. You both know better than to get busy in the kitchen on a Sunday morning.

but in your slight defense...your husband is Jake fucking Seresin. Not only that, but his beard is starting to get delicious gray hairs and he's letting it grow out just enough to make the delicate skin of your thighs clench.

plus, your son usually doesn't wake up early. he would wake up at noon if you let him.

so, against your better judgement, you let your husband bend you over the nice marble countertops you picked out a few years ago.

it's very romantic for a solid ten minutes. drenched in the early light of the morning, the scene is actually quite peaceful. the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, your husband is whispering your name like a goddamn prayer as he brings his hips against yours fluidly, and there's an old Carole King record spinning lazily in the living room.

you're so lost in each other, gasping quietly and muttering your affection for each other as he buries himself inside you just right, that you don't hear your son's thunderous steps down the stairs or when he calls out for you guys.

no, no...it isn't until your son genuinely screeches that the two of you look up and catch those wide green eyes filled with absolutely terror.

then of course it's you and Jake scrambling to get decent, trying hard to not traumatize your son even further, both of you blushing and stuttering excuses.

and then it's you and Jake looking at your son as he goes through all five stages of grief in mere minutes.

it may be early in the morning, but he is sure as Hell wide awake now.

"family meeting. now," your son says with all the authority of a parental figure, pointing to the living room.

and for some reason, you and Jake blindly follow him in there and take a seat on the sofa. you two have never been caught by your son--you feel a little out of your element.

you and Jake sit at opposite ends of the couch like awkward teenagers caught by their parents. your son paces before the two of you, hands clasped behind his back. for a fifteen-year-old boy, he could actually come across as much older. he was broad and tall like your husband, with an identical wit.

"what am I going to do with the two of you?" your son mutters disappointedly.

"we were just--!"

your son cuts you off with one sweeping motion of his hand, holding his palm up to you and turning his cheek. your cheeks grow red.

"oh, I know what you were just doing," he says. "don't worry, I won't forget it. neither will the therapist you're gonna pay for."

you purse your lips. Jake is shaking his head softly.

your son resumes his painting.

"and, really, I hate that I even have to say this, but--were you two being...safe?"

Jake breaks out in laughter and you gasp, furrowing your brows at your son who stares back at you incredulously.

"August Seresin," you reprimand, tutting.

he throws his arms up defensively.

"what?! it's a valid question to ask! you really want another me running around here? yeah, no thanks!"

that's when you finally break down laughing, too. you can't help it. it's an unfortunate situation, one you can honestly say has been one of your most embarrassing moments. but the three of you laughing about it makes the knot in your throat lessen.

"well, that oughta teach you to knock," Jake says with a smirk.

August glares at him.

"it's the kitchen! what, am I gonna have to knock before entering every room in the house?"

"well, unless you want a repeat of this morning, then yes," Jake sighs with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

your son is turning green.

"is there any safe space in this house? my bedroom?" your son looks near tears at this point.

your husband is only teasing--you know this. but August sure doesn't. you're fairly certain August is about to crumble to the floor.

"is nothing sacred?!"

"just your mama's smokin' hot bod--!"

"NO!" August firmly presses his palms over his ears and shakes his head. "I CAN'T COME BACK FROM THAT!"

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

[alice-angel12x]

Who Famed Y/n Darling Chapter.1

(Welcome Home Au) Masterlist Here

"Don't fly to High Y/n! Your Wings still need time to grow!" Mother called out to me, just below me.

My tiny wings flapped as hard as they could, I wanted to reach the clouds like the rest of my older siblings. My mother was flying just beneath me, ready to catch me if I were to fall.

Suddenly, my feathers started to fall off me as I began to plummet to the earth. The sky was suddenly getting farther and farther away, as my mother's voice cried out for me in horror.

But when I hit the ground I'm suddenly older, in a dark grim place. Cages were everywhere as horrible laughs and screams could be heard. A dark figure looms over me as his red-tinted glasses gleam down at me. Ink and paint dribbled down my back from where My... Wings were once attached.

The figure was about to grab my face when suddenly, a loud ringing filled my ears.

Chapter 1

Y/n Gasps awake as their sheets go flying off them. Y/n quickly looked around, only to quickly notice that they were safe in their bedroom. Their Alarm clock blared and shook the nightstand. With a quick slap, the clock shuts up and falls to the ground.

"OW! The Day Just Started What's Got You So Upset?!" The clock growled.

"Sorry, sorry. Nightmare again," Y/n apologized as they rolled out of bed.

"Again," The sentient clock sighed. "Just because you had a bad dream, doesn't mean you take it out on me."

"Sorry Cogsmith," Y/n said as they gently placed the clock back on the nightstand.

"Maybe you should see a therapist," Cogsmith suggested.

The two sat in silence for a bit and eventually broke out into loud laughter. Cogsmith even wiped a tear away with his tiny metal arm.

"Haha, therapy for Toons. Sadly not likely. Too expensive for an average toon," Y/n sighed.

"Yeah, and those snooty humans want nothing with us other than laugh," Cogsmith scoffed. "Oh and speaking of laughs. If you don't book it in 5 minutes you are going to be late at the studio."

Y/n's eyes popped open wide as they let out a gasp as they began to zip around the house. Only Y/n's after images of the toon could be seen as the food was rapidly eaten, PJ's being tossed off, and day clothes slapped on. Y/n quickly tried to bush out morning breath as they ran out the door.

