#this was actually a real hassle to write so I hope you enjoy it

[flwrkid14]

Ghosts of Gotham: Tim Drake is a Halfa

Danny wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when he met Gotham’s infamous vigilantes, but “Red Hood smells like death and swamp water had a baby” definitely wasn’t on the list. The moment he stepped into the room, Danny gagged so hard he nearly fell out of the air.

“Holy Ancients,” he wheezed, covering his nose. “What in the name of all things unholy is that?”

Jason, already not thrilled about the random glowing stranger showing up, tilted his helmeted head. “What’s what?”

“That! You! You smell like—oh, man. I can’t even describe it.” Danny waved his hand in front of his face like it might help. “It’s like if ectoplasm went rancid and then you rolled in it for three days straight. Dude, do you know what’s going on with your ecto-situation?”

Jason took a threatening step forward. “You wanna say that again?”

Danny floated higher, clearly not intimidated. “Oh, I’ll say it again. You stink. And not just like regular stink. Like ghost stink. Like, ‘this is a health code violation, and the Ghost Zone is going to fine you’ stink. How are you even standing there right now? Anyone from Amity Park would be side-eyeing you so hard you’d feel it in your soul—what’s left of it, anyway.”

Jason stared, his body language radiating murderous intent. “You are two seconds away from eating pavement, Casper.”

Danny, unbothered, pointed at his own chest. “Excuse me, Phantom. Casper wishes he could pull this look off.”

“Phantom,” Dick interrupted, trying and failing not to laugh, “maybe we could focus on the introductions first?”

Danny gave Jason one last look of pity and floated down. “Fine, fine. But seriously, Big Red, we’re going to have to talk about that. I’ll fix it later. No need to thank me.”

Jason looked ready to commit murder, but Bruce’s glare cut him off before he could say anything.

Once the chaos settled, introductions were exchanged, and things calmed down—relatively speaking. Danny, as it turned out, was impossible to fully calm down. He buzzed around the room like he had endless energy, chatting and throwing out quips that seemed to simultaneously amuse and irritate everyone.

Then Danny’s gaze landed on Red Robin, and everything shifted.

Danny tilted his head, his glowing green eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, his usual chaos quieted, curiosity taking over. “Huh,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Tim stiffened, his body going taut as though preparing for impact.

Danny floated closer, peering at him with an unnervingly intense expression. “You’re like me.”

Tim’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately stepped back, his movements sharp and jerky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Danny said, and his tone was too soft for the others to hear the shift in it. “You’re like me. You’re—”

Tim’s hand twitched at his side, as though debating whether to reach for something or retreat entirely. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice low.

Danny blinked, then realization dawned on his face. “Wait… they don’t know, do they?”

“What don’t we know?” Bruce cut in, his voice sharp with suspicion.

Danny ignored him, his gaze locked on Tim. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Tim’s eyes darted toward Danny, his frown deepening as uncertainty clouded his features. He shifted his weight, his fingers twitching at his sides as if fighting the urge to bolt.

He took a step back, then another, his movements slow and almost imperceptible. His breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as though the air itself had grown heavier. The space around him seemed to shimmer faintly, a distortion that matched the anxiety rippling across his face.

Danny reached out, concern etched in his expression, but Tim flinched. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, the shimmering intensified, and with each passing second, Tim grew more translucent, his form fading like a mirage under the moon.

By the time Danny blinked, Tim was gone, leaving only a faint disturbance in the air where he had been.

The bats froze, their eyes darting around the room.

“What the hell just happened?” Jason demanded, reaching for his guns. “Where’d he go?”

“Did you do something?” Damian snapped at Danny, his hand already on his katana.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Danny held up his hands, his eyes wide with excitement. “Not me! That was all him! Holy Ancients—he can turn invisible?!” A grin split his face as he practically vibrated in place. “This is awesome! Wait—does he shoot ecto-beams too? Or, oh, what if he’s got some crazy transformation I’ve never even seen before? This just keeps getting better!”

Bruce’s expression darkened. “You need to explain. Now.”

Danny sighed, his excitement fading as realization set in. “Okay, but first, I need to go find him. Because if he’s anything like me, he’s probably freaking out right now. So… bye!”

He phased through the floor before anyone could stop him.

———

Danny found Tim perched on the edge of Wayne Industries, staring out at the Gotham skyline. He floated over cautiously, his boots touching down softly on the rooftop.

“Hey,” Danny said, his voice quiet. “Mind if I sit?”

Tim didn’t respond, but he didn’t tell him to leave either, so Danny took that as permission. He sat down cross-legged, giving Tim some space.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence heavy but not unbearable.

Finally, Danny broke it. “Okay, so… not to ruin the moment, but can we talk about how you've had to endure Jason’s ecto-stench this entire time? Because seriously, that’s gotta be a health violation. I mean, I'm half-dead, and even I think it’s concerning. Someone needs to dunk him in a pool of purified ectoplasm or something. I’m gonna file a complaint with—”

Tim laughed. It was soft and brief, but it was real.

Danny grinned, leaning back on his hands. “There it is. I knew you had a laugh in there somewhere.”

Tim sighed, his shoulders loosening slightly. “You’re… a lot,” he admitted.

“I know,” Danny said proudly. “But I grow on people. Like mold. Or fungus.”

Tim huffed another laugh, shaking his head. For a moment, the tension eased, and Danny let the silence settle again before speaking more seriously.

“Look,” Danny said, his voice softer, “I’m sorry I outed you like that. I didn’t know. And if they give you crap about it, I’ll personally make their lives miserable. But… you’re not alone in this, okay? I mean, yeah, it sucks. A lot. But you’ve got me now, because there’s no way we’re not becoming best friends now, and I get it.”

Tim looked at him, his eyes glassy but steady. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Do you really get it? I mean, you know what it’s like to…” His voice trailed off, thick with hesitation.

Danny tilted his head, his tone softer now. “Yeah. I know what it’s like.”

Tim let out a breath, shaky but determined. “I died.. a few months ago.”

Danny blinked but didn’t say anything, giving Tim space to continue.

“Harley—she caught me. Took me, actually. I was gone for weeks. They—she—handed me over to Joker. It was like a… gift. She thought it’d fix their relationship or something, I don’t know.” Tim’s voice faltered, his gaze flickering to the floor as if the memories were too much to hold. “I held out as long as I could. I kept fighting, kept trying to survive, but…”

He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Weeks of it. Beatings. Electrocutions. I don’t even remember the exact moment my heart stopped. I just… wasn’t there anymore.”

Danny stayed quiet, his face a mix of empathy and understanding.

“Harley panicked,” Tim continued, his words tumbling out like a confession. “She thought she’d gone too far, that Joker would kill her next. So she tried shocking me back. Guess she half-suceeded? I only came back halfway.” He gestured at himself vaguely, his hands trembling. “I’m not the same. I’m not… whole.”

Danny nodded slowly. "You’re stuck between," he said, offering the words with quiet reassurance.

Tim nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah. Between.” He paused, looking up at Danny. “I haven’t told anyone because… how do you tell them something like that? How do you tell your family you’re not really alive? That their search was all in vain? That I still died, even though they looked so hard for me? I can’t make them think they failed.” His voice wavered. “They were so scared when they found me…”

Danny stayed with him in the silence, his presence a steady comfort.

Tim exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. “I thought I was weak. I thought if I told them what really happened, they’d think I was broken. And I didn’t want to be a burden.” He looked up at Danny. “I’m still not used to this. Not used to being… like this. I don’t even know how to control it—sometimes I phase through walls, other times I get stuck halfway. And the invisibility thing… I can’t even make it work without disappearing when I get too emotional.”

Danny’s gaze softened with understanding as he leaned in slightly, his voice steady but gentle. He hummed thoughtfully, “It’s a lot to handle all at once.”

Tim's shoulders slumped as he leaned closer to Danny, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to control it, but every time I get close, something goes wrong. And I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak or… freakish, so I kept pretending everything was fine. It was easier that way. Easier than explaining… all this.” He exhaled slowly, the exhaustion in his voice evident. “At least it was… until you showed up.”

Danny reached out, resting a hand on Tim’s arm in a quiet gesture of comfort. “I don’t think you’re a freak. You’re just different, like me. But that doesn’t make you broken. You’re still you.” He paused, meeting Tim’s gaze. “I know what it’s like.. to feel different, freakish, the whole nine yards. For what it’s worth? You're handling it a lot better than I did.”

Tim gave him a tight smile, the first real one in a while. “Thanks. It helps. More than you know.”

———

When they returned to the Batcave, Tim sat down with the others, Danny sticking close by his side. Tim took a deep breath and told them everything—about being captured by Harley, the weeks of torture at the Joker’s hands, the electrocutions that had stopped his heart. About how Harley had panicked and shocked him back to life, halfway. How he wasn’t entirely human anymore.

The family listened, their expressions ranging from horror to guilt to anger. Jason looked ready to kill someone, and Bruce’s usually stoic face betrayed a crack of regret. Tim hesitated as he explained why he hadn’t told them sooner, his voice faltering but honest.

Tim’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, “I didn’t want you to think you failed… that you searched for me for nothing,"

Danny stayed quiet but stayed close, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “For the record,” he said, glaring at the others, “if any of you give him crap about this, you’re gonna have to deal with me. And trust me, I will make your lives miserable.”

Tim gave him a small, grateful smile. For the first time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

[retroaria]

⊹₊⋆.˚ Confessions ⋆.˚₊ ⊹

summary: the bllk boys and their romantic confessions, some are love, some are not! all of them are pretty cute though, not gonna lie…

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 💋

⊹₊⟡⋆ Isagi Yoichi ‹𝟹

isagi makes it a point to confess to you in person. he spends a few days thinking (and overthinking) exactly what words to use. he wants to make sure he can confess his true feelings and also let you know how lucky he would feel if you accepted him.

once he’s ready he’d send you a text or call you, asking you to meet him somewhere quiet, maybe just his house or yours. the two of you meet up and he’s immediately flushed. he’s nervous and excited all at the same time. he’s the kind of guy that would want to have built a strong friendship and bond before confronting his feelings for you, so he’s confident that you guys will be ok no matter what happens.

he’d take your hands in his and look you in the eyes while he confesses. his gaze would be warm and sweet, he’s just glad he could even get the opportunity to express himself to you.

“I’ve really love having you with me. You make me feel better, even when I thought I was fine before, being with you just feels better. The closer we’ve gotten, and the more I’ve seen of you and your world, the more I realize how badly I want to be a part of it.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Bachira Meguru ‹𝟹

as soon as bachira realizes he has feelings for you, he feels immediately ready to tell you. he’ll let the feeling settle for a little and try to tell you in an indirect manner. he’ll swoop in with a surprise kiss on your cheek, giggling as he watches your flustered expression. or maybe he’ll leave little notes around for you, in your bag, in your car, in your pockets, in your books, etc. they’d say silly little things about how adorable you were that day or he’ll briefly write about something that reminded him of you, maybe some mediocre poetry he thought up in his love sick state. you’d catch on pretty easily that it was bachira, and he never intended to keep that a secret.

then after a few days of messing with you, he decided he’d tell you the next time he saw you. when the two of you met up he immediately sucked you into a bone crushing hug, like he was holding on for dear life. he’d pull away, “hey cutie~ guess what…” he’d coo at you.

“i like you! Like, I really like you. Maybe I even love you. actually, yeah, love sounds better. I love you! I wanna take you on a date and kiss your stupid face. I know you feel the same, I wish you could see how red you are right now.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Nagi Seishiro ‹𝟹

Nagi realized he loved you when he began to notice how sad he would get when you leave. being sad is a serious pain for him. he doesn’t like the way it makes his brain and body feel all fried and stressed, he hates not wanting to do anything even more than he already does, yet simultaneously willing to do anything to get you back in his apartment. Nagi would beg you to sleepover every time you hung out at his place, he’d sometimes try to wrestle you into the bed. you were just so kind and warm and calming to him. he felt graced by you and your presence.

his confession would come out of him like a nice long sign of relief. he’s been having this strange internal battle between his love for you and his love for laziness. it’s a hassle to have to confess and then put in the effort to build up a romantic relationship, but in the end he decides it’s even more of a hassle to not tell you how he feels. plus, you’re so worth it.

“It just doesn’t feel right when you’re not with me. It’s like I don’t really know what to do with myself. You make me feel alive. That sounds cringe. I love you, is what im trying to say. I hope that makes sense.”

disclaimer: do not date a guy like nagi in real life you cannot gentle parent this man child lol

⊹₊⟡⋆ Reo Mikage ‹𝟹

Reo’s confession was a long time in the making. he clung to his feelings for as long as he could until it really felt like he was gonna explode if he didn’t tell you. he did that because he wanted to wait for the timing to be perfect. he wanted to find the perfect spot to do it, the perfect words to say, all at the perfect time in both of your lives. but of course, things rarely work out that way.

what actually happened is he blurted it out in the middle of you talking one day. you were telling him about something you were working on, something you loved and were really proud of. he was listening so intently, or at least trying to. his thoughts kept stringing him in a different direction and before he knew it, he dropped the L word on you like a nuclear bomb.

“I-uhh…Ok listen, I’m sorry I promise I was listening to you it’s just…you look so beautiful right now and you sound so cute and excited. It got me all frantic, I didn’t mean to drop that on you so out of nowhere…it’s true though, I do love you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Michael Kaiser ‹𝟹

(unless you speak german) kaiser has already confessed to you a million times. “ich liebe dich~” he’d say to you upon every parting, telling you it was simply a term of endearment. if you did happen to know what that meant already, or if you took the time to search it up, he’d be like “yeah, I said that, so what?” this man would propose to you in the middle of times square in broad daylight he’s so confident but that’s a different hc for another time lmaoo.

his confession is charming and flattering. he truly worships the ground you walk on while also believing that he’s the only one who could appreciate you as you deserve. his hands cup your face and his eyes fall warmly on yours. his voice is direct and steady. not a twinge of nervousness can be seen, just pure love and admiration. he speaks to you with a calm and lulling voice, a tenderness he only lets linger when he’s with you.

“Liebe, don’t you see how soft you make me? I’d hate for you to not realize how I feel for you. I want you to be mine, if you’ll have me, that is.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Rin Itoshi ‹𝟹 (i wrote so much for rin wtf)

Rin has walls that he has spent a lot of time and effort building up over the years. they’re forged to keep out anything and everything that may be a distraction from his goals, but if this is the guy you’re going for, i’m sure you’re a persistent little pest. you’d sneak your way into his life, just by being there, texting him, talking about him. soon enough you’d infested his mind as well, suddenly he’d find himself thinking of you when he least expects it.

one day he was on the pitch, just a practice game, but you were in the stands watching him. throughout your friendship you’ve done this quite a few times, so he has no reason to pay much mind to your presence in the middle of the match. today was different though, you were up close, eyes beaming at him in the center field, hands at the side of your head clutched together in a little cheer. he hadn’t done anything yet, the match just started, what were you even cheering for? it was cute, he decided. that’s why it broke his focus long enough for the other team to score. actually, it was adorable. so adorable it tugged the corners of his lips upward slightly, which he quickly moved to cover with his hand. he just threw a match and he was smiling? what were you doing to him?

after some time of thinking you might be employing psychological warfare against him, Rin decided it was time to really sit down and confront his feelings. he’d go a few days, maybe even a week or more without speaking to you. don’t worry, he was thinking about hardly anything but you the entire time.

“Sorry for ghosting you, I just needed to think about some things. It made me a little sad to be away from you too. I hate you a lot less than I hate everyone else, you know? Don’t get cocky about that. Also, don’t leave me ok? I’ll be nicer, yeah sure. Maybe I can walk you home…or something. Here, let’s hold hands.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Sae Itoshi ‹𝟹

he’s way more flustered about it than you might think. he’s not embarrassed or nervous necessarily, he just hasn’t expected to feel this way about anyone. similar to kaiser, sae thinks he’s the only person who could truly love and appreciate you as much as you deserve. this typically stoic and selfish man finds himself smiling in your presence and wanting to give you everything you want and more.

your relationship until this point has been uhh… “transactional” we’ll say. the two of you liked going out and hanging out together, but no feelings attached. a few kisses were shared here and there, he’d take you back to his apartment to cuddle sometimes, but wouldn’t ever let you sleepover. eventually things started to get a little more *intense*. you did start staying over, a lot. so much so that you had a toothbrush on his bathroom sink and clothes in his closet. the first time he ever had the thought of being in love with you was when he realized his sheets always smelled like you now, and he wanted it to stay that way.

the fact that you were enough to turn his head, take over his thoughts, and make him fall in love with you feels like proof beyond the reasonable doubt that you are perfect.

“You can move in, if you want. I wouldn’t mind. We’re basically already dating, so I don’t see the point in denying it anymore. Yeah, I didn’t think it would go this far either. I like knowing you’re here at my place, with me and not with anyone else.”

HONORABLE MENTIONS

⊹₊⟡⋆ Oliver aiku ‹𝟹

“You know I love you, let’s stop pretending. Seriously, you could keep me on a tight leash if you really want. Promise, I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Kunigami Rensuke ‹𝟹

“I love you, I want you to know that. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I want to care for you and keep you safe, you mean so much to me, you don’t even know.”

i love this post so much, the nagi disclaimer i had to put, the strange onion analogy for rin, the flustered reo moment. also just isagi being here, the man that you are, Isagi Yoichi. i had so much fun making this - aria

divider - @enchanthings

[alsofoundinpeas]

A Gift of Belonging

Summary: Y/N often avoids family holidays due to her strained relationship with her family, who favors her brother. When Spencer Reid invites her to spend Christmas in New York with him and his mother, she discovers a new sense of warmth and belonging, making it the best holiday she’s ever had.

Requested fic!! 🥳: I was wondering if I could ask for a Spence and Y/N in which Christmas is approaching and Y/N usually spends it alone because she has a complicated relationship with her family that always favors her brother.

Maybe he has plans to go spend it with his mom and because they are in early times in their relationship he didn’t think to invite her, but once he finds out she’s alone, he takes her to meet his mom and they all have a really good time!

I was thinking something angsty, fluffy, and maybe smutty in the end? I don’t know, you’re the mastermind behind these beautiful creations, so whatever makes you feel inspired haha

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Very brief mention of alcohol. Strained relationship with family (repetitive I know). Oral (m!receiving), unprotected PinV sex (birth control is discussed beforehand but said conversation isn't actually in it), creampie (I wince every single time I type that). Fluffy holiday smut!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Reupload because I'm a bingus head and accidentally deleted when editing FORGIVE ME PLS!! I loved writing this request!! Huge thank you to @dalamjisung for the request. I hope you like it :') The song mentioned in the fic is December by Ariana Grande btw, but it's only mentioned because reader listens to it, it isn't mandatory for the fic. I have a few more requests lined up after this one, so as for right now my requests are closed until all of them get posted. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all!!! :) <3

Y/N sighed as she stared down at the text from her mom, re-reading it a few times before tossing her phone to the end of her bed with a frustrated groan.

