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mv1simp · 24 days

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Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

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A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you well. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

#tw eating issues #tw ed disorder #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 x reader #chubby!reader #midsize!reader #plus size!reader

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pomefioredove · 1 month

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could you write the overblot boys (+ lillia & adeuce) with a reader who is really naïve? like they aren’t dumb by any means (the opposite, actually, they are smart and get amazing grades) but they have a lot of trust in people and sometimes takes things too seriously/at face value (like they don’t understand sarcasm at all, respond to rhetorical questions, etc)

how do you guys keep coming up with the most specific relatable ideas 😭😭 finally, oblivious representation!!!

summary: naive/oblivious reader type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus, lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

for someone who's entire life is structured around decorum, Riddle is unexpectedly lenient with you

he's always had a certain weakness for cute things...

AHEM

he's seen your grades, and he knows you aren't incompetent or dim, you just...

...lack social finesse

fortunately, he says he's an expert at socializing!

...unfortunately, that's not true at all

if you're not careful, he'll have you talking like a sickly Victorian orphan by month two

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

but at least he's not Ace, who finds your naivete VERY entertaining

you and Deuce are a two-man circus to him

tricking you is so easy, it's almost not even fun

almost

he has, on three separate occasions, told you and Deuce that "gullible" is written on the ceiling, and all times, you both looked up

but it's all in good fun, of course

Sevens help anyone else who teases you about it, though. then it isn't so funny anymore

Ace and Deuce are just a little overprotective

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona hasn't said a word about it

not that he hasn't noticed

...not that he's trying not to embarrass you, either

he's just trying to see how long it'll take before you can tell when he's being sarcastic

it's just... entertaining

for someone as smart as you to hang onto his every word...

it's... a bit of a power trip for him

not that he's taking advantage of you for anything other than amusement, of course

besides, you'll need someone around to tell off the idiots who do try to pull the rug out from under you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

speaking of which...

if not for your friends' intervention, Azul would probably own your soul by now

he's not half as convincing as he thinks he is, but even then, you respond to everything he says in earnest

you actually believe the whole "nice guy" act

and, honestly...

well...

he likes the way you like him

you actually see him as a nice, smart, interesting person. you spend time with him without expecting anything in return

so, he gives up on trying to squeeze a deal out of you

...for now, at least, you're under his protection

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

someone get this poor man a day off

Jamil is tempted to put you and Kalim in a play pen together so he can take a nap

he just... doesn't understand you

he's seen your name in the hall after exams, he's heard the way the professors praise you, and yet you are almost painfully easy to manipulate

he could mold you like clay if he really wanted to

...unfortunately, he cares too much to do that

so, for now, he'll keep trying to trick you into tutoring Kalim so he can have the night off

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is your number one protector

you're smart, you're competent, but you're way too easy to deceive

and knowing the boys at this school...

...of course, Vil has to keep you by his side at all times. he wouldn't trust half the students here with his laundry

he can't sit by and let you get taken advantage of

...not that he never teases you

he does, of course

your earnest responses are just so sweet to him, and you seem to genuinely enjoy complimenting him...

anyway

while Rook teaches you how to pick up on hints and cues, and Epel throws hands with anyone who even looks at you weird, Vil is busy pampering you half to death

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia's initial reaction is something along the lines of "well, at least I'm not that guy,"

(sorry)

but, really; he thinks he has it bad, and then you can't even read a room?

you're like total opposites; an overthinker and an underthinker

you're all... sweet and genuine and cutesy

and he's a lame weird loser...

he assumes that everyone else thinks the same; but then he starts hearing the things other people say about you...

...and the way you get treated when you don't understand a joke or pick up on a cue

maybe you're not so different, after all...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

unfortunately, it looks like you and Malleus are on the same page

one oblivious to social cues, the other awkward from years of isolation

communicating with anyone else is a minefield

but, of course, you have each other

the way you talk to each other is kind of adorable?

Malleus can be quite blunt when he doesn't mean to, though, for you, that's a blessing

but he's also aware that you're a little oblivious, compared to other humans, and he's quite accommodating

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Lilia is a little shit

he may act all innocent about it, but he knows very well what he's doing

your naivete was the first thing he noticed about you

he absolutely uses it to his advantage

you're just so easy to prank, how can he resist?

he also enjoys flirting with you

it goes right over your head every time, and it's just the cutest thing he's ever seen

he's trying to see how far he can push it before you realize he's being serious

times he's said "I want you" to your face: 2 and counting!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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greenglowinspooks · 11 months

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To be honest. DCxDP where the reason Danny meets the bats is Ace the Bat-hound

Like, just think about it for a second. Danny is in Gotham for college, or maybe he just moved out to find a city where having mad scientist parents isn’t actually that unusual.

He can see ghosts.

The ghosts know this.

Now he’s getting harassed left and right by spirits trying to get closure. Fine, whatever, most of them are a one-and-done type deal, and the amount of ghosts trying to get his help steadily decreases.

Except for this one very stubborn dog.

It just keeps showing up and leading him to crime scenes! He doesn’t know how many “anonymous tips” he can call in to the cops before they trace his phone! And this dog, this incredibly good boy, will not stop trying to help the city. He’s never met anyone with such a strong sense of justice, let alone a dog. Can dogs even have a moral compass?

And so Danny just accepts the fact that Ace isn’t going anywhere and becomes his reluctant sidekick/dedicated medium. He leans into the whole thing, dressing up in a mix of traditional magic-user attire and accessories that pay homage to the ghost dog.

He becomes somewhat well known. The psychopomp detective following around the shadowy figure of a German Shepard? That’s unusual! That’s weird! I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing in Gotham, sure, but he’s a new vigilante and he’s got a ghost dog that people can only see when it’s around him. Someone’s gonna notice.

Damian, as Robin, is the first to reach out to him.

Ace doesn’t know Damian but he does know a Robin, and while this isn’t his Robin, he’s still friendlier than usual. Danny’s panicking because oh god the bats are here and also is this kid gonna steal my ghost dog, Damian is absolutely delighted by Ace, and Ace is just happy to see a Robin again.

Damian decides that the psychopomp isn’t a danger to anyone, and there’s no reason to put this encounter into his reports, really, and perhaps Danny can help with some of his cases in the future.

Danny is sweating bullets because Damian basically tells him that he’ll keep him secret as long as he gets to play with Ace. Ace is happy that he’s finally getting some bat affiliated crime-fighting assistance.

And so, Danny is now both Ace AND Damian’s reluctant assistant. At least whenever he’s in trouble, he can always call a middle schooler to help him.

(Is Robin even in school? He’s out patrolling damn near every night, and he stays out late as hell. Does he have a bedtime? He should.)

Eventually it gets to the point where Damian is going over to Danny’s house. When he first sees it, he has a damn bitch you live like this moment, to which Danny responds that not everyone has the money to afford a nice place. Damian counters that he could at least take the time to clean up, and Danny replies that he’s working, going to school, and being a vigilante assistant to a ghost dog, something’s got to give.

Danny nearly has a heart attack when he checks his bank account the next day and sees that someone transferred him 10,000 dollars.

And so they get into a routine. Danny and Damian fight crime with Ace at night, and occasionally Damian stops by during the day to play with Ace and have Danny help with his homework.

(Damian is smart enough to do it on his own, but some of the instructions are written incredibly confusingly, and he would never admit to needing help to his family. Danny is just glad that the kid is in school and cares about his education, blissfully unaware that he’s basically emotionally adopted him.)

Damian is used to being in Danny’s company.

Eventually, when going over a case with the family, Damian absentmindedly remarks that he’ll have to ask Danny about some of the clues that they might be missing. Nightwing asks who he means and Damian makes a face like he just swallowed a lemon.

Cue shitstorm.

Who is “Danny?” Why is Damian willing to ask for help from anyone, much less someone outside of the family? Does he know who Damian is? Has Damian been compromised? What the hell is going on?

Damian now has to explain that Danny is the psychopomp with the ghost dog who he might have met hunted down while on patrol and conveniently not mentioned, but he’s not a bad person, really, and he lets him play with Ace, and he’s been quite helpful on certain cases due to his ability to talk to ghosts.

Bruce insists that the family meet Danny. Damian, hoping that he won’t just skip town the second he hears the news, relents.

Danny is surprisingly eager to meet the bats, considering his earlier fears.

Damian, blissfully unaware of what’s coming, sets a time and place to meet.

Once everyone is there, he gives Bruce the earful of a lifetime.

Robin is in middle school! Danny knows that there’s no way to stop the boy from going on patrol, but you could at least shift his schedule so he gets enough sleep on school nights! Does the Bat even know where he is half the time?! (No) And why isn’t he comfortable asking his family for help with both cases and homework? Did they ever even notice how much time he was spending at Danny’s house? If Danny was a bad person, he could have seriously hurt the poor boy! Shame on you!

Nightwing is mortified that Damian didn’t trust him enough to tell him about any of this. Red Hood is laughing his ass off, because yeah Danny is making good points but he’s also chewing out the literal Batman. Tim is recording the whole thing. Steph is delighted by the absolute gall of this Danger Twink™️, and already planning to add him to several groupchats. Damian is more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire life.

You, he points to Nightwing, did your academic life feel supported when you were a Robin? Nightwing is too stunned to speak. Red Hood, eternal shit-stirrer, says that oh, we all prioritized patrol over our education, that’s just how it is. Red Robin actually dropped out of high school to avoid distractions, did you know that?

Danny honest-to-god shrieks at this.

He finishes his angry rant and leaves, everyone too stunned to stop him.

And as it turns out, Tim wasn’t the only person recording the whole thing.

The entire internet is blowing up with Psychopomp The Danger Twink™️’s rant. People are taking sides. Things are getting messy. Red Hood literally admitting on-camera to previously being a Robin is somehow not the main focus here.

Eventually someone connects some dots from the video, as well as stories circling the internet about the psychopomp. A ghost dog named Ace, who is the literal only reason that the psychopomp is fighting crime at all, which seems incredibly fond of Nightwing and Robin.

A crime-fighting dog who wants constant attention from both the current and original Robin.

Oh my god, Ace the Bat-hound died and became a crime-fighting ghost.

And, somehow, that’s still not the strangest thing going on in Gotham.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #literally Ace is too good a boy to pass on #this veered wildly into ‘Danny emotionally adopts Damian’ but really it’s what he deserves #sometimes family is an ex child assassin an undead college student and a ghost dog #also Danny gives literally no shits during investigations because he Cannot Die #he will just casually take 40 bullets to the chest like it’s nothing #if he encounters a rogue he will beat the everloving hell out of them and then give them Jazz’s card #(she’s doing confidential therapy for vigilantes and rogues)#except for the ones who are too far gone. like the joker #he’s a bitch and Danny hates him #if given the opportunity Danny would gladly kill him but Clockwork says he’s not allowed to do that #so he settles with beating the hell out of him and then covering all his stuff in glue #and of course alerting the authorities

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roanofarcc · 1 month

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FUNNY BUSINESS

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister!reader

summary. boone was a laid-back guy who only really had one, long-standing rule: his sister was off-limits to the wranglers. But tyler had a bad habit of rule-breaking.

warnings. a curse or two, fem!reader, mentions of drinking/being drunk (not reader), suggestive jokes, bed-sharing.

word count. 4k || masterlist

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Dani said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the side of the rig alongside Tyler and Boone. She and Tyler had their sights set on you as you concentrated on the options of the vending machine, oblivious to their attention.

