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pucksandpower · 6 months

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Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I��m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

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lilac-5ky · 11 months

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Roommates from Hell, pt.1 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Stolen Fries taste best

(pic from loving yamada at lvl999, adorable manga, recommend)

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

Plot: Out of all the women that come and go in Toji's life, you're the only one he calls his friend. But when he suddenly forces his way into your apartment, the feelings you've kept from him are put to the test.

Setting: Pre Hidden Inventory Arc. Toji and reader are both in their late twenties, no Megumi in picture... yet :p

Themes: Cohabitation, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Warning: Slight sexual content minus the actual smut.

A/N at the bottom

“You’re late. Again.”

The small silver bell at the top of the glass door notified you of a man’s arrival, his heavy steps refusing to wipe themselves upon entry, spreading mud all over the now-blotted checkered tiles of the dimly lit diner. You’d been expecting the owner of those shoes for the past six hours, his untimely arrival coming as a bitter aftertaste to an afternoon full of childish joy and mayhem— popped balloons, colorful confetti, and half-eaten pieces of cakes swept into one big pile at the room’s southernmost corner by yours truly.

“I never said I was coming,” the voice retorted, its defiant sound overshadowed by the gruesome screech of a metallic chair. “Not interested in celebrating some brat’s b-day, ‘specially if it ain’t mine.”

“How many helpless children must have spent their birthdays without their no-good father, I wonder,” you wiped your hands against your cherry-red apron, pushing the broom back into place. “If your goal is to repopulate Japan, I’m certain you’ll succeed.”

Hefty fingers mindlessly combed through a head of obsidian black, little spikes forming and then settling back down. “None, as far as I’m concerned,” sarcasm dripped from his tongue.

“Well, I find that hard to believe,” you mumbled under your breath, circling through the room to ensure everything was dealt with: leftovers in the fridge, gift wrappings in the bin, and the large aforementioned pile of garbage waiting to be scooped up. “You’ve known Kenzo since birth. Even if this ain’t your thing, the least you could’ve done was make an appearance. He kept asking about his favorite uncle all night long.”

“Except I’m not his uncle. Don’t mix me in with your sister’s family, I ride solo.”

Sigh.

“My sister’s family might as well be your family, Toji. You know how much Hinata and her kids adore you.”

“Good for them, I suppose.”

Another sigh.

“Can you at least tell me what was so important for you to not even pick the goddamn phone up?”

As if the device had grown sentient, a generic tune began tooting from the back pocket of his sweatpants, eradicating your final hope that it’d simply run out of battery.

Without budging from his seat, Toji twisted an arm around his back to pull his flip-phone out, the silver-tinted lid slamming shut as soon as he’d peered at the caller’s number, his next immediate move being to drown the sound in a glass of leftover Coke, fizzy bubbles playing the device’s final requiem.

You didn’t need to ask to know it was a woman, and he didn’t need to answer that she, whatever the name of his latest conquest was, happened to also be the reason for his being unfashionably late.

It was always like that. He was always like that. He went out with one girl after the other; from women of extreme beauty and poise to mindless bimbos who couldn’t tell tea leaves and coffee beans apart. He’d spend some cash to butter them up with expensive meals at overpriced restaurants, or VIP entrance at the hottest club, or even pay for the name tag on their designer clothes, but come next morning, he was either caught stealing straight out of their pockets or checking whether the tag was still attached to the dress for him to return it to the store—at which point, the vast majority gave up, except for those few poor souls who earnestly believed they could fix him, though they never would.

If there were two things in this world that remained unfaltering and resolute throughout the eons, then that was the earth’s orbiting the sun, and Zen’in Toji’s being the bastard of a man you knew and loved— special intonation of that last part.

It was quite the oxymoron. To know him as an irredeemable scumbag with no intention of changing, and to love him for all he was; a sentence as contradictory and controversial as the man before you. What was there to love? He never gave two shits about the people around him dying, and if he could encourage or partake in their deaths then he certainly would. He gambled every cent of cash in his hands away, and his every attachment ended with the disposal of his used-up condom. He was vulgar, cynical, and brass, and he possessed a great charisma of making people dislike him at first glance. His only saving grace was his good looks and even those he managed to scrape on a daily basis.

So, really, what was there to love about a man whose place fitted best among the pile of garbage in the corner? What was the point in all that?

He never answered your question, and when you realized he wasn’t planning to, you dragged a second chair to his side, propping your elbows first and then your chin over the vinyl backrest, feet landing at each side. You took in his expression— sour and undeniably agitated, with a frown tugging at the scarred corner of his lower lip, and a glare too icy to be meant for the wall of American-styled neon billboards he mercilessly studied. Something definitely bothered him, and as a huff stiffened his chin, the reason became evident enough for you to point at it.

“Woman or work?” you gestured at the blood that dribbled below his ear and down his neck.

He followed your forefinger with his eyes, thumb scrubbing where the gush began. He seemed oblivious to his injury, though it wasn’t as if his becoming aware changed a thing.

“So it is a woman,” you gladly seized the chance to rub salt into his wound, drawing a frustrated grumble from him.“What did you do this time? Stole her car and crashed it into a tree? Blew all her savings on cockfight betting?”