Mom: Hey sweetie! Are you planning to come home for Christmas this weekend? If not, I completely understand. Honestly, I’m just happy your brother will at least be here. I think he’s bringing his new girlfriend, too, so that’s exciting! He’s always so good about making time for family. But again, no pressure if you’re too busy. I know you have a lot going on!

Her excuses were starting to wear thin, seeing as she had played the flu card for last year’s Christmas party and faked a work emergency to skip Thanksgiving. But the thought of attending her family’s Christmas only to spend the night listening to her brother's achievements, followed by the inevitable barrage of condescending questions about her life, was unbearable. Call her a Grinch or a Scrooge, but the holidays had become her least favorite time of year for this very reason.

Unfortunately, it didn’t even matter if it was a holiday or not. It never changed. Her family had always favored her brother, even when they were kids. She had a never-ending list of chores and rules, while he breezed through life with no curfew and no accountability. Any mistake he made seemed to fall on her, and heaven forbid she stayed out five minutes later than she was supposed to with her friends.

Despite their constant claims that there were 'no favorites,' it was painfully obvious who the real favorite was.

Y/N lay staring at the ceiling, weighing the pros and cons of skipping Christmas this year. On one hand, it would be nice to see her grandmother—the one person who had actually kept her promise of no favorites. But she could always visit her grandmother separately and avoid the hassle of sneaking away just to have a real conversation. On the other hand, her family was already used to being disappointed in her. What was one more excuse? She could always make it up next year.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity of indecision (though it was really only five minutes), she finally decided to skip Christmas again this year and stay home. Her family mostly gave money as gifts now that they were all adults, so she wouldn't be missing much—just a meal (takeout had never let her down) and some forced small talk with extended family (who never really seemed interested in her life anyway).

Y/N: Hey, mom! I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to miss this year too. There’s a bug going around at work and I’m worried I caught it :(

Her mom’s answer was immediate, and the guilt lifted from her shoulders as she rolled her eyes at the response.

Mom: Poor thing! You just have the worst luck when it comes to holidays huh? Your brother must have taken all the good immune system genes or something LOL!! That’s okay, dad and I will mail your gift and I’ll send you lots of pics. Hope you feel better soon!

After firing off a quick 'Thanks, love you!' Y/N rose from the bed, let out a sigh, and wandered to the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

She’d tried to convince herself that her parents' indifference no longer hurt, but what had dulled into a constant ache over the years flared into a sharp sting during the holidays. No one wanted to be alone at Christmas, but she knew she had to prioritize her peace of mind—and that meant avoiding an entire day spent deflecting passive-aggressive jabs while her brother soaked up all the attention.

The one person who could make her feel better was across the country, tied up with a case. She wasn’t upset with him—far from it. Y/N admired the work he did and the way he dedicated himself to saving people without ever getting the recognition he deserved. Still, it had been over a week since she’d last seen Spencer, and all she wanted was to curl up in his arms and hear him tell her that everything would be okay.

As if the universe had picked up on her tension, a knock at the door startled her, causing her to jump with a racing heart. She froze, eyes darting to the door, considering whether she should quietly move toward the knife block in case a dangerous stranger stood outside. It was barely 8:30, and she hadn’t been expecting anyone.

After a second round of knocks, relief washed over her as a familiar voice called "Y/N? Sweetheart?" She rushed to the door, unlocking it as quickly as she could and flinging it open to find an exhausted-looking Spencer standing on the other side.

“Spence!” Y/N cooed excitedly, wrapping her arms around him tightly before pulling him inside. “When did you get back? I thought you guys wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night?”

Not that she was complaining at all. She loved any time she could spend with Spencer. They’d only been dating for a little over two months, but she’d already fallen hopelessly in love with the sweet genius that she met when he accidentally stumbled into her while in line at their favorite coffee shop (she later found out it was no accident and that Morgan intentionally shoved him into her because Spencer was too afraid to make the first move).

“Technically we weren’t supposed to be, but we ended up getting a confession so it took way less time than we anticipated to finish the case. And with Christmas coming up this weekend, Gideon figured the sooner we got home the better,” Spencer explained with a small, tired grin as he slipped off his shoes and sat his satchel down. “I hope you don’t mind that I showed up, I just really missed you. I tried to call beforehand, but I thought maybe your phone was dead or something...” His eyes caught sight of the wine bottle on the island and paused, arching a brow before glancing back down at her. “Rough night?”

Y/N blew out an exasperated huff of air, nodding as they made their way over to her couch. She cuddled into his side immediately, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to do so. Spencer had been hesitant when they first started dating with physical touch, but once he pushed past the initial discomfort, he couldn’t get enough of her affection.

“Yeahhh. I had to tell my mom that I’m not making it home for Christmas again this year and it just… stressed me out a bit.”

Spencer’s face scrunched in confusion, looking down at her worriedly. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. Are you not feeling good? Or what’s stopping you from going?”

Right. They hadn’t had the whole “I love my family from a distance because they act like brother is Saint Michael himself” talk yet. Y/N nibbled at her lower lip, fidgeting with her hands before sighing.

“I… um, it’s complicated. I just prefer not to see my family around the holidays because they’ve always had this weird favoritism for my brother and as I got older I just decided it wasn’t worth sacrificing my peace for.”

Spencer frowned, nodding in understanding before his face lit up with realization.

“Well, if you’d like, you could join me and my mom for Christmas? If you don’t want to be alone, that is. Not that I’m trying to pressure you into meeting her! I just planned to check her out of the sanitarium this weekend and bring her to New York City since she’s been doing better on her medication. I’m sure she’d love to meet you, and I, of course, love any time I get to spend with you—“ Spencer began, his words tumbling out nervously as his face flushed and his voice pitched higher.

Y/N’s heart skipped at the invitation, her face lighting up into a wide grin as she gently cupped his face, halting his nervous rambling. He met her gaze, and she smiled softly. "Spencer, I’d love to join you and your mom for Christmas—only if you’re really sure you’re okay with it."

Spencer had first mentioned his mother's illness on their third date, explaining himself after abruptly excusing himself to take a call from her nurse. It was also the night of their first kiss—he had started panicking, flustered and trying to explain his sudden exit, and Y/N thought he might cry. So, she kissed him to calm his nerves. Once he’d settled down, she reassured him that it was completely fine, that she understood how important his mother was to him, and that she’d love to learn more when he was ready to share.

That night, Spencer realized, without a doubt, that he was falling in love with her.

"It’s settled then," Spencer said with a grin, leaning forward to kiss her quickly. "I’m so excited to spend Christmas with my two favorite people. I was actually thinking we could get tickets to see The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center—"

Y/N listened intently, her heart swelling as she gazed at him with stars in her eyes, enchanted by his excitement as he shared the plans he’d made for the weekend. Although a little nervous, she couldn’t wait to share Christmas with him and his mom. They continued to plan the weekend, finalizing details between sleepy kisses and small yawns until they finally caved to their exhaustion and went to sleep.

The weekend arrived faster than she expected, and nervous excitement washed over Y/N as she waited for Spencer to pick her up from her apartment. She was packed and ready, excited to meet his mom and see New York City sparkling with Christmas decorations. For the first time in years, she felt something other than dread for the holiday, and she couldn’t be more grateful for her sweet boyfriend because of it.

Spencer had picked up his mom the day before, carefully explaining the plan to her during the drive home and making sure she felt well enough to go ahead with it. Diana was overjoyed at the idea of Y/N joining them for Christmas, assuring him she was feeling fine and could hardly wait to meet her.

For the first time in ages, Spencer felt like he had his mom back, her treatment progressing far better than he'd hoped. All it did was make him even more excited for the weekend ahead, his anxiety easing with each hour spent in the car on the way back to his apartment. It was comforting to open up to her about Y/N and to share what had been happening in his life beyond the letters he wasn’t sure she even remembered receiving.

The weekend turned out even better than Spencer had hoped. Diana and Y/N hit it off so well that Spencer found himself mostly on the sidelines of their conversations, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. It filled him with happiness to see his mom and the woman he was now certain was the love of his life getting along so effortlessly.

They had packed in every Christmas activity they could think of: admiring the lights, sipping hot cocoa, watching The Nutcracker... anything that felt festive was crossed off the list. By the end of the weekend, Diana was almost pleading with Spencer to make Y/N her daughter-in-law on the drive back to the sanitarium. Spencer could only laugh nervously, promising to do his best to make it happen.

Once Y/N got home, she knew she had to find a way to thank Spencer—not only for giving her the best Christmas of her life but also for being the most amazing boyfriend she could ever have hoped for. He was going to come back to her place tomorrow so they could exchange their gifts for each other, so whatever she did, she had to do it then before he inevitably got called in for another case. The real question was: how could she possibly show him just how grateful she was?

With a sigh, Y/N turned on her playlist and settled onto the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas. It felt like the harder she thought, the less her brain worked. After agonizing over ideas for nearly fifteen minutes, Y/N was at her wit's end, ready to settle for a card and a lengthy essay to express her gratitude, when the lyrics of the song playing suddenly grabbed her attention.

Merry Christmas, here I am, boy

I'm the present and you know it, here I am, boy

She sat up suddenly, a victorious grin spreading across her face as the perfect idea popped into her head. She and Spencer had yet to make it past second base, not for lack of desire, but because the opportunity never seemed to align—each time they got close, his phone would ring or something would interrupt, stopping them in their tracks. Tomorrow would be the perfect opportunity to finally take that next step and for her to show her appreciation for the sweet genius.

There was a perfect dark red satin lingerie set at a nearby boutique that would bring her vision to life, but it closed in just thirty minutes. Y/N threw on some clothes, making sure she looked presentable, then grabbed her keys and purse and rushed out of the apartment.

The cashier shot her a glare as she approached the counter, and Y/N internally groaned. She already felt like an asshole for being there so late, but she did still have fourteen minutes to spare before they actually closed. The guilt vanished when she met the cashier’s icy stare, and she grabbed her purchase with a mumbled thanks before she hurried out of the store. Sue her for wanting to look sexy for her boyfriend on Christmas.

The next day seemed to drag on, with Y/N anticipating the surprise she had planned for Spencer.

She cleaned the apartment until it was spotless, setting the perfect mood with scattered scented candles and dimming the lights. The room was softly illuminated by her Christmas tree—one she had convinced Spencer to help decorate at the start of the month—and a few strands of lights she had strung up. All of the presents were ready and waiting to be unwrapped.

Now all she was waiting on was Spencer himself.

Three firm knocks echoed at the door, marking his arrival—right on the dot at 5:00. As punctual as ever. Y/N opened the door with a thrilled smile, eagerly tugging him inside.

"Woah, hey! Hello to you too, sweetheart," Spencer chuckles loudly, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day, so excuse my enthusiasm,” Y/N said with a soft laugh. “Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry. We can do presents first and then eat, or eat and then unwrap them—whatever you prefer. I honestly could do either, it doesn't matter to me and of course, you're the guest so—”

Spencer grinned as she nervously rambled, her hands gesturing wildly as she listed off options. It was oddly comforting to him that she got just as nervous around him as he did around her. Even though she had quickly become the person he felt most at ease with, a part of him still felt those nerves—after all, she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met, and the thought of messing things up and losing her terrified him.

“How about we eat first and then open presents? Is that okay with you?” Spencer suggested, offering a small smile.

The tension in Y/N's body eased as she returned the smile, nodding in agreement. "That sounds perfect."

Dinner passed with casual conversation, both Y/N and Spencer chatting between bites about everything from the new book she was reading to the latest research paper Spencer had discovered and found fascinating. They ate more quickly than usual, both eager to exchange the gifts they had carefully picked out for each other. It wasn’t long before they were done, clearing the table and loading the dishes into the sink before heading into the living room.

The two of them sat together in front of the tree, feeling as giddy as a couple of kids as they finally began to exchange presents.

Spencer slowly unwrapped his first gift, his eyes softening as he revealed the delicate, intricately designed watch she'd chosen for him—a gift that held both practical value and deep sentimental meaning. He glanced up at her, a shy but sincere smile spreading across his face, and she felt the warmth in his gaze. “This is… perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. I’ll wear it every day, I promise."

“Always, Spence. I’m so glad you love it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes filled with affection as she watched him. She recalled how devastated he’d been when his previous watch had broken a few weeks ago. Though hers wasn’t as extravagant as his old one, it meant far more to him—because it came from her.

Y/N cherished every gift he gave her: a whimsical coffee mug to add to her collection, a journal with a playful inscription from him that made her laugh—promising she'd have a place to rant about her family when he wasn’t around to listen, a couple of books from her wishlist, and, lastly, her absolute favorite: a delicate locket on a thin chain, holding the first picture they’d ever taken together.

Once all the gifts were unwrapped, Y/N smiled and stood up, holding her hand out to Spencer. He looked at her in confusion but took her hand without hesitation, allowing her to lead him to the couch.

“Keep your eyes closed and stay right here. Your final gift is in my room,” Y/N instructed, a mischievous smile curling at her lips. As soon as his eyes were shut, she darted down the hallway to her room, stifling a soft giggle at the surprise she was about to unveil.

When she came back, she positioned herself between his legs, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “Alright, Spence… you can open your eyes now.”

Spencer opened his eyes, nearly choking as he took in the sight in front of him. Y/N was standing there in a beautiful lingerie set, the bra designed so that it was a bow that he could untie to reveal her... Just like a present.

“Holly shit,” Spencer breathed, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the rare curse slipping from his lips. Spencer hardly ever swore, so hearing it from him spoke volumes about how much he liked what he saw.

"So I take it you like it?" Y/N arched a brow, resting her arms on his shoulders.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Spencer stammered, looking up with wide eyes as Y/N climbed into his lap.

Y/N settled into his lap with a coy grin, reveling in the feeling of his hands coming up to grip her waist. She leaned in, brushing her nose lightly against his before softly grazing her lips across his.

"I wanted to show you my appreciation..." Y/N whispered, placing a brief but tender kiss on his lips before trailing kisses along his jawline. "...for giving me the best Christmas ever."

Spencer blinked hazily, her words taking a second to process in his mind as the sensation of her lips now sucking a mark into his skin became the center of his focus. His grip on her waist tightened imperceptibly as his fingers flexed against her warm skin. He swallowed hard before finally mustering up an answer.

"Y-you don't have to thank me, baby. All I ever want to do is make you the happiest you've ever been—"

Spencer's words came out as a squeak as she rocked her hips once against the erection now straining in his slacks. His head fell back onto the couch with a soft thump, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips at the friction. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, a fragrant haze that clouded his thoughts and left him feeling lightheaded, as if he were drowning in its sweetness.

The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, the sight of his dilated pupils stirring more in her than she was willing to admit. Y/N smirked, repeating the motion to hear the soft noise fall from his lips once more. She lifted a finger to his lips, shushing him before she moved to kneel between his legs.

"I want to, Spence. Please?"

Spencer nodded so vigorously it almost looked painful, his wide eyes locked on hers in stunned disbelief. He couldn't believe this was real... that he not only had her to begin with but that she was on her knees begging to make him feel good. The breath rushed from his body as her fingers trailed up his thighs to the button of his slacks, popping it open while she kept her hungry gaze on his.

His body trembled in anticipation as Y/N dragged the fabric down his legs, tugging them off once they reached his feet and casting them off to the side. He whined as she leaned forward to mouth over his aching cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, his fingers twitching from where they rested beside himself. His breath hitched in his throat as she dragged her nails down the inside of his thighs, a smug grin on her face as she watched him dig his nails into his palms.

Y/N decided she'd teased him enough, placing a kiss on his hipbone before swiftly removing his boxers. Spencer's hips lifted from the couch, jerking toward her mouth instinctively as she wasted no time in leaning forward to lick a thick stripe up the side of him before taking his swollen head between her lips.

"Oh—" Spencer gasped, his eyes struggling to stay open as he watched her begin to swallow his length. "Oh my God, Y/N—"

Y/N smirked around her mouthful, taking him as far into her throat as she could before wrapping a hand around what couldn't fit. She began to bob her head slowly, easing him into the sensation. The feeling of him—hot and hard and filling her mouth so perfectly—had her squeezing her thighs together as she began to move more vigorously.

Spencer writhed beneath her as her mouth and hand began to work in tandem, his eyes fluttering shut despite his efforts to watch her every move so he could burn the sight into his memory for later use. His hips bucked up when she took him into the back of her throat, a guttural groan falling from his open mouth at the gag that emitted from her from the motion. His eyes shot open as he began spewing out apologies, but his words died in his throat as she pulled off of him to shake her head vehemently.

"Do it again," Y/N croaked, taking him back into her mouth and reaching up to guide his hands to her head.

Spencer whimpered pitifully, exhaling sharply before tentatively repeating the motion. His heart nearly fell out of his ass when Y/N moaned around him, encouraging him to keep going. His hips thrust rapidly into her mouth, his eyes squeezed shut now as moan after moan spilled from his lips.

"I-I'm close— sweetheart, please," Spencer groaned, lights flashing behind his eyes as she all but sucked the soul from his body. "Can I— Can I fuck you? Please? Wanna make you feel good, too."

Y/N moaned loudly around him at that, pulling off of him with a slick 'pop' before nodding vigorously. She was drenched, the sounds Spencer made having turned her on more than most men had in the past with their entire bodies. She hurriedly climbed into his lap, not even bothering to take her panties off and instead pulling the fabric to the side as she lined him up at her entrance.

They'd previously agreed that since they were both clean and she was on birth control they'd skip using a condom. They just never had the chance to actually get on with it... until now, anyway.

The sight of her swollen lips and watery eyes had Spencer captivated as his hands automatically found their home on her thighs, rubbing gently as she eased herself down onto him. If someone had told him six months ago that he'd ever be lucky enough to experience this—having the most beautiful woman he'd ever met as his, riding his cock like she was made for it—he would have laughed in their face. But now, all he could do was sit back and watch her in awe as she took every last inch of him into her core, speechless as he marveled at the sight. His brows pinched together as her walls enveloped him, his mouth gaping open as she bottomed out with a loud moan.

Y/N's head tipped back as a moan wrenched its way from her throat, her hips moving in small circles as she adjusted to the stretch of him inside of her pussy. She had never felt so desperate for someone before, but she wasn't surprised. It was Spencer—the man she admired more than anyone. The man who treated her like she was everything, simply for being herself. The man who reminded her every day that she was worth more than she’d ever believed.

Neither one of them was going to last long, a realization they both came to as she lifted her hips and dropped them down into his lap as she began to ride his cock. But that was okay. They had all night to make each other feel good.

“How does that feel, sweet boy? Hm?” Y/N panted, falling forward to rest her face in the crook of his neck as she rocked against him with frantic, needy movements.

All Spencer could do was whine loudly as he clung to her, planting his feet on the ground and moving his hands to cradle her back as he began to rut up into her. He was borderline delirious with pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him driving him mad with the need to make her fall apart in his arms. The movement served to drive him repeatedly into her G-spot, the both of them crying out and latching to each other as Y/N trembled above him.

"So good," Spencer finally grunted, moving his hands up to hastily unwrap the bow restricting his access to her breasts. His lips latched onto her right nipple, sucking and nibbling as his hand came up to pinch her neglected bud. "You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart." He mumbled against her skin, laving over the pert bud and groaning.