Boone furrowed his brows, having just been focused on the camera in his hands. “Who?”

“You,” Dani answered. “You brought your hot sister all of the way out here to help us, and then tell us she’s off-limits. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, if ‘ya ask me.”

A laugh bubbled up from Tyler’s throat, earning him a glare from Boone. “It’s not my fault none of you assholes can keep it in your pants.”

It was Tyler’s turn to glare, playfully. “I’m a gentleman, Boone. Is it a crime to get to know her, you know, considering she’s a part of the team now?”

With a sigh, Boone shook his head. “Just no funny business.”

Tyler mock saluted. “Scouts honor.”

Tyler was a gentleman; his momma had raised him as such. And despite his teasing, he did want to respect Boone’s words. But at the same time, you were the newest member of the Wranglers, and Tyler did want to get to know you since you’d be hanging around for at least that season.

Boone had suggested to bring you on to help with the charity aspect of their storm-chasing. The t-shirt and other sales they made from their online audience went mostly to help victims of the storms they chased, and the rest went back into making the merchandise to sell. Boone said you’d be a good addition to help out with the business side of things, and he’d been right from what Tyler had seen so far. You were smart and quick, and were able to keep up with the rest of Wranglers as if you’d been a part of the team since the start. Tyler was impressed.

But what really impressed him, was how caring you were. It was the first time you’d come along with them to help out a neighborhood that was hit hard by a tornado. Houses were leveled and the devastation was thick in the air from the moment they arrived.

The Wrangler quickly got to work. Lily and Dexter started making sandwiches. Dani started walking around and passing out water bottles. Boone helped the injured to the ambulances that arrived. Tyler started making rounds, helping families find their missing pets or important objects in the rubble. But as he did so, he couldn’t help but watch you interact with the victims as well.

A couple of kids from the neighborhood sat together in a clear patch of grass while their parents tried to salvage some of their belongings and figure out what to do next. They all looked teary-eyed, and faces pulled in frowns as they sat quietly, clutching stuffed animals or picking at the wet grass to distract themselves. You approached them, sitting down in the little circle they formed.

Tyler couldn’t hear what you were saying to them, but your started to look more and more animated and the kids cracked small smiles. After a couple more moments, the kids’ moods looked to shift into something lighter despite the devastation around them. The somber air slowly became filled with giggles and kids’ voices overlapping excitedly.

Tyler found himself smiling softly at the sight before he ventured over. “How’s it going over here?” he asked, earning your attention.

“David here is telling us a very interesting story about a space alien,” you said, earning an enthusiastic nod from one of the younger boys in the circle. “You guys keep telling stories and I’m gonna go make sure no one else needs help, okay?”

The kids all shared a series of ‘okays’ and ‘thank yous’ before you moved to stand up. Tyler outstretched his hand toward you, and you took it with a smile, letting him help you to your feet. Once you stood directly in front of him, he felt himself clam up slightly. He and Dani had made jokes in hopes of irritating Boone in regards to how attractive you were, but seeing you that close, in the after-storm sunlight, Tyler’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Thanks,” you said, dropping your hand back at your side and gazing around at what else there was to be done in the neighborhood.

He cleared his throat. “That was smart, keepin’ their minds off of…” he vaguely gestured around them, feeling a knot in his gut of pity for the poor families affected.

You smiled sadly. “My parents used to do that with Boone and I. When we’d have to wait in the cellar, we’d all tell stories until the storm passed. The more outrageous the better,” you explained.

“It seemed to work,” Tyler said, glancing at the circle of kids all sharing outrageous stories with laughter and smiles instead of the frowns they held a couple minutes ago.

“Yeah, at least a little bit,” you said. There was a beat where Tyler didn’t know what else to say. Something over his shoulder caught your eye before you looked back to him and said, “I’m gonna go help Boone.” You sidestepped Tyler and left him in a slight daze.

He whispered a string of curses under his breath once he was out of earshot of the kids, and hurried back to the camper where the Wranglers were handing out food.

“I’ve got a problem,” he muttered to his friends.

Lily handed out another sandwich before eyeing him oddly. “A problem-problem or a you-problem?”

“A me-problem.”

“Ah,” she said. “Shoot, cowboy.”

“It’s Boone’s sister,” he whispered, ensuring that only Lily, Dexter, and Dani heard him. “She’s…”

“Attractive? Yeah, I thought we already established that?” Dani said, opening another case of water.

Tyler rubbed his forehead, an odd feeling twisting around inside his stomach. “It’s not just that,” he said. “She’s pretty, sure, but-”

Lily cut him off with slightly wide eyes. “Oh no,” she said.

Dexter furrowed his brows. “Oh no? Oh no, what?”

“Tyler only, and I mean only, calls women ‘pretty’ when he has a crush on them. Some ole’ woman at a bar that’s makin’ eyes at him, he’ll call her ‘attractive’ or ‘easy on the eyes’ never ‘pretty.’ Pretty he saves for the ones he’s got a big fat school-boy crush on. And normally that’s all fine and dandy, but this is Boone’s sister we’re talking about, Tyler.”

He hated how well Lily knew him. She read him like a book.

Dexter whistled lowly. “That’s unfortunate.”

“What’s unfortunate?” Boone said, approaching the group with you beside him. All of the Wranglers, aside from you two, looked at Tyler, which was anything but helpful.

Boone was one of Tyler’s best friends, and he knew it was the right thing to listen to him. Besides, Tyler hadn’t known you long so maybe his ‘school-boy crush,’ as Lily had put it, would fade once he got used to having you around.

Clearing his throat, Tyler shook his head. “Nothin’ important,” he said. “Let’s pass the rest of this food out before we head out for the night.”

You adored your brother’s friends more than you thought you would. You’d watch the Wranglers’ livestreams, but it was different being around them in person. Their passion for storm chasing was admirable and how they helped those affected by the very storms they were in awe of was amazing.

When Boone asked you to help out, you jumped at the opportunity. You certainly didn’t regret your decision, but you greatly underestimated the charm of Tyler Owens. You’d read the comments online, all ogling at the storm chaser, but it wasn’t just his looks that made him incredibly attractive. Tyler’s charm entered everything he did and said, but it was especially enticing when he talked about storms. When he got particularly excited, he spoke with his hands, lips pulled in a grin that was ridiculously mesmerizing. You could have listened to him talk about the weather forever, which was a problem.

It felt foolish on your part; not only was Tyler one of your brother’s best friends, but you thought he was miles out of your league. He had people practically drooling over him in the comments of his videos and making eyes the second he stepped into a building. He was a personality, wild and loud, but with a sweet side to make him even more likable. You told yourself the little crush would pass, but you worried that if Tyler kept being so damn nice to you, it’d be years before that happened.

“So, this is how storm chasers spend their off time?” you said, propping your elbows up on the bar before something sticky touched your skin. You recoiled in a grimace.

A chuckle sounded from Tyler as he handed you a napkin. “Here,” he said. “And yeah, it’s the perfect way to unwind. Though, word of caution, don’t drink too much. Storm chasing hung-over is a different kind of hell.”

You wiped someone’s spilled drink from your elbows and nodded. “Noted.” There was still a lot you had to learn about the ins and outs of storm chasing, but you were excited to learn. A silence passed between you two, the space filled with the bar chatter. The place was busy for it being in the middle of nowhere; the Wranglers said it was because most people were either dedicated locals or fellow storm chasers looking to relax a little.

Your brother and the rest of the team were at the old-timey jukebox, picking out songs that they then danced to, loud and rowdy as ever. But Tyler didn’t join them. Instead, he sat at the bar nursing a beer. Before you arrived, he was talking to an old man on the other side of him, cracking jokes like he’d known the stranger for years.

It was like each minute you were there with them, you uncovered something else about Tyler. And maybe it was a couple of sips of alcohol that were already affecting your system but felt like he should know that.

“You know, you’re a little different than I thought you’d be,” you admitted.

He studied for a moment with a gaze that made you nervous, but not in a bad way. “Oh yeah? How’d you think I was gonna be?”

You shrugged. “I watch the lives, mostly to make sure Boone is okay, but online you seemed…” You weren’t sure of what the right word to use was. You settled on, “More intense, I guess.”

A smirk crept across his lips. “And I am not intense enough for ‘ya?”

Your face felt hot, and the busy bar wasn’t helping. You adverted your eyes down to your drink and tried to laugh off your fluster. “I just mean, I thought you’d be like all of the time. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up and you’d all think I wasn’t a good fit.”

The smirk fell from Tyler’s face and was replaced with a furrow of his brows. “Are you crazy?” he said. “We needed someone like you on our team. I know you just started, but I think you’re the best fit we could’ve picked.”

“Careful,” you teased. “Too many compliments like that might go to my head.” Even though you were pretty sure he was just trying to make you feel better, there was something in his tone that was convincing.

“What are y’all doin’?” Boone’s voice filled your ears and suddenly his arm was slung around both your and Tyler’s shoulders, forcing you two to lean in a little bit closer to one another, but with Boone sandwiched in the middle. Your brother’s breath smelled like beer and there was that goofy smile on his face he always got when he had one too many. “The party’s on the dance floor!”

You glanced over at the ‘dance floor’ which was a little space the Wranglers had carved out in front of the jukebox. A couple others joined them, but it wasn’t anything too wild.

Tyler shook his head and finished his beer. “Your ass is gonna be sorry tomorrow, Boone. I told you we’re leaving bright and early.”

Boone patted Tyler’s cheek. “I’ll be just fine.”

Boone was not ‘just fine’ the next morning. What he was a pain in Tyler’s ass, which resulted in him being demoted to the backseat and you prompted to the passenger seat. Maybe that wasn’t the best move for Tyler because while he was driving, he found himself slightly distracted by you.

You sat with your attention fixed out the window, watching the plains roll by with admiration. Every so often you fiddled with the radio per Lily’s request, but other than that you were quiet, observing.

“Can we take a pit stop?” Boone moaned. Tyler glanced at in the rearview mirror, face paled and eyes squeezed shut.

Tyler sighed. “I swear, if you throw up in my truck, Boone…” Tyler muttered, straining his eyes down the road for any sign of a gas station, but there didn’t look to be anything close.

“There’s not another stop for half an hour tops,” you said, searching on your phone.

“Great, cool, yeah,” Boone said. “Then you may wanna pull over or else everyone’s about to have a real bad time in here.”

Tyler quickly pulled off to the side of the road and Boone scrambled out, across the road to empty his stomach.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell him,” Tyler sighed.