“Horse races,” he had the nerve to correct.

“Or… did you by any chance bring an uncalled ménage à trois to her bed?”

“What kind of man you take me for?” Toji protested.

“A very, very, veeeery bad man,” you smirked, and he returned it. You knew him like the back of your hand. There was no need to pretend otherwise after well over a decade’s worth of friendship.

“If a very bad man is what I am, then why’d ya let me in?” he asked. “A young unprotected woman all by herself in the middle of the night letting such scum in never ends well. Thought you were smarter than this.”

“If I was smarter, then I wouldn’t be calling you my friend, would I?”

His grimace turned into a full-blown devilish grin, the kind that secretly had your heart buzzing against the frail set of bones of your chest. He always looked so dazzling when he smiled, that sometimes you couldn’t find fault in those women wanting to believe in his pretty lies, because you, too, wanted to. You hoped that whatever the price for those smiles was, you would one day be able to afford it and gain ownership of his heart, no matter how wretched or blackened it was.

“You are a real idiot to mix it up with me,” he conceded. “Though, you are a greater idiot for letting that term define us. I bet your nights serving meals at some kiddie place get rather lonely. But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N. So good that you’d risk some prick getting in, lest he is me.”

His tongue poked out his mouth, giving his bottom lip a brief lick while he peered at you through half-lidded eyes. He had this way of turning things sexual in the blink of an eye, selling himself so well that your refusal to buy seemed commendable— despite the unmistakable affection you held for his face. Little did he know how much you longed to push that chair to the side and rip his cocky expression along his black-sleeved shirt off his body, making it so that neither of you had a place to hide from the other.

Now, that’d feel good.

“My nights are fine as they are, thank you very much,” you countered your instincts much to his disappointment. “And if I ever needed myself a helping hand, know that you’d be the last I’d call!” Not as if you’d pick up, anyway, you mentally added.

His gust of interest fizzled out as soon as it surged, your rejection forcing him to rock back and forth between the chair’s legs. He wasn’t interested in continuing this. It was enough for him to take in the dusty pink shading of your ears and smile to himself, knowing you were still the kind of woman affected by his charms. Yes, that certainly was enough, for now.

“I’ll clean you up,” you declared, getting off your spot in haste and strolling through the bar in search of a clean towel.

Once you found it, you let it soak under the faucet and brought it back to him, rubbing against his skin regardless of his petty attempt at gritting his teeth. You placed one hand on his shoulder and another at his jaw, pushing them apart to no avail. Every muscle in his body was stronger than your entire bodily force combined, and he was awfully willing to flex that difference between you, just as he was at letting you straddle his hips and climb all over his body like some sort of feral monkey in heat.

A string of profanities that ranged from “bastard” to “shit-eating-asshole-shithead” poured out your mouth while Toji smirked, and smiled, and grinned, and didn’t even try to stop you from knocking the two of you onto the ground, palms barely managing to stable your head over his face. Your pleated skirt had risen, or rather flipped, over your panties, revealing the strawberry pattern panties you were wearing to his greedy hands as they hiked up your flesh without an ounce of shame.

“Wh-What are you doing?!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he cooed, burying his calloused fingers under the elastic waistband of your underwear.

You felt him trace the inward of your thighs in languid strokes, the fabric stretching the further his hand dipped— closer, and closer to your now-pulsing core, but never so close as to make actual contact. His hot breath tingled your lips, smelling of nothing in particular, but a sweaty tang of a woman’s deodorant that still lingered in his clothes. Had he fucked her before making it here, you wondered, heart tightening at the thought.

Your legs wiggled shut, unable to fully repel his hand, and for a brief moment, you considered letting him go through with this— whatever this was. Even if you came to be another conquest won, you didn’t care. All you needed was for him to hush all logic from your brain, and fuck you senselessly against the checkered tile floor of the “kiddie food place” you served meals at.

“Toji…” you begged, uncertain what you were begging him for until you felt the warmth in your thighs subside.

“Makin’ sure to preserve your maiden’s dignity,” he said as he fixed your skirt in place. “Wouldn’t want some perv catching sight of your cute little ass, would we?”

His condescending tone made you want to throw a slap across his face and then yours; for thinking that maybe this wasn’t a mistake, that you could really move past the pretense of friendship and aim at what you really sought. But he’d been right once before. You were stupid, stupider than all those girls combined, considering you knew and still wouldn’t mind being dragged down with him one bit.

“Fucking asshole,” you blurted as you pushed yourself off him, dumping the cloth on his smug face.

Your lip quivered as you stepped onto your feet, unable to quite shake the feeling of incompletion from your core, walls pathetically clenching around nothingness. You refused to look at him, lest you caved in a second time, and thus you paced around the booths, stopping before the one window whose blinds didn’t block the magnificent parking lot view. Only a black SUV was left— most likely his newest rental.

Following a beep, you watched the lights flicker white, his reflection in the window lifting the chair back up. You crossed your arms over your chest and waited, your impatience and frustration churning into a dangerous mix within your guts, as the asshole whose name wasn’t worth saying moved past you and walked straight to the door, not a single word or goodbye said.