Y/N cried out, her hands tangling into his hair as she rode him harder. It was almost feral the way they moved together, needing each other in a way words couldn't describe. The couch creaked beneath their movements, but she couldn't care less. She only cared about making the man underneath her feel the best he ever had.

Her walls began to clench around him as she whimpered into his shoulder, signaling her impending climax. Spencer slid a hand down from her breast to instead rub at her clit, lifting his head to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. It only took a few circles of his skilled fingers before Y/N was chanting his name into his mouth like a prayer, her eyes squeezed shut as she came hard around him. Spencer's orgasm was almost simultaneous with hers, the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock triggering his climax almost violently as he pumped into her with soft sobs.

Their chests heaved as they slumped against each other, caressing each other with gentle touches as they caught their breath. Once Y/N could sit up, she lifted off of his softening cock with trembling legs, a giggle spilling from her lips as he whined in discontent. She placed a lingering kiss on his lips, effectively shushing him before she stood from the couch to go get a rag.

When she came back, Spencer reached for her with needy hands, wanting to feel her against him once more. They tended to each other with soft murmurs of praise and gentle kisses, their love unspoken but evident in every touch and gesture. Once they were cleaned (and Spencer had all but shoved her toward the bathroom so she could pee to avoid getting a UTI), they stumbled into her bedroom and into her bed.

It was in Spencer's arms, as he drifted off to sleep, that Y/N finally understood just how special the holidays could be—made all the more meaningful by the sweet genius she was fortunate enough to call hers.

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[sofs16]

spill your guts!

charles x singer!reader

fc: olivia rodrigo 🫀

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift, and 13,493,191 others

yn two days and guts is yours to have💞🪄💌💟

view all 188,694 comments

yn.updated cant wait! 💜💜💜

ariana_2000 whore

⤷ theynroom stfu

⤷ ariana_2000 she literally gets a new boyfriend every month and writes an album about them 😂

september 6, 2023

ynvroom

liked by charlesss__16, and 1,191 others ynvroom youre joking. YOURE ACTUALLY JOE KING. view all 68 comments

charles.updated what’s happening?

⤷ ynvroom YN PERFORMJNG AT FERRARI GALA WHERE CHARLES IS 😭😭😭😭😭 MY PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP

september 7, 2023

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, carlossainz55, and 4,559,606 others

charles_leclerc Beautiful night at the @ ferrari Gala in New York! Congratulations on the amazing performance @yn 😉❤️

view all 87,585 comments

yn Thank you!!!💜💜💜

[liked by charles_leclerc]

september 7, 2023

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 7,272,282 others

yn grazie for having me @ ferrari! the people here got to a hear the album a day early haha🪄 (didn’t get a photo with my favorite drivers but got a photo of them in a non stalker way..)

view all 436,474 comments

chhacha CHARLES🤺STAY AWAY FROM HER🤺

charles_leclerc Oh no, next time! I would have loved to take a photo with you! [ COMMENT DELETED ! ]

charles_leclerc Oh no, maybe next time:) We would have loved to meet you!

⤷ yn definitely! hope to maybe see you guys at japan gp;)

september 7, 2023

━ charles_leclerc has sent you a dm!

Charles Leclerc

You are going to the Japan GP?

yn

Yes!!! Failed to get paddock tix though:(

Charles Leclerc

If you would like, I have extra tickets😄

yn

ooo no thank you, i wouldn’t want to be a hassle😭

Charles Leclerc

It’s no hassle at all! No one will be using them anyways.

yn

are you 100% sure?

Charles Leclerc

1000% sure, is this a yes?

seen 4 minutes ago

Charles Leclerc

hello?

yn

Sorry i was jumping around my living room.. YES!

Charles Leclerc

Haha anytime! I did not know you were that interested in F1

yn

truth be told, i’ve been watching it for over a decade like i remember you in f3 2015😭

Charles Leclerc

Oh no🤦‍♂️

yn

it’s okay, just an inchident 😁

Charles Leclerc

No one will let me live this down, yes?

yn

Yes 💌

delivered 20s ago

yn

listen, i really enjoyed talking to you but sadly i have to cut it short since i have this listening party for the album. thank you sooooo much for the paddock tickets and ill see you in a week:))

Charles Leclerc

I will be (re) listening to the album! See you:)

[ yn reacted with ❤️‍🩹]

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 10,697,697 others

yn 😭guts😭is😭out😭

view all 2,282,696 comments

charles_leclerc INSANE! 💜❤️

[liked by yn]

⤷charles1616 oh my god?

⤷ chachaferrari CHARLES USING A PURPLE HEART FOR HER IM SHAKING

taylorswift Amazing, showstopping, splendid, and all that! [liked by yn] carlossainz55 Want to write a song about chilis 🌶️ next time?

⤷ yn done. francisca.cgomez you’re hot.

⤷ yn wait 🤭🤭🤭🤭

september 8, 2023

yn

tokyo, japan

liked by charles_leclerc, and 7,239,448 others yn 🇯🇵

• “get him back!” broke biggest streaming song in the world in one day (22 MILLION?????)

• guts broke biggest streaming album in the uk ???

• top 10 in billboards is all guts ??? how is life real??? thank you everyone ❤️❤️💜

view all 2,383,595 comments

ynvroom did she just try to sneak in a f1 garage pic. L4NDOS she’s hot in the last slide and knows it

scuderiaferrari ❤️💜

charles_leclerc Congrats! 🍾

⤷ yn champagne is for podium, sharl

⤷ charles_leclerc My bad…

⤷f3rarri55 so we’re never getting champagne? september 15, 2023

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 4,383,292 others

charles_leclerc P2! 🍾Thank you! We did the best we could today❤️

view all 821,119 comments

yn LETS GOOOOOO!!!! 🍾🍾🍾🍾

[ liked by charles_leclerc]

september 18, 2023

charles.yn

liked by 3,282 others

charles.yn FUCKING BAWLING THE WAY HE LIT UP TALKIJG ABT HER

view all 1,111 comments

chynaep THEM TEXTING??? HELLO?? mcarlando HIM INVITING HER IM GIGGGLINGGGG

september 18, 2023

pierregasly

[ slides 1 and 9 of 9 ]

liked by charles_leclerc, yn, and 2,118,282 others

pierregasly Japan dumppp

view all 1,149,383 comments

yncharll NOT PIERRE EXPOSING YN AND CHARLES 😭

[ pierregasly deleted the 3rd slide! ]

september 26, 2023

yn

monte carlo, monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, and 6,282, 383 others

yn beautiful place

view all 1,393,101 comments

chhgasly oh she’s confirmed wag.

yndata not this being her first post non promo post in 2 months😭

⤷ chayn.updates after the 4 “yn seen in paddock/ferrari garage” mentions 😭

conangray i wonder what’s interesting in monaco

carlossainz55 Whose camera is that? Its nice

[COMMENT DELETED!]

carlossainz55 What camera is that? It’s nice november 29, 2023

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 5,118,119 others

charles_leclerc Back home!

view all 632,382 comments

november 30, 2023

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 10,696,697 others

yn YNDUMPSTERS ITS BEEN A WHILE BUT CHARLES FUCKING ACCDEITANLY STAINED MY TS CARDIGAN WHILE DOING CAR THINGS AND I NEARLY CRIED. now that i think of it im happy because it’s stained with him and i love him tho🤷🏻‍♀️ im freezing someone get me a sauna

view all 12,282,595 comments

charles_leclerc Though most likely unintentional to post here, this is the sweetest and most chaotic thing someone has ever said about me. I love you too

charlesyn111 STOP “it’s stained with him” LEAVE ME BE

pierregasly Who might be in this dump account…

⤷ landonorris YOU’RE IN IT?

⤷ carlossainz55 Been in there for 3 months papaya…

december 23, 2023

yncutie

liked by yn, and 5,796 others

yncutie ITS FUCKING HAPPENING. SHE FOLLOWED CHARLES. SHE ONLY FOLLOWS CHARLES. view all 1,189 commented

december 24, 2023

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 19,595,282 others

yn well.

i kinda fucked up how we were supposed to share our love with the world but now that it’s out there, charles and only charles has my heart, forever.

i wrote a song when i was 15 about having a dream guy and losing him because life isn’t always so kind. though charles showed me that isn’t always true. to the man who makes me feel like the only girl in the world, you are the 1.

“the 1” out now on all platforms 💜💌🏩❗️

view all 2,272,292 comments

charles_leclerc Proudest of you, Amour! Je t’aime💜

maxverstappen1 du du du du du Max Verstappen is better / kidding.

⤷ yn ngl… yeah.

ynsline “if my wishes came true, it wouldve been u” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

december 24, 2023

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 7,363,722 others

charles_leclerc Spilling my guts, I love my girl! 💜

Happt anniversary @yn 😘 view all 3,226,112 comments

yncharles 3 years and charles is still WHIPPED!

yn mwahhhhh loveu babe

⤷ landonorris Ew

⤷ yn me when i see u

⤷ landonorris wow

⤷ yn jk loveu lando no rizz

carlossainz55 Why does she not age. ⤷ charles_leclerc My pretty girl 💜

november 30, 2025

charles_leclerc instagram story :

[intheticklecloset]

hii! i hope you’re doing well (and taking breaks in between these)

for the peppermint mocha,, what about kunikida + dazai ❤️🎅?