“He won’t listen,” Lily said, unbuckling and sticking her face between you and Tyler. “I’ll make sure he’s all right. You two keep an eye on the weather.” She hopped out, leaving you and Tyler alone.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, wracking his brain for something to say to you. Normally he had no issue talking to people, but he found himself second-guessing his words when it came to you. But you beat him to the punch.

“He’s never been too good at holding his alcohol,” you said. “I can’t tell you how many times I had to pick him up because he got sick at some friend’s bonfire back in high school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get hangovers so badly.”

“All a part of his charm, I guess,” Tyler joked. “Does it run in the family?”

You shook your head. “No, neither charm nor hangovers. Boone’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

Tyler steadied himself a little, finding that thread of confidence in the back of his mind. He gazed at you, taking in the pretty features of your face. “I think you’re wrong on the charming bit.”

You looked surprised, eyes a little wider. “Me? Charming?” You scoffed. “No way.”

“Charming, smart, pretty…” Tyler trailed off, waiting for a reaction from you to let him know if he had swung and missed. You looked down, averting your eyes and clearing your throat. Out the windshield, he saw two figures moving in his peripheral vision and before you got the chance to say anything back, Boone and Lily reentered the car.

“That’s my bad, you guys,” Boone said.

You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your brother. “Feel better?”

“Oh, yeah. Ready to chase this son of a bitch!” And you all were off again. Tyler wished Boone and Lily had held out for one more minute. He wanted some kind of response from you, even if it was one telling him he had no chance. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and one he felt bad about having, but he couldn’t help it. You were something new, a little unknown, and unpredictable. If there was one thing Tyler was good at, it was chasing through his apprehension. But instead of a tornado, you had quickly become the storm occupying his mind.

You knocked for the fifth time on Boone’s door and tried calling him again, but one thing about your brother was that he was one of the heaviest sleepers of anyone you’ve ever met. That paired with his hangover from the night prior left him not answering you. You cursed under your breath, ready to set up camp in one of the rickety pool lounge chairs.

There was an unpleasant pair of cockroaches in your motel room and the thought of sleeping with them scurrying about was out of the question. Since none of the other Wranglers had left their rooms, you wondered if you were the only one to notice them or the only one who had them. Whatever the case was, you couldn’t sleep in your room and apparently, you couldn’t sleep in Boone’s either because he was fast asleep. You couldn’t remember where Dani and Lily's rooms were to ask to bunk them.

It seemed like you were out of luck until the door next to Boone’s opened and a groggy Tyler stepped out. “What’s goin’ on?” he yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

You hugged your arms closer to your body. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Sorta,” he answered and you felt immediately guilty. “But it’s all right. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay out here. What’re you doin’ up anyway? It’s the middle of the night.”

“There are cockroaches in my room,” you sighed. “I was trying to see if I could crash with Boone, but he sleeps like the dead.”

Tyler chuckled. “That he does.” There was a beat and silent contemplation. You were about to tell him you’d crash in the camper or the truck, but he nodded his head back toward his room. “Come on,” he said.

You stood, confused for a moment. “You can crash with me. I don’t think my room has cockroaches but for both our peace of mind, I wouldn’t look around too hard.”

You weren't sure if you were elated or embarrassed. Overall, you were tired, exhausted even, and any thought of declining fled your mind the second Tyler turned to walk back inside, assuming you were following. So, you did.

Tyler patted the edge of the bed. “It’s all yours,” he said, gathering one of the pillows in his arms.

“What’re you doing?”

He tossed the pillow onto the floor. “Praying for no cockroaches for the next couple of hours.”

“No, wait,” you rushed out. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“It’s all good-” he started, but you cut him off.

“No way. I’m not kicking you out of your bed in your room.” You glanced at the bed, feeling your face grow hot at the thought of what you were about to suggest, but you couldn’t let him spend the night on the floor. “We can just…share.”

Tyler stared at you for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say. He shifted his gaze between the pillow on the floor and the bed before landing back on you. “Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”

Hesitantly, you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes, trying to ignore the shift of weight on the mattress as sat down opposite of you. It wasn’t as big of a deal as your mind was trying to tell you it was. It was just two co-workers, borderline friends, sharing a bed so no one had to face any cockroaches. That was all it was. But even in the darkness of the motel room, you couldn’t help the quick beat of your heart as you crawled under the covers, with your back facing Tyler. He did the same and before you could convince yourself what you were doing was not a big deal at all, Tyler’s soft snores filled the room. It was oddly reassuring. You fell asleep not long after him, a clear space between you but something in the air that wanted to draw you two closer.

For a moment, when he woke up, Tyler thought the exchange he had with you in the middle of the night had been a dream. But when he rolled over to find your sleeping face inches away from his, he realized it was very much real. Your eyes were softly closed and your lips slightly parted as you slept. He found himself admiring you for just a moment, until there was a loud knock on his door, forcing him to get up.

He threw it open without thinking much about it. Boone greeted him with a slightly worried expression pulled on his face. “Hey, man what’s-”

“Have you seen my sister? She called me last night a bunch of times, but I didn’t hear it. And when I went to her room no one answered,” Boone said, quickly cutting Tyler off.

“Boone?” Your voice sounded from behind Tyler and as soon as he saw the several emotions flicker across Boone’s face, he realized he may have made a mistake.

Boone’s gaze flickered between you sleepily sitting up in Tyler’s bed and Tyler. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “What the hell is going on here?”

It must have registered with you too how the situation looked. You hurried out of bed and stood at Tyler’s side. “Wait, hold on-”

“What the hell are you doing?” he said to you. “I said no funny business,” he then said to Tyler.

“It’s not like that,” Tyler rushed out. “I know that it looks like that, but it’s not. I swear.”

“He’s right,” you added. “It’s not. I needed a place to crash because there were bugs in my room, and you wouldn’t answer your phone. Tyler offered to let me stay in his. That’s all.”

Boone didn’t look too convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing air from his cheeks. “You two have been making googly eyes at each other since you arrived,” Boone said. Both you and Tyler tried to defend yourself, even if Tyler hadn’t been super subtle about his ‘googly’ eyes. But Boone cut you both off with a wave of his hand. “Save it. I know both of you. You,” he pointed to Tyler. “Are the least subtle person I know. And you,” he pointed at you. “Have been talking about him since I started chasing with him.”

Your eyes widened almost comically as you sputtered over your response. “I-I have not!”

“Look,” Boone started, taking a deep breath. “You’re both adults. But if you’re gonna get into any funny business, for the love of the Lord himself, do not do it around me. Got it?”

“Okay,” you answered, catching Tyler off guard. He expected you to brush your brother off and force Tyler to face the reality that you had no interest in him, but you didn’t.

Boone looked to him for his answer. “Y-Yeah.”

“Good,” Boone said. “We’re leavin’ in fifteen.” He turned on his heel and left the two of you in the doorway. Once he was out of earshot, a laugh sounded from your lips, a sweet sound he wasn’t expecting.

“God, that was embarrassing,” you said, still laughing at the situation.

Tyler couldn’t help but laugh too, closing the door and leaving the two of you alone in his motel room once more. “Is that true? You talk about me?”

You hung your head, sheepishly and shrugged. “Maybe.” The idea of you talking about him made him feel on top of the world. “Is what he said about you true? Are you really not that subtle?”

“I did invite you to sleep with me,” he joked, taking a step closer to you. You didn’t move away but instead closed the distance between you two even more. He searched your eyes for a sign that you were thinking the same thing he was, and when your gaze flickered to his lips for only a second, he got his confirmation.

Tyler hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards just slightly as he leaned in. He kissed you slowly, sweetly as you hung your arms around his shoulders to bring him in even closer, the two of you pressed chest to chest. He felt you smile against his lips, a blissful feeling he didn’t to end.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twister fanfiction #tyler owens fanfiction #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #boone twisters #lily twisters #dexter twisters #dani twisters

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ghostfacd · 11 months

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𝙄𝙉 𝘼 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘿 𝙁𝙐𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙀𝙉, 𝙃𝙀’𝙎 𝘼 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x fem!slytherin!reader

genre: fluff, sweetheart enzo, brief suggestive content, enzo is a big softie basically

summary: in a world filled with men, there’s lorenzo berkshire, a sweetheart and gentleman

Lorenzo Berkshire was a sweetheart.

Everybody knew that the down to earth Slytherin couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to, and weirdly did not fit the stereotypical mean Slytherin persona despite hanging with Draco and his friends.

In fact, a lot of things that Lorenzo did were out of the ordinary for his crowd of people. Whenever Draco would pull a first year by their backpacks so their bodies would fling back, Lorenzo always muttered an apology after, offering the first year a cookie the next day. It was just who he was; he was a sweet boy, and that often meant he was also very clueless.

Sure, he was smart in his classes, but in everything else? Lorenzo was practically the virgin of all virgins.

“Her eyes are up here Enzo,” Pansy teased, watching as Lorenzo’s eyes finally shifted off your chest to look at Pansy in the eyes.

“Huh?”

“Well I know they’re nice,” you tease further, “but it’s rude to stare, y’know.”

“Oh,” Lorenzo’s eyebrows furrow, clearly confused. He’s either great at playing the dumb role or he genuinely has no idea what you and Pansy are inciting.

“What do you mean?” Lorenzo then moves his hand over to touch the gold colored necklace on your neck. “I was just looking at the new necklace you got. It’s nice.”

Oh. You didn’t think anyone would notice your new necklace. You bought it over the holidays when you went back home with your family, and had just started wearing it now.

“Thanks Enzo,” you say, placing a kiss on his cheek. He pulls back flustered, but he mutters a you’re welcome under his breath.

“LO BOY!” Lorenzo is quickly pulled into a headlock by no other than Draco Malfoy, who seems to find his friend struggling hilariously funny. “Oh what’s wrong Lo? Got your head in a knot?”

“Boys.” You and Pansy mutter, rolling your eyes as you both get up from your seats, heading to the much more quiet Great Hall.

- - -

The next time you see Lorenzo is in your Potions class. He’s on the left of you, and you’re almost falling asleep at the boring lecture of your professor. He always seem to talk more than actually teach how to mix potions.

“Pssst,” Lorenzo mutters to your partner as he hands her a slip of paper. “Be a peach and pass it to Y/N?”

Your partner, who has developed a little crush on Lorenzo only blushes, accepting the piece of paper and tapping you on the shoulder.

“Here,” she says, “it’s from Lorenzo.”

Your eyebrows quirk up, slowly unfolding the crinkled paper.

Your hair is pretty today

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. Lorenzo just knew how to swoon a girl over, didn’t he? He doesn’t even have to try and your knees would still feel weak.

So my hair isn’t pretty on other days?

You scribble down, passing it back to your partner who passes it to Lorenzo.

His eyes grow wide when he reads it, opting to shake his head quickly.

“Not what I meant,” Lorenzo mouths.

“I know,” you mouth back, giving him a smirk. “Thank you Enzo.”

And you both end up more pink than the potions that were made in class that day.