“What about your phone?” you asked, at last paying him a look of spite.

“I’ll text ya my new number.”

“We both know you won’t.”

He glanced over his shoulder and showed you his pearly white canines, his expression not polished enough to be called a smile. You rolled your eyes in the opposite direction, spotting his old device blinking a variety of different lights, refusing to die just like its bastard of an owner.

“What should I do with this?”

“How the hell should I know?” Toji shrugged. “Get rid of it, or toss it in some burger. I’m sure no one will be able to tell the difference. Later,” the bell chimed as the door collided with the frame, chiming a second time as his head popped in a moment later. “Loved the raspberries.”

“They were strawberries, you scatterbrained swine,” you cursed, but he’d heard none of it. The car was gone, and so was he, and it was for the best that he didn’t get to witness the strawberry-colored shadow that loomed over both your cheeks.

Fanning some of that heat away, you returned to the table, surprised to find a white envelope with the name Kenzo hastily written on the front. Cash. Lots of cash. Enough cash to keep a low-end apartment afloat for at least a couple of months. An excuse and simultaneously the answer to all your previous questions.

“You fucking bastard,” you hummed, the term switching to one of utter endearment.

When the first instance of a wintry breeze came charging at the semi-exposed features of your face—a scarf’s fluff tucked right below your nose— you knew that walking all the way to the location where the unknown ID claiming to be Zen’in Toji ordered you to meet up was probably a bad idea.

For starters, you’d turn into an icicle long before making it back to your workplace. Not to mention you had no foolproof way of guaranteeing the person you were about to meet wasn’t some random impersonating psychopath. But when you finally spotted the yellow curvy “M” upon the rectangular red sign that spelled the fast food chain’s name, you narrowed down the psychopaths to that one cheapskate you happened to know.

Walking into the nearly vacant dining area —only the first two booths near the door occupying a family of four each— you detected him almost immediately. He was the only one seated in his wing. Head slightly tilted to look past the window, golden highlights showering the curve of a nose as it arched into thin eyebrows, calm eyes glinting with subtle emerald, and fingers that absentmindedly tapped away onto one of the two paper-covered trays. He had the decency to wait for you before getting into his food, though that didn’t stop him from munching on the occasional fry.

You tugged the handbag off your shoulder and slowly approached him, hesitating to enter his field of view, if just for a moment. He seemed so peaceful and serene, that if you had the guts, you’d snap a picture of him right then and there and make it into your phone’s wallpaper. But you didn’t. You’d never be able to explain it to him in a non-humiliating way, should he catch you in the act, and so, you shook the notion off and marched in his direction, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“What’s the point of calling me out here for lunch if we are gonna have burgers?” you dropped your bag at the far end of the table. “Why not eat at our place?”

“I like the fries here better,” he bit onto one as if to affirm his claim, licking the salty essence off his fingers. “You should be glad I got you some, too,” he nodded toward the closed dome-shaped box that lay in front of you. “Nuggets over burgers, right? Didn’t know what toy ya wanted though. Cashier girl told me bunnies are quite popular with girls your age, so I went with that.”

Ignoring, or rather postponing your answer to his outrageous suggestion, you peered through the contents of your meal’s box, spotting the wrapped-in-plastic purple-colored bunny key chain right at the bottom between the small portion of deluxe potatoes and even smaller portion of chicken nuggets that still steamed hot air. You were surprised he remembered everything about your order, down to your preference for milkshake over other beverages, and perhaps you would have shown your gratitude if it wasn’t for that last comment of his gnawing at your pride.

“How old did you tell the cashier I was, again?” you gritted, trying to suppress the toy’s cuteness within your fist.

“Didn’t. Just said it’s for some kid I know. Probably thought it was for my daughter or something.”

A pair of googly eyes popped out from their sockets, the bunny’s head in serious danger of coming right off.

“Stop acting like an old man,” you muttered in embarrassment. “A nine-month head start in life doesn’t make you old enough to be my father.”

“Still older than you, kid,” said Toji, his fingers latching onto his wrapped-up burger. “Now eat up. Didn’t pay ya lunch for it to go cold.”

Annoyed by his remarks, but oh-so terribly starved, you decided to let things slide, the two of you lunching in a period of temporal truce. He went through his burger in big bites, clearing it out before you even finished your portion of nuggets. You mildly wondered why he’d held off if he was this hungry, but didn’t press on the reason behind his invitation until after his tray was half-emptied.

“So… why’d you wanna meet up? Got something to tell me?”

“Mhm, I actually do. How would you like us to be room—Nah, that doesn’t sound too right,” Toji shook his head off, dusting the excess salt off his fingers. “I decided I’m moving in with you.”

“You, what?!?” You shrieked, eyes wide with shock, resembling those of your newly acquired key chain.

“What I just said. I’m moving in,” he repeated as if you hadn’t heard him the first time around. “Got everything right here. I’ll pop by later so you can show me my room.”