"Don't forget your work Papers! You'll be stopped at the gate without them!!" Cogsmith shouted as the tiny clock toon held up a large envelope of papers.

Y/n's arm stretched through the crack of the door and quickly yanked the papers out of the clock's hands. The toon dashed down to the sidewalk and quickly hopped into the seats of their invisible car.

"BBRRR!!" Y/n sounded as it powered the car to dash down the road.

As Y/n drove down the empty road, a distant engine behind them. Tilting the nonexistent rear-view mirror, and gasped to see who it was. But before Y/n could react the chaser rammed their nonexistent car into theirs.

"Alex! Stop it, that's reckless driving!!" Y/n shouted at Alex as they stabilized their "car".

"Not without a car it's not, My dear Rival!" Alex shouted as he rammed his "car" again. "Today's the day Y/n Scout that I put an End to You!"

"You say that every time and it's never going to happen!" Y/n shouted as they sped ahead. " And I don't have time for you today, I'm running late!"

"Well, Even more reason to chase you down," Alex smirked as he suddenly changed direction, and took a sharp right turn.

Y/n sighed in relief as they saw Alex suddenly drive off somewhere else. But that relief did not last long as Y/n saw the upcoming interesting, and Alex zooming down to the interesting lane, planning to crash into them.

Y/n gritted their teeth and stepped on the gas! Alex smirked as he also stepped on the gas, ready to crash into Y/n. Yet just as Y/n was about to reach the intersection, Y/n slammed on the brakes. Causing Alex to zoom past and crash into a pole. Knocking him unconscious..

Y/n sighs in relief as they drive past and toward Toon City. Yet as they got closer to the Toon city, they were stopped by a giant car pile in the middle of the street. Y/n groaned in frustration at the chaos. Toons were just running around nonsensically and not fixing the problem.

With a sigh, Y/n quickly put the car in reverse, to take a left to try to cut through Anime City. One of the few larger and first-class urban cities in Toon town. Thankfully no crazy car crash pile there, so Y/n was able to pass through without trouble. But of course, the only transport Gate was blocked by protesters. Toon protestors who were protesting against humans turning their movies/ shows into Live-action.

So Y/n slowly and carefully drove forward hoping the toons would just move aside. The Gate security around the gate started to push the crowd out of the way so other toons could get throuth

"Humans are trying to replace us!" "We Won't Let Them!" they chanted as Y/n finally made it to the gate.

The Human Gate officer sat in his booth with a tired and bored expression as Y/n pulled up. The Booth was on their right, and ahead of them was a heavy red stage curtain that blocked the tunnel.

"Work papers and proof of invitation," The officer said robotically.y.

Y/n quickly handed over their document, as the officer did the standard procedure. With a loud stamp, he looks at Y/n with a critical look.

"Be back before midnight, and don't cause trouble, Toon," The officer warned.

" I never do," Y/n smiled.

With a huff, the guard pulled back the curtains. reaveling a seemingly endless void. Y/n zoomed into the darkness as the light from behind vanished, causing the end of the tunnel to suddenly appear in sight. Suddenly they were spat out of the tunnel and onto the road towards Applewood City.

It was bustling with humans and puppets as Y/n zoomed past. But came to a screeching halt just a few inches away from a small raccoon toon.

"Rachy? What are you doing out here? I thought you were under toon arrest," Y/n asked with slight shock. "You should be in toon town."

"I do what I want! Not Even Doom can stop me!" Rachy shouted as he ran off, disappearing into the crowd.

Soon a few toon police zoomed past to chase after the small Racoon. With a small chuckle, they looked back at the traffic light, waiting for the green. When they felt like someone was looking at them intensely. Y/n looked over to their left to see a sedan in the back seat. A yellow puppet with a blue pompadour was staring at them with a befuddled expression.

Toons and Puppets don't usually run in the same circles. So this was probably this puppet's first time ever seeing a toon. 'Why is this... person? floating, and so weirdly,' the puppet thought to himself.

Y/n smiled softly and gave a friendly wave. "It's a lowrider. Pretty cool huh?" They said with confidence.

The puppet just rolled up their window in response and looked elsewhere. With a sigh, Y/n turned back to the road and drove off down the road.

"What was that?" The puppet asked.

"A Toon, weird little creature," The chauffeur said simply.

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

Y/n zoomed through the streets and crashed into the toon Parking lot. A few seconds before they could be considered late.

"WOOW! Made it!" Y/n cheered as they jumped out of their "car" in victory. As it...Blew up behind him.

The Toon janitor, who was slightly caught in the explosion, sighed in annoyance.

"Sorry Mark," Y/n smiled nervously as they quickly ran off. But Mark simply fainted as Y/n ran off.

Y/n rushed through the studio to get their costume on as the crew ran about to prepare the recording.

"You're pulling it really close, Scout," The makeup artist said as she bobbed Y/n in the face with a cartoonishly large makeup pad.

Y/n tummbled back with a loud sneeze, and into a costume chest. The Artist quickly closed the trunk with Y/n inside and shook the chest like a shaker. When satisfied they tossed open the chest as Y/n flew out. Fully dressed in costume, they roll and stumble to a stand as they comb their hair back.