- - -

“What do you even do in your free time?” Theodore asks, poking Lorenzo’s cheek repeatedly to annoy him. “Like read?”

“Like read?” Lorenzo mimics back. “Yes, I read. You should too Teddy, it’d be good for you.”

Theodore rolls his eyes, “I don’t need to read. And don’t call me Teddy.”

When you arrive in the dining hall, Theodore and Lorenzo already make a space for you to sit in between them. Usually, Pansy and Draco would be sitting across from the three of you, but today, they were off doing Godric knows what.

“Pans and Draco not here today?” Lorenzo asks, still focusing on the assignment he was finishing up before dinner ends.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “No idea what they’re doing.”

“Oh,” Theodore chuckles, “I have a few ideas.”

That makes the two of you burst out laughing, and Lorenzo finally looks up from his paper.

“What?” He asks. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh Enzo,” Theodore places a hand on his friend’s back, “never change.”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes, shrugging Theodore’s hand off. “Whatever that means.”

When Theodore finally heads off to the Slytherin common room, you and Lorenzo are left alone, the small conversations of the other students surrounds the two of you.

“Working hard on that assignment,” you say quietly to Lorenzo, bringing up your hand to pull a few strings of hair that were poking his eyes.

“Well someone’s gotta be the smart one in our friend group,” he says teasingly.

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not smart?” Your hands start to wander, coming to each of Lorenzo’s sides to tickle him. He was especially ticklish around his abdomen.

“H-hey! Stop that!” He laughs, pushing your hands away. “Okay okay, we’re both the smart ones.”

“And Pansy,” you add.

“And Pansy.”

- - -

When you walked out to the lake that sat across from the Slytherin common room, you didn’t expect to find Lorenzo feeding the ducks. He was crouching, softly throwing a few pieces of crushed up bread at the ducks that now surrounded him.

“What are you doing Lo?” You ask, walking beside him.

“Not too loud,” Lorenzo says, “you’ll scare them away.”

He continues doing what he does before he runs all out, deciding to finally turn to you and throw an arm around your shoulder. “Evening.”

“Evening Enzo,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was out of habit, and you did it regularly, but it didn’t stop Lorenzo from blushing every time it happened.

“I was feeding the ducks,” he explains, although it was pretty clear what he was doing. “I like them, they’re nice and pretty. Draco sometimes throws rocks at them, so it’s kind of my way of apologizing for him.”

You ruffle Lorenzo’s hair slightly, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Oh Enzo, you sweetheart.” But he doesn’t hear you, instead, choosing to admire the scenery of the lake.

- - -

“You know what’d be funny?” Mattheo says, already laughing before he could get out the rest of his sentence. “If we pied the girls. Pansy and Y/N.”

Lorenzo’s ears perk up at this, but he keeps quiet. Why was his friends always looking to get into trouble?

“They’d totally kill us,” Theodore comments.

“That’s why we have to do it.”

The boys had already gotten two pies and their plan figured out before Lorenzo could stop them. He watched as they hide it behind their backs, approaching you and Pansy who were both engrossed in your conservation.

“Wait,” Lorenzo mumbles, quickly following his group of friends. When he sees their hand from their back move as they speak to you and Pansy, he steps in front of the two of you, getting hit straight in the face with the two pies.

“Huh..” Lorenzo says, wiping away the whipped cream that was covering his eyes. “Key lime.”

“Enzo,” you say, knowing that this was probably one of Mattheo or Draco’s dumb ideas again. “You guys apologize to Lorenzo right now.”

The three boys sigh defeatedly, muttering a quiet sorry to their brunette friend who’s still wiping the whipped cream from his face.

“Why’d you do that Enzo?” You ask him as the two of you sat down on the grass. You’d finally got all the whipped cream off his face with a towel, and although Enzo won’t admit it, he was kind of grateful he did end up getting pied. After all, a pretty girl was cleaning him up after all, and not just any pretty girl, his close friend.

“Cause you’re too pretty to get pied.” He shrugs, which makes you smirk.

“Too pretty?”

“Well yeah,”

You laugh at Lorenzo’s honesty, and finally, you lean in to give him a kiss on the lips instead of the side of his cheek.

“Did you just-”

“Shh,” you say, grabbing ahold of his hand. “Just let me appreciate you right now. In a world full of just men, you’re a gentleman Enzo.”

And Lorenzo only smiles, knowing he’s finally got the girl of his dreams.

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #Theodore Nott #Draco Malfoy #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #louis partridge #louis partridge x reader #louis partridge x y/n

7K notes · View notes

suiana · 11 months

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✎ yandere! mean boy . . .

✎ yandere! mean boy who's one of the most popular guys in the entire university. he's hot, smart, rich... he was perfect! ...but of course, he had a bad side to him as well. a side that you knew too well but others didn't. have i mentioned that he's only mean to you?

✎ yandere! mean boy who makes your university life as hard as he can. from minor inconveniences like bumping into you, to trying to ruin your reputation by gossiping about you to his friends. you're starting to wonder if he likes you? i mean, why else would he do this? you're not even in the same major! spoiler alert, he does like you. wow, who knew 🤯 ps, his friends are annoyed whenever he brings you up because once he starts talking about you he can't stop 💀

✎ yandere! mean boy who is very obviously in love with you. yeah, sure he might try to ruin your life but... he also spoils you! i mean, don't you see those gifts he left in your room? the new outfits in your closet? or the way your grades suddenly rose? that's all him! so... you should fall for him too now, right? boy is delusional 🔥🔥

✎ yandere! mean boy who's completely obsessed with you. unfortunately, poor fella doesn't know how to process his feelings and only shows disdain to you openly. if only you knew of the way his heart quickens every time you glance at him, or the way he jerks off to you to the numerous pictures he secretly took which are plastered on the walls of his mansion... he's such an idiot! when all he wants to do is worship you, he insults you instead :( not to worry... he'll be openly worshipping you soon enough. soon...

"watch your step."

he hisses as he glares at you. you only roll your eyes, continuing on your way to your lecture hall as you text your friend. seriously, this day was already bad and he just had to be here to worsen it? what luck you had.

you quicken your pace, trying to get to your location faster which only resulted in the university's mean boy (correction, he's only mean to you, so he's a secret mean boy) scowling and stomping right over to you.

"i said, watch your step!"

he yells out, grabbing your shoulder roughly as he turns around to face you. his hands shake slightly, still gripping onto your shoulder as his cheeks brun red. was it from anger or embarrassment? you'd never know. all he ever shows you is his disdain after all.

you stare at him with an irritated expression, eyeing him up and down before apologizing half-heartedly.

"sorry."

you then try shrugging his hand off you, clearly more annoyed than worried as the male continues to stare at you with an unreadable expression. cheeks flushed as he roughly takes his hand away before stomping off like an angry child. you merely shake your head at his actions. what a drama king he was.

jeez, he really is weird. always targeting you, and you only... what did you even do to get on his nerves? all you wanted was a peaceful university life! with good grades and a nice set of friends, and maybe even a lover if you were lucky! but no, he just had to have it out for you every. single. day.

and yet, he always seems to have a red flush on his cheeks whenever he does so. and the multiple times you've passed his friend group he always seems to be talking about you. is he bipolar? does he secretly like you? is he a tsundere?

you grumble slightly as you quickly rush off to your lecture. damn, he made you late. what an annoying guy.

meanwhile, your secret mean boy was struggling to contain his screams as he hid behind a wall after stomping off. with laboured breaths, flushed cheeks and hearts for pupils, he giggled like a patient from the mental hospital.

ah..! you touched him! touched him! if he imagines hard enough, he can pretend you're gently carressing him! that you're looking at him just like he looks at you!

he shakily stares at the hand you swatted away, smile errily wide as soft giggles escape him. ah, you're so cute when you look at him like that... when you look at him in irritation... would you look like that when he exposes the fact that he loves you? or when you're married and he accidentally burns his food? would you push him away and quickly cook up another meal?

he giggles like a high school girl in love, breathing growing increasingly erratic as he places both his hands over his chest.

ah...

he wants to touch you again.

he wants to see more of your expressions.

he wants you.

and he will have you.

whether you like it or not.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere reader insert #yandere character x reader #original character x reader #yandere mean boy #yandere mean boy x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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teamatsumu · 11 months

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CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #ushijima wakatoshi fanfiction #ushijima wakatoshi fic #ushijima x reader #hq ushijima #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

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pucksandpower · 4 months

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Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

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tehstripe · 6 months

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this sequence of pages in act 5 is so striking to me.

in acts 1-4, jade is a mysterious, all-knowing figure who knows about sburb and how it needs to go, and shes very systematic about logging and remembering important things through the little bands on her fingers. even though shes just some goofy little girl, shes smart!! she knows whats going on and knows what she has to do, and shes been studying the clouds to make sure that she and her friends are ready. because honestly, what else is she going to do with her time? she's alone on the island, and this is her destiny. she's going to make sure it happens.

here, we're finally seeing a bit of her friendly and put together self image start to fall apart as she just gives up on keeping track of things. she's grieving the loss of prospit, shes just had her first ever nightmare, AND she had to deal with an obnoxious teenage boy (karkat), and she's reached her breaking point. and she just. gives up. forget the reminders, forget the systems, they aren't serving her right now, so off they go.

plus, we get this tidbit a few pages later:

jade always knew she was going to die. she had seen herself, stuffed and perfectly preserved as a thirteen-year-old. she must have known that it was coming soon, but that didn't stop her from going through the plan to play the game with her friends. personally i think she thought it was worth it if she could at least see her friends, hopefully keep them safe, and have some fun times with them right before she had to die.

i wonder if theres a part of her unsettled by the fact that she's finally faced something she didn't already know was going to happen. she no longer has the comforting clouds of skaia to tell her what's going to happen - she's as clueless as everyone else. probably MORE clueless than some characters, like the trolls, who have a window into her future that she can't see.

jade's realized that she doesn't know all of the beats of this story anymore. she might just grow up now, and that means she has to go forth into the unknown.

#jade harley #homestuck #stripe hs reread 2024 #i hope this is coherent. i teach science not lit analysis.

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saetoru · 1 year

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses.

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy.

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly.

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials.

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has.

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed.

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer.

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal.

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party?

i can be ur escort ;)

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you.

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before.

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes.

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself?

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy.

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly.

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,�� he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway.

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy.

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are.

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood.

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can.

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams.

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird.

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room.

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact.

but not so bad.

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.”

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you

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enthusiasticharry · 5 months

Text

the one where YN has a one-night stand, who turns out to be her boss at the hospital where she now works.

author's note: surprise!! doctor!harry is here to surprise you! i know i've been radio silent for a while, and i apologise for that but work has been so busy recently that i've not had a minute to myself. but i've found it, and i've spent it writing this for all of you! thanks for all ya support!

word count: 10K of smut, fluff, angst and everything in between (and also harry being the cutest paediatric doctor anyone has ever seen)

let me know what you think of good omens here! mwah <3

The first time it happened was completely accidental. Well, as accidental as sleeping with a co-worker could be. A co-worker who she didn’t know was a co-worker just yet.