You glanced down at what he tapped as “here”, spotting a large black duffel bag that rested on his feet. He wasn’t joking, you panicked. He was being 100% serious about this. Directing your milkshake to your mouth, you took a nervous sip, nearly choking on the plastic straw between your teeth, while Toji kept staring at you, awaiting no answer in particular. After all, he wasn’t asking. He was proclaiming.

“Why would you want that?” you asked once you regained the ability to think rationally. “Weren’t you the one who said you ride solo?”

“Numerous reasons,” he stated, drawing his forefinger forth as if to recount. “For starters, rental prices going up, gas too. Inflation in the market and all that crap. Your place is also closer to work, and” he leaned closer, “wasn’t your neighborhood the one on the news recently? You know, those serial break-and-enter cases? As far as I’m aware, the culprit’s still running loose, could be a cursed spirit or something. You can’t see ‘em, but I can. I’ll keep ya safe. Wouldn’t you want that? Sounds like a fair deal to me, at least.”

The repetitive pattern of a catchy pop song blasting from the speakers served as a backdrop to your thoughts, eyes flickering between the table and his face. He wasn’t exactly wrong about what he said. The girl next door was the robber’s last victim, and from what you’d gathered, it seemed like the ones targeted were exclusively single women in their twenties. Curse or not, that was the intruder’s type, and you just so happened to tick both of those boxes.

From a standpoint of reason, his suggestion sounded fair alright, but this was Toji we were talking about. The man whose name was your first thought in the morning and the final afterthought in the night. The man you were coincidentally in love with.

Living with him would entail being around him a lot more than you could handle. Waking and sleeping and eating in the same house as him, spending your days off together, bickering about bills, take-out, and the TV remote’s ownership, doing things that only couples got to do, and of course, sharing a bathroom, which on its own meant seeing him parade through the cramped little space of your apartment in nothing but a soggy towel, hair slick and teeth beaming as he’d be asking if you’d like to join him in the shower—

You hit the break on these thoughts and pressed your forehead flat against both palms, feeling the heat exuding through your fingers. You were only able to keep this relationship platonic because of the distance he put between you. If he were to suddenly close it, what would come of you? How on earth would you be able to hold back?

“Don’t you want me?”

“Huh?” you bit at the straw again, snapping it in half.

“I said, you hate the idea of living with me that much?”

Toji certainly didn’t mince his words, but the way he was looking at you, brows furrowing and lips quivering into a frown despite the edge in his tone, almost made it seem as if hearing your rejection out loud would hurt him, and because of that, you had no choice, but to shake your head in denial. You wanted this. More than words could express, you wanted to be with him like that, even if you refrained from disclosing that truth.

You wanted him.

“What about your girlfriends? Wouldn’t they be against you living with some woman?”

“Nah, I’m done with that. Done with all of ‘em.”

“But my apartment is too small. I don’t think it’d suit you—”

“I’ll manage,” he cut you off.

“I don’t even have a second bed-”

“We can always share,” he smirked, letting out a light-hearted chuckle as he watched color paint your cheeks. “Couch is fine, too. So, whaddya say, roomie?”

“…Fine,” you conceded, very well knowing you’d come to regret this decision. “But we need to set some ground rules! No trashing the apartment, no throwing your ‘work tools’ all over the place, no smoking, no drinking, no loud music, and no bringing in random women. No starting fights either! You’ll help around and pay half of what’s needed, so no gambling your money away. Those are my terms.”

“You drive a hard bargain, roomie,” Toji said, balancing his chin atop his elbow. “Fine by me. Told you I’m done with half those things anyway, and I don’t mind helping you with anything. I mean that.”

But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N.

His words from that night still lingered in your mind like an unfulfilled promise, and when he phrased it like that, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how good his hands felt that night, creeping all over your skin as if he owned it— as if he owned you.

“G-good!” you said, picking up a fry off his tray and tossing it in your mouth, lest you said something stupid.

“No one taught you stealing other people’s food is rude?” Toji shot you a glare unequal to your crime.

“It’s not stealing if you are done with it!” you protested. “You haven’t touched your fries in over ten minutes now.”

His tongue clicked against his mouth’s roof, producing a series of “tsk” sounds while he shook his head in disapproval. “Didn’t take ya for such a brat, Y/N. Disrespecting me in my face right after we came to an agreement? That’s some bad business ethics.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, barely keeping yourself from groaning. “I’m so terribly sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have stolen your esteemed fries, sir. Won’t ever happen again, sir. Please allow me to express my profound remorse, sir.”

Although Toji knew you only addressed him as such to get on his nerves, he was still pleased enough to grace with you an unsuspecting smile, seconds before you shoved a ketchup-covered potato against his mouth, smudging the left corner of his lips in a way akin to that of his right corner scar. He blinked, clouds of fury gathering in the bleakness of his eyes and cheeks puffing up, painting the most adorable expression you’d ever seen him wear.

“So cute,” you gushed, unable to suppress a hearty laughter that agitated him even more, red blooming across his cheeks— most likely by the lack of oxygen, you interpreted.