❄️ Peppermint Mocha Special Order ❄️

Breaks? What are breaks? 😅 No but really - I try to write only a couple of these a day not to burn myself out, but the real break will come when I'm done with them all. I'm hanging in there! In the meantime, enjoy! ^^

~~~

“Hey, Kunikida!” Dazai chirped excitedly, drawing the bespectacled man’s attention.

“Dazai. What a surprise.”

Truly, it was no surprise at all. The brunette was notorious for following Kunikida around at this time of year, trying to scope out what kind of gifts he was buying for others rather than just wait for their annual office Christmas party to find out. Kunikida knew that if it were anyone else they’d probably think they were being sneaky, but Dazai knew how to be sneaky, so the fact that he’d caught on to him years ago told him the man wanted the blonde to know he was being followed. He wasn’t sure what kind of game this was, but considering this was the first time Dazai had actually approached him while following him around the shops, he suspected he wasn’t playing it the way the brunette wanted him to.

“Out gift shopping?” Dazai asked innocently, glancing at the stationery set in his colleague’s hands.

Kunikida grunted. “I’m sure you know this is the season for such a thing, so yes, it’s a fair assumption.”

“Who is that for?”

“Not you.”

“Aww, and here I was hoping to better my penmanship next year.” Dazai smirked. “You’re no fun, you know.”

Kunikida placed the stationery set back where he’d found it, picking up another one for inspection instead. “Just because you enjoy knowing what everyone will be getting for Christmas doesn’t mean everyone else does. I like to keep things a secret.”

Dazai pouted, reaching out to poke his friend in the ribs. “Come on, it’s not like I’ll tell everyone! Just let me know who the stationery is for?”

“You don’t need to know – hehey!” The blonde barely tamped down a chuckle when the brunette pinched his hip. He glanced around the shop nervously. They were alone right now, but get this suicidal freak going and there was no telling how long that would last. “Would you q-quihihit that? Dazai!”

The detective was grinning from ear to ear, a wicked glint in his eyes that Kunikida didn’t like at all. “Tell me! That’s all I want from you.”

“It’s not yohohohours! Isn’t that enohohough?” The blonde jerked his arm down protectively when he saw his friend aiming for a bad spot, but in his hassle to escape he ended up dropping the stationery entirely. Without thinking, he bent to retrieve it, and that’s when Dazai really struck.

“Who’s the stationery for, Kunikida? Hmmm?” he teased, poking and digging into his back and just below his armpit.

Kunikida jolted upright again, taking a few frantic steps back before finally caving. “All rihihihight, it’s for the prehehehehesident! Leave me alohohohone!”

“Ooh, you’re right – he does have a fondness for good stationery. What with all those important letters he has to send.” Dazai nodded sagely, then turned on his heel and rounded the corner of the aisle like he just remembered he had somewhere else to be. “Well, good luck with your shopping, Kunikida!”

The taller man picked up the fallen stationery with a roll of his eyes. Dazai could be an idiot sometimes, but he certainly kept the spirit of the holidays alive in his own special way.

[galacticlamps]

Tag 9 ppl you want to get to know better

tagged by @observethewalrus​

First ship: I genuinely don’t know? And now that I’m realizing I don’t know I’m actually a tiny bit sad about that. I’d started writing things that can only be described as fanfiction long before I was old enough to be online and before we evolved past dial-up in my house & being on the computer became simple enough to not feel like a hassle anyway - which is all just to say that when I did wind up interacting with fannish communities later on, fanfic specifically wasn’t something totally new to me so I never had vivid memories of my first experiences of it. As a kid fanfic was what you basically had to do when you reached the end of any media you’d even somewhat enjoyed and the author rather rudely neglected to go on telling the story infinitely - so I think it must’ve been a while before shipping became a major thing on my radar, and it probably happened gradually. I do distinctly remember finding it a little ironic in high school that so much online/tumblr specific fandom was about shipping, and I was in multiple fandoms and had several ships, but I didn’t have any big passionate (or even non-canon & in need of defending) ships for my main fandom, which was always Doctor Who - though at the time, just nuwho. There, the only things I could be said to ship were pretty straightforward pairings like the Ponds, Doctor/River, Jack/Ianto, etc. - and I’m guessing whatever things I had that counted as ships before I got into fandom were similar to those, just a kind of passing approval of/investment in ships that were already well-established elements of their source material.

Three Ships: well Two/Jamie always (connected to the above tangent, I was involved in fandom for close to a decade before I came across them, but I’d never found cause to use the term otp before then), and at the moment the other ships taking up the next-most space in my brain are probably Ben/Polly and Geordi/Data

Last Song: Ruin by the Amazing Devil (I remember it playing as I drove home last night)

Last Movie: ah see I’m actually quite bad about watching movies/even remembering they exist. There’s a real possibility the most recent one was The Final Frontier, simply because I’ve been doing a long slow chronological trek through Star Trek, and I’m currently in the early 90s so I know I must have watched that one at some point in the last year or so, and more recently than any of the ones that came out before it

Currently Reading: Ok this I’m legitimately embarrassed about, because I’m not normally anywhere near this slow with books at all, and neither of these are bad, boring, or even slow-paced, it’s solely a matter of how horribly hectic & unpredictable my life’s been for the last few months - but I’ve been both near the end of Bare-Arsed Banditti and a couple hundred pages deep into The Two Towers since the end of August (I hate that fact so much but I need to admit it. It’s available information on my Storygraph account anyway it should not be so hard to say)

Currently Consuming: Twining’s Irish Breakfast tea, black. I am often consuming twining’s irish breakfast tea black

Currently Craving: a break - or maybe just routine in general? I’ve been doing a lot of overlapping freelance work lately: short-term projects that don’t last long enough to allow for anything like ‘time off’ & have all the busy-ness of full-time without any of the stability, which kinda feels like the worst of both worlds tbh. 2022 was a rough year for me for that in general, but it got especially bad in the fall & winter and I’m hoping to get a better handle on my own schedule in the next few weeks one way or another, but I’m sorry to anyone I’ve kinda ghosted in the interim

Tagging: @uighean​ @terryfphanatics​ @seismologically-silly​ and anybody else who wants to do it!

[oletusfragments]

— ABOUT

Hello, this is an Identity V writing blog, as you can see. Except it works a bit different than others. It revolves around emojis! Sorry if it sounds like a hassle, hehe.

Even though this is a writing blog that I created, I actually have no experience in writing stuff like these. So what you read may not be the best and will be very flawed. This blog is the only proof of experience I have. And English isn't even my first language.

So why did I start? Well, although I lack experience, I want to learn. I want to act upon my ideas and achieve something from them. Like improvement! I hope to enhance my nonexistent writing skills! I think it will be fun and beneficial for me and I hope that even with my amateurish works, you all still enjoy what I make. Thank you! ～(つˆДˆ)つ｡☆

— RULES

Learn how to properly use the emojis required. 💌 is for character interactions. 🎁 is for matchups. 🌠 is for general fic and headcanons asks.

Be patient. My life doesn't revolve around this blog and I can't always prioritize it. Please let me take my time. It might not be quick but it will be answered.

Check my list. I don't write for certain characters because I feel like I can't write them well or don't want to write them.

Nicknames. As you can see on my pinned post, you need to put a nickname for interactions and matchups. It doesn't necessarily have to be your blog name or real name. Just a minor alias! (Ex: banana, optimus prime, etc.)

Respect. Behind this blog is a human just like you. Please don't show any disrespectful actions or words. No type of prejudice, racism, homo/transphobia, misogyny/misandry, pedophilia will be tolerated. No aggressive behavior either. Let's all remain civil.

No sexual themes. I don't write smut or any content that revolves around that, sorry.

Magic/Emoji Anons are fine. Why not? :D

[herbertwest]

Woo! It's one in the morning and I just got back from Baltimore where I saw Julien-K and Lord of the Lost! Details under the cut.

First of all, it is a hassle to get to Baltimore. It's not technically THAT far, but it is a difficult drive and ALWAYS trafficky. So I left WAY early so I would be in plenty of time for the Lord of the Lost Meet and Greet. Now, when I say 'way early' you might think that meant 'oh, they left an extra hour or two.' Wrong. I arrived in Baltimore about three hours early. So I went to the Aquarium because a) it gave me something to do and I love the Aquarium and b) they have food and bathrooms so I could have a meal and get ready for the show when it was time. It turns out the Aquarium food is actually phenomenal, I had parmesan and garlic chicken tenders.

I was, unsurprisingly, in plenty of time for the Meet and Greet. The band members were divided into three groups to get autographs/photos. I tried telling two of the band modules about my old radio show and how much I loved playing LotL, but they didn't seem that interested. I told the third band module that I voted for them in Eurovision and that got a laugh.

Then I hit the merch tables and got to meet Amir of Julien-K! I admit my faceblindness meant that I thought the merch guy was Ryan of Julien-K for a while and that was kind of embarrassing, but I talked with Amir a little bit and picked up some swag. He also complimented my jacket (one of my custom ones, I'm not sure I've posted pics of this one before) and I said I'd put a Julien-K pin on it (which I did after buying one). I also picked up a LotL t-shirt.

Then....showtime! Julien-K went first and honestly they were the highlight of the night. I went berserk when they played Stronger Without You. I would have liked a longer set, but, alas, Julien-K was only the opening band. Coincidentally I started listening to them about two weeks before they were announced as the opener for this tour so it was really serendipitous timing.

Lord of the Lost went on pretty promptly after them. I didn't have a great view and at some point I will elaborate on my 'people over 6 feet should not be in the first two rows of a concert' rant. They put on a good show, and I enjoyed it, but I wasn't feeling it as much as I had hoped I would. I really enjoyed Drag Me to Hell and Raining Stars in particular, and the stage banter was good, but I think I really just wanted more Julien-K haha.

After the show I went back to the Julien-K merch table and got to meet Ryan for real. I told him that I write novels and Julien-K's music is the soundtrack I have in my head when I'm working on it and he seemed legitimately touched and said how happy that made him to hear. (He also talked about his 'selfie arms' when taking a selfie with me which I thought was really funny)

Theeeeenn.....time to get out of Baltimore, which was not as easy as I hoped it would be. Bruce Springsteen was also playing tonight, and because of the two concerts getting out at once (mostly Springsteen I suspect) the streets were GRIDLOCKED. I ended up taking a really roundabout way home AND made some wrong turns so it took longer than it should have.

But I'm home! And it was fun and I'm super glad I went!

[narrators-journal]

Peep show

Jesus christ this is...rough to put it gently...so many hang ups, I don't know why Cucking was such a hassle to write, even at the baby, entry level I wrote it in. Hope you enjoy regardless thooo

CW: Vaguely cucking, moreso discussions of bondage and edging rather than real edging, implied that it's done as a favor.

“How about you, Makoto? Have you ever done anything taboowith Akira?~” Ann hummed while Haru brushed out Makoto’s shoulder-length dark-brown hair. “Taboo? What do you mean by that?” she asked, her reddish-brown eyes looking up to the blonde model from the magazine she mindlessly flicked through as the two girls chatted and gossiped like they used to in their teens. “I mean, y’know, anything particularly spicy? Like, spanking maybe? Mutual masturbation?” Ann prompted while her azure eyes sparkled with a mischievous light as they bore into Makoto. Which, made the officer shift a bit on Haru’s bed.

Though, her question did make Makoto think over the sparce handful of times her and Akira had fucked. “I don’t think we’ve done anything super taboo, actually.” She admitted after a moment of thought, Ann’s mischievous look suddenly surprised as her eyebrows lifted. “Seriously? Do you two just have vanilla sex?” Haru asked, her brush put aside for curlers instead. Her question, meanwhile, brought a light dusting of rose coloring to Makoto’s cheeks as she chuckled, “Um...admittedly, we don’t...have sex too often with our work schedules, and my work in particular.”

The two girls seemed to share a look at that, and for a brief second, Makoto got a sense that they maybe didn’t believe her. Yet, neither said anything about it. Instead, Ann simply pushed herself up to a sitting position as she hummed, “Well, do you wantto spice things up at all?” Which, made the policewoman blink a bit and think. I mean, it would be kind of fun to...do something different, right?She mused, so lost in thought, that she failed to notice the wordless conversation Ann and Haru seemed to have while she contemplated. Only to inevitably admit with a fresh heat in her cheeks,

“I...admittedly don’t really know where to start with ‘spicing things up’. I don’t want to chase Akira off.”

“Maybe we can share some stories of what we’ve done and give you some ideas?” Haru offered, her chin suddenly on the woman’s shoulder, her voice suddenly closer than before. Which, made a sort of warmth crawl along the officer’s skin. Not helped when Ann moved closer, placing her hand on Makoto’s knee as she leaned forward. “Yeah! Maybe our stories can give you some ideas!” “B-but, aren’t you two gay? How would...how would that translate?…”

Admittedly, it was a dumb question, and she knew it as soon as the words left her lips. So, she wasn’t surprised when the two girls gave giggles at her question, but by the heat that spread across her face at the soft, feminine sounds. “Don’t worry, dear. All you need is a bit of creativity, and I’m sure you’ll find a way~” Haru sang, her mouth too close to Makoto’s neck as she spoke, her breath allowed to tickle her neck in a way that stirred up far too many confusing emotions too quickly.

But, before she could formulate a polite way to ask her old friend to move, Ann launched into one of her stories. “Oh! I know, why not try something simple first? Like, handcuffs! Handcuffs are pretty light on the bdsm categories, right?” The blonde hummed, Makoto’s attention drawn back to her as she continued, “That was my first dip into the wilder sex acts with Shiho. I was dressed in a nice set of panties and a light pink button-up, I let her handcuff me to our headboard, and I just, let her explore my body, y’know? Nothing too spicy, but it was sohot!” before her blue eyes fixed back on Makoto. As if the model could see the images dancing around in the officer’s head. ”Oh, I did something similar to start out.” Haru hummed, Makoto’s hair forgotten in favor of holding the officer against her chest. The short-haired woman made aware of her full breasts when they pressed into her back. “Though, I didn’t use handcuffs perse, I opted to use one of my silk scarves instead. Which, in my opinion? Made it all the more thrilling. Like, teasing her with the fabric, it didn’t leave any painful marks on her wrists, but it kept her in place, y’know?” “Oooo, how’d you tease her with the scarf?” Ann asked, Makoto almost forgotten as quickly as she was the focus of the conversation. Haru had just pulled her against her, and already she moved her away to instead get up.

Not that Makoto could find the words to interrupt their tangent, though. Her mind was too full of the image of Ann tied down to Haru’s bed with one of her expensive, tastefully patterned scarves. Dressed in nothing but lacey under garments and an unbuttoned shirt. Haru, who Makoto had seen use a large axe to decapitate a shadow in one swing, over Ann...or maybe Makoto’s body. Being gentle in her touches, her skin only seperated from hers by the thin, smooth material of the scarf…

When the bed dipped slightly, Makoto zoned back in on the pair of women now sitting near the foot of the bed. A baby pink strip of silk, detailed with a golden vine design and delicate flowers over the smooth fabric in Haru’s hand, ghosted over Ann’s arm as the blonde watched. “Oh, that is quite nice…” She confirmed, which Haru nodded at with a soft smile on her glossed lips. Has Haru always been so… Makoto blinked, the thought already gone before she cleared the limp from her throat. “Uh, you guys? Should...I leave you two alone for a bit?” She asked with an awkward chuckle, the sense of being out of place heightened when the duo looked at her. “What do you mean? Don’t you want us to teach you a few tricks to use on Akira?” Ann asked, and if she noticed the heat that cooked Makoto from inside, she didn’t let it show in those pools of thirst-quenching blue. “U-uh, well...you guys seem a little into it,y’know? I can always get some tips later-” “Oh nonsense!” Haru giggled, “I was just showing Ann what I meant. Why are you thinking so <e,m>dirty Mako?~” Her teasing tone all it took to bring back a wave of heat in Makoto’s cheeks as she stammered. Yet, her fumbled words were waved off nonchalantly, Haru simply untied Ann and returned to their earlier topic.

“Anyways! Let’s see...If you don’t want to try bondage, there’s always edging. I’ve edged a lot of my partners, and on top of being very fun if you lean into the dominance of it, it makes for a better orgasm sometimes,” “Oh, I’ve done that.” Ann hummed as she laid back on the bed as she took her long, golden hair out of the twin buns she had her waves in. “It’s especially fun to do with a vibrator. Y’know, running a toy along Shiho’s belly, along her inner thigh, it makes her squirm and mewl so much.” Which, again, planted a handful of thoughts in Makoto’s mind. Images of Ann tracing a sex toy along Makoto’s- Shiho’s body, being so slow and thorough in her hunt for all of those special spots… “-There’s something so cute about a girl whining and begging.” “Oh yeah, that’s definitely hot.” Haru agreed, the pair of them so innocent as they chatted, though. In reality, both were very aware of how Makoto mentally wandered off into the fantasies they painted.

Akira’s request yielded no real answers, it seemed.

[tolbachik]

Hi! Sorry for not sending an ask yesterday, I got caught up in school work, but luckily I’m all caught up now :D

I try to get as much sun as I can when I get the chance. Luckily the sun rises right before I have to walk into the building, so at least I get to watch that :]

Thank you so much for your kind words! Sometimes I can kinda lose sight of how far I’ve gotten since I first started learning. It’s kinda weird, but I can’t exactly put into words why I like Latin. Like, have you ever been drawn to something for no explicable reason? “It scratched an itch in my brain,” is the best way I can put it lol. It just sorta clicked haha

Also yeah, we use the Cambridge Latin Course :D The characters are always so memorable. My friend group was obsessed with Bregans and Grumio lol

I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who gets intimidated by the scale of things sometimes! Still, being able to see Andromeda through a telescope seems really cool! I’ve only used a telescope once or twice, but it’s a way different experience than seeing a picture of it. You realize just how real all of it is. Do you have any favorite things about astronomy? Favorite planets, galaxies, phenomena, anything really :D

I’m glad to hear you’re excited to check them out! I hope you like them. :D I always find it really comforting to see musicians helping each other, it’s sorta like a reminder that there’s good in the world, y’know? It probably sounds a little parasocial, but it just makes me happy to see them happy haha

Also, I’d love a copy of the extended release, if it isn’t too much hassle! I could also keep checking YouTube, it seems like things like that seem to just pop up and then go back down at random haha

I do a little art here and there. I can definitely relate to having a lot of ideas, but not the time or energy to create them haha. I do a little writing, but more research style stuff than narratives. I’m always rotating an idea for an essay around in my head, but I always drag my feet when it comes to actually writing it lol

By the synopsis of your novel, it sounds like something I’d really enjoy reading! I’ve always admired sci-fi writers, it takes a lot of creativity, skill, and knowledge to be able to craft a story like that! Once you finish the book I’d love to read it, if you’d be comfortable with that. What would you say is your favorite part of the writing process? I know some people prefer worldbuilding, while others enjoy crafting the narrative more. Do you prefer one over the other, or do you like something other than one of these two? :D

Sorry again for not sending yesterday’s message! I hope that you’re doing well, and that you have a great day/night! :]

- 🎲

Hello again, no worries! Both anons, please take all the time you need in between asks, ok? It's ok if you can't reply ASAP; I totally understand! Also, I hope your work went well for you! Aww, that's good at least! I know it can be so rough without it 😭 Of course, I'm so happy you found a passion like that and stuck with it! What do you think you'll do once you get through this next bit with it? Oh yeah, I absolutely get that. It's weird how the mind works, but hey; at least you're enjoying it! Those books were the best! I'd like to try to find ours again at some point, I loved learning more and being able to understand more of the story, it was always so exciting! Oh god, I almost forgot about Grumio, Bregans too! Me and my sister liked Quintus and Clemens (who we actually had a cat named after!), and haaaated Salvius from what I can remember lol It's all very hard to comprehend, and when you're forced to reckon with it, it can be so unpleasant! I agree, though; seeing stuff up close is really exciting, even if it is a little scary at first! It really does help you realize that everything is, well, real like you said. When I first saw Jupiter through my telescope, it really was so different from just seeing a picture! Also, personally? I really love Uranus and its moon system, Venus, Mercury, and Saturn and its moon system as well! I don't really like too much outside of our system aside from a few stars, mainly just because of the whole scale thing again lol. What about you?

Thank you again; I appreciate it! I've gotten into a bit of a musical rut, so between you and the other anon, I'll have a lot to get through! And I totally get that; it's nice to see other people happy! It's not an example of musicians working together, but one of my favorite musicians is a good example of seeing other people happy. In a lot of Norma Tanega's songs (like here), you can just hear her smiling as she sings, and that always makes me feel so happy too!

Of course, no hassle at all! I'll keep that in mind for after all this, then. I'll get it uploaded to my dropbox for you after all this!

Ooh, nice! What sort of essays do you like to write? Back when I was in school, I loved writing essays and doing all the research for them. Actually, what other sort of things are you interested in? I'd love to learn more about you! Aww, thank you for the kind words! Sorry again for not sharing much; it's something I'm incredibly passionate about, but worried about showing to the world yet. It's hard sometimes, y'know? And, y'know, I'm actually going to be looking at getting beta readers a few months from now! It'll be once I reach a decent spot, so I'd love to pay you to give some feedback! Ooh, my favorite part? That's tough! I think researching, as well as just letting it marinate in my mind. I don't like not writing, but in the times where I can't write much, it's really refreshing to just run over concepts and ideas I've had. Sometimes, I get big breakthroughs that way! Just recently I was struggling with how to tackle life at the extreme ends of the poles, but after doing a little research, I think I finally got a few leads. It's nice just letting things end up where they end up, y'know? Thank you again for the lovely ask, I really appreciate the time and energy you both put into these. I mean it; it makes my day! Please take care, take all the time you need, and have a great day tomorrow! Talk to you soon!