"You're always so gentle with me, ms. Darthy," Y/n smiled sheepishly.

"Don't be cheeky. Know hurry up and get on set!" They shouted.

[seiwas]

hi sel!! i missed seeing you around dash - i hope you’re enjoying your lil vacation!

n for your lil game.. if it appeals.. may i suggest touya + rain/storm ?

scar hello!! sorry i've been on and off these past months 🥹 i missed being on here too!! i have been enjoying my lil vacation though 🥺 it's been a while since i've just chilled at home! thank you for sending in a prompt 💗

contains: fallen angel touya, visions in dreams, kind of disorientating what's reality vs not, reader tries melatonin, there is a fire

touya + storm

there's a storm outside your window.

the rattling of string lights on your balcony jolts you awake, the wind howling an eery melody. this weather is common at this time of the year, but tonight, you feel uneasy. you think there's something on your front yard.

your footsteps are light as you make your way down your staircase, the flashlight on your left hand clutched tightly as you reach for the umbrella by the door.

it's zero visibility on your front yard, heavy rainfall being dragged sideways by the wind. you squint, flashing your light at the area in front of you.

a broken branch from your neighbor's tree dangles loosely towards your fence, but you can't make out anything else apart from that. you contemplate stepping outside to get a better look, but a burst of light streaks itself across the sky, lightning flashing before thunder rumbles loud enough that it reverberates in your heartbeat. a sudden chill breezes over you, your skin prickling from strands of hair standing.

your flashlight flickers, the light going out once before you tap it on your wrist twice. and when it turns back on, you think you can make out a figure hunched over the shrub at the far right of your garden.

you flash your light over the area to get a better look but it turns black―your vision or the light, you're not sure.

the next time you open your eyes, you're tucked in bed, squinting your eyes at the brightness of sunlight.

a dream? you wonder. the jacket you're certain you reached for is still right by your vanity, untouched. could be.

your front yard is trashed, just like you expected it to be, if your subconscious was trying to tell you anything from last night's dream. plants are uprooted, with small branches scattered all over the grass. you suck in a breath when you spot the broken branch from last night just as you saw it―still barely hanging on as it dangles over your fence.

you must have heard it break off in your sleep, you tell yourself. the mind can be quick in associating these things.

things become weird after that.

you get more visions in your sleep, mostly when the storm beats heavy raindrops against your window. sometimes, they're the same as the first time―instances of you searching outside but blacking out and waking in your bed the next morning. others, they're stranger, more vivid. you see a man with white hair turning red at the tips.

he comes to you in flashes―in between lightning strikes and thunder claps; in fragments, distorted by sheets of rainfall. you can never fully make out his face, but his eyes glow a striking blue amidst the darkness that often surrounds him.

the melatonin makes it worse. for a few nights now, you've begun to see more of his silhouette, similarly hunched over that shrub from the first night, except it grows taller, almost as if he's standing.

you wake up every time he almost reaches full height. but were you even really sleeping?

your therapist tells you it must be stress. this particular time at work is busy, after all. and, "halloween festivities can be impressionable when the mind is tired."

so you let it go, hoping that the dreams disappear eventually.

but then you find a feather. it's long, far too long to belong to any animal you know of; the color is charcoal black, with its tips slightly crisp as if it's been burnt. you find it by the shrub, where the silhouette crouches over every night in your dreams.

your palms sweat as you handle it, a mixture of anxiety and fear. you feel sick to your stomach; scared and disoriented. what even is real?

you call your friend, midoriya, to keep you company. he's no cynic, but if anyone could think up an explanation for anything, it'd have to be him. he has notebooks and journals full of analyses and theories on a bunch of weird things.

"can you tell if he's... uh..." he tries to find the words, as if trying not to scare you, "demonic?"

though with how jittery he is, you're pretty sure he's just as, if not more, nervous.

"i don't know yet," you admit, setting down his blanket for the night, "i guess he does feel kinda angry, but..." you think back to those blue eyes, trying to discern the exact emotion in them, "not at me i think. i don't know."

midoriya jots down some more notes as rain increasingly patters outside your window. you're sure he'll spend the whole night figuring this out from the way he continues to ask you more questions.

that night, you dream of the figure again, but something about this time feels ominous; larger. it starts out with his face, lightning illuminating glimpses of his expressions. you see scars across his cheeks and his hair turning a shade darker. another crackle of lightning brings him further away, hunched over the shrub again, except this time, he begins to stand; and you're prepared to wake up again right before he shows himself in full height―except you don't.

he stands before you still concealed by the downpour, but his presence is simultaneously chilling yet glorious. and you don't expect it, what happens next―the unfurling of wings right by his sides. they span the width of your entire yard, large and so unlike anything you've ever seen before.

then, an alarm breaks, and you wake, neither in bed nor on your front porch.

your feet touch wet asphalt, the sensation hardly differentiating itself from how drenched you are by the rain. thick smoke fills your lungs as you stand before a blazing house a few streets down yours. sirens sound around you―an ambulance, a firetruck, and a police car, all managing the commotion.

people evacuate their nearby houses as the policemen round them up at a safe distance. out of everyone in the scene, you seem the closest of all, the heat from the fire nearly licking at your cheeks.

"everybody, please step back!" one of the firemen shout. to your right, another one hurriedly hauls a body down to the stretcher beside you. a paramedic immediately tends to the person before you can even catch a look.