It was YN’s first day as a paediatric surgeon in a new hospital, in a new town and she couldn’t save him. She couldn’t save him. He was twelve years old. It wasn’t the first time that YN had lost someone, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. But, for a day that was supposed to be filled with new beginnings — ones that were supposed to last — it just didn’t feel like a good omen in YN’s eyes.

That’s how she ended up at the bar, on her third or fourth drink of god-knows-what when she knew that she shouldn’t. YN knew, in the back of her mind that there was no way that she could have saved that boy, no matter what she did. It was too late, and she had done her best but today her best just didn’t seem good enough.

When the handsome stranger sat next to her she didn’t think anything of it at first. He ordered his drink and just sat there. He didn’t look at YN, and YN didn’t look at him. They just sat there. From the sparing glance that YN took of the man he was attractive but that wasn’t on her mind right now — how could it be?

That was until her drink was placed on the bar in front of her, when she had just finished hers and she hadn’t asked for a new one. YN cast her eyes on the bartender, who just motioned in the handsome man’s direction. YN turned to him, and this time instead of facing forward he was looking directly at her. YN’s eyes dropped down to the drink in front of her one last time, before looking at the mystery man again who was smiling, a very pretty smile at that.

“Looked like you needed it,” He shrugged, lifting his own drink to his lips, and taking a sip.

YN scoffed a laugh, “I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

“Smart girl,” The man nodded before turning back to the bartender, “But Benny can vouch for me, can’t you Benny? Went straight from Benny’s hand to in front of you.”

YN sighed again, dropping her eyes down to the glass in front of her before lifting back up to the stranger.

“First name basis with the bartender,” YN lifts an eyebrow at him, “Come here a lot?”

The man shrugs, “Only when I need to.”

YN sighs, contemplating what she was or was not going to do before she just did it. She picked up the glass and took a sip, placing it down with a slight thunk on the counter. The smile on the man’s face was all she needed.

“I’m YN,” She holds out her hand for the man to shake.

He looks at her, then at her hand and drops his into it, “I’m Harry.”

An hour later YN had hardly made it through her front door before his lips were on hers. The door shut with a bang, one that YN would have probably cared about if she wasn’t being hoisted up against it. Harry’s hands slipped down from her waist to her ass until he was gripping her thighs and lifting her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, but the entire time their lips never left each other.

“Bedroom,” Harry mumbled against her lips, before starting an assault down her neck.

“Down the hall,” YN gasped, trying to hold in her moans as his teeth nipped along her neck.

They bumped into a few things along the way, a chest of drawers that was conveniently placed right outside the entrance of her bedroom and then the doorway that neither of them could have moved. When they did make it into the room, it wasn’t long before Harry’s lips were back on hers.

“You sure about this?” Harry murmurs against her lips and YN pulls away.

“I am,” YN runs her hands down through Harry’s hair until it is at the collar of his blazer, “Are you?”

“Hell yes,” Harry reattaches his lips to hers just as her hands slip from the curls at the nape of his neck before they run themselves along the collar of his blazer and help him shrug it off. YN brings her hands around the front to the collar of his shirt now, unbuttoning it from the top down to the bottom until she can pull that off his body also.

Her eyes widen in surprise at the ink across his chest and arms. From what she could see (which wasn’t a lot with his blazer and shirt on) she hadn’t suspected his body to be littered in the dark ink, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers along the ink, following the designs with her fingertips.

“Tattoos?”

Harry chuckles, tapping her chin with his finger so she moves her eyes up from his chest to his eyes. Her body nearly gave out in that exact second.

“What?” He chuckled, a playful smile toying his lips, “You like them?”

YN just sighed, “Ask me again when I can think straight?”

Harry laughed, leaning back down to kiss her again. His fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, and they separated for the second it took YN to lift her arms up and for Harry to pull the shirt off of her body. YN moved to unbutton her trousers, a giggle escaping her lips as Harry helped her when they got stuck around her calf.

When YN had dressed for the day, she hadn’t factored this happening at all, and her mismatched bralette and panties (both a soft cotton instead of anything fancy for comfort reasons) weren’t the sexiest and she knew that. But, when her eyes met Harry’s again, and she saw his eyes flicker up and down her body, none of that mattered anymore.

Harry placed a few chaste kisses onto her lips once again before moving down her neck, down to the exposed skin of her breast above her bralette. A shiver ran down her spine when his hands moved around her back, his fingertips dancing across her skin before skilfully unclasping her bra and allowing it to fall from her body, exposing her breasts to him. The material was discarded on the floor, and YN swore she saw his eyes widen at the sight of her chest exposed to him.

He dropped back down to the top of her breasts, kissing and every once in a while nipping slightly. Once he wrapped his lips around her nipple, YN’s entire body lurched forward. Her thighs tried to tighten, just to relieve some of the pressure that was building within her. Instead, YN found herself pulling Harry closer to her by her thighs, the thing cotton of her panties not creating much of a barrier between her and Harry’s crotch. YN bites her lip in hopes of suppressing the moan that was attempting to slip from her lips.

YN can’t help but grind her hips forward towards his, shivering slightly when Harry’s teeth nip over her nipple.

“Harry,” YN almost mewls, her hips bucking up again, “Please.”

“Please what, darling?” Harry taunts, releasing her nipple with a slight ‘pop’.

YN just rolls her hips towards his once more, and Harry seems to get the hint. From there he moves downwards, littering kisses down her ribs and towards the top of her panties.

“Can I?” Harry asks, his fingers moving to the hem of her panties, slipping them just underneath upon her skin. YN shivered, her hips involuntarily bucking up towards Harry’s touch.

“Yes,” YN gasped, the cool air of the room hit the heat between her legs as Harry tucked his thumbs into the sides of her panties, “Please… Harry.”

YN sighed into the feeling of Harry’s lips pressing into her thigh as he pulled her panties completely off. Even though this man was a complete stranger to her – the way that he was looking at her. The way that his eyes danced down her body, the way they looked into hers as he placed kisses on the inside of her thighs, itching closer and closer to the heat inside of her legs – her judgement was clouded as to whether they were actual strangers.

“Am I getting warmer?” Harry jokes, his fingers coming to rest on YN’s stomach, trying to stop the way that she was lifting her hips upwards.

“You’re such a tease,” YN sighed, her body withering once more as he pressed a kiss right on her pubic bone.

Harry just grinned up at her, a playful smirk toying on his lips once more, “Have I found it?”

“You’re there. Bingo. Please.”

One last pleasing look to Harry, and it was as though he dived in. He didn’t even hesitate, his mouth dropped down and his lips attached to YN’s clit. Her entire body lurched forward, and without even thinking her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to conceal the sounds that were threatening to escape. His lips applied just enough pressure, changing every so often to bring her closer and closer. When his hands reached forward and rolled her nipples between his fingers, she was gone.

“Wanna hear you,” He mumbles against her, the vibrations of his words transferring to her skin, “Need to hear I’m making you feel good.”

“You’re making me feel so good,” YN reassured him, a gasp leaving her lips as he started to flick his tongue against her. YN’s hands dropped down and slipped through his curls, allowing herself to grind against his face. The hand that was rolling her nipple moved to slip down between their bodies. He pulled away for a second, just to rub his pointer finger across her clit before dipping it inside her. YN mewled, her hands reaching out to grasp the duvet beneath her, “Don’t stop, so fucking good.”

The way his fingers and tongue worked simultaneously brought her closer and closer with every movement. YN had never in her entire life had a one-night stand where the first thing the man did was eat her out. It was not only unheard of, but it was divine. The mewls and groans that left her lips were only heightened by his quickening pace, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” Her thighs attempted to close, only for Harry’s hand (the one not currently inside of her) to push them back open. There was something about him not only bringing her closer and closer to orgasm with his tongue and fingers but also the way he was manhandling her that YN couldn’t handle, “I’m so close.”

He brought his lips away from her clit, only to immediately start rubbing it up and down with his thumb.

“You going to come for me?” He asked, a boyish smile crossing his lips, ones that were glistening with her juices, “Come on. Come for me, baby.”

That one pet name was all that she needed. Her hips were rising from the bed, and her legs started to shake from over his shoulder. She could feel the orgasm from the tip of her toes right up to her head. Small gasps left her body, but Harry worked her through it.

Once the initial wave had stopped, YN dropped her body back on the bed and tried to gain control of her breathing. Harry didn’t wait a single second before he was climbing up her body, so he was hovering over her again, leaning down to capture her lips with hers. She could feel his cock pressing into her leg, and by the slight movement in his hips she knew that he was waiting for his time, and she was more than happy to oblige him.

Her hands snaked down his body, from his shoulders down to his stomach before they toyed with the button on his trousers.

Harry pulled away, only for a second to drop his eyes to where her hands were on his trousers, “You want to do this?”

YN nodded, “Wanna feel you. Need to feel you.”

Harry chuckled, helping her to push his trousers down along with his underwear until his cock sprung out at her.

“Then who am I not to oblige?”

The next morning YN woke up with a slight pounding in her head. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, but she guessed the fully drunk bottle of water that was on her bedside table had done the trick. Her alarm had been set for seven, and that sound was the only thing she could hear in her room.

Just as YN was about to peel the covers back off her body and start getting ready for the day — she felt it. It was light, but she could feel it. A leg, presumably belonging to the person that she had just realised was sleeping next to her, just skimming the side of her leg. They weren’t facing each other, but the second that YN turned her head and saw that face looking at her, all the meme flies of the previous night came flooding back to her — work, the drinks, the sex.

Without even thinking she reached her arm out to tap Harry, lifting him from his slumber in a less-than-calming way. His eyes opened for a second before a groan left his lips and he immediately closed them, dropping his head back down to the pillow.

“Harry,” YN mumbled, slipping out of the bed, and clutching a blanket to her body to preserve at least a smudge of the dignity she had left, “I need to go to work, and you need to leave.”

He sighed, turning his head on the pillow to face her again, “What time is it?”

“It’s seven,” She responded, “I need to shower and get ready and I’m going to be late to work.”

Before she could even finish her sentence he was jumping out of bed, leaning down to grab his discarded clothes, and starting to pull them on his body. YN just stood there watching him, still clutching the blanket to her body.

“You’re not the only one that’s going to be late for work,” He sighed, throwing his shirt back on his body and taking quick steps towards her. He stops, leans down, and presses a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll let myself out.”

“Okay,” She nods, not completely trusting herself with her words, but she has no idea why, “Bye.”

“Bye!” He called out and just like that he was out of her room and a few seconds later she heard the front door slam, and he was out of her apartment.

It wasn’t as though she expected anything else — this was a one-night stand after all. However, there was a part of her that wished she had the balls to ask for his number or something. There was a part of her that was disappointed that the man who had given her the best sex she’d ever had didn’t seem interested in wanting her number or rushing out the way he had.