“Fucking brat,” he hissed, dipping the last of his fries in ketchup and then stuffing your mouth with it before you could even react. “I’ll show ya how it’s done!” he declared, your lips puckering against his fingers, condiment spreading all over like lipstick. His other hand forced your head in place, stilling your chin for him to work on his masterpiece, making a much bigger mess out of you than you had made of him.

“Hmphmmph!” you hummed while Toji laughed, a deep sound that reverberated straight from his guts, his eyes glinting along with his teeth in sheer joy that convinced you to give up so as to not spoil his fun. It was rare to see him genuinely happy.

“That should teach ya to behave,” he spat, smugness in every aspect of his features as he pressed his thumb onto his mouth, cleaning the ketchup off with a lick. “But you did address me properly, so you’ve earned the right to choose. Napkin or my lips? Which one?”

Stupefied as you were, you didn’t understand the full context of his question until you felt the sudden warmth of his mouth flutter over your skin, the tip of his tongue sloppily gathering the leftover ketchup off your right cheek. Your jaw popped open, a small gasp escaping as a result of his action.

“Too slow,” Toji whispered, hooded green eyes peering right into yours. “I’ll ask again. Napkin or my lips? What’s it gonna be, doll?”

“N-n-n-napkin!” you must have stuttered at least a thousand times before forming a comprehensible answer. He was so close that if he tilted his head any closer your lips were sure to touch. “P-please get me a napkin.”

“Please?” he chuckled, acting as if was really going to kiss you and then pulling away. “Be right back.”

Even after Toji let go, you could still feel the weight of his thumb holding you down, your eyes zeroing in on his black sweater as he set off for the other side of the room where the napkin and condiments stand was located. You heard a few whispers coming from beside your table, catching three pairs of eyes shooting daggers right at your back.

“Don’t they have a home?” a woman’s voice echoed first.

“Kids these days…” a man added.

“Honey, don’t look at their sinfulness, it’s the devil’s work.” A second woman concluded.

You were on the verge of experiencing a cardiac arrest, and you were pretty darn sure you would have if Toji hadn’t returned with the napkins in time, his hand snatched by yours as you forcefully dragged him out of the place, spelling frantic apologies at whoever was listening.

Once you’d made it outside, you sighed in relief, winter’s viciousness coming as a much-needed slap across your face. You took in a few breaths, letting go of his hand and padding a few steps away from the store’s windows, afraid you were still the focus of their attention. Toji followed, one hand stuffed inside his jeans pocket, while the other held the duffel bag over his shoulder in a lazy manner.

“Can you give me a lift to work?” you managed to ask, dodging his stare even as he stepped to the front.

“I would, but I can’t. Gave the car away.”

“You did what?”

Nothing about your reaction was funny in any shape or form, but he seemed amused enough to break into a soft chuckle, his eyes, too, softening ever so slightly.

“Planning to walk around town like a bloodsucker?” he asked, bringing a napkin to wipe your lips with greater care than you’d think. “How dirty,” he cooed, gently tapping at the center. “Next time, I won’t ask for permission to kiss you, roomie. Let’s go.”

“W-Where?” your voice came out so frail that you doubted he’d heard your question, his bag bouncing over his taut body with every step he took outside the parking lot.

“You asked for a ride, didn’t ya? Come.”

A/N: Launching a new series because I have so many feelings bottled up that I'm in danger of farting hearts and rainbows and shit. Decided to take the time off and write this fic for myself cause I needed it, but then I thought why not share it with the world? First time writing for Jujutsu Kaisen and Toji in particular, so hopefully it's received well!

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elvenbeard · 18 days

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Reposting the boyo for a little interest check!

No mysterious third or fourth options, but if you have an opinion not covered by the poll, feel free to leave a reply! :D

I'm asking cause I had fun doodling Kerry and I love doodling stuff for others (and it would be a good excercise for sure too!). AND also I'm obviously asking cause I could use the money xD I'm still paying monthly rates for my current laptop since my old one broke at the start of 2023 and I'd be so happy to finally have that monthly monetary burden off my back xD So I'd open a whole bunch of slots - not sure yet how many (probably between 30-50), and how or when I'd go about working through them (most likely a google form where you submit your ref pic - as these would be simple sketches 100% based off of ref pics). I could also imagine streaming some or all of it, for some additional entertainment value xD

A "not more than 1 hour spent per drawing" kinda deal, or even something like pay what you want style comms. Also yeh, not just Cyberpunk as a fandom obviously, anything goes, OCs as well, (and I'll also draw your mom or your pet if you wanna xD) as long as you have 1 good reference screenshot/photo for me to work with! (obligatory disclaimer that exceptions may apply in a few highly specific cases - when in doubt just ask!)

Would super appreciate some feedback and if you'd reblog this so more people see :D tysm!

(also, my regular comms are also still open btw! link in my pinned post!)