"please step back!" the fireman closest to you calls out, but the sound is muffled in your ears, almost by a dull ringing and the subtle sound of wings flapping. an unexplainable urge pulls you toward the body.

"hey―!" the fireman tries to call for your attention, but you ignore him, inching closer towards the stretcher. you tiptoe to get a better look, and as you catch a glimpse of the body's face―

the fireman holds you by the shoulder, "i said―!" as another paramedic addresses you and asks, "do you know this man?"

and right there on the stretcher is him―white hair with red at the tips; his cheeks are an angry shiny red, like its been melted, burnt. he remains only semi-conscious, eyes half-lidded as he is tended to. but when you peer over, he blinks and manages to look at you.

you find the same striking blue.

[harrypotterandthefandomaccount]

in a new body

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!insecure!reader (enemies to friends and maybe lovers, but not stated)

request: imagine being insecure about your stomach because of draco then he gets to know you and makes you feel more comfortable in your skin? please

warnings: body-hatred, insecurity of body, body dysmorphia(?), honestly just hating one's body

notes: this one hit home, just cried to my therapist last week about this! haha! live, laugh, love!

you hated draco malfoy.

actually, hate is a strong word; you extremely disliked draco malfoy. he believed he was better than everyone else with his stupid face, his stupid slytherin family history, his stupid rich background, and his stupid cruelty towards you.

draco malfoy was stupid and you highly disliked him.

for years, you had received as much torment as harry potter from draco malfoy due to your weight, especially your stomach. you'd be the laughing stock of malfoy and the rest of his slytherin gang, no matter how many times ginny weasley and hermione granger would tell you, "don't pay that evil little cockroach any mind."

you wish you could say the same thing to the voice in your head, screaming at you to do those ab workouts, to not eat as much during the school meals. you wish you could just flip a switch, that draco would stop asking you how many pounds you put on just from breakfast alone, or if you had any trouble fitting into your skirt that morning.

"or you can just sock him in the throat," mentioned ron, mouth full of food.

"you wanna do it for me?" you asked back, an eyebrow raised. ron shook his head and went back to his plate.

hermione sighed beside you, "why not bring it up to dumbledore? or even snape? they should hear the vile things he says to you."

you shrugged, "i don't know, i don't think it's worth it, honestly. that might just make him come at me more and at the moment, i cannot handle that." you tried to laugh at the end, but it came out struggled.

ron gave a smile across from you, mouth full of food, "at least you're not harry, fighting draco constantly to see who the heir of slytherin is."

harry's face turned red, "ron, please, can we not?"

you gave a quiet laugh, "i actually appreciated that ron, thank you." harry groaned beside the redhead.

ginny was about to comment until you heard the goblin voice of draco malfoy himself directly behind you, "hey, y/n, walk any steps today to shed off some pounds? looks like you need to."

hermione glared at draco, "how dare you speak to her, or anyone, like that! you are utterly repulsive!"

draco glanced around the table, "granger, when?"

hermione shot him a look, "when what?"

draco snickered, "did i ask? but seriously y/n, give your legs a break from carrying all that!" and with that, he walked away, proud of himself as he pounded knuckles with crabbe and goyle.

ron and harry stood up, ready to lunge at draco before you gave them a look, shaking your head.

you bit your lip, "suddenly not hungry anymore. um, i think i'm gonna head up to the dorms. see you guys later?"

before anyone could disagree, you stood up from the benches and made your way out of the great hall, running into fred and george who quickly noticed your watery eyes.

"you alright there, y/n?" fred asked, and you nodded quickly, "yes, i'm fine but i have to go - study. goodbye."

the twins looked at one another, and then at your retreating form, "y/n, are you sure-" their question dropped as you continued on.

and with that, the twins were left dumbfounded until they were informed by their friends, brother, and sister.

not long after that incident, draco left you alone, making you and your friends become very suspicious, as if malfoy had a trick up his sleeve. but shockingly, he didn't, and he continued to not talk to you until potions class.

when professor snape decided partnering up different classmates was a great idea, and you two ended up together. he had wandered over to your desk, sitting beside you.

he smirked, "y/n."

you nodded, "listen, just let me do this potion so we can get a decent grade and then you can go back to torturing me, ok? unless you want your grade to suffer?"

draco stayed quiet, somewhat taken aback by your words, "i can help, you know, might as well make sure someone like you doesn't screw it up."

you looked up from the textbook, "someone like me? right, because i'm so repulsive to look at, draco. thank you for the reminder, i'll make sure to dedicate my next workout to you, you git."

with tears on the verge of falling, you grabbed your textbook and hastily walked out the room, professor snape yelling, "and two weeks worth of detention for you, miss l/n!"

you flipped him off right outside the classroom, somewhat bummed and relieved at the same time that he didn't see it.

draco was stunned, simple as that. he knew he was a jerk, a total asshole, but to him, it was pure fun. there was no harm - at least to him. but now, as he sat in potions class, noticing how all eyes were on him, he came to the realization that there was harm done.

draco never actually thought you were heavy or overweight, or even ugly; by merlin no, he thought you were so pretty. yet, he wanted to slap himself as that was no excuse to bully her until she cried - no, he knew that was the wrong way to go about it.