YN’s shock was short-lived, especially when her alarm clock beeped from the side of her, and she had no choice but to get on with her day. Dropping the blanket she made her way into the bathroom, sighing when she saw the state of herself in the mirror.

Despite the lack of headache, her body looked as though it had been through the wringer. Her hair was a mess, knotted and tangled all over the top of her head — just from looking at the front she dreaded to think what the back looked like.

Once her eyes had left her head, they fell to her neck and drew a line down to her breasts. From around her collar gone down she was covered in marks, some of them small and some of them bigger. The ones around her breasts were the biggest, and just the sight of them sent YN’s mind back. She ran her fingertips along the tender skin, reminding herself of the kisses and the touches that they had shared. With a shake of her head, YN pushed all of the thoughts of Harry out, turned her shower on and waited for the water to heat up.

It was her second day. Her second day. Her thoughts weren’t supposed to be clouded by the man she had met in the bar whilst trying to get drunk, trying to forget what a disaster her first day had been. Instead, she wasn’t thinking about everything she needed to do today, or what could potentially come through the door of the hospital that she would need to focus her strength on, she was reliving the night she had just had as she ran her loofah across her skin, tracing the pattern that Harry had taken.

As she stood with the warm water running over her body, she scolded herself for not doing something. She could have said something, anything to ask him, or followed him before he left the flat. But she didn’t, and she would probably never see him again — and she would have to live with that.

Shampooing her scalp helped remove the stress that was starting to build up in her body. Whilst the irrational side of her brain was telling her all of things that she could have done, the more rational side of her brain was letting her know that it was just a one-night stand. That it was just a one-night stand that she was never going to see again, and that was fine. That was fine.

The more YN thought about it, and the more that she scrubbed her scalp (it was starting to potentially hurt at this point) she brushed (scratched) all of these thoughts out of her head. She had to focus on the most important thing here, and that was her second day of work.

Once she was scrubbed and sparkling and fresh from the night before, she dressed and made her way to work. There was something that made YN feel powerful about her line of work. Maybe it was the fact that she got to save lives every day, or maybe it was the fact that those lives were children, but she felt powerful. Yesterday was just a slip-up, and everything will be fixed today she knew it was.

Once she had pulled her white coat on, and attached her I.D. to it, she made her way over to the nurses’ desk where some of the other doctors on the wing were. Iris, one of the trainee specialists that YN had met yesterday and was going to be working under her was already there, flicking through some paperwork for some of their patients for the day.

“You look…” Iris looked YN up and down, “Different.”

“Different?” YN just laughed, “You saw me stressed yesterday. Today I’m not stressed. Today I’m fine. Today I’m ready for work. Today is a new day. Today is a new day, and it is going to be a good day!”

Iris stared at YN, watching as the woman tapped her nails against the top of the desk waiting for Iris to pass her the files for their patients today so she could get on with the day. She could feel today was going to be a good day. No room for distractions, just her and her work.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Iris raised an eyebrow at YN, watching as the girl just smiled at her.

“I’m feeling fine. I’m feeling good,” YN smiled, finally stopping the tapping on the desk to hold her hand out to receive her first patient file, “Now, I have a bladder to operate on in an hour and I need to read my patient’s chart.”

Iris didn’t seem too convinced by her answer but carried on anyway, “I don’t have it. The peds consultant, Dr. Styles just went in for a consult.”

“Oh,” YN looked surprised, looking over her shoulder to look at her patient’s room but she couldn’t see anything through the door, “I haven’t met him yet. How long has it been since he went?”

“He wasn’t working yesterday,” Iris shrugs, “He’s lovely. Really. Everything you expect from someone who has spent years of his life saving kids.”

YN wasn’t surprised at that. There is a certain type of person who worked in paediatrics. These people had to be kind but stern. They had to be strong but compassionate. Being a doctor, or a surgeon anyway was tough but when children are involved, it complicates everything – makes everything more emotional. There had to be a type of detachment in the person – knowing that these patients were children, and there is a certain higher level of emotion attached to them but how you couldn’t let that emotion rule takes guts.

When YN first went to medical school paediatrics was the last thing on her mind, but by the time she had finished, it was the only thing that she could think about. Now – here she was.

“Well, I hope he’s not going to be long,” YN sighs, tapping her nails against the desk again, “Got pre-ops to do, and I don’t really fancy standing and waiting here for any longer.”

“Stop complaining,” Iris sighs, standing up and moving around the desk so that she’s next to YN, “And he’s here.”

YN sighed, pushing herself up and turning around. She was used to the introductions by now. Whilst peds doctors are lovely and have some sort of emotional intelligence they are still doctors, and that comes with some sort of arrogance. All she needed to do was introduce herself and then she could get into the operating room – where she wanted to. That’s all she thought she would do, but the second she turned around she knew that wasn’t going to be the case at all.

“Hi,” He stopped right in front of her, his hand reaching out as though it was going to shake hers, “I’m Dr. Styles.”

Turns out she didn’t need his number. Turns out she was going to be working with him.

The second that it happened YN had just finished surgery. A kidney transplant on a nine-year-old boy. She was exhausted. She was stressed, and all she wanted to do was go home and go to bed – that was what she needed to do. Just as YN pulled her scrub cap off her head and followed that with a yawn she felt a hand wrapping around her waist. Just a second later she was being pulled into the closest room, which just happened to be a janitorial storage room.

YN sighed, facing the back wall, and taking in the musty scent along with the brooms and mops that were lining the back wall. She didn’t need to know who was with her, and that was the problem.

“You’re avoiding me,” He spoke, and YN still didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to turn around, “You’re avoiding me, and you can’t avoid me.”

YN sighed, “I’m not avoiding you. I see you every day.”

“In consults, YN!” YN ran her hand over her forehead, still looking at the wall, “In consults, where you don’t even look me in the eyes! I’ve tried and tried, and you won’t talk to me!”

“Because you’re my boss!” YN flung around, looking Harry directly in his eyes. The way she raised her voice caused Harry’s eyes to widen, and the way he immediately saw her eyes start to fill up caused them to soften straightaway, “You’re my boss, and I slept with you!”

“YN,” Harry sighs, taking a step towards her with his hand out. Before YN could flinch she pulled away, “You didn’t know that that I was your boss, that is not your fault.”

“You are still my boss, Harry,” She sighs, trying to stop her lips from turning into a frown, “You are still my boss, and I’ve slept with you. You’ve seen me naked! I’ve seen you naked! You’re my boss!”

“YN, you need to listen to me,” Harry was the one sighing now, running his finger across his eyebrow, “You did not know that I was your boss. I did not know you were a surgeon, never mind the surgeon on my staff! We both didn’t know and if we don’t talk this out – we’re not going to be able to work together and that’s dangerous. I know it, you know it. How can we treat our patients, those children out there if we can barely look at each other in the eye?”

YN sighed, knowing that it wasn’t the most sanitary, but she was tired. She dropped down to the floor, her back leaning against one of the shelves covered in cleaning supplies. Harry sighed and dropped down next to her, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Why didn’t you ask for my number?”

YN had interrupted the silence that had washed over them, and Harry didn’t say anything straight away. He turned to look at YN, but she was staring straight ahead – at the other shelves with boxes of cleaning supplies on.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you ask for my number?” She asked again, “Before you left. Why didn’t you ask for my number?”

“I wanted to,” Harry responds this time, but YN still doesn’t look at him, “I wanted to, but I was late. I forgot.”

YN laughed. She couldn’t help it, “You forgot? You slept with me, and then you forgot to ask for my number?”

Harry’s head turned to hers quickly, his eyes laced with shock, “You didn’t ask for mine. You could’ve asked for mine, you could’ve.”

“I could’ve if you didn’t race out of the room like there was a fire under your arse!”

Harry sighed again, looking straight ahead at the shelves. They were in silence again, and then his hand reached out to grasp hers. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her. Instead, she snaked his fingers through hers and pulled her hand so that it was resting on her knees.

“Oliver,” Harry sighed, running his thumb over the back of her hand, “The patient that you did the bladder operation on, you removed his tumours.”

“Yeah?” YN sighed, unsure as to where this was going.

“That was my friend's kid,” Harry sighed, not stopping as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, “Oliver. Oli – that’s what we call him. He’s a bubbly kid, kind, good at sports. He was fine. Then one day he wasn’t. His parents took him to his GP, he said it was a bladder infection. They came to me, and I said the same. I said the same. They begged me to run more tests, begged me. I didn’t, he got worse, and they came back. I ordered the tests and –”

“He had cancer, and I removed his tumours,” YN sighs. Before she could help it, she pulled his hand on top of her knee and ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

“I went to the bar because I was trying to not think about it, and then I saw you,” Harry sighed, shrugging slightly, “And I, for that night could push everything out of my head. I could push the fact that I missed it out of my head. Then I woke up, and I forgot to ask for your number because I was late to make sure that he was alright before his surgery, and I wanted to be there for his parents. Then I saw him, and then I saw you and then I remembered – I should have asked for your number, but it didn’t matter.”

“Because I was here,” She sighed, and he pursed his lips together and nodded, “But then I ignored you because I slept with my boss, and I thought you didn’t care.”

“I did care,” He sighed, “I do care. It was just…”

“It was a bad day,” YN sighed, a small smile gracing her lips, “We all have bad days. I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“It’s okay,” Harry smiled, “Can we not ignore each other anymore? I know it’s weird that you’ve seen your boss naked but –”

“We’re okay,” YN laughed, “As long that you don’t find it strange that you’ve seen your colleague naked too.”

He joined in with her laughter, the sound filling up the once-silent room. It had been a month of this silence, this lack of communication between them and even though YN was exhausted – she felt better. Once the laughter had died down, YN realised that she was still holding his hand, her thumb still rubbing on the back of her skin.

YN looked up at Harry, her breath catching in her throat when she realised that he was staring right at her. It was as though the room around them had shrunk, pushing them closer and closer together until their faces were only inches apart. They had just made up, and then all of a sudden his lips were on hers.

YN moved, their lips not separating so that she was straddling his lap. The room now wasn’t small, and it wasn’t just filled with cleaning supplies – it was filled with their deep breaths, their moans, the sound of their lips moving against one another. YN’s hands slipped into the curls at the nape of his neck, just as they had done that night a month ago. Harry’s hand slipped underneath her scrubs, grabbing against her waist, and pulling her closer to him.

That feeling was back, the one that she had felt before. The one where it felt good, as though (and she knew how crazy this sounded) that they fit together perfectly. The feeling of his hands on her, and his lips on hers was everything that she needed.

That was until there was a knock on the door.

“Excuse me!” The voice was deep, and not one that YN recognised, “I need to get into my storage cupboard unless you want the entire hospital to be dirty!”

YN and Harry pulled away, a string of laughs escaping their lips as they tried to pull their selves together. Harry pulled the door open once they looked a little more presentable, revealing Mark, the janitor, standing there with his hands on his hips.

“Sorry, Mark,” Harry nodded, clearing his throat slightly, “Bad day.”

Mark scoffed, watching as YN fluttered past them and started to move down the hall. She didn’t move fast enough to not hear him say, “Keep your bad days to the on-call room next time.”