#artists on tumblr #digital art #commissions #commissions open #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne

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buff-muffin · 4 months

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Random little One piece modern AU thoughts and I guess scenes I had about mainly Luffy

1. Luffy is the best guy to take to karaoke. While he isn’t the best singer he’s also not the worst. However he sings with his whole chest and heart and will sing duets with anyone no matter how lovey or metal. His energy always brought everyone out of their shells he just has a bad habit of singing when it’s not his turn

2. I feel like in a modern AU Luffy would still be friends with a lot of the people he met in series just under different conditions. Like water 7 instead of the mayor almost being assassinated he just. Met him. Like on good terms. idk, maybe Luffy saved tyrannosaurus and now they just exchange animals pics and the occasional “hey I’m heading to insert place where should I go to eat” and Luffy just introduces the Baratie with no heads up to Zeff and Sanji and when Sanji spams the group chat freaking out he just says you’re welcome :D

3. Luffy keeps the contacts of everyone he’s met and keep them under their nicknames. Monster granny, hammock, split head ect. It’s the only way he can remember them after all. When nami had gotten nosy and decided to go through his contacts she obviously asked who tf ice pops was. Imagine her surprise when Luffy confidently answers that it’s the mayor from a few towns over.

4. In a modern AU the ASL brothers were totally still bush kids. Like. Dadan’s (probably community house) was right by the woods and they would have a similar childhood to canon with less killing wild animals. But they also a thousand fucking percent had a Nintendo Wii. Like Ace and Sabo fought tooth and NAIL for player one and Luffy was banished to player three with the dingiest controller known to man (not even the safety strap could protect that thing from getting tossed at the tv) And speaking from my own experience as a younger sibling Ace totally spent a whole summer trying to unlock every character in Mario kart.

5. Law met the straw hats in collage at 2 am when they got kicked out of a bar and he was trying to mind his own business. While they saw him in their intoxicated state and said “you’re my friend now :)” Law was genuinely worried half of them had alcohol poisoning. An hour later he found himself in one of their apartments two of them passed out. One of them throwing up. All while he makes a grilled cheese for Luffy, the so called infamous man on campus who is crying sitting on the floor cause he’s starving. Law stayed the night to make sure none of them drowned in their own vomit and like imprinted baby ducks they have not left him alone since.

6. Luffy has been going to riots and movements for years. He started going with Sabo and Ace growing up when they were teenagers and hasn’t stopped. He also never thought to mention it to any of his friends until they saw him on the news at a protest absolutely fucking SENDING a tear gas canister back at the cops

7. I kinda wanna believe while devil fruits don’t exist in modern AU the character still has quirks semi related to their fruit. Like Robin is just, double jointed everywhere and could bend her arms and fingers in all the worst ways. Luffy can either contort his body to hide in tiny places OR he has stretchy skin. It’s nothing more then party tricks but it is cool

8. Luffy was definitely a gymnastics kid. Not in like. The competing sense. But in like the, one of the adults in his life would drop him off there twice a week for an hour. Did he participate with the other children and learn how to roll? NO! He was flinging himself full speed into giant foam mats and climbing rock walls without a harness. He was a menace to society and he was only taken to blow off some energy and it WORKED. Until he was kicked out.

#you bet your ass I have a list of what every OP character mains in mariokart #if there are spelling or grammar mistakes suck my digital dick #no post time skip spoilers please and thank yall #one piece #one piece au #one piece modern au #Luffy favouritism #luffy #monkey d. luffy #asl brothers #trafalgar law #I know little to nothing about that man yet here I am #headcanon #sorta?#rambles

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whiskeyapologist · 4 months

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was looking through my camera roll & realized i never posted about this?? but i did a check please theme in my bullet journal back in april & i am still beyond obsessed with how it turned out!

task list & cover page

april was all about finishing my fucking thesis (i earned my mfa in stage automation in may) & i used the task list to break down each section of my thesis & make it less intimidating. i still pulled a bitty & had to marathon write most of my thesis within a like 36 hour period. i slept so good once that draft was finished!

when i started planning this theme, i flipped through the comic & decided pretty quickly i wanted the cover to be this view of faber from 4.25 "faber". i filled the outside with some of my favorite details from throughout the comic, including (clockwise from top left) the "text from chowder: i'm shouting!" from 4.2 "nonstop celly", jack's "oh" moment from 2.17 "graduation", the jack lego (?) figure from 3.1 "wag", dex & nursey's background roach & house bubbles & (i think it's) ransom's "et tu lardo?" bubble from 2.12 "post i: roadie", one of my fave senor bun appearances that didn't make it into a weekly from 1.16 "linemates", & bitty's phone (i don't think there's a specific appearance of bitty's phone that looks like this, at least not that i'm finding in the flip-throughs i've done to write this post. i think i did a lil freehand moment with it, but if anyone happens to find it in the comic, let me know!), as well as my usual little calendar & monthly focuses section

monthly calendar & habit tracker

the monthly calendar & playlist is inspired by the smh team roster hanging on the bulletin board in the haus at the beginning of year 2

the habit tracker features a few other details from 2.1 “moved in”, namely the “haus sweet haus” rug & the sock pinned to the bulletin board. the shopping list bubble is a callback to the “jizz!” speech bubble also pinned to the bulletin board next to the sock

meal & time trackers

the breakfast, lunch, & dinner headers are a callback to the hockey puck taped to the bulletin board