so then why did he do it? he hated that stupid saying that guys bullied girls because they liked them, but draco wondered if that were true in his case. or if he just didn't want to acknowledge his feelings for you.

he pondered the rest of potions class, speechless as to why he thought making fun of your weight was any excuse to talk to you. all he did was hurt you so deeply, cut wounds into your being.

draco knew he was an asshole, and knew he messed up. so how does he apologize?

apologizing was not his strong suit as he never needed to; well, at least to anyone besides his parents. why apologize to anyone else if nobody was as important as them? oh, but you were. you were so full of life and jokes, so kind to him when you all arrived as first-years, yet he has always been so cruel to you. was draco seriously this foreign to kindness that he decided the easiest way to reciprocate was to be mean?

yeah, i guess so.

draco stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. everyone looked at him and draco glanced to snape, "i've got to go." and with that, he was gone, leaving everyone with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

hermione looked to ron, "where do you think he's going?"

ron shrugged, "beats me. maybe thinking of new insults to hurl at y/n. it's been a while."

hermione sighed and shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, "i wanna go look for her, ron."

harry heard her and shook his head, "bad idea; i think snape might lose it if one more person leaves or even raises their hand."

severus snape was indeed distraught at the behavior that was taking place in his classroom.

but he was not as taken aback as you were now in the astronomy tower.

why had it taken all up until now for you to snap? to even come back at him with something as much as anger? draco deserved to be yelled at, to be slapped, to be, as ron said, "socked in the throat."

you wiped your tears, sitting on the concrete floor as sobs racked your shoulders again. a few owls surrounded and flew around the tower as you whispered, "i hate my body. i have so much hatred for this fat, the way i look, the way i feel. i hate it." you sobbed, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks.

you let out a shaky breath, looking in your bag to grab a tissue before snot became your worst enemy. you wiped your nose, wrinkling it at the feeling before you sighed. you sniffled, tears filling your eyes again.

"i'm sorry."

you jumped, looking around for the source of the voice until you saw draco shuffle out of the darkness by the concrete wall.

you scoffed, "ugh, merlin! go away, malfoy. you're the last person i want to see right now, if you haven't caught on."

he kicked against the floor, "i deserve that."

"and i deserved your bullying, too, right?"

draco glanced to you, shaking his head even though yours had turned back around. he stepped closer, "no, no, you didn't. i'm... i'm a git, you're right."

you sniffled, looking to him as he sat beside you. you grumbled, "took you long enough."

draco huffed a laugh, "it did. and you can still hate me after this, but i truly am sorry. you didn't deserve what i said and did to you, and i can't imagine how you must feel."

silence enveloped between the both of you until he continued, "i heard what you said earlier, about your body."

your eyes had been closed, and you hummed, "not exactly a shocker."

"because of what i said? no, it's not, and i'm sorry again."

you held up a hand, looking at him, "draco."

draco looked you in the eyes, "y/n."

you gave a slight laugh, "it's okay, i forgive you."

draco nodded, "i'm sorry for making you feel so shitty about yourself. nobody deserves to feel that way, especially you, because you were nothing but kind to me and i treated you terribly."

you smiled softly at him, "you did, but you're apologizing now. my issues i can deal with on my own, but you took the time to apologize now so i'm grateful for that."

draco was stunned, a frown on his face, "how are you kind to me right now? i was terrible to you!"

you gave him side-eye, "i said terrible shit about you in my head, so i figured i should be nice."

the two of you laughed loudly at that comment, draco's eyes crinkling. as it died down, he rested a hand on the back of your head. he turned you towards him, "you're beautiful. truly stunning, y/n. i'm sorry i said those things about you."

you gave a small smile as tears welled in your eyes, "thank you draco, it's okay."

draco leaned back on his one hand, the other still in your hair, "can i help you in any way? to help you love yourself and your body?"

you were shocked to the core at his words this entire time, but now your eyes were just popping out of your head. you stumbled, "oh - no, no, i don't think so. it's just something i need to learn, y'know, to love my body. it's just...hard."

draco nodded and he smiled, "i have an idea."

your face drained of color, worried this might have been a joke all along. draco continued, "instead of insults, i'll give you compliments throughout the day. maybe that can help?"

this draco was so sweet compared to the old one; you suddenly had the urge to just grab his cheeks and go on about how sweet he was. this was such a turn of events.

"then," draco went on, "you wont want to be in a new body."

you smiled, "that sounds like a great idea, draco. thank you."

draco's cheeks flushed, "yeah, not a problem, it's whatever."

maybe during this new change in events, draco and yourself can figure out how to deal with the pounding in your chests.

[philtstone]

for the kisses prompt: 25. kisses in the rain for shules because we never got a rain kiss and i think thats criminal

[phil voice] i dont have time to start an elaborate and ever growing kidfic series [immediately starts an elaborate and ever growing kidfic series] i was thinking about how rarely shawn and juliet spend significant time apart on the show and this emerged. timeline spans from just before 5x01 to post series, and title is from my enemy number one, aka deb talans "big strong girl". unfortunately i have yet to listen to that song or watch that scene without weeping uncontrollably into my hands. i promise they do actually kiss in the rain, it just takes a while to get there. enjoy!

title: come on, come on, lay it down

I.

City Hall is boring. 