“So,” It was later on in the day, and YN had managed to get some sleep in one of the on-call rooms before she was back to it. She hadn’t seen Harry since their little adventure in the janitor’s cupboard earlier today, not until right now, “I was thinking.”

“Oh,” YN sighed, continuing to flick through the charts that were in her hands, “That’s dangerous.”

Harry laughed, and that was when YN turned to look at him. He was in his scrubs, his hands in his white lab coat. All YN wanted to do was wish that they were back in that cupboard, mainly so she could kiss him again.

“My thinking isn’t dangerous. I think I come up with brilliant ideas,” Harry leant against the nurses’ station, his body leaning towards her.

“Okay,” YN closed her chart so that she could angle her body towards his as well, “What is this brilliant idea you’ve come up with?”

“I think we should go on a date,” YN’s eyes widened, but before she could say anything to him he carried on speaking, “I think we should go on a proper date. Dinner, or a movie – something. A proper date.”

“This was your brilliant idea?” YN raised her eyebrow, “To ask me on a date?”

“Yes,” He beamed another smile at her, “Properly. We’re going to do this properly.”

YN cleared her throat and took a step closer to Harry so that they were not at a professional space away from each other.

“So,” YN’s eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, “This whole… doing it properly thing? Does that mean we can’t have sex?”

Just when YN thought he was going to kiss her, Harry stepped away. He walked away from her.

“Harry?” She exclaimed, her arms dropping open.

“We’re doing this properly!” He called back, not even turning to look at her, “I’ll pick you up at eight!”

YN sighed, shaking her head, and watching as he turned the corner out of her view. She turned back to her chart, but before she could open it her eyes caught Iris – who she had completely forgotten was sitting behind the desk when Harry walked past.

“I don’t even know what to say,” The girl spoke, eyes still open wide, “I feel like I’ve just watched some sort of soft porn. I feel like I’m at work, and I’ve just witnessed soft porn with my own two eyes.”

YN laughed, she couldn’t help it, “I think you’re in shock.”

“I think I’ve just watched soft porn between my two co-workers – my two bosses,” She adds, the shock on her face still not wavering, “Never mind that, one of my friends – my best friends, mind that – and her boss, who is also my boss.”

“Iris,” YN clapped in front of her face, snapping her friend out of whatever shock she was in, “You good?”

“I’m good,” Iris stood up, “I just think I’m going to wash my eyes out.”

A few hours later YN was waiting for Harry outside the hospital, dressed in an outfit that wasn’t exactly the best but wasn’t the worst. YN hadn’t expected to be going on a date this morning, but Harry had seen her in her scrubs, so a pair of jeans and a nice top wasn’t going to be the end of the world.

“You ready?” Harry’s hand hovered above her back as he joined her outside the hospital.

“I’m ready,” YN sighed, “I’m ready for our proper date. Can I find out where we’re going on our proper date?”

“Not yet,” He slipped his hand into hers, “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

YN groaned but allowed herself to be pulled to Harry’s car. Harry drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand on YN’s. It felt comfortable. YN hadn’t been on many first dates, but the ones that she had never felt like this. Saying that many of the people she had been on first dates with she hadn’t already slept with, or she hadn’t worked with them.

They pulled up outside what seemed to be a diner of some sort. YN hadn’t lived here long, so she hadn’t explored anyway but her house, the hospital, and the supermarket.

“What is this place?”

“You’ll find out,” Harry opened the car door for her, “Not a fan of surprises?”

“I’m a surgeon,” YN stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Surprises normally equal either more work for me or death. I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“I think you’ll like this one.”

Harry opened the door to the diner for YN, allowing her to step in first like a proper date. This was a proper date.

“Harry!” An older woman called from behind the counter, “It’s so good to see you!”

“Hi, Mrs Chapman,” Harry didn’t even flinch when the woman came and placed a kiss on her cheek, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, doll, how are you?” The older woman pulled away but kept her hands firmly on Harry’s arms, “Still the best doctor that ever lived? My Harrison is doing his exams later this year thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Chapman,” Harry finally managed to pull himself out of the older woman’s grasp, “Are we okay to sit?”

Mrs. Chapman looked over at YN, then she gasped and nodded, “Of course you are! Your booth’s free, Harry. Let me know if you need anything.”

Harry just smiled, leading YN towards a booth at the back of the diner with a hand on the nape of her back. Each time that YN found out a little bit more information about Harry, it shocked her and didn’t simultaneously.

“Do you leach off a lovely woman whose child you saved?” YN asked, raising her eyebrow as she slid into the booth across from Harry.

“I do not leach,” Harry shook his head, passing YN a menu, “I found this place way before Harrison came to see me. Mrs. Chapman is a lovely woman, who now gives me free food now and then because I saved her grandson.”

YN just sighed, shaking her head, and looking down at the menu again. It had everything that a typical diner would have, but I suppose the thing that made it different from the rest was the connection that Harry had with it.

“Do you come here often, then?” YN asked, deciding on whether she wanted a burger or not, “To be on a first-name basis with the owner?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs, not even looking at the menu as though he already knows what he is going to have. He then sighs, “It’s the only place around here that’s open twenty-four hours. I come here because the food’s nice, the people are nice and I’m normally too tired to cook after a shift.”

“God,” YN sighs, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms over her chest, “If I’d have known this place existed I would’ve saved so much money on crappy microwave meals.”

“Oh,” Harry shakes his head, “No, we can’t be having that.”

“Okay then,” YN drops her menu on the table in front of them, “What do you recommend?”

They end up ordering way too much food than what would normally be appropriate for two people to eat. They had burgers, and milkshakes and god only knows how many different types of pie. The only constellation that YN had for it was that they’d be able to take the leftovers home and that was one thing she loved more than eating out was the leftovers the next day.

“I’m stuffed,” YN sighed, dropping her fork down on her plate. She had just put back a burger, a handful of fries and half of two slices of pie (cherry and apple) in one sitting. In YN’s defence, she had been in the OR for the majority of the day, and that therefore meant scoffing a sandwich in the twenty-minute break she found herself having about six hours ago.

“So, you’re not going to help me finish this last slice of pie?” Harry pouted his lips slightly at her, pushing the plate with the last bit of cherry pie towards her.

YN sighed, but it didn’t take her long to pick up her fork and dig it into the last piece of the pie. YN ate half of it, and Harry had the other half. At that point, YN felt as though she was truly and honestly going to burst now. If it was socially acceptable to unbutton her trousers, she would have done that.

“That’s it,” YN shook her head, waving her hands in front of her, “Stop feeding me. I can’t take it anymore.”

“It was good though?” Harry nodded, “Right?”

“So good,” YN sighed, unable to hold the smile off her face, “I don’t think I’ve eaten this good since moving here.”

“Not much of a cook?” Harry laughed, wiping his hands with his napkin.

YN shook her head, leaning back on the booth. Even though she was having a lovely time, there was a part of her that was exhausted, but she wanted to stay. Even though every muscle in her body, every ache was screaming at her to go home and go to bed – she just couldn’t. She didn’t want to leave; she didn’t want this night to end.

“I’m not much of anything,” YN shrugged, “I’m a surgeon. That’s about it.”

“I don’t believe that,” Harry shook his head, “I believe that, yeah, you’re a surgeon, but I don’t think that’s all there is to you. That’s all I want to know.”

YN sighed, her teeth clamping down on the inside of her lip, “I guess you’re just going to have to wait.”

“I’m going to have to wait?” Harry laughed, “What am I going to have to wait for?”

“Our next proper date.”

Harry’s entire face beamed out into a smile, and YN couldn’t help but join him. In all honesty, whilst there was a level of comfortableness between them there was also a part that made her giddy. It was new and it was exciting and even though alarm bells were ringing for her that this was her boss, she had never felt this way about anybody before.

She didn’t think she ever would again.

The third time it happened, YN knew that this was going to be for good.

“You’re going to get married, and you’re going to have his babies and get a dog and I’m just going to be watching from the sidelines. Single. With fifteen cats. No husband, no cute kids. No sexy husband that’s good with the cute kids…”

“Iris?” YN interrupts before the girl could carry on her rambling.

“Yeah?” The girl beamed, a sad smile crossing her lips.

“You’re doing it again,” YN sighed, dropping her hands to the top of her charts, “The thinking out loud. The crazy cat lady thing. I know you think that you’re making yourself feel better by speaking into the universe, but it’s just sad Iris.”

“You know what’s sad?” Iris sighed, and that’s when YN saw the glaze over her eyes again, “That I’m not going to have a hot doctor husband, and cute kids, and –”

“That’s it,” YN sighed, picking up her chart and moving away from her boyfriend, “I’m leaving. I can’t listen to this anymore.”

YN had taken all but two steps away from the desk when she felt someone’s arm knock into hers. She didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

YN and Harry had been living in bliss for the past six months. They had done this properly. They had been on dates, ‘proper’ dates as they had continued to call them, and every day just seemed to get better. That wasn’t to say that they hadn’t had their ups and downs. Two doctors, paediatricians at that, trying in a relationship would have its ups and downs. They were emotional, exhausted, and stubborn. That meant that every so often their heads butted together and it either ended up in them screaming at each other or just sitting in complete silence.

“What can’t you listen to anymore?” He asked, his shoulder brushing hers and they walked down the corridor.

YN sighed, “Iris is having her cat existential crisis again. I told you it was a bad idea for her to get a cat, and what did you say? You said it was a good idea, and now I’m –”

“Woah,” Harry stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her down, “Now you’re having the cat existential crisis.”

YN sighed, lifting her hand to scratch her eyebrow, “She’s infecting me. Harry, we have to do something. You must have some single friends. Something. We need to fix this.”

“We don’t,” Harry shakes his head, “I know she’s your best friend and you –”

Whatever Harry was going to say next didn’t matter, and it didn’t matter because a scream came from down the hall. It wasn’t a good scream, and before anything else could be said the two of them were rushing down the hallway and into the room where the scream came from.

It was Paige. She was their latest patient, in for Lymphoma. It was a recent diagnosis – very recent and the girl was crying and screaming. The nurse looked as though she was going to have a breakdown herself.

“She won’t let us put an IV in,” The nurse sighed, “We’ve tried everything, but she just keeps screaming.”

“It’s going to hurt!” Paige screamed back, wet hot tears streaming down her face as she looked between Harry and YN.

Harry looked at YN and she just nodded, “We’ll take it from here Kathy.”

The nurse nodded, leaving the room, and allowing the door to slam shut behind her. YN flinched slightly, but at the same time she knew how stressful children could be sometimes. She also knew that Kathy was coming off a long shift, and that could also factor into the stress.

“I’m sorry,” Paige’s mother spoke from the corner of the room, her eyes welling up just like her daughters were, “She’s never normally like this. I tried. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry smiled, dropping down onto the seat next to Paige’s bed, pulling some gloves onto his hands, “Needles are scary. They’re sharp, and they’re scary.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Paige whined, her chest wracking with more sobs, “It hurt last time, Dr. Styles, I don’t wanna hurt.”