[hourcat]

I’m the sleepy sex anon and omg yes!! That fic you linked is actually one of my all time favourites 😭💕💕💕

I can’t believe you’re even considering writing more sleepy sex piarles 🥺

My heart is so full i could kiss you right now 😘

Ily 🥰

HI HI thank you for sending this requestttttt <3 to be totally honest i think i may have tried too hard on this one BUT ive been wrestling w/it for a couple days and i think its time to just...let it go. bestie i hope u enjoy this. i love u sm. thank u for reading my writing. im kissing u right back.

(word count: 4,871) (NSFW)

Charles is still asleep when Pierre returns to bed after his morning shower.

Which—honestly, Pierre had kind of predicted. It's summer break. They get a chance to breathe, to settle, to go at their own pace instead of frantically running behind their respective teams; it's been a long first half of the season, and he knows the second half won't be much better. So this is important time for them: rest, recovery, relaxation.

Pierre just can't sleep for shit.

Even after a night of drinking, or of keeping Charles up til the early morning hours wringing him dry of pleasure, Pierre seems to always be awake by 6 and alert by 7.

It kind of sucks, more often than not, because if there is one person in the world who's practically built for lounging, it's Charles.

It definitely sucks right now, because Pierre, fresh out of the shower, had gotten a little worked up under the hot water and had been hoping, against all hope, that Charles would be generally awake enough to start their morning off a little rough. If the way he's drooling and snoring softly into his pillow is anything to go by, Pierre's wish has fallen on deaf ears.

"Fuck," he mumbles, rubbing at his half-hard cock from under the towel wrapped around his waist. There's nothing on their agenda for today, really—it's raining this morning, although that isn't exactly an unwelcome thing since it's been so hot lately, so any attempts at beachgoing are, for the time being, tabled. Going out for breakfast is always a hassle because people have been recognizing him lately, and Pierre loves his fans but he knows he can't jeopardize the secrecy of his relationship with Charles by trying to be a normal twenty-something with his boyfriend.

So, technically, he could jerk off this morning waiting for Charles to wake up and not have any real interruptions to their wide-open schedule. He shrugs at the thought as if someone else suggested it to him. In bed, Charles has rolled over onto his stomach, face smushed entirely into the pillow.

He's sweet like this. Pierre wants to pet him, coo to him like he's some little woodland creature that Pierre has taken home. He sinks onto the mattress slowly, so he doesn't jostle his sleepy boyfriend too much, and combs a hand gently through Charles' sleep-mussed hair.

"Mon cheri," he hums quietly. Charles, still out cold, makes a little noise at the contact. Pierre chuckles to himself, wordlessly continues to tussle at his hair again.

And then—

"Mmm, Pierrot." Pierre watches, captivated, as Charles grinds into the mattress. He's not subtle about it—in fact, Pierre is pretty sure he'd done this awake the other day, when they were messing around with a new toy he'd indulgently purchased on the road. Then, at least, Pierre could tell what was going through his pretty boy's head.

Now? He's kind of dumbstruck, watching Charles begin to rub off on the mattress beneath him. The fog of lust is starting to cloud his brain again. Before he knows it, he’s moving on autopilot, falling into step with whatever game his slumbering boyfriend is trying to play without him.

"Mmm, Charlito," he purrs, continuing to pet at his sleeping partner. "Does this feel nice?" Charles moans in his sleep, grinding into the sheets more noticeably. Just to check, Pierre uses his free hand to lift the blankets just a little—and, yes, of course, he can see that Charles is half-hard right now, just from this.

"Fucking hell," Pierre breathes. The idea of jerking off by himself is suddenly not as appealing as having the real thing right beside him, clearly worked up and clearly having a sex dream about him. He tightens his fingers in Charles' hair and tugs, gentle, until another noise sputters from his mouth. This time, as he whimpers, Pierre watches the way his eyelids flutter open slowly, hazy and the most perfect shade of green he could ever imagine.

"Pierre," he half-greets, half-whines. His hips are still on their slow grind. "Mmmgm?"

Pierre chuckles softly despite himself, shifting so that the towel barely clinging to his body has fallen off in the places it needs to. He watches as Charles sees this. The pretty green of his eyes is beginning to get swallowed. "Good morning," he whispers, delicately rearranging himself over the sheets. "You sleep good?"

Charles nods a little, clearly more than half asleep. He's barely conscious, really: Pierre thinks the hand in his hair might be the only thing keeping him from falling back into the pillow. "Mmmmmmgh." Definitely not the response of a man fully awake and coherent.

"You sounded like you were having a good dream," Pierre murmurs, scooting a little closer. The warmth radiating off Charles is crazy. "Like you were enjoying yourself, cheri."

He's awake enough to blush at least. The low whine that comes out at Pierre's words is followed by another, more-conscious movement of his hips. "Yeah," he manages in his sleepy drawl. Charles' first real word of the day. Pierre's brain is startlingly awake in contrast; his dick is throbbing it's so hard, he has to fight every instinct not to beg Charles here and now to wake up so he can get inside, burrow deep in him the way he can never get enough of on mornings like these.

"Yeah," Pierre echoes, tucking even closer. The head of his cock bumps against Charles' thigh through the thin sheets, and he can see by the way the color in his cheeks gets darker that he'd noticed.

"Mmmm, Pierrot," he moans softly, hips jerking a little again.

"Does that feel good, Cha?" He's really burning up all of his self-control here and now, huh, in the first hour of being truly awake. There's nothing he wants more than to rub up against Charles until he rolls over and spreads out the way he always does when he's so good with Pierre. The restraint he's clinging to is quickly dissipating.

"Mm," Charles nods, breathy. When he speaks again, his voice has gone a little higher, thready with pleasure. "Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats back. It's not even 8, he doesn't have to be good at talking dirty right now. Charles doesn't even seem to mind; he ruts into the sheets again at Pierre's utterance, mindless in the way he's trying to get off before even being fully awake. "Easy, calamar, easy—" he rests his free hand on Charles' lower back over the sheets and gets a slightly-louder noise in response. "Hey, let me—can—do you want—?" Do you want to fuck is the question, but Pierre doesn't need to actually finish his sentence. Even in sleep, Charles knows how his mind works. Hell, considering the fact that they're both this turned on so early, it's like they have the same brain.

Beneath his hand, Charles squirms. "Mmmmmgh," he answers after a beat, entirely unhelpful.

Pierre huffs a laugh, although he's so turned on it's a little less than funny right now. "Bebe, that is not an answer." He shifts, sucking in a sharp breath at the way Charles' hot skin feels even through the sheets against his shaft.

"Mmm, Pierre," he starts, and there are the words. "Yes, I—if you do the work, yeah." He grinds down again. "I am so tired, I don't understand how you can be so awake right now."

Pierre hums, satisfied, and shifts even closer so that he's nose to nose with his boyfriend for a moment. "You have no idea how you look right now," he says lowly. "You could wake the dead." He earns a whine in response. "I will take care of you, cheri, I promise." Pierre drops a gentle kiss to his nose, then one to the not-smushed cheek currently in view. "Roll over for me, love? I want to see your pretty face."

Charles makes a breathy little noise at his words. “This does not count as you doing all the work, you know,” he mumbles, although there’s a little smile curling on his face. Pierre just thwacks him in the shoulder gently. Charles whines again, but eventually obliges Pierre’s request—he’s graceless as he rolls over, drool dried at the corner of his mouth to make him look all the more disheveled. Pierre can only chuckle at the sight, even with the way his cock is hard enough to start aching a little at this point. When he peels the sheet away from over his boyfriend, he gets another whine. “Cold,” Charles mumbles.

Pierre just tsks at him, pushing up from his sprawled-out position to get a proper look. “Pushy,” he murmurs, and Charles chokes on a little laugh as Pierre ducks down to catch him in a kiss. It’s easy like always; Charles opens for him immediately, even half-awake at best like this, and Pierre takes no time in using it to his advantage. His boyfriend hadn’t been exaggerating about not wanting to do the work—Pierre is entirely in control, tongue in Charles’ mouth, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, swallowing down every little noise that comes out of him. Charles hasn’t even lifted his arms from where they’re laid up in bed; it’s all Pierre, it’s entirely Pierre.

Which. He won’t complain about by any means, really. Charles putting up a fight is always fun, and Pierre does love to wrestle, but a loose, pliant Charles does just as much for him. “I was thinking about you,” he mumbles against the younger’s mouth, breath coming sharper than he’d wanted it to. “In the shower.” Charles moans at the little confession. Pierre swallows it whole with the next kiss, exchanging it with a low, pleased noise of his own. “Thought about how—how loose you are, like this, sleepy and careless and ready for me.”

“Pierre,” he gets in return, and Pierre grins against Charles’ mouth, the short little huffs of breath indicating that Charles is a little more awake than he’s letting on.

“Charles,” he replies, dotting one last kiss to Charles’ now-reddened lip before shifting to get to work. “Are you loose for me, calamar?”

“Mmmm,” Charles breathes. He doesn’t seem capable of forming any words, really, just these lovely little noises and Pierre’s name. (Again, not that he’s complaining—it’s like music, a symphony composed just for Pierre, every sound he’s ever loved strung together and spilling from his best friend’s mouth all at once.) Pierre brushes his hand against Charles’ cheek, traces the swell of his pretty lip with a finger that Charles, intuitively, sucks into his mouth. He’s not mouthy with it, no: just allows Pierre’s finger to sit on his tongue for a few beats, pressing into it just enough to get it slick with saliva.

Satisfied, Pierre eases it back out; the accompanying noise is wet and filthy, forcing him to swallow down the muted noise of pleasure now curled in his throat, ready to come roaring out just from the way Charles looks like this. “Good boy,” he murmurs, using his thumb to pet affectionately at the curve of Charles’ cheek. His face gets pink at the praise. For a half-second, Pierre flies out of his body and watches the way Charles settles more heavily into the bed beneath him—the way his legs spread a little more, the way he arches his neck just so in a way that gives Pierre all the access he needs. He keeps blinking his slow, sleepy blink, and he’s just.

He's just.

Pierre is going to use lube, of course, but he’s a little bit out of his mind with the way Charles is just going with everything right now, so entirely boneless that Pierre might think he’s already been fucked to completion today. He’s got to just—with a low noise, he slips his saliva-slick finger into Charles’ hole, more exploratory than insistent. How loose is he still? Pierre had fucked him pretty good last night, but there’s no guaranteeing he’d stayed that stretched overnight, especially with his tendency to stress-dream. They’re about a week into summer, Pierre thinks he’s done a good enough job at keeping his boyfriend’s mind off of their mutually-aggravating job, but he can’t know for certain.

It takes all of one finger to figure out, though, that he’s doing that off-track job of his well. Charles is almost exactly how Pierre had left him last night; all but gaping, loose enough that Pierre could probably lube his cock up and slide in without too much work at all. Charles likes it like that, sometimes—rushed and heavy, frantic in a way that doesn’t quite allow him to swallow Pierre up inside him the way he’ll do if given the opportunity. He can’t fight the groan of pleasure that claws its way from his throat at this discovery.

“Charles,” he says through his teeth, “you are so fucking—”

“I dreamed about you,” Charles interrupts, voice still weighed down from sleep. He clenches around Pierre’s one finger for a hot second, sending a spiral of insanity up Pierre’s spine and directly into the front of his brain. His cock throbs. Whatever praise that had been on his tongue dies immediately. Fuck. “You were so, your hands, you kept me open when you—” Like he’s reliving the dream all over again, Charles moans pitifully.

Pierre can’t believe he didn’t already grab the fucking lube so he doesn’t have to miss out on Charles’ heat for a single second. Unfortunately, it’s on his side of the bed, which means there is ground to cover that will require him to leave here. Stupid stupid stupid. “What did I do, cheri,” he whispers, then catches Charles in a biting kiss for a hot second just to alleviate himself of the guilt that comes a second later when he slips his finger out, clumsily leaning across the mattress to get a hand on the bottle he’s after. “Tell me what I did to keep you so—open.” He closes his fingers around the bottle and immediately returns to where Charles is now squirming more actively, one knee tucked up towards his chest.

He's so ready he’s not even making Pierre do this part. Fuck.

“You—Pierre, your mouth was so, it was—” he cuts off with a sharp whine as Pierre, with a properly-lubed finger, presses back in and languidly crooks it forward. “Pierrot, oh my god—”

“I fucked you with my tongue, eh?” He’d probably be more effective in talking back if he weren’t so ready to get to his favorite part of all this, feeling how hot and tight Charles is for him every single time, even when he’s worked open all the way. If he were more poetic, he’d call them puzzle pieces; perfectly fitted, designed to be slotted together always. “I am sure you loved that, Charlito, you are very noisy when I eat you out like a fucking girl—” He slides a second prepped finger in and scissors lazily, wrangling another noise out of Charles’ now-parted mouth. The dried drool of sleep has been glossed over by the wet drool of mindless arousal, dribbling down his chin ever-so-slightly. "Fuck, I don't even have to—" Adding a third finger goes so quick Pierre almost swallows his tongue. Charles is ready. He's ready, he's half-awake and writhing under Pierre's touch and he's ready to get fucked after being awake not even, what, ten minutes? "Charles, fucking hell—"

"'m ready," Charles whines like he can read Pierre's mind. "I—Pierrot, I am ready, I need you—"

"Shhh, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning forward so that Charles' leg can properly hook over his shoulder. When he finally pulls his fingers from Charles' hole, his boyfriend whines pitifully, just this side of bratty. (Pierre's second favorite part, a very close second, is that little sound—petulant Charles, how demanding he can be when he's not all-the-way full all the time. Toys can only do so much.) "Easy, cher, easy, I'm going to take care of you." Pierre rubs at the back of Charles' other thigh like he's trying to soothe a wounded animal. He responds easily, leg lifting so Pierre has an improved angle, and ducks forward for one last kiss, one that's definitely less of a kiss and more of a clumsy-mouth-collision. "Are you ready for me, sleepyhead?"

Charles rubs his cheek against Pierre's, catlike. "Yeah," he manages faintly. It may be the best Pierre will get—he can tell already that Charles is lost in the experience from the way his eyes, lidded from sleep, have now gotten even heavier from the way Pierre has finger-fucked him open. He’s saturated with pleasure. He doesn’t even have to look to know that his dick is weeping precome just from how blissed out he is. (A little tingle crawls up his spine at that—at the reminder that, yes, Pierre is the one who gets to have him like this. Who gets to do this to him, who makes him feel this good.)

"Good boy," the Frenchman repeats, nuzzling at Charles gently. And, with one final kiss nestled at the faint crease of his boyfriend’s dimple, Pierre finally gets what he’s been after all morning.

“Pierre—” Charles’ voice is high and thready as Pierre eases in, slow like always even despite his ceaseless desire to thrust right in all the way. Charles can handle it, he’s done it before—but this morning, Pierre wants to keep Charles the way he is right now. Easy. Pliant. Sleepy. “Pierre, oh my god, Pierre—”

“You are taking me so good, cheri,” Pierre murmurs, rubbing at the meat of Charles’ thigh soothingly. “So good, sweetheart, you are so—fuck you are so tight, even with all that work we did, yeah?” Charles seems to be beyond words; he nods, eyes screwed shut, lips parted so pretty Pierre wishes his phone were closer so he could capture the moment. “You feel so good, Charles, fuck. Fuck, cher, fuck—” every second has Pierre closer to bottoming out, and Charles’ voice keeps breaking with every bit of Pierre he’s taking in.

“Pierre,” he manages with a soft whimper. His arm finally lifts from where it’s been draped across Pierre’s pillow, fingers sinking into the flesh of Pierre’s shoulder. Even with dull nails he can feel it like a branding iron. “I want all of it, all—please, oh my god, Pierre—” The words have broken off into half-formed noises as Pierre finally, finally bottoms out inside him. He’s dizzy with it, to be honest—there’s no getting used to how good Charles feels, like he’s made for Pierre and Pierre alone. They’ve done this a thousand times before, Pierre has had Charles a thousand different ways, and yet: he’ll never be used to this. Not ever.

“There we go,” he finally says, unable to keep the grunt of pleasure out of his voice as Charles clenches around him tight. “Fuck, there we are, calamar, all in. You have all of me, sweetheart, you did so good.” He thumbs at Charles’ cheek again with the hand not currently keeping him balanced, humming quietly at the way Charles leans into it even here and now. “How do you feel, mon cheri.”

Charles moans, the sound so familiar to the noises he’d been making in his sleep not too long ago. “Full,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight. The fingers dug into Pierre’s shoulder press even harder for a beat. Then: “Feels right.”

Pierre laughs lowly, ducking forward to kiss the place his thumb had been attending to. “Yeah?”

Charles nods, a quick and dramatic little thing. He looks a little silly. Pierre would laugh if he weren’t buried so god damn deep in him. “I feel—” He inhales sharply as Pierre has to re-balance on the mattress and jostles them a little. “I want to be like this always.”

The words are quiet but slap Pierre across the face open-handed. “You do, huh,” he says after a moment, aiming for teasing but knowing he’s missed the mark from the way his voice has gone ragged around the edges. He really isn’t going to last long at all the way things are going now. There’s no recovering from Charles’ lust-driven earnestness, especially now that he’s got his eyes open again. They’re so dark. Pierre knows he could get lost in them if he’s not careful.

“Fuck me, Pierrot,” the Monegasque breathes, lashes fluttering, and Pierre can’t do anything but oblige, drilling a singular thrust to send Charles skittering beneath him. The sob that wrenches from his throat is anything but soft. Pretty boy, pretty boy. Pierre sinks into him again, presses a clumsy kiss to Charles’ begging mouth, catches his teeth just right to draw another stuttering whine from somewhere at the back of his throat.

“Charlito,” he gasps as Charles meets his next thrust. “I am not going to—you—fuck, stay down, sweetheart, let me—”

Charles’ moan cuts him off. “Touch me, touch me,” he’s begging between shuddering gasp-sobs. Still clinging to Pierre’s shoulder with one hand, he rests the other over Pierre’s hand and lingers only for a moment before closing loosely around his wrist. “Pierre, please, please Pierre.”

A wrecked laugh spills out of Pierre’s mouth, somehow. “Eager,” he says, the rest of his thought utterly lost on his tongue at the way Charles continues to work with him thrust for thrust. He’s definitely awake now. “Yes, cher, yes, I—touch you, yes, fuck, of course,” so inelegant and clumsy as the words come out. Charles moans at them anyway, tightens his grip on Pierre’s wrist. “I have you, I have you.”

“Please,” he repeats, nodding frantically. He doesn’t release his hold on Pierre. (Maybe he’s not planning on it. The idea makes him dizzy again.)

He’s normally more controlled than this—although, lately, he’s been making that excuse to himself a lot when it comes to Charles, the way he’s been out of his mind every moment he gets alone with his best friend. There’s something gnawing at his gut, something he can’t quite shake: the fear that Charles will realize who he is, what he is, and see Pierre for what he actually is under the years and years of fond memories.

But he’s not going to psychoanalyze himself now, not as Charles has started bucking into the hand currently loose around the hilt of his cock.

“Pierrot,” he choke-sobs, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth like a waterfall. Charles is entirely lost in this, entirely; head thrown back, chest heaving, looking like an absolute painting of lust incarnate. Pierre is the one in control, here, doing all the work even if Charles is now trying to meet him halfway on it. It’s a very Charles thing of him to do, really—unable to fully let go even when he says he wants otherwise.

Admittedly, seeing Charles nestled in bed had triggered something in Pierre’s brain—something quiet. Something domestic. Something private. A summer just for them, not Instagram or anybody else’s eyes.

Fucking Charles until he’s wild might be a bit of an obstacle to this.

So he figures he’ll just have to take matters into his own hands. “Easy,” Pierre murmurs, slowing his thrusts but keeping the force behind them as best as he can. Charles keeps clinging to him. “Easy, Charles, I—” he shushes instinctively, thumbing at his boyfriend’s cheek again. “I have you, I promise.” His free hand wanders through Charles’ sleep-flattened hair, tsking quietly. “Be good for me, mon amour.”

Charles, to his credit, seems to settle at Pierre’s touch and words, especially as Pierre’s nails scrape a little at his scalp. The way his eyes roll a little at the sensation makes something warm in Pierre’s gut curl. “Pierrot,” Charles repeats, voice low and hoarse.

“Charles,” he answers with a soft look. “Close your eyes, cher. You trust me, yes?”

Charles’ eyes flutter closed immediately. “Always,” he answers.

“Then let me make you feel good.”

Charles moans softly, and Pierre can see the way he visibly relaxes again, once more pliant and sleep-soft. A surge of affection swells in his chest at the sight. He’s known Charles for most of his life—knows that he gets so quickly worked up about so many things, knows that he holds on to things even when he says he doesn’t. So to get Charles settled so quickly again like this… “Okay,” his boyfriend whispers.

“Okay,” Pierre echoes, then steals a fleeting kiss from Charles’ just-open lips. “Okay, cheri. Okay.” He closes his hand around Charles’ cock, strokes him once slowly. “There we go,” he says, distantly hearing how he sounds—choked, hoarse, barely hanging on by a thread. “What do you want, bebe.”

Charles whimpers. “You,” he answers, and Pierre hears this clear as day, like his lips are pressed right to Pierre’s earlobe. And—well—they might be, they really might be; Pierre can barely tell where he ends and Charles begins, which also feels like it’sbeen happening more these days. The lines have always been blurred for as long as Pierre can remember, but this—this is new, almost. Maybe it’s just summer.

Maybe it’s just Pierre realizing that he’s capable of wanting things outside of the track.

He’s been moving on autopilot, he realizes vaguely, as the noises of pleasure spilling out of Charles finally register in his ears once again. He’s quick to lock back into the task at hand, of course, working to align his hip and hand movements so that Charles is being barraged with the sensations the way he loves. Pierre, he’s begging, Pierre Pierre Pierre like it’s the only thing he knows how to say, and it’s—

“Fuck,” he groans, the resurgence of his self-control collapsing at the way Charles’ voice breaks on his name. “Charles, fuck, I am going to—”

“Please,” he interrupts, already sure of what Pierre is going to say as he thrusts up into Pierre’s hand. “Please, I am—yes, Pierre, I need—I want to feel you—”