not much to add here, but it’s a great time to mention the “it’s tough but you’re tougher” speech bubble from 4.20 “spotlight on eric bittle” which was the quote i used to decorate my grad cap ❤️

weekly #1 is modeled after y1 & features my favorite y1 senor bun appearance (1.18 “playoffs - i”) & line (1.8 “checking clinic”)

weekly #2 is modeled after y2 & features my favorite y2 senor bun (2.10 "shinny") & line (2.4 "hazeapalooza")

weekly #3 is modeled after y3 & features my favorite y3 senor bun (3.3 "meet the falconers") & line (3.26 "cup v - post")

weekly #4 is modeled after y4 (the layout of the top panel specifically is modeled after the first panel of 4.16 "christmas in madison - iii" which shows a bunch of the christmas pics/posts from the rest of smh & tater) & features my favorite y4 senor bun (4.17 "senior thesis") & line (also 4.17 "senior thesis"). i has some extra space, so i included some excerpts from bitty's y4 tweets

camp nanowrimo tracker, before the pen. the left is just a table for tracking time spent on & words written for my thesis & the novel i've been working on forever. my camp nanowrimo goal was to write 1 hour every weekend day & 2 hours every week day, for a grand total of 50 hours, which i am proud to say i achieved! the right is a visual tracker, where each pie was equal to an hour of writing. i included 50 pies for my 50 hour goal. the bubble near the top is from 1.4 "the haus" with 2 footnotes i added; one on "kitchens" that says "word docs", & one on "pies" that says "words". clearly i think i'm very clever lol

visual tracker, filled in. i surpassed my 50 hour goal with about a week left in the month, & i wanted to include that additional progress on my tracker. once the month was done & i knew how much i needed to add, i made a tip-in (although this might just be a fold-out lol) to tape in. on one side, i included the dialogue bubbles from a panel of 3.19 "keagster"

on the other side of the tip-in/flip-out, i included jam jars for the additional 10.25 hours of writing i did, plus "it's gonna be two trips" also from 3.19 "keagster"

& that's all the spreads! spreads were done in an archer & olive b5 notebook. supplies include: mildliners in the colors vermillion, dark blue, beige, & gray; a black papermate flair, a white gellyroll pen in size 08, and stabilo pens in gray and brown. oh, & a piece of masking tape, bc i couldn't find any clear tape lol

#omgcp #bullet journal #i did so many good themes in my b5 journal but i'm pretty sure this one's my favorite

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pandoa · 1 year

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it's the little things: III

the little things they do for you

~feat. heartslabyul~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

~headcanons~ part 1│part 2│part 3

ace trappola saves you a seat wherever you two may go—though that doesn’t make him any less of a pain in the ass about it. in class, the cafeteria, library, or even your own dorm room, ace makes it his personal obligation to (1) save you a spot beside him, and (2) piss you off in the process. it's not like the seat wasn’t meant for you, but ace felt that he needed a much more entertaining way to save it for you. from draping a lazy leg over your seat just as your body finds its way into the chair to placing random—but overall harmless—items onto the cushions of your seat, he’ll do almost anything to mess with you. your reactions are just too priceless.

"Ah... class is finally over..."

"I thought Trein's lecture would never end! I am exhaus— Hm?"

"Oh, hey, (Y/n). What's up?"

"I... took your spot? Nah, I don't think I saw anyone sitting here before~ You're imagining it."

"Besides, my legs seem really comfortable here; I don't think I could move even if I wanted to."

"There's an open spot on the ground, though; you could sit there if you wa— Ouch! Okay, okay, I get it! I'll scooch over!"

"Just stop hitting me for Seven's sake!"

deuce spade unconsciously picks up your mannerisms. whether it be the certain phrases you say or the carefree way your hands seem to wave at the sight of him, deuce begins to mimic it all. he doesn’t even notice it until ace irritatedly points it out after a sickeningly oblivious “study session” with you and the other first years as the majority of the time was spent watching the two of you—each both more dense than the next. it wasn’t too difficult to catch on, really, but some part of deuce hopes that you hadn’t caught on just yet. he wishes to face his feelings properly, so perhaps give him a little more time, yes?

"Wait, so... in the history of magic, the fae began to progress their own kingdom... when?"

"Uh... let's see. It should obviously be sometime before the war between the fae and humans, that's a given, but... Huh?"

"What's up? Is there something wrong, (Y/n)?"

"We're both just sitting the exact same way—? Oh... yeah, I guess we are."

Deuce looked down only to notice the similar way your hands would fidget in sync with his. Oh, great. Now we're both twirling our pens the same way; I need to stop before this starts getting a little weird for them—

"U-uh! It's probably just a coincidence! Yeah!"

"No deeper meaning to it... totally."

cater diamond sets his phone aside when talking to you. he may be the type to practically be attached to his phone twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; however, that doesn’t mean he lacks any self control when around you. even he knows that time is precious and that the memories he shares with you would come to be much more valuable than checking the likes of his latest magicam post. flipping over his screen to face the back of his phone, cater’s attention is entirely on you, and you alone. although, he might pull it out for a quick pic with you as you two are hanging out wherever you are. could you blame him, though? the view of you and him in the same camera frame was just too pretty for a sight to skip out on~

"(Y/n)! You made it~ I think you had something to tell me, right?"