Harry sighed, “It does hurt, I’m not going to lie to you, Paige.”

YN’s eyes furrowed as Harry spoke but shrugged off his jacket at the same time. He pulled the tourniquet out of the unopened IV kit and wrapped it around his arm, pulling it tight.

“It hurts, but only for a minute,” Harry smiled, “Dr. YLN here is going to show you how it’s done, and I’m going to explain every little step. Is that okay, Paige?”

Paige’s tears were still falling, but her breathing had slowed down slightly. YN pulled on another pair of gloves and prepped the needle.

“This rubber band is a tourniquet,” Harry explained, “You’ve probably had one before when you were having your blood taken. You see, it helps us to see your veins,” Harry pointed out the vein in his arm which had popped out. “Dr. YN here is going to insert the needle and… yes it’s going to hurt, and it’s hurting but now it’s not.”

When YN had finished putting the needle into Harry’s arm, she looked back up to see Paige’s tears had stopped and a small smile on her face.

“So,” Harry smiled, pulling the needle out and holding some cotton wool on his arm, “How about Dr YLN goes and gets a new IV kit, and your mother holds your hand whilst I do it, yeah?”

Paige smiles, nodding her head, “Yeah.”

Once YN had brought a new IV kit into the room, she just stood by the door – watching. She watched as Harry spoke to Paige through the IV, keeping the young girl calm throughout the entire thing. Just watching Harry and watching not only how good at his job he was but also how he acted around the children was everything that YN needed to know.

The icing on top of the cake was when he started to tease the young girl, pretending that he didn’t have any lollipops to give her, even though he had some in his coat pocket. YN smiled, watching as the girl who once had tears streaming down her cheeks was now laughing, playing with Harry, and trying to guess which pocket had the lollipops in.

YN walked out of the room with that cheesy smile on her face, trying not to make it obvious the reason why but she knew. Iris was still sitting behind the nurses’ station, and YN stopped in front of her and sighed.

“You’re right,” YN chuckled lightly, “We’re going to have really cute babies.”

“We did good today,” YN sighed, placing the bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of Harry. YN dropped down next to him, accepting the space underneath his arm to squeeze into.

They had been on their feet a long time today, and just the fact that they were both now curled up on the sofa, with a glass of wine to soften the blow was all YN needed. Paige’s surgery had a few minor complications, but it was nothing that YN couldn’t handle. When Paige had woken up, the smile on her face knowing that she could finally eat the lollipop in a few hours that Harry had given her was enough for YN to know that it was worth it.

“We did,” Harry sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Paige is going to make a full recovery and she’ll be back on her feet in no time – all thanks to you.”

YN sighed, “Wouldn’t have even been able to operate without you.”

Harry just sighed, his lips ghosting over YN’s head. There was a change in the atmosphere, and YN could tell. Harry didn’t say anything else, and YN didn’t know whether he wanted to talk or not.

“You want to talk about it?” She spoke quietly, her finger drawing lines along his knee that was sprawled out in front of her.

Harry sighed against her, pressing another kiss to her head, “Not now. I will later though, I promise.”

“Okay,” YN smiled, reaching out to grab Harry’s hand, “Can I tell you something?”

Harry hummed. YN hesitated for a second, not knowing whether this was the right time to do this or not. But then she remembered today, and she remembered that feeling that she had whilst she had been watching Harry with Paige. She remembered the tightness in her chest, and it wasn’t worry or stress. She knew what it was, and all she could hope was that he’d feel the same way.

“I think…” YN started but then she shook her head slightly, “No, I know. I know that I love you, Harry.”

Harry lifted his head from the top of YN’s head, turning so that she was looking at him. When YN’s eyes met his, she was shocked to see that his eyes were slightly filling up. YN lifted her hand to his face, placing her palm on his cheek and making sure that he was okay.

“I…” Harry started, and YN’s heart pummelled to the bottom of her stomach. She couldn’t tell. She had admitted to the man that she was the love of her life, the man who was it for her and she couldn’t tell what he was going to say. She froze. She froze, and then he smiled, “I love you.”

YN sighed, and it took everything in her to not pick up one of the cushions next to her and launch it at Harry’s head, “Don’t scare me like that again. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“What?” He laughed, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek and then to the nape of her neck, “What do you mean?”

“Your face, and the silence and –” YN pulled away from him slightly, moving so that there was a gap between them. Until a wave of something covered her and before she knew it she was standing up, “Then the hesitation! You hesitated and you looked like you were going to cry, and then you hesitated to tell me that you love me!”

Harry sighed, sitting up with his knees open in front of her. Harry reached out for YN’s hands, but she pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I love you. I love you more than anything YN, and I know that it hasn’t been long – but I am ready to spend the rest of my life with you.”

YN sighed, but reached out and dropped her hands into Harry’s, “You’re not upset with me then?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I just… today, with Paige. That girl. She was so scared, so scared. Her parents were scared, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m a doctor, that’s what I am and the entire time all I could think about was you. In the surgery, I wondered how you were feeling, and what you might have wanted for dinner tonight.”

YN sighed, reaching forward to place a hand on his cheek – his face leaning into her touch.

“Harry…”

“I have never, ever not thought of the hospital, and my patients the entire day since I was a trainee. Then you come, and you’re always there – in the back of my mind. I love you so much, YN, and I would never hesitate to tell you that.”

YN didn’t say anything else. Instead, YN took a step forward. She grasped Harry’s face in her hands. His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her body closer until his head was resting upon her stomach. YN’s fingers slipped through his hair, right until they were at those curls at the bottom of his neck that she loved. She could feel his lips pressing tiny pecks into her stomach over her shirt. Using the curls, she tugged lightly to pull his face away from her stomach, and she could immediately lean down and capture his lips with hers.

YN sighed into the kiss, her body collapsing onto his until she was straddling him. His hands picked up speed, slipping underneath her shirt as hers tugged on his hair – their lips moving together at the same rate.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled against her lips, not stopping his kisses for even a second.

YN pulled away for a second, pushing his hair off his forehead, “Then show me… please.”

Harry nodded, pressing another chaste kiss to her lips before helping YN up and off of the sofa. The two of them stumbled into YN’s bedroom quickly, their hands never leaving each other’s body.

It was new, it was exciting, and it was good. It was love.

Harry dropped down on the bed, and YN followed – dropping on his lap just as she had been on the sofa. His fingers fiddled with the edge of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra (it being the first thing to come off her body when she came home), and his lips immediately started placing kisses all over her chest and breasts.

“I love you,” He mumbled against her skin.

“Do you love me? Or do you love my boobs?”

Harry chuckled, his teeth grazing her nipple lightly, “I love you and I love your boobs… equally.”

YN laughed, pushing him away from her body lightly, “You’re such an idiot.”

“I am,” He placed her kiss on her chest, “I’m an idiot,” he placed another kiss on her neck, “But I’m an idiot who loves you.”

Piece by piece their clothing was removed, and whispers and kisses and giggles were shared until they were both naked. They had moved further up so that Harry’s back was pressed against the headboard, YN hovering above him.

Their movements started slow, YN sliding herself down onto Harry’s cock. The feeling was full, and amongst that, it was full of love. Harry’s hands landed on YN’s hips, helping her move whilst YN’s clutched the headboard. YN gasped into Harry’s mouth as she started to rotate her hips.

“Harry,” YN moaned into his mouth, one of her hands leaving the headboard to grasp his shoulder. Harry started to help her, his hips rolling up to meet hers, causing YN’s nails to press into the skin of his shoulder.

“Keep going for me, baby,” Harry mumbled, his head dropping down to YN’s shoulder – his lips grazing her skin, “Come on, keep going for me.”

YN sped up her hips, listening to Harry’s words of encouragement. There was no way that YN could be closer to Harry than she was at this moment, but with each thrust, she wanted to be.

“So wet for me baby,” Harry mumbled, “Doing so well for me baby.”

“Harry, please,” YN whined, her hips moving quicker and quicker with every passing moment, “I need more, I need you more.”

“You wanna switch?” Harry pulls his head up from her shoulder, looking directly into her eyes, “Just tell me, baby.”

YN’s hips stopped and with Harry’s help, she lifted herself off him. YN whimpered slightly at the loss of contact, but the second that she moved so that she was on her back, Harry was hovering over her.

“Harry, please,” YN’s hands clawed at his back, pulling him closer to her.

“You okay?” He asked, one hand on his cock to line it up with her entrance and the other one holding his body up by her head.

“Please,” YN nodded, her hands scratching down his back again, pushing lightly on the top of his ass, “Please Harry, I wanna feel you. Need to feel you.”

Harry didn’t hesitate to push inside of her, taking YN’s breath away. He moved forward so that their foreheads were touching each other’s. This was what YN wanted – what she needed. Each thrust of his hips felt as though he was bringing her closer and closer – not only to her orgasm but also to him.

“Harry,” YN whimpered, moving her lips onto Harry’s, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Harry picked up the pace, moving his hips faster and faster until he saw the tell-tale signs. YN’s breathing turned faster, and one of the hands that was on his back reached out to the bed next to her, screwing the sheets into her fist. It hadn’t taken Harry long to pick up the signs, listening to all of the signs that her body gave him. Once that switch was flipped, Harry knew exactly what to do.

“It’s okay, baby,” Harry mumbled against her lips, one of his hands slipping down between their bodies so that he could roll her clit between his fingers, “Let go for me, always look so pretty when you come for me – so pretty.”

“Harry, I’m so close,” YN’s hips moved up to meet Harry’s. The mixture of both Harry’s cock inside of her and also his fingers on her clit, speeding the process along – that was all that YN needed. Her orgasm raked through her body, a line of whimpers escaping her lips, along with a string of Harry’s name. Harry coaxed her through her orgasm, not stopping his pace until he saw the signs.

Harry came not long after, his body going rigid against YN’s. Harry’s head leant down to capture YN’s lips with his again, slowing his hips down until he came to a complete stop inside her. He dropped down – his body weight falling upon YN’s. She felt comfort with it, his body weight pressed on hers.

Silence fell between the two of them, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later when Harry moved to slip out of YN that any sound was made in the room apart from the sound of their breathing. YN felt an emptiness inside of her, but once Harry was laid at her side she wasted no time in moving closer to him. She lipped his leg in between his, her arm wrapping around his chest and resting on his shoulder.

“I…” YN started, her finger lifting to run down Harry’s cheek ever so lightly, “Think you’re a good omen.”

“What?” Harry smiled, tilting his head down slightly so that he could look at her, where her head was resting on his shoulder.

“A good omen,” YN shrugged, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I think… you were brought to me to show me that everything is going to be okay.”

“It is going to be okay,” Harry nodded, lifting his hand to brush her hair off her forehead, “Everything is going to be okay.”

It wasn’t that YN believed in anything like that. She didn’t believe in signs before all of this but now. Now, she believed that Harry was her sign. He was her sign.

He was her good omen.

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