This is Juliet’s big takeaway after day seven at her new assigned desk. The first few days are filled with a flurry of administrative logistics and the chasm of anxiety at the pit of her stomach that has nothing to do with the objectively mundane and benign desk work she’s voluntarily chosen to return to. 

Then, boredom. 

She blinks hard against the possibly terminal lazy eye she’s started to develop after her fourth hour of staring at backlogged paperwork and tries to refocus on the wall across from her. It’s red: this dark potent color that her mother would consider classy. Somehow in this building it looks beige. Beige is a good bland shade, kind of like what a blank mind might look like. Metaphorically. Juliet’s new therapist is all about combating blank minds and working with metaphors. She’d suggested a meditation exercise last week. What’s a place that makes you feel safe? Picture it in your head. Imagine the textures and smells and sounds.

Brring.

She startles, looking down at the office landline in front of her.

Brring.

Juliet picks it up. “Hello?”

“Jules!”

Her eyes drop back down to the paperwork. “Hi Shawn,” she says.

As he begins his prattling, Juliet picks up her pen and doodles a dog on a stray post-it note. She’d buried her personal cell deep into her purse as some kind of weird defense against the outside world, but it’s oddly comforting that Shawn somehow knows the office phone number anyway. From her spot at the desk she can see far enough into the lobby that the big glass doors for entering the building are visible. It’s raining pretty torrentially outside. People come and go all the time, and Juliet comes in the morning and goes in the evening, but it kind of feels like she doesn’t. Shawn hasn’t actually come around to visit her yet, at this new job. Juliet tells herself she doesn’t mind. He needs his own time and space, just like she needs hers, and it’s only been a week that she’s been back at work, anyway.

A week during which he’s called her five times in as many days. They mostly talk about nothing.

“Tell me you were thinking about donuts.”

“I wasn’t.”

“That’s too bad, cause I got you one. Also! Italian food. Here’s the thing — yes, salads are fine and good, sometimes tasty even, but nothing beats a panini on a Thursday.”

“Shawn, it’s Wednesday.”

“Is it really? Well, that puts a damper on our plans.”

Read the rest on ao3!

[ragingbookdragon]

Conversations With A Stranger You Barely Know

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: :D -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t have to look up from the computer to know who walked into her office; with a smile, she greeted warmly, “Good morning, Lieutenant Riley. Right on time as usual.”

He grunted in return, collapsing into the patient chair.

“How’s the journaling going? Any new prompts since last time?”

“Few,” he muttered. “Wrote about when I was a kid.”

“That’s good progress. Would you like to talk about what you wrote?”

“Not particularly.”

She smiled and stood up, gathering her clipboard and pen. “Of course, as you know there’s never any pressure to share.” Sitting beside him, she crossed a leg over the other and gazed at him. “How have you been sleeping? Is the melatonin working any?”

He grunted, staring at the ceiling. “Stopped taking it.”

“Oh?”

“Started giving me weird dreams.”

“Nightmares?” she asked as she wrote something down.

“Not necessarily nightmares, not like the dreams I usually have, just…weird. Odd.”

“Any you’d perhaps like to describe?”

Simon blinked slowly. “I was driving on a road. Backwoods, a place I didn’t recognize. Just aimlessly driving.”

She watched him. “Do you remember how you felt when you were driving? Anxious? Sad? Content?”

“Unbothered. Like I was there driving because I could.”

“Alright, did anything else happen in the dream?”

“I stopped on the side of the road…a bird was on my side mirror.” Simon’s eyes narrowed. “A red bird.”

“Can you describe the bird?”

“Orange beak. Black face. Pointy top.”

She wrote something else down. “I think you’re describing a cardinal. Interesting.”

He turned his head. “What is?”

She tapped her pen on the board. “Cardinals, in many cultures and religions symbolize the…spirit, I guess you could say of a loved one who has passed. Typically, when you see a cardinal, it’s a sign that a loved one is visiting you.”

“I haven’t lost anyone. My family is all alive.”

“Have you recently lost any of your team?”

Simon looked away. “…Yeah…but he wasn’t a loved one. A friend. A teammate.”

She hummed. “Friends can be as close as family sometimes, Lieutenant. Perhaps this person was closer than you thought.”

“He betrayed us in Mexico.”

“I see…” she kept writing. “Lieutenant, do you sometimes think that despite the cool exterior and arm’s length attitude, you find your teammates closer than simple friends? That the idea of betrayal or abandonment means more to you than you care to admit?”

He kept silent, eyes still glued upwards. “Familiarity breeds contempt.”

She chuckled. “Fair counter, Lieutenant.” She looked up from her clipboard. “Tell me about a happy memory.”

He sighed. “Do I have to?”

“I can keep making points and asking questions that make you uncomfortable to think about because you’re having to admit that your values and decisions are being challenged in way you’re not fond of?”

He glared at the ceiling. “Why did Price make me come here?”

She smiled. “Because he recognized you needed to work through some things and not on your own like you usually do.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I never said there was, Lieutenant. And there doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you in order to see a therapist. However, you cannot hide the fact that your childhood, career, and personal traumas and choices have formed who you are as a person. Even if you have worked through them by forcing yourself to be cold and unfeeling, you’re still a human being. You still have the same feelings and thought process that we all do. If nothing else, talking, helps you to let some of that sunken feeling come to the surface and be recognized and assessed.”