That’s it. Graceless, he comes still buried deep in Charles, body once again completely disconnected from his mind as he thrusts helplessly. Pierre burrows into Charles’ shoulder as he lets go, mouth open and breathing wet against the freckled expanse of skin he loves so dearly. Charles, of course, comes right after him, streaking his stomach and Pierre’s still-working-him-through-it hand and even towards the glittering silver chain sitting heavy around his neck, but Pierre doesn’t move from where he’s slotted himself. He still feels like he’s wading through his own desires—like somehow, fucking a half-asleep Charles in his apartment in his Milan apartment has unlocked something new within him, something complicated and heavy and easy all at once.

And, well, maybe it has.

He’s still breathing heavy, a little dizzy from coming down so quickly from his high with so little air getting to his brain from his spot. Pierre slowly lifts off of him—face first, then hand, then cock, all departures that draw little noises of disappointment from Charles as he’s exposed once again to the cool air conditioning of his apartment.

Charles, who is so effortlessly beautiful like this, filthy with sweat and cum and blissfully riding the little aftershocks of his own orgasm. The sheets look sharp against his tanned skin. He does look like a painting, everything about him—Pierre’s eyes flicker over his body and see, with a little overstimulated pang of hunger, that his own cum is leaking from Charles’ puckered hole. He moves like a man possessed—still working on autopilot, Pierre’s action feels instinctive, to use two fingers and press the filthy mess back inside him. “Mine,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Charles whines again at the contact. His breath is warm and strong against Pierre’s cheek.

“Yours,” he murmurs against Pierre’s lips, voice shredded. He lifts a hand to rake through Pierre’s hair. “Yours always.”

Pierre hums, the weight of the morning suddenly heavy on his limbs. He collapses beside Charles, whose eyes are glittery and once again heavy looking with sleep. “I hope I lived up to your dream,” Pierre says after a beat, reaching over to touch Charles’ glowing skin again.

Charles chuckles softly. “Eh,” he answers, trademark catlike grin splitting his face in two. With a soft grunt, he scoots closer to Pierre (like they were even really that far apart) to rest gently on his shoulder, nuzzling him once again. “Perhaps I will dream of you again, Pierrot, and you can try once more.”

Pierre snorts softly. “You are insatiable,” he murmurs, unable to keep from pressing a formless kiss to Charles’ head. He gets a muffled noise in response. “Maybe I will, huh.”

“Mmmmmgh” is the response he gets.

Pierre’s never been one to nap—especially not this early in the day—but with Charles’ weight tucked into his side, pleasure still covering him like a blanket, maybe he’ll consider it.

The shower’s not going anywhere, after all.

[iconicstyles]

If We’re Alright

This was purely self indulgent. I’ve been feeling anxious for the past several days and just needed to write out what I’ve been feeling and what I wish I had when I deal with anxiety and just not feeling good enough. I hope to anyone else that feels like this maybe this small story can help 

TW: Mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, just kind of word vomit and not proof read, if I miss anything let me know 

It’s like you’re constantly treading water, just barely able to keep your head above the surface. You’ve gone through the ups and downs with your mental health. For as long as you can remember you’ve dealt with anxious thoughts, never really considering you had full blown anxiety. Whenever you tried to talk about it in the past it was always brushed off. ‘You’re just overthinking, being too emotional. Just take deep breaths, it’ll all be ok.’

That’s what you always heard so that’s what you went with. Sure, as you got older you started to accept you did have anxiety but you thought you had it under control. Thankfully you’ve only ever had one full blown panic attack. It was when you felt stuck, you only had a part time job with no real idea what you wanted to do with your life. You were scared, feeling alone, and feared there were no other options. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, your breathing accelerated but it felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. Your hands were shaking as you collapsed onto your bedroom floor. No one was home, you went through it alone but when it passed you told yourself it wasn’t going to happen again. It was a bold statement but you were going to take charge of your life one step at a time.

That was before you started a new job, a job you actually loved and enjoyed. Going to work was no longer a hassle. You actually looked forward to getting up in the morning and going to the office. It was also before you met Harry. You had met at a mutual friend’s party, you don’t even remember how the conversation started but once it did it was like it never stopped. Harry talked about growing up in the UK while you talked about the new puppy you just adopted. “I’m being a mom right now aren’t I?” You laughed, after showing him yet another picture of the dog on your phone.

“A little bit but I don’t mind.”

After that you and Harry continued to talk almost every day. Whether it was by text or FaceTime chat late into the night the conversation just kept flowing. Harry was a great listener while also being an amazing story teller. You told him several times you could fall asleep to his deep, raspy voice. “Is that your way of saying I’m boring?” He asked.

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, it just means...you put me at ease.”

Even though you and Harry were open with each other you had never talked to him about your anxiety. Before in every relationship you had been in, which granted it wasn’t much, it felt like your partners were discouraged whenever you talked about your mental health. After a while you had just given up on talking about it altogether. You didn’t want to be a problem, you didn’t want to upset them. If you kept it to yourself it was your issue and you didn’t want to put that on anyone else.

Six months after you and Harry first started talking you were on the right path to begin a relationship, or so you hoped. There was some flirting on both ends, even when you were apart you found ways to be a part of each other’s lives. You still remembered the first time Harry called you beautiful. You were a bridesmaid at your cousin’s wedding, the only single bridesmaid as well but you tried not to dwell on that too harshly. As you stood in front of the mirror taking in your appearance you felt pretty, thankfully your cousin chose a flattering dress on every bridesmaids’ body type in a neutral color. After hours of hair and makeup you had time to take a few photos on your phone and send one to Harry. ‘The final product.’ You text him.

As you were gathering your flowers and getting ready to walk out of the room the group got ready in your phone lit up with a reply. ‘You look beautiful, love.’ Followed by. ‘I wish I could be there with you.’

That was your first real indication this thing with Harry could actually go somewhere. He had even listened to the first few drafts of your maid of honor speech when you knew he was tired from working on his new movie set. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed?” You had asked him numerous times.

“I’m good, I promise.” He told you. “Now start at the part where you make fun of her husband’s karaoke performance.”

Even though you were rarely in the same state, let alone time zone, you found yourself falling slowly head over heels for this man. It was hard not to. And then when you two were both cooking meals on FaceTime, him in his house in London while you were alone in your apartment across the ocean, you jokingly asked. “Is this our first date?”

You heard Harry chuckle on his end. “Trust me love, our first date will be much better than this.”

You had to stop yourself from gawking at him. So you were reading this right. There was a future for you both. After that notion you had a little more pep in your step when it came to talking to Harry. It got even better when you found out he was going to be in your town shooting some scenes for his upcoming Marvel project. “You’re sworn to secrecy though. I don’t want to piss off the heads of Disney.” Harry teased.

“My lips are sealed.” You promised, you weren’t about to let anything spoil this short time together.

Of course, you should have prepared yourself for this. You got too happy. You had always been afraid of allowing yourself to get too happy. Whenever you did, or whenever it was like things were going in the right direction the rug was pulled out from underneath you. It started with Harry’s schedule and yours not working out. You were at work when Harry was and his days were consistently longer than yours. When he finally left set it was early in the morning while you were either still asleep or just getting up to start your work day. In all you had maybe spent two hours with him, a quick meal before he had to leave for set. You hadn’t even been able to go see him on your lunch break. With COVID protocols still in place, and with Marvel keeping the project hush hush, no outside visitors were allowed on the premises. You hadn’t even been able to sneak a peek at Harry’s costume. “You can’t even take a picture?” Yes, you were whining but you were dying to see Harry in full Starfox action.

“They confiscate my phone every day.” Harry laughed at your eagerness. “But I promise I will try to sneak one picture.”

Your schedule definitely wasn’t helping things either. When you got the job at your office it was during a slow period but now almost a year in business was picking up. You were either on the phone, or finishing to-dos, or putting files together and before you knew it the work day was over. Every day when you left you felt like you were missing something, like you weren’t able to accomplish anything. Then when you got back to work in the morning it was like everything had multiplied overnight. Even working overtime wasn’t enough, it just kept piling up. You knew you were starting to feel overwhelmed but kept telling yourself it was going to be ok, you had coworkers to help, Harry was supportive, it would be all right.

While you were playing catch up at work you felt yourself slip with Harry. You weren’t texting him as much, you both were at fault. It was like you were never free at the same time. You hated it though because he was only going to be in town for a short period of time. If you weren’t able to spend more than two hours with him then you were sure that would be it. Even though you tried to ignore them you had heard rumors of Harry getting bored easily. How long was his last relationship? You didn’t even know and you were too afraid to ask in fear of ruining a potentially good one. 

Harry had one week left before shooting would wrap and he would be off again. You were determined to make the most of it. You had finally worked up enough courage to ask him over to your apartment. “I’ll cook dinner and then take you around, show you some of my favorite spots.” You promised him.

When you saw his dimpled smile on the small screen of your phone it warmed your insides. “Sounds great, darling.”

The new nickname sent your body into a tailspin. This man had so much control of you and he had no clue. You both had settled on a day, you even told him where you keep a spare key to your front door so he could let himself in if you were running late. Thank God you thought ahead because the day of your scheduled outing your job decided to go haywire. Walking into work that morning you knew you had files to finish up on. No big deal but all of a sudden it was like everything needed to be done at that right minute. “Where’s that Robert's file?” One of your coworkers asked.

As you were going to find the file in question you were pulled away to something else. “Were those documents scanned in?”

You promised to go find them along with every other task you had to do. While you were searching you were told of an email, apparently one of your duties was being handed off to someone else. “What? Why?” You asked out loud.

No one really answered you right away which only made you think of the worst possibilities. Of course they thought you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t picking up the slack so now they needed to give the job to someone else. Then it was like a giant snowball. It felt like everything you did was wrong. “You put those in the wrong filing cabinet, you didn’t save it correctly in the computer, that’s the wrong information you’ll have to call the client again.’

Over and over again you were told something was wrong and it was your job to fix it while also trying to finish everything else. Now you weren’t even keeping your head above water, you were sinking below the surface without any way of pulling yourself back up. Before you knew it the clock struck six thirty, an hour and a half after you told Harry you would be home. “Shit!” You exclaimed, grabbing your purse and your keys and running out of the office.

When you got home you saw Harry had used the hidden key you had told him about and found him sitting on your couch with your dog laying next to him. “Hey, sorry, you told me to let myself in.”

“Right, yeah, that’s fine.” You said, trying to catch your breath.

“You all right?”

You didn’t want to unload all of your problems on him. Shaking your head you said. “Yeah, great, I see you made yourself at home.” You were trying to joke with him, hoping that if you were able to laugh it would stop your mind from reeling.

Harry smiled. “I like your place, it feels rather welcoming.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Even though talking to Harry usually put you at ease you were unable to relax now. You could feel your hands shaking no matter how many times you clenched and unclenched your fists.

“So, I hate to be a nag but what’s for dinner? I was afraid to step out and miss you when you got home.”

At the mention of dinner you cringed. “Shit,” You muttered. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I meant to go grocery shopping when I got off but then work ran late...and I’m afraid all that I have in my fridge is a bag of shredded cheese and yoghurt.”

Harry sighed and you felt your heart break a little, great another person you disappointed today. “It’s all right.”

“No, no, it’s not. I promised you dinner and now I let you down.”

Rising to his feet he stopped you. “Love, no, you didn’t. I understand you had to work. Don’t worry, we can do something else. We can order in if you want.”

That did little to ease your nervous stomach. “Ok.”

“Why don’t you go and shower and then we’ll figure something out.”

The little voice in your head was snickering at you at this point. Mocking and pointing at you as you nodded and walked off in the direction of your bathroom. You could hear it ‘He wants away from you, he’s probably going to leave once he hears the water running.’ As you got undressed you could feel the tears coming. You turned the water on as hot as it could possibly go before stepping inside the tub. As the water cascaded down your body you could feel your muscles relax and with it came the sobs. For as long as you could remember whenever you were feeling down the one place you allowed yourself to let go was inside the shower. The sounds of the water drowned out the sounds of you crying. No matter who was around you were able to release your emotions without anyone else hearing. Normally it helped, you were able to cry everything out without worrying anyone else. Now as you scrubbed your body while crying large, hot tears, you just felt worse.

Every detail of the day rushed through your mind and suddenly it felt like your world was crashing down. You were disappointing everyone, the simplest task you couldn’t accomplish. You could still hear your coworkers snippy remarks when they thought you were out of earshot. They didn’t think you could handle the job, that’s why some of your duties were being handed off. Then there was Harry, the man you disappointed the most of all. You promised him one thing, a home cooked meal, and you couldn’t do the basic thing by going to the grocery store and actually preparing for it. No wonder he hadn’t asked you out on a proper date, he didn’t think you were worth it.

Then it happened, just like before. Your breathing started to come in pants, your chest ached, and your stomach rolled like you were going to be sick. Balancing yourself on the slick shower wall you tried to calm yourself. You had tried to focus on something, anything, in your tub to take your mind off the impending panic but nothing could distract you. It took all of your control to slowly sink down into the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees as you continued to sob.

You didn’t even hear the knocks on the door or Harry calling out to you. You weren’t even aware you forgot to lock the door until you heard Harry’s voice throughout the bathroom. “Love?” He asked.

You clinched your eyes closed. “Go away, please.” You hated how weak your voice sounded.

“You’ve been in here forty-five minutes, you ok?” He questioned, restraining himself from opening the shower curtain.

Breathing in and out you tried to shake off the panic attack. “I-I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry said. “I could hear you crying, please just…”

Looking up you saw his hand come into the shower to feel the water. “Jesus, love, it’s freezing.”

You hadn’t even realized the hot water had long since run out. Without peaking into the shower Harry reached in to turn the water off. “All right, I have a towel and I promise I won’t look. I just need to get you out of there, ok?”

Now you were making him pity you and baby you. This night had just gone from bad to worse. “Ok.” You whispered.

Slowly the curtain opened and true to his word Harry was looking up at the ceiling with the towel open. On shaky legs you stood up, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around your body. “You can look.” You told him quietly once you were covered.

Part of you wished Harry continued looking up. When you saw those green eyes all you saw was fear and concern. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. Instead he held out his hands to help you out of the tub. You still felt lightheaded, quietly sitting down at the edge of the tub you waited for him to speak. The only sound in the bathroom was the occasional drip of the water. Before he could say anything you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t.” He started but you cut him off.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry you heard all of that. I normally don’t…” You choked. “I don’t like for anyone to hear me like that.”

“Like what? Emotional?”

Slowly you nodded your head. “I don’t like for people to see me cry.”

Without looking up you felt him sit down beside you. “Don’t worry about that. Let it all out, ok? If that’s what you need to feel better then do it.”

A few warm tears traveled down your cheek. “Go ahead, tell me, I promise I won’t judge.”

You knew he was being honest and that was what prompted you to finally talk. “I just feel like...I feel like I keep letting everyone down.”

Once you started talking it was like you couldn’t stop. At one point you felt his hand cover yours but it wasn’t to shut you up, it was more of a small comfort. It was his way of telling you to continue and he was there for you. He listened, like he always did, and he provided you the comfort you had been wanting for so long. 

At one point you were just feeling exhausted and your tailbone was slightly numb from sitting on the edge of the tub. Harry must have been feeling the same as he stood up. “Come on, let’s get you into some warm clothes.”

Harry took it upon himself to find a hoodie from your closet and a pair of sweatpants you had freshly washed in your laundry basket. He gave you a minute to get changed and told you to rejoin him in your living room. You were feeling slightly better as you got dressed, brushing any tangles out of your hair, but the nagging feeling of anxiety still sat in your gut. This must have been some sight for him, to have a crying, hyperventilating girl in her apartment when all he wanted was dinner and a tour of the town. When you joined him in the living room you noticed he found some takeout menus you had stored in your kitchen. “What are you feeling like?” He asked, holding out an assortment of food options.

“Harry, you don’t have to do this.” You muttered. “You don’t have to stick around because you feel sorry for me.”

You saw his brown eyebrows furrow. “Love, come here.” He commanded gently, holding out his hand and pulling you down onto the couch. “Don’t for one second believe that I’m here out of pity. I’m here because I want to be here. I want to be here for you. Just like you’re there for me even when we’re not in the same time zone.”

Now you were going to cry for a new set of reasons. Shuffling closer to him you wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight hug. When you felt his long arms engulf you close to his body you breathed a sigh of relief. Even his smell was comforting to you. You could feel his lips press against your forehead. “I promise, I’m here no matter what happens.”

Nodding against him you sat like that for a few more minutes before pulling away. Before losing your nerve you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was so sudden he wasn’t even sure you had really kissed him before you were turning your attention to the menus in front of you. “I’m kind of thinking Chinese, what about you?”

“Whatever you want.” He smiled.

An hour later you were sitting in your kitchen, not bothering to take the food out of the takeout containers you sat on your counter sharing bites of food. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you were basically eyeballing the last eggroll. When you reached out for it Harry stopped you. “That one is mine.”

“Aww, come on.” You whined.

The side of his mouth perked up. “All right, you can have it on one condition.” Tilting your head you waited for him to continue. “I think that kiss you gave me earlier was far too quick for my liking.”

“You’re using an eggroll to get another kiss?” You giggled.

“It’s a dirty game but someone has to play it.” He shot back.

“Fine, fine.” You agreed.

Hopping off the counter Harry stepped closer to you. Without hesitation you opened your thighs to allow him to slip in between your legs. You weren’t sure who closed the gap but before you knew it his lips were on yours. It started out innocently enough but soon enough you were pulling him closer, holding onto his shoulders while his large hands rested on your thighs. Tilting your head you opened your mouth to allow his tongue to brush against yours. A soft sigh escaped your mouth feeling him everywhere. Pulling away you pressed another kiss to his before whispering. “Is it ok if we don’t…?” You whispered.

Harry pressed his forehead to yours. “I already told you, I’m here regardless. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Nodding you pulled him back in for a tight hug. This was the comfort you were searching for. His hands ran up and down your back, while he rested his head against your shoulder. “Thank you.” You told him honestly.

He gently kissed your neck instead of answering. You don’t know how long you stayed like that in your kitchen. At some point you migrated over to your couch where more kisses were exchanged until you both drifted off to sleep. The real world still lingered outside but finally it felt nice to have someone in your corner. He could always tell when you needed a little help and for that you were grateful. For once you didn’t have to face it alone.

[drabbles-mc]

It’s Not Like That

Gilly Lopez x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Could I please have the ship prompts #2- Wait...are you jealous?, and #39- Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do, for Gilly and reader!? (Prompts are from This List)

Warnings: language, alcohol, the Core Four being the amazing and lovely idiots we all know them to be

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This is only my second ever Gilly fic, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it! xo

Mayans Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0 @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @thanossexual @xeniarocks @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow​ @beardsanddetectives​ @bruxasolta​ @slut-bitch-brat​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ (If you want to be added to the list, let me know!)

“Yo, earth to Gilly,” Angel’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Gilly looked over at him, annoyance written all over his face, “What?”

Angel chuckled, “Damn, what’s your issue tonight?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Angel cocked his eyebrow, “Really? ‘Cause you’ve been glaring over at the bar all night like you’re ready to go snap somebody’s fuckin’ neck,” Angel took the time to actually look where Gilly was looking, and when he saw what was going on, and a smug smirk came across his face, “Oh, alright. I get it.”

“What?”

Angel shook his head, “Nothin’. You just, you know, ever thought that maybe you’d have more luck with her if you actually went and talked to her instead of just thinking about beating up all the guys who actually do go talk to her?”