Simon’s expression had pinched beneath his mask, and he grumbled to himself before sighing. “I don’t like admitting I trust my closest teammates because I’m scared they’ll betray me and I don’t know if I can recover from something like that.”

She gave him a thoughtful smile. “Ghost, have you ever shared these concerns with the people on your team?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not weak.”

“No, you’re not. But you tell the stories of these men and women who fight alongside you. You seem to heavily rely on the One-Four-One. On soldiers like Captain Price and Sergeant MacTavish.”

“…Yeah…”

“Lieutenant, how many times have either men saved or defended you in a fight?”

“More times than I can count.”

“And has there ever been a time, with either of them, that in the midst of battle, you have ever feared that they would leave you behind or do you harm? Even when you first met them and fought beside them?”

Simon was silent for a long time, then he shook his head. “No. There never has.”

“Lieutenant, the fear of being betrayed is one you’ve had since you were a child. Your father, from what you’ve told of me, betrayed your trust as a child. From there, you learned you could only rely on yourself, and you have a hard time opening up to those who are there to help you too. You find it hard to trust just about anyone, especially those who are there to watch your back.”

“How am I supposed to trust someone if in the future they may turn?”

“To trust someone is to have faith in them, Lieutenant. It’s to put your faith into their hands. And you’re correct, it’s not something that’s guaranteed. Because of this, you truly may never trust Captain Price or Sergeant MacTavish, but I ask this of you, do you think that the two of them trust you with their lives? That if they were in trouble, backs up against the wall, would they call you to help them? Would they trust you when the moment called for it?”

Before he could answer, a shrill ringtone went off and they both jumped, Simon grabbing his phone as he sat upright. “Ghost…yes sir…I understand…I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and stood. “Afraid I have to cut this short, Doc.”

“I understand, Lieutenant. Duty calls. Think about today’s session, write in your journal if you feel up to it.” She watched as he headed for the door. “We’ve made good progress, Lieutenant. I hope next week’s session is as productive as today's.”

His hand pulled the door open, and he paused. “Doc?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“They would.”

“I’m sorry?”

Simon looked at her. “Price and Johnny…they’d call me for help.”

She smiled. “And would you be there?”

“In a heartbeat.”

[wheezyseeker99]

Close to You

Warnings: eventually there’s smut, lots of teasing during, and unprotected sex (fm)

18+, MDNI

Summary: Cam’s shoulder keeps bothering him months after he has a grade 2 AC sprain and he refuses surgery so girlfriend tries to take care of it at home during the off season.

(Basically it’s fluff until the end)

It’s not like Cam to want to stay in bed as often as he’s been lately. He lays in a certain way that makes me believe that his shoulder sprain from months ago is still bothering him. He won’t admit that it’s bothering him, but the way he moves shows an entirely different story.

He’s not been as active as he typically is. Usually in the off season he’s more active than this, but he’s been slowing down lately. It’s worrying me that he’ll rush into training for the next season without focusing on the issue that could take him off the ice so easily.

So I made it my mission to learn how to make his shoulder feel better without dragging him out the door to the doctor or to the team’s physical therapist. I don’t think Cam knows that the little shoulder massages I give him are purposeful, but I can tell his muscles are still tense and it’s clear that the shoulder doesn’t look the same as the other. I continued my research beyond massages, and today I’m going to make him get up and work on his shoulder.

I made him breakfast this morning, and he went back to bed not long after. I put on a sports bra and leggings, looking over my shoulder to see him fast asleep. I walk over and press a kiss to his red, tousled hair. My heart swells at how precious he is when he’s asleep. I’m going to hate to wake him when he looks this cute. I close the door behind me and grab his unused roll of sports tape and a resistance band, placing them on the couch and move my exercise ball to the middle of the living room.

I make us a protein shake to share before I walk back into our bedroom. He’s still snoring softly as I climb in bed behind him, running a hand through his hair. I softly kiss his scruffy cheek. He hums when I press more kisses down his jaw to his ear.

“Wake up Cam,” I whisper into his ear. He groans but keeps his eyes closed. I tug on his hair and kiss down his neck. “If you don’t wake up, how will I make you feel better?”

His eyes open and look at me sleepily. “What are you talking about?”

His rough voice shoots tingles through me but I choose to ignore it for now.

“I’m going to help you with your shoulder,” I say and stand to my feet. I walk around the bed and hold out my hand for him. He stares at me in shock. Like I learned his deepest, darkest secret. “You’re going to let me help you or so help me God, Cameron. I’ll drag you to pt if I have to, but I think we can do it here.”

“How did you know?” He asks. His expression changes slightly. “Is that why you’ve been giving me massages lately?”

I nod my head. He sits up, swinging his legs to sit on the side of the bed. He grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him.

“I love that you’re trying to help, but-”

“No buts allowed. You’re doing this Cam. I spent a long time researching this and I’m tired of seeing you in pain.”

I turn around and walk out of the bedroom, leaving him sitting there. Before I knew it, I was getting pulled back into him. Cam’s hands came around my waist, holding my back to his chest. His nose nudges my neck as he places a kiss there.

“I appreciate it baby. Tell me what you want to do.”

“You have to follow my directions. And don’t make me lose my patience.”