Gilly shook his head as he took a sip of his beer, “Shut the fuck up.”

“C’mon, bro,” Angel pushed him in the direction of the bar, “go do somethin’ besides stare at her.”

“Nah,” Gilly dismissed him as flippantly as he could, “it ain’t like that—we’re just friends.”

Angel knew that you couldn’t hear what they were saying from the other side of the clubhouse, that it was just a coincidence that you glanced over at them as they got into that conversation. But as soon as you looked at Gilly, your whole face lit up with a smile. And not your usual customer service smile you usually wore while you were behind the bar, a real smile. What was more impressive was the fact that Gilly reciprocated the expression with the same amount of enthusiasm.

“Yea,” Angel shook his head at the two of you, “alright. You two might be friends, but there’s nothin’ just about it. Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do,” he stood up, “So, y’know, get it together.”

Gilly wanted to argue the point more, but wasn’t afforded the chance as Angel walked off towards the bar. He watched as Angel hassled his little brother for a beer, causing both of you behind the bar to laugh. You leaned against the bar, watching the two brothers interact as you shook your head.

“Were you guys this mean to Angel when he was prospecting?” you looked at Bishop, who was sitting across from you on the other side of the bar.

“We were worse,” Bishop laughed before taking a swig of his beer, “But in our defense, Angel wasn’t nearly as likable.”

“Still isn’t,” EZ piped in as he flung a bottle cap at his brother.

You chuckled, shaking your head before checking the time on your phone. When you saw how late it was starting to get, you let EZ know that he could clock out for the night, “Really,” you reassured him, “I’ve got it. Go hang out with the guys.”

Bishop chuckled, shaking his head, “You’re way too nice to him, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you looked over at Bishop with a smile, “Someone around here has to be, right?”

You watched the two Reyes brothers leave the bar, making their way back over to where the rest of the guys were lounging. With a slight shake of your head, you started wiping down the surface of the bar before getting back into your conversation with Bishop. When you first started working at the clubhouse, it was actually you cashing in on an old favor that Bishop owed you. You were suddenly in-between jobs and needed something flexible and short-term. Even if he didn’t owe you a favor, Bishop wouldn’t have said no to you. He’d always had a soft spot for you, and he enjoyed having you around. You were fun, light-hearted, and stayed out of trouble for the most part, which was exactly the kind of energy the club needed around these days.

“How’d the interview go today?” he asked you, carefully watching for your reaction.

You sighed, shrugging, “Fine, I think? I don’t even know anymore. It’s all,” you shook your head, “it’s all taking way longer than I bargained for.”

“That desperate to get outta here?” Bishop asked with a smile.

You laughed, shaking your head, “You know that’s not it, Bish.”

“I know,” he nodded, pausing as he looked over at you, and saw you looking over to the guys who were all lounging on the couches laughing together, knowing that you were looking at one person in particular, “I figured you’d be coming back to hang out anyway.”

You looked over to him, eyebrows raised, “And why’s that?”

He shrugged, a smirk on his face as he took a sip of his beer, “Seems like you’ve made some friends.”

“I mean,” you laughed nervously, knowing that Bishop knew you well enough to see right through you, “yea, but that still doesn’t explain that look on your face.”

He shook his head, feigning ignorance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t push him on it, not really wanting to have the discussion with him anyway for fear of melting into the floor, “Of course you don’t.”

It wasn’t too much longer before Bishop was telling you to call it a night as well, seeing as how the few people still left in the clubhouse were club members, and they’d stopped drinking a while ago. You were thankful for the slightly early dismissal, setting about doing a final cleanup before getting around to heading home.

Bishop stopped you before you could get too far, walking around to your side of the bar and snatching the rag out of your hands with a laugh, “Leave it for the prospect to handle.”

You laughed, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned to face him head-on, “Really, Bishop? Can’t even let me actually do my job?”

“I mean, I’m technically your boss. So that means I’m just changing your responsibilities.”

“Delegating, huh?” you chuckled, “Thank you, Bish.”

“You’re welcome. And, hey,” he pulled you into a hug, “don’t worry too much about the interview, alright?” he stepped back, his hand resting on the outside of your arm, “It’s all gonna work out when it needs to.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, knowing that he was right, “I know. Thank you, Bishop.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the clubhouse, Gilly was watching the entire interaction between you and Bishop. He couldn’t hear what the two of you were saying, but it didn’t matter. His hand wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle, knowing that he didn’t really have any right to be feeling as uptight as he did about seeing you talking with Bishop. He’d never asked what the deal with you two was, feeling like none of it was really any of his business. He was right on that—it wasn’t his business. But in that moment he didn’t care.

“Damn,” Angel laughed, shaking his head, “never seen you so ready to rip Bish’s head off. You’d think that he’s threatening to take your kutte or something.”

“Nah,” Coco piped in with a laugh and a shake of his head, “just threatening to take his girl.”

Gilly shot each of them a death glare, “If you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“What?” Angel goaded him, “You’ll actually go and fuckin’ ask her out?”

He set his beer bottle down on the table much harder than necessary, not saying anything to either of them as he walked over to the bar. He’d missed Bishop walking away, so when he actually pushed his frustration with Angel and Coco from his mind and focused on what was in front of him, he saw you behind the bar, popping a beer bottle open for yourself. He cleared his throat, suddenly not sure how he wanted to start a conversation with you, a problem the two of you had never had before.

Turning around, your face visibly brightened when you saw him standing on the other side of the bar, “Hey!” you were halfway towards reaching for another bottle, “Need a beer?”

He shook his head, “No, uh, I’m…I’m good.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed slightly in confusion, not quite able to read his expression, “okay…something else I can do for you?”

“Nah, I just, I was wondering if you were alright,” he paused, knowing he was running the risk of putting his entire foot in his mouth but that had never stopped him before. Ever. He nodded towards the door of the clubhouse, “Saw you talkin’ to Bish…”

“Oh,” you shook your head and waved your hand dismissively, “I was just venting about some work stuff. Job interviews stressing me out,” you took a swig of your drink, “I’m fine,” you couldn’t pretend that his concern didn’t make you feel good, though, “Thanks for checking, though. I appreciate it.”

The warm smile on your face as you looked at him had him feeling flustered, the next words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Right. Okay. Yeah. I just, you know, I saw you huggin’ him and…” his voice trailed off like his train of thought.

In all the time that you’d known Gilly, you’d never seen him nervous. You’d describe him a lot of different ways if someone asked, and sure of himself would always fall into the description somewhere along the line. To see him tripped up over himself was new, and you couldn’t help but to wonder what caused it—he’d never seemed anxious about talking to you before.

“Did I look that upset?” you chuckled.

His response was quick as he shook his head, “No. I just never seen Bish all up on you like that, talkin’ to you all night and then all that.”

A surprised laugh slipped past your lips. There it was. You smiled, leaning onto the bar, toying with the beer bottle in your hands, “All up on me? Gilly, it was just a hug,” you laughed, and when you saw the shift in the expression on his face, you couldn’t help but to lean back, looking at him expectantly, “Wait a minute…are you jealous?”

Gilly scoffed, shaking his head although none of it was convincing, “Nah, it’s not like that. I just—”

“Gilly,” you reached across the bar and rested your hand on top of his, watching the way his eyes widened before looking back up to you, “Bishop is like my uncle. He’s…he’s looked out for me a lot over the years. I owe him a lot, this job here included. But it’s not what you’re thinking,” your laugh was soft, “believe me.”

He nodded, unable to really focus on much else as he watched the way your fingers tangled with his, “Right. O-okay.”

“Gilly?” you waited for him to look up into your eyes again, “Were you a little jealous?”

“Pfft,” he shook his head, but an embarrassed smile spread across his face, “maybe.”

You laughed, feeling the heat rising in your face, “Well…don’t be.”

Gently patting the top of his hand, you went to put yours away. Before you got too far, though, Gilly reached and gently wrapped his hand around yours, “Hey.”

Butterflies began to fill your stomach at the simple gesture and the eager look in his eyes, “Yea?”

“Since I can’t, you know, fuckin embarrass myself any more than I already have,” his thumb went back and forth across your knuckles, nervously searching for any comfort and reassurance, “Could I take you out to dinner sometime?”

A broad smile took over your face as you nodded excitedly, “Yea, I’d like that.”

Relief flooded Gilly’s body, not only at your answer but at the fact that you seemed so genuinely excited about the idea of it all. “Alright,” he smiled at you, giving your hand a light squeeze, “cool.”

“Oh, Gilly,” you gave him a squeeze back, “one more thing?”

He raised his eyebrows, “What’s up?”

Tightening your grip on his hand and pulling him so that he was leaning over the bar, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Pulling away, you let out a quiet laugh, “No more glaring at everyone who talks to me while I’m working, okay?”

It was hard for him to force his brain to string together a sentence, “I, uh, I can’t promise that.”

You laughed, thinking to yourself that it was the first time you’d seen Gilly speechless, “Promise me you’ll try?”

He nodded, not able to say no to you, “I’ll try.”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you.”

Gilly opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by the sound of the clapping and wolf whistles coming from his cluster of friends who had been sitting on the other side of the clubhouse watching the entire interaction unfold. You felt your face get hot, and you had to assume that Gilly was in much the same boat. When you looked over at him, he was laughing and shaking his head at them.

“I’ll still beat all your fuckin’ asses, alright?” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to laugh to.

Angel shook his head, cupping his hands around his mouth as he called over to him, “It’d still be fuckin’ worth it, bro!”

You shook your head at all of them, “They gonna follow us on our date and provide commentary?”

He looked at you, chuckling as he shrugged, “They might try.”

[pebblysand]

[LET'S TALK WRITING!] - 15 THINGS I LEARNED FROM WRITING FANFICTION FOR FIFTEEN YEARS

Hmm... you read that right. Your girl has been writing fanfic for fifteen years! Or at least, my fanfiction.net account, created on the 13th January 2007, turns fifteen today. Happy birthday! So, in honour of the over 400,000 words I’ve written across seven fandoms, here is a list of the fifteen most important fic-writing lessons learned over the last fifteen years. This post is incredibly self-indulgent and over 5,000 words long, so if you intend to do anything other than rapidly skim it, grab yourself a cup of tea, haha. I hope you will however find this advice somewhat valuable.

ON STARTING OUT:

1. CHOOSE YOUR USERNAME CAREFULLY - IT BECOMES YOUR BRAND

Other writers might disagree, but I am a strong advocate for having one username across the board. I am pebblysand on ff, ao3, tumblr, twitter, discord, tiktok and literally anywhere else you can think of that is related to my writing. Partly because of a debilitating lack of originality, but also because it is easier to be known as one "thing" everywhere. Of course, some fanfic writers manage fine without it, but I think you do make your life slightly harder, marketing-wise. Links get broken, people get lost between platforms, and having the same “name” everywhere makes finding you a bit easier.

Regarding what to pick, when I started writing fanfic, I was thirteen years old. I picked a username that was... stupid. To the point that I don't even want to mention it here. It was very fandom specific, and a clear clue as to the fact that I was... too young. When I grew up, I changed my username to something more "mature", which was honestly a hassle. I had to hyphenate oldusername-newusername for about a year before I fully transitioned, so as not to lose my readership, and I had to go through the tedious process of changing my logins everywhere. Don't be like me. Learn from my stupidity haha.

Generally, I would advise you to pick:

something that has more to do with your person than your fandom. This is because you might not always write in the same fandom and may want to keep the same accounts.

an actual (version) of a name. It doesn't have to be your name (in fact, it probably shouldn't), but it's often easier for people to remember an author's name as SarahClarke than PineTrees98, for example. This is clearly something I didn't do, and I sort of regret it. Some fanfic authors who branched out into original fiction kept their fanfic penname for publishing original books, and it allows for more reader transfers. Of course, you might not want to do that and keep your fanfic work and original work completely separate, but it's nice to keep your options open.

2. THE ONLY GOOD REASON TO WRITE FANFIC IS BECAUSE YOU WANT TO

In my time, writing fanfic was shameful. You wrote it under a penname, on the internet, and never told anyone you read fanfic/were in fandom (let alone wrote it), IRL. Being a nerd was deeply uncool. You could get bullied for it. You could even lose your job because of it.

I am glad that this changed. Seeing young people on platforms like tiktok openly discussing fanfic (both as a concept, and certain fanfics in particular), putting their real names and faces to it, is fantastic and inspiring. This being said, I feel like it's become a "cool" phenomenon. These days, I see a lot of posts from young people talking about stats, number of kudos, kudos-to-hits ratios, popularity, etc., wanting to write fanfic to become “fandom famous.” And, don't get me wrong: a) this has always existed, and b) I'm not going to pretend I'm completely immune to numbers myself. But, for the most part, try to remember that writing fanfic is a hobby. You are producing it for free, and it should first and foremost be something that you enjoy for you. It's okay to want to gravitate towards writing more popular stuff because you want attention (there is nothing wrong with wanting attention), but remember that growing a readership is a long, tedious process, which can only be sustainable if you enjoy writing. You don't have to write fanfic to be part of fandom. Fandoms thrive on diversity, and not everyone has to contribute the same way. Don't force yourself if you don't want to.

Also, I know this is easier said than done, but try not to pay too much attention to numbers. This is for your own mental health. The only measure of whether your work is "successful" should be if you enjoy it. Try not to compare yourself to “famous” authors, especially when you're starting out. And, remember that the work you're most proud of will almost never coincide with other people's favourite.

3. THIS BEING SAID, HAVE A HARD THINK ABOUT THE FANDOM YOU'RE WRITING IN

I've said this many times before, but whilst I currently write Harry Potter fanfiction and consider HP the first thing I was ever a “fan” of, it took me 12 years to actually write HP fic. For the first decade of my fanfic writing "career", I wrote in other, small-ish fandoms. I once wrote a 143k-word fic in a fandom with 73 entries on AO3. Total.

This taught me so much. In small fandoms, people will read anything. When I wrote for The Good Wife, for instance, my nightly ritual was to update the fanfiction.net page and read everything published that day. That was possible. There'd be like... five/ten fics a day, maybe? People didn't tag things (beyond pairings), because looking through the archive without many filters was manageable. And, since there's not that much content, while you do have a smaller pool of possible readers, those people will actually read your stuff. Moreover, they will comment, chat about fandom things, and give you feedback, because they're genuinely invested in you getting better and providing more content.

The communities are also (generally) a lot more tight-knit. Everyone knows each other; there are a lot less arseholes or mean comments coming your way. As a new writer, positive reinforcement and kind helpful comments are mostly what you need. My first comment on my first HP fic last year was "this is a joke" and having been in the fic "business" for over ten years, I was able to laugh and brush it off as spam - I'm not sure I could have done that as efficiently as a new, 13-year-old writer.

This being said, of course, if you're dead-set on writing fic in a popular fandom, see point 2. and roll with it, because the golden rule is: write what you like. But, if there's a small fandom that you like, for which you have ideas, then I would highly recommend starting out there, then moving on to something bigger when you feel ready. Big fandoms can be brutal. People have loads of opinions, and not all of them are valuable. Writing to a niche audience that is truly involved can be a much more satisfying and interesting experience for a new writer.

4. NON-NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKERS - IT'S OKAY TO WRITE IN ENGLISH, BUT BEWARE OF THE IMPLICATIONS

You might not know this, but I'm French. My first language is French. And, while I did start writing fanfic in French at the very beginning, I quickly switched to English (and never looked back). Generally, I am thankful that fandom, as well as reading and writing fanfic, basically taught me English. This choice has had a tremendous impact on my life that I could not have foreseen at the time. Because I could speak/write good English, I could study in English, which meant I could move abroad, which also meant I became an immigrant, settled in Ireland, etc. The life and career I have now are in great part due to/thanks to the decision I made as a teenager to write in English.

This being said, if you’re not a native English speaker going into English-language fanfic, here are a few things I think you should know:

First off, don’t you dare apologise for existing. I read so many messages and fics every day, starting with “sorry for my poor English but…” and going on to write the most beautiful stories. I know that’s just insecurity and modesty speaking, but trust me, you speak multiple languages, and you speak them well enough to write in them - do not apologise for being awesome! Now, if you want to let your readers know that English is not your first language, that’s okay. I don’t do it anymore, but when I didn’t feel as confident, I did used to write something like: “English is not my first language, so if there’s anything that looks wrong, let me know!” I think it’s a great way to ask for indulgence, but also for feedback, without being apologetic for something you shouldn’t feel the need to apologise for. And, also remember that everyone makes mistakes. Even native English speakers do! I’m sure you make mistakes in your first language too! There’s nothing to be ashamed of, just things to learn.

This being said, beware that yes, you will have to work harder than everyone else. Not only do you have to learn how to creatively write and find your “voice”, but you also have to learn sentence structure, vocabulary, etc. Also, chances ar, you will be writing fanfic for an original work that occurs in a different culture, so you will need to learn that as well. When you start out, juts know that everything will sound wrong. Your words, your dialogue, your rhythm, etc. To combat that, you will have to edit, edit, edit and read. Books, published novels, fanfiction, everything you can get your hands on. Study how other people shape narratives, dialogues, etc. You’ll get there, but it is a lot of work!

Also, remember that errors will always slip through the cracks. I swear. You can read and re-read ten times, you will always get something wrong. You can become perfectly fluent, to the point where no one can tell you’re not native, but something will always give you away. My personal tell is prepositions. Is it: looking down at? looking down to? Who the fuck knows? Not me. Also lie and lay. I never know and will never know which one is which.

Lastly, one thing that happened to me that I wouldn’t have thought of when I first chose to write in English is that once you learn a technique and develop your own “voice” in one language, it is incredibly hard to translate into another. At this stage, having learnt everything that I've learnt in the past fifteen years in English, I don’t believe I’d be able to write creatively in French. This has ramifications, especially if you intend to branch out into original work eventually. My mum once said to me: “It’s just really sad, because I’ll never be able to read what you write” (she doesn’t speak English). Not going to lie, that thought hurt a little. Overall, it is something I wish I’d thought about when I began writing fifteen years ago.

5. GET A BETA. TRUST ME, YOU NEED ONE. EVERYONE NEEDS ONE.

Now, I’m saying this in the “starting out” category, but I acknowledge that finding a beta when you’re beginning is hard. Chances are, at this point, you’re young, shy, and you don’t know anyone in fandom - the task can feel daunting. I understand.

You don’t have to have a beta to start posting (at least I don’t think so), but if the opportunity presents itself, I do recommend you seize it. And, not only to spot the small typos or grammar mistakes, but also to review your plot, characterisation, etc. Having a second set of eyes on your writing is invaluable. I learnt so much from my successive betas throughout the years.

If you choose to actively look for a beta, here are a few tips for finding one:

.

If you’re starting out, literally anyone can be your beta. You don’t need to be picky. Since you’re only beginning, most of the feedback that anyone can give you will be new and useful. If you’re bold, you can slide into someone’s DMs on tumblr and just ask. Worse case scenario, they’ll say no. As far as I’m concerned, the only reason I’ve ever said no to someone who’s asked is literally just lack of time. Nothing more. I want to do a good job and provide useful feedback, and that takes time I sometimes don’t have. Please try not to take any rejections personally. This being said, if you’re a bit more shy, I’ve noticed that plenty of fandom discord servers have a “@beta” role where you can ask whoever is available to review your work. I find that takes the pressure off feeling that you’re “imposing” on someone, as you literally have people volunteering their time for it willingly.

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I’ve found that as I grew as a writer, I needed to be a bit more picky with who beta-ed my work. As you learn things, you might realise there’s a certain type of feedback you’re looking for, or certain things you’re looking to improve on. The way I currently find my betas is through falling in love with their work product. I generally find someone whose work I read and with whom I’m like: omg, I want to write like them. Then, I online stalk them, comment on everything they post, and fangirl until they respond. Then, we chat, and I let the fact that I don’t have a beta casually come up in conversation until they offer. Seriously. I'm a fucking stalker, but it’s worked multiple times, lol. In my defence, I’ve had people do it to me too. If anyone has any other tips, feel free to reply to this post with them, but that’s my embarrassing method.

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ON WRITING:

6. GOOD WRITING TAKES TIME, WORK AND COMMITMENT.

There are many ways to write fanfic. You can be like me and take two hundred hours per chapter, edit every word you write about ten times, or you can be one of those who churn out tumblr anon prompts like there’s no tomorrow. Whichever way works for you.

But, regardless of how you do it, if you’re looking to get better at writing, it’s going to take time. And, effort. Trust me, none of your favourite writers have it randomly flowing out their fingers. Every fanfic writer I know who writes well has worked hard towards it. I’m not even that great and at this stage, I’ve probably spent hundreds of thousands of hours working. So, you have to enjoy it, or else it’ll feel like a chore and you’ll quickly stop.

However, the good news is that the more you write, the more you read, the better you will get. Almost automatically. Then, you’ll become familiar with the strange feeling of re-reading something of yours you were super proud of at the time of publication, and which now makes you cringe to no end. Welcome to being a writer.

This being said, again, you don’t need to want to be good/improve to write fanfic. If it’s just a fun way to let go and blow off steam, do it! You might not be as successful as some of the best fanfic authors out there, but it’s a hobby! It has to be fun, you don’t have to be any good at it!

7. DON’T LET ANYONE (INCLUDING YOURSELF) MAKE YOU FEEL BAD ABOUT HAVING CERTAIN SPECIFIC INTERESTS

If you start delving into the maze of writing advice content online, you’ll quickly find that a recurring theme is: challenge yourself! Get out of your comfort zone! And, whilst I truly believe that is profitable (see point 6 on hard work), I also think it creates this myth that you must be good at everything. And, truth be told: you’re allowed to identify areas where you just… can’t be arsed. It can be a ship, a point of view, a specific genre… It doesn’t matter. Just know that you do not have to write everything - especially not if it is only to satisfy your readers (again, see point 1 about enjoying what you write). For me, for instance, I don’t read pure fluff. I don’t like pure fluff. I don’t like long banter-y dialogue and cutesy things for the sake of cutesy things. I can write fluffy scenes within a bigger piece of work when it is needed, and I can do that well, but that’s about as much as I’m willing to commit. And… That’s fine. Not only is fic meant to be fun, but you don’t have to challenge yourself with writing things that don’t fit within what you’re interested in.

Now, don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t seek to improve - just that you should in areas where you actually want/need that improvement. To take myself as an example again, I have my own areas where I want to improve. With my current long fic, I wanted to learn how to write a continuous, uninterrupted narrative, rather than just a succession of scenes. I would also like to learn to write better action scenes, so I’ve tried to focus more on that. Lastly, I’d love to learn how to write more crime/mystery-type stories, because it’s one of my favourite genres to read, so that’s something I’m keeping in mind for a future project. You’re allowed your own special interests!

8. WHEN YOU EDIT, READ YOUR WORDS OUT LOUD.

If you’re going to edit your work (you should, though I’d say most people who start out don’t - you’ll probably see more point to it as you grow as a writer), it is much easier to a) print out your work and b) read out loud. I find it allows me to see typos and mistakes I wouldn’t see otherwise. I am forced to read slower, and focus on every word. It also gives prose more rhythm. When reading out loud, you will hear punctuation, emphases, etc. much more clearly than you would in your head. I know people who’ve read my stuff regularly comment on the “rhythm” of it - well, that’s the “secret.” Lastly, I find it easier to identify filler words that need to be deleted v. words that would ordinarily fall into that category, but that I like to keep because they make the prose sound more natural. Obviously, it depends on the tone you want to achieve and the “voice” of your narrator, but I find reading out loud does wonders.

9. WORLDBUILDING DOESN’T HAVE TO BE BIG.

This is a recent lesson. As someone who only writes canon-compliant stuff, I’d never thought of myself as the kind of person who “worldbuilds.” I don’t write massive, developed, colourful AUs. I used to believe that worldbuilding meant you had to invent magic or time-travel, completely build a whole new world from the one that exists in your fandom. Yet, good worldbuilding actually only refers to the world within your work. It’s the level of detail, intricacies, and logic the world and the characters obey that make a good world that the reader will enjoy. It doesn’t have anything to do with fantasy or big ideas. You can build and shape an incredible world within someone’s kitchen if you want to. Your story must just be rich and make sense to the reader. That’s what worldbuilding is, so don’t stress it too much.

10. TIME IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT

If you follow me on here or have read my work on AO3, you’ve heard this one before. I will however repeat it, because it genuinely is the most valuable piece of writing advice I have ever received: Time is a social construct. If your story doesn’t work, it’s because you’re not telling it in the most compelling order.

We tend to think of stories as chronological, but they don’t actually have to be. Flashbacks, flashforwards, forewarning, etc. are all places where you can have incredible fun as a writer. It’s like opening a new dimension: you can play with scenes, narrators, POVs, but you can play with time as well. IRL, we view time in a straight line, but it is actually a narrative device like any other. So: with every story, think about your starting point. Think about your end point. Think about what’s in the middle. Sometimes, chronology works, and sometimes, it doesn’t. Sometimes, the most impactful way to tell a story is starting from the middle, or from the end. Don’t let yourself get limited.

11. YOU DON’T HAVE TO WRITE EVERY DAY. IDENTIFY WHEN YOU WRITE BEST, AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.

As a collective, we’ve built a toxic narrative of the “inspired writer.” This writer writes with no room for schedule and/or planning, just as inspiration strikes him, like an artist’s muse. Trust me: if I had to wait for inspiration to strike me to write, I probably wouldn’t have written half as much as I have in the past fifteen years. Inspiration is a strange, nebulous beast, and most of the time, it’s also full of shit. How many times have I looked back at stuff I’d written while “inspired” and gone “oh my god, what was I thinking?” Honestly, following your inspiration is the stupidest thing you can do, as a writer.

This flaw in the “inspired writer” image has been identified by plenty of writers, giving way to the just-as-toxic opposite prescription. You will see: as soon as you start delving into the world of real writing advice, you’ll find many articles and books saying things like: “you must write every day” or “you must write first thing in the morning.” Stephen King has done a lot of damage in that category.

The truth is that, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve found there’s something to both pieces of advice listed above. As with everything, it’s all about measure. Let’s be real: if forcing yourself to sit in front of the computer every day or getting up at five o’clock in the morning to write before your kids wake up works for you, by all means, do it. But personally, I find most of these posts incredibly prescriptive and unrealistic for anyone who, well, has a life. This is true even if you don’t write fanfic specifically. Unless writing is your full-time job, you probably will not be able to adhere to a strict schedule. Hell, even if writing is a full-time job, you won’t be able to do it. There will be days when you just feel tired, or preoccupied by real life things, and, dare I say, completely uninspired. I call them my “brain dead” days. These are days where everything you write, everything you try, just feels like it will never work. On those days, I honestly hardly see the point of tying yourself up to the computer for no obvious reason. Again, it’s a hobby, something you’re supposed to enjoy, not a chore.

However, I find it useful to identify when you’re typically at your most productive/inspired, writing-wise. For example, I find it easier to write in a) long stretches of time (i.e. at least five consecutive hours) and b) after 4PM. The reason behind a) is that it takes me a while to “get in the mood” and feel my ideas come to life, so I find just getting a few words down during random ten minute breaks, incredibly hard. The reason behind b) is that I am not a morning person, my brain doesn’t turn “on” until at least 10AM, so there is very little point for me to force myself to get up at five just to sleep at my desk. As such, while I don’t just sit there waiting for inspiration to “strike”, I know when I am most likely to feel like writing, and make sure to exploit that, blocking off these “fertile” periods of time to give myself the opportunity to write.

So, this is to say: you don’t have to write on a particular schedule. Writing a little bit every day works for you? Great. But if you only feel like writing on Sunday nights every other week where your kids/significant other aren’t in the house, then that’s great, too. Quality time with your words and your focus definitely outperforms quantity of hours spent staring at your phone, because your brain just isn’t performing at its best.

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ON INTERACTING WITH FANDOM

12. POPULARITY IS A BLESSING AND A CURSE.

I think this is a bit self-evident but I see many new writers wishing their fic was “more popular,” had more hits, etc. And, while I completely understand the sentiment (we all write to an audience), I wish I could tell new writers to just let themselves grow and enjoy the attention they do have now. I’ve never been extremely successful or a BNF myself, but I have had friends who were, and let me tell you that with attention comes a) great responsibility and b) a lot of comments/remarks you wish you didn’t have. Even at my own level, I’ve had a few instances of a fic/a chapter garnering a lot of feedback/comments and they’re not all always nice. Sometimes, the attention feels overwhelming. So, please, whatever you do, don’t tie your worth to your numbers - however high or low. Try and enjoy what comes up whenever it does, and be happy, even if you’re writing for yourself and a couple of friends. As I’ve said before, this is just a hobby!

13. ANSWER YOUR BLOODY COMMENTS. READERS DON’T OWE YOU A COMMENT, BUT YOU DO OWE THEM A RESPONSE.

Now, I know this one will be controversial, because I already got attacked on reddit a few times for saying it, but here it goes: while comments/reviews are nice, they are in no way, shape, or form owed to the writer. They are lovely, nice-to-have-s when you’ve written a fic that someone either particularly enjoyed, or which elicited some kind of feedback/response from them. Not everyone who reads your fic owes you their time and effort to, on top of reading your words, leave you a comment. They don’t even owe you a kudo, if they don’t think your fic deserves it. I’m sorry to say this, but believing you are “owed” a review just for putting work out makes you sound like an entitled twat.

This being said, if someone does take the time to go out of their way to leave you a review, especially if it’s a long and detailed one, you - in my opinion - do owe them the time to answer. They’ve provided you with a nice-to-have, something they definitely did not have to do, and which probably made your day. The least you can do is say thank you.

I’ve read many “reasons” authors give to not respond to comments: wanting to not “taint” the work (preserve the line of separation between author/reader), or having social anxiety, mental illness, etc. And, look: if your personal situation makes it impossible for you to answer comments or if you think your writing considerations - whatever they are - prevent you from doing so, then fine. Don’t answer your comments. There is no gun to your head, and you aren’t forced. It’s just - IMO - not very polite. Especially when all you literally have to say is: "thank you."

This being said, of course, you don’t have to push this to a degree of absurdity. I’m a bit of an idiot and have this weird principle that I-must-answer-everything, but obviously if the comment is rude or not constructive, you can arbitrate and see if you want to answer or not. The line I personally draw is that I don’t always answer comments on old fics I posted in fandoms I’m not in anymore. Additionally, while I always do answer, I don’t always do so right away. I’ll often take a few days/weeks to respond. Lastly, obviously, this is also within the limit of what you can do in terms of time commitment. If your fic suddenly becomes incredibly popular with hundreds of comments you can’t answer, then of course, don’t feel bound to answer them. There are a lot of caveats and special cases to that one principle but generally, I think if you can, answering your comments is better than not.

14. FANFIC CAN BE A GOOD SEGWAY INTO ORIGINAL WRITING, BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE.

On the topic of whether fanfic is a waste of time or a good way to learn writing skills, you’ll find every opinion under the sun. I think - personally - that fanfic has taught me a lot of skills and has allowed me to find my voice. I would probably also have done so if I'd started writing with original fiction, but I think that without the community aspect of fanfic, it would have been much harder to get feedback on my writing, which definitely made me grow quicker. I don’t do much original writing, but the one short story I wrote got published from the get-go, so I believe that does say something about the skills I honed. I’ve seen incredible writing in fandom, sometimes better than published fiction, so in my humble opinion, I do not think fanfic is a waste of time, if that’s what you’re into. Fanfic is also about having fun, and I don’t believe having fun is ever a waste of time.

However, I see so many posts/articles online that just assume every fic writer wants to be a professional writer. Like: why are you wasting your time writing fanfic, it’s not publishable anyway? And, the thing is: for the love of God, do not think for a second that you have to use fanfic as a means to an end. It’s fine if you are, but please, do not feel like you have to strive to be a professional writer to write fanfic. Again, the great thing about fanfic is that it’s a hobby that, because it isn’t marketable and has no financial value, can be just that: a hobby. My former beta was probably the best writer I’ve ever seen online, but she was always like: nope, I enjoy writing, but I like my day job, thanks very much. I’ve personally thought about original fiction, toy with the idea regularly, but it is definitely not the reason I write fanfic. Trust me, you can be happy just writing fanfic without ever wanting more, that’s perfectly okay.

15. THE FRIENDSHIPS AND DISCUSSIONS YOU WILL CREATE OFF THE BACK OF FANFIC ARE THE BEST THINGS TO COME OUT OF THIS.

Honestly, I might be ending this list on a terrifyingly cheesy note but the best thing that’s ever come out of my fanfic writing habit, over the past 15 years, is the friendships I’ve built through it, in fandom. This is why I’m such a big advocate for answering comments - I genuinely have had the best discussions, have met so many friends, have had so many laughs, etc. through reading and writing fanfic for the last fifteen years. The community aspect of fandom is truly priceless, the willingness to help all across is unrivalled, and I’ve learnt so much both humanly and in writing, by spending the last fifteen years online. So, the biggest advice I will give you if you’re just starting out is: a) have fun and b) talk to people. Honestly, you won’t regret it.

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Anyway, I hope this was helpful. If you want to read my fics, you can find them here. My original pieces and rec list can also be found online. Lastly, if you want to support my writing, you can find my tippee page here.

Thanks so much for reading!

[beauty-in-negative-spaces]

~Sparda boys Vs Movie night~

I decide to combine a couple of WIPs I had to bring this to you guys, hope you like it!

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-Dante-

-This man is always down for a movie night! Whether it be with you, Nero, Vergil, Lady, etc it doesn't take much convincing to get him to agree to a night in.

-Although he'll never admit it, he does love to watch those sappy romance movies that everyone dunks on with you but, in a group setting the only movie recommendations you'll get from him are old ass action movies.

- 9/10 times however he will not get his way as no one wants to watch die hard for the 89 billionth time.

-He's mostly the one to plan movie night, in part cause he wants Vergil and Nero to spend time together

- He loves to munch on ice cream, cookies, cake, any kind of sweets really. His favorite though is sour candies. This dumbass will eat so much sour candy that he'll get burns on his tongue.

-Totally makes everyone pause the movie for a pee break half way through the movie.

-Will absolutely fake being tired to snuggle.

- His favorite movie I'd say would either be The Mummy or Die hard (as stated above)

-Vergil-

-Unlike his brother, convincing Vergil to have a movie night is a bit more of a hassle. The only people who could convince him to have one would be Nero or you.

- It's been such a long time since he's even thought about human entertainment other than writing he's a little overwhelmed by all the options (still a firm "no" on die hard though)

- Once he has been introduced to a lot of the classics however he appreciates the art of film a lot more. He enjoys indie films due to the fact that he enjoys feeling the heart and soul that often go into passion projects.

-Soon after Vergil also gets into Lgbtq cinema after Dante accidently rents Brokeback Mountain believing it was an average western. Afterwards Kyrie every once in awhile in invite him watch some romance movies with her since they normally get shot down on normal movie nights.

-During the movies he likes to have tea, (iced black tea in the summer and hot green in the winter). Every once in awhile he'll brings a small chocolate bar for himself since Dante's chocolate is too sweet for him.

-He's defiantly the guy to hush people (Dante) during the movie.

-Although physical affection isn't exactly his forte he will won't oppose being used as a head or foot rest.

-His favorite movie, surprisingly, is SLC Punk!. It was one of the first movies Nero recommended him and got him interested in indie movies.

-Nero-

-One of his favorite this after a hunt is snuggling up to Kyrie and watching a good movie. He doesn't mind a group movie night too much either.

-He's defiantly a horror movie kind of guy, and his movie suggestions are the most likely to get picked. He loves the feeling of being scared without actually being in any real danger.

-This also leads to him and Vergil being able to grow much closer through having a mutual love of movies, mostly ones recommended by Nero to Vergil.

-Nero also grows a small soft spot after seeing Kyrie and Vergil bonding over movies as well.

-During actual movie nights he a classic guy all the way: popcorn or no snack. He inevitably shares with everyone after they eat their snacks during the trailers.

-His favorite movies include: Cristine and Friday the 13th.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Hi! So now I'm thinking about this bakugou silent treatment after his rude comment what you mentioned in the last post. Maybe you could write more about it? Thanks, have a great day~

pls bc now that u’ve said it i’m absolutely gonna have thoughts

-so like, let’s be real, if ur bakugou’s s/o then ur his primary form of entertainment. he has friends but he doesn’t like them as much as he likes u, and it’ll be a hassle to get a hold of them, so he’ll always find u first when he wants a bit of social interaction. and pls he’s such a nerd who does nothing but eat, sleep, study, and train, so when he gets bored he is bored,, and he expects u to fix that

-this leads to, like i’ve said before, a lot of,, ummm choice comments coming out of his mouth. just rude shit that he’ll say just to get a reaction,, especially if you’re busy doing something else and don’t have time to pay him as much attention as he’d like

-some of his greatest worst rude comments include:

1.) “Why the fuck are you even looking at that textbook, we both know your dumbass can’t read.”

2.) “You breathe like a laboring dog.”

3.) “Stop doing that. You look like a fuckin’ idiot- more than normal.”

or,, that day’s absolute gem of a comment which was ✨“You’re so fuckin’ clingy, all the time, and I still put up with it; but now that I want something you’re just gonna ignore me? Frigid bitch.”✨

.... i- wow. you hate to see it

-so, ofc, you know he doesn’t mean it, especially with the challenging look and playful tone that goes along with it, but, still, after saying something as egregious as that, you elect to ignore him. completely. entirely. for as long as it takes for Bakugou to realize his words and apologize.

-spoiler alert: he doesn’t.

-an hour passes and he doesn’t even seem to care. which, is rlly a front he’s putting up, pretending to be aloof and unaffected, but he’s not.

-he’s upset. pretty grumpy about how u won’t look at him or speak to him. how you brush him off when he tries to touch your hand,,, just overall not a very happy boy altho when is he ever

-another ten minutes pass n bakugou sorta feels bad about what he said, but not bad enough to apologize. not even slightly. lord knows he has way too much pride for that

-so then he sets off with a new plan,, probably called like *operation revert things back to normal without apologizing bc that’s “wimp shit”*..........🙄🙄🙄

-detailed below is the plan in it’s entirety. and as expected it is not only very poorly designed, but also absolutely out-of-touch and mostly childish

Step 1: Strike A Pose

*so ,, the basis of this first step, is preying on your attraction to him,,, look, bakugou is not an idiot, nor is he afraid to admit how handsome he is. he practically makes it his job to figure out what gets you going

*n even if it makes him feel a little ridiculous/flustered he will absolutely rip his shirt off in front of you if that’s what it takes (just dont look at his face tho bc he’s blushing)

*he’s also prone to grabbing your wrist in his hand, and wrapping his fingers around it entirely. bc the asshole has nice, big, well-manicured hands n he knows u like them

*probably drops himself onto the couch next to you,, just to throw his head back and expose the column of his throat. pls n if he sees u looking over, he’ll blush 10/10 times, but he’ll still side-eye you and swallow intentionally while ur watching him

-alright, so now, if that was me, obvi it’d work. almost immeadiately. but let’s say ur a real hard-ass and somehow completely unmoved by how fine he is (wow, cant imagine what that’s like) . so he moves on to the next phase of the plan which is

Step 2: Make As Much Noise As Possible

*alright so this is where he just devolves into more insulting comments. bc adding fuel to the fire obviously makes it go out. clearly.

*will poke at ur cheeks/hands/legs n say sum “jesus, dumbass, learn to take a joke. didn’t fuckin’ mean it. c’mon, you knew that, you’re being stupid.”

*probably swipes whatever you’re paying attention to instead,, will hold it just out of ur reach and “if you want it then fuckin’ ask. ‘m not giving it to you until you speak to me again.”

* “why are you even upset? you rlly that fuckin’ sensitive?”

-okay so if that still doesn’t work, and it doesn’t, ofc it doesn’t, bakugou is just irritable now. he’s grumpy and crabby and probably misses u (even tho he’d never admit it) and he can’t accept ur silence bc then he’d be “losing” to you,, so onto the next phase which is

Step 3: Smooth Things Over

*finally, finally, he’ll come around to the idea of apologizing. which, for bakugou is rlly just tricking u into thinking he’s apologizing without actually having to say the words so he can feel like he’s “winning”.... 🙄

*this leads to him being uncharacteristically nice. like, making u food without complaining, or maybe making u tea

*n then he’ll just sorta,, press those little gifts into ur hands and look at u expectantly. just stand there in silence and wait for u to smile at him again

-but don’t fold sweetie. don’t fold even if he’s being sort of nice for once. with bakugou you’ve literally got to beat him into submission or he’ll never learn,, and if u still don’t speak to him then he’ll finally, finally, bend to you

Step 4: Suck It the Fuck Up

*firstly, his apologies are never rlly impressive. not really. they’re always mumbled and kinda stuttery, but they’re sincere. he’d only say the words if he actually meant them

*will sound very much like “Fine. Whatever. I’m sorry. Jesus, don’t make me fuckin’ say it again.” tho

*then when u finally look at him, a tiny little smile on your face, he’ll sort of just crowd you bc he missed u. v much a man who huffs in “annoyance” while also refusing to remove his face from ur collarbone or let you out of his arms

-and then all is finally, finally well in bakugou’s world. until he opens his big mouth again. he’ll learn eventually,,, maybe. probably not lmao

—/—

hope u enjoy @doggonudez !! :))))