My hands go to the bottom of his shirt and pull it up and over his head. He’s smiling, trying not to giggle at my expression. He knows he’s hot and my face can’t hold back emotion. I know my cheeks are heated when I trail my eyes over his body.

“I like seeing your face when you take my shirt off.”

I drag my eyes away from his torso and focus on the outline of his shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t take it off yourself.”

“Thought I’d get a spanking if I did,” he shrugs.

“You will if you don’t sit down and keep quiet,” I quirked an eyebrow and motioned for him to sit on the ground. The smile hasn’t left his face. He sits down and looks up at me.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Get on your knees and face the exercise ball,” I say as I get down on the floor with him. He obeys my instruction and I take his hand and place it on the ball. “So you need to keep the side of this hand on the ball, place your other hand flat, and roll it forward until you feel like your muscle is stretching. Start with 10 reps.”

By the time he reaches 7 stretches, I can see him grit his teeth. His face contorts in pain slightly when he finishes all 10. I place a kiss on his head as I get up to get the protein shake and hand it to him. He takes a few sips before sitting it down. I grab sports tape from the couch and turn to him, getting on my knees behind him.

“I’m going to tape your shoulder so the pain isn’t as bad.”

Cam nods and I get to work, placing the tape where it needed to be. His beautifully freckled shoulder is taped up within a minute. He lets out a sigh when I press a kiss to his shoulder before standing to put the sports tape back on the couch, grabbing the resistance band and sat it down next to him.

“All done with taping. Now we’re going to do internal and external rotations,” I say and sit down in front of him. “Hold your elbow against your side and extend your forearm. Make a fist and press inward on my hand. Don’t press too hard. Hold 5 seconds and let go. 5 of those and we’ll switch to outward presses.”

He nods again, doing as he was told. His fist presses into my hand. By the time we finish his shoulder looks like it’s swelling slightly. I grab the resistance band from next to him.

“Last one. This is the lightest resistance band we have. Hold it in both hands and keep your elbows at your sides. We’re going to do 10 reps of pulling outward,” I pause to adjust his wrists. “Your wrists need to be at a neutral position. Thumbs up and go slow.”

Cam adjusts the band and his forearms flex. He bites his lip in concentration as he pulls the band.

“You’re doing so good Cam. Almost done.”

His eyes snapped to mine. I mentally slap myself. I know he likes praise in and out of the bedroom, and I just flipped the switch by praising him. I see the fiery look of determination in his eyes as he finishes the reps. I gulp, pulling my eyes away from his. I get up and go get an ice pack from the freezer.

When I turn around, he’s right there behind me. He takes the ice pack and throws it into the sink before slamming his mouth onto mine. As my lips instinctively parted, a soft sigh escaped. It’s like I was inviting his tongue to explore and taste me. My body responds to his immediately and my back presses into the cool metal of the fridge. I shiver at the contact. After a long moment he hovers his lips over mine slightly and smirks, his eyes boring into mine.

“I think you’ve taken care of me enough today sweetheart,” he says taking my wrists in his hand, lifting them over my head.

“I agree.”

I move my mouth to his stubbled jaw and down his neck. I suck gently at a spot under his ear when I feel his other hand reach between us, rubbing against my pussy over my leggings. I grind into it. I can feel myself soaking through the layers of clothing.

“Cam,” I mumble into his neck, sinking my teeth into the sensitive skin.

He hums and I pull my mouth off of him. I give him the most innocent look that I can muster up, still grinding into his hand.

“Can I sit on your dick, please?” I ask and bite my lip. His face looks like I gave him a heart attack.

Cam doesn’t reply, but hands come to my hips and tug me with him towards our bedroom. He tugs at my sports bra, pulling it from my body and attacking my chest with his mouth while his hands come to my leggings and panties, tugging them away from my body. My hands are too busy pulling his shorts and boxers away when he makes me gasp by biting down on my breast. He pulls his mouth away and sits back on the bed. Cam grabs my hand and tugs me to straddle him.

Within a moment, he’s filling me and my head lulls forward to lay on his good shoulder. He lets out a strangled groan as I lift and drop myself on him.

My hands wrapped around the his neck and tangled my fingers in his soft hair. Cam moaned as I tugged slightly.

“Fuck Cam,” I gasped as I continued to bounce. “You like that?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah? You like it when I pull your hair?”

I pulled again, this time slightly harder. Cam’s hips bucked up, a deep groan bubbling up from his chest. Satisfied with his reaction, I moved my hands to his shoulders, massaging them as well as I can while bracing myself, quickly increasing my pace. I tried my best to ignore the burning sensation in my thighs as I rutted against him. His hand comes around my neck, forcing me to tilt my head up to look him in the eyes while he pounds up into me.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.”

Cam’s eyes look like two storms brewing, and they’re going to ruin me one of these days. I’m under his spell immediately. His hand around my throat tightens and he pulls his mouth to mine. I moan against his lips when I feel his other hand rubbing circles on my clit. Cam’s fingers bring a scream out of me as I’m nearing my own climax.

“Gonna fill you up sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You want it?”

Nodding my head wordlessly, I attach my mouth back to his as we both hit our peaks. He groans into my mouth and I feel him release inside me. My body is still shaking. We’re both breathing heavily against each other. I lift a hand to move the hair away from his face. I cup his cheek, smiling at his exhausted expression.

“Do you feel better now?”

“I always feel better when I’m close to you.”