"Nope, you weren't interrupting anything! Just posted a last-minute story on magicam—nothing too important."

"Just go on with whatever you wanted to tell me. I'm listening."

"Oh... my phone's ringing? They can wait, hehe."

"Keep going~ My full attention's only on you."

trey clover never fails to give you a small treat—be it a homemade piece of candy or pocket-sized sweets—each day he sees you. at first, it starts as a matter of chance. one day he happened to have a petite sample of a new recipe he’d been experimenting with and saw you as the perfect taste-tester of the newest treat. but as one day turned into another, trey found that he never failed to keep a sugary dessert inside a pocket or two of his uniform, each one different every day. he just enjoys the way your face seems to light up at the sight of the sweets gently being placed into the palms of your hands.

"(Y/n), here's the book you left back at Heartslabyul yesterday. Make sure to remember it next time, haha."

"It's no problem. Oh, yes, and—"

"I baked these miniature pies yesterday after you and Grim came over for the Unbirthday. They're candied, too, so they might be to your liking."

"It's no trouble! I'm glad you seem to like the smaller things I bake."

"It's nice to see whenever you enjoy my cooking, in all honesty."

riddle rosehearts is more lenient on you when regarding the dearest queen’s rules. he doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose, though—no, no. all of his words and actions, to him, are all acts of respect and common courtesy for the dear prefect. you’ve encountered so much; the most he could do is show you respect as well, yes? like deuce, everyone but him tends to notice it and it truly messes with everyone’s minds. clearly an act of favoritism, all the students of heartslabyul grow envious of riddle’s much more lax treatment towards you. riddle may be fond of you, but why did they have to get the short end of the stick???

"And what do you all think you're doing eating a tart so guiltlessly?"

"Rule number 089: Never eat a tart without the Queen's permission. I do not remember giving any one of you permission to eat a tart today."

"Such violations will not go unpunished."

"Oh... the prefect is here, too? Well..."

"They are in no part of the Heartslabyul dorm and, in fact, lead their own dorm as well. We are—in some way—equals from differing dorms."

"No, I am not just conjuring excuses! Stop this nonsense, or off with your head!"

a/n: ace was one of those kids who’d pull on another kid’s pigtails or ponytail back in elementary school i just know it

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spaceacealex · 15 days

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Trip report!!

For those that have been waiting, sorry! I got home and immediately had to go help with a family thing. But here it is!

First, was the obvious. We had to drop off the baby boy with my parents. He had a great time with the family and was very dirty, stinky, and sleepy when we got back.

So where were we? We went to see the eclipse! As many of you know, My wife proposed to me under totality in the 2017 solar eclipse. So she surprised me with time off to travel to this last one on 4/8!

We flew to Nashville, TN and rented a car so I could scratch my road trip itch. We visited her family in KY, then went up to Cairo, IL for the event.

THIS is the public library in Cairo. It's an absolutely darling building, built originally to be a library and still proudly serving that purpose. The gals who were manning the counter were sweet, knowledgeable, and so welcoming. They had goodie bags with moon pies and starbursts and collected the eclipse glasses when we were done with them so they could be sterilized and sent down to Mexico for the next eclipse. So lovely to talk with and they welcomed us to spend the eclipse on their lawn with some local families. So we did!

We had a little picnic, chatted with some of the families, and got to watch totality in a tiny little town with so much character I still smile just thinking about it.

Hopefully you don't expect us to have top tier eclipse photography lol, but these are great for us! I got to kiss my wife under totality and it was hella romantic.

Then I got to drive more....then Kara got to drive because there were a ton of accidents and the three hour drive back to Nashville took more than six hours. So uh, my motion-sick self was struggling with the stop and go traffic.

But when we got there, we had a great night and then day walking around Eastside Nashville and pointing out the arcades I was going to take Kara to that evening.

That didn't quite happen.

Because the first stop we made in the arcade crawl is where we stayed all night.

No Quarter, the pinball arcade I now have a hat for because it's so friggin cool. We got to do many cool things there. 1)They had excellent drinks and in true Oregonian fashion I got to try the local cider and judge it. (it was good!) 2) I kicked Kara's ass at pinball. Very important. 3) I got MY ass kicked at pinball by literally every other person in the building. Also very important. Because 4) I got to play in a pinball tournament hosted by Belles and Chimes, specifically for women and non binary folks!

How did I, notorious nerves-haver and not a multiplayer pinball player join this?

5) I got to meet Quinn Hills. You know, @quinnhills ? Yeah. I'm still so giggly about it.

Hi. This pic is me, many drinks in, just absolutely giddy getting to meet (and hug!!) one of my favorite artists.

She's so sweet, so kind, and asked if I wanted to join the tournament.

Remember: do what beautiful women ask of you.

I am still kicking myself because I dropped the cliche, "your music has helped me through some really hard stuff." I mean, its absolutely true!! But I had told myself I was gonna be more eloquent than that. Oh well. I would blame the cider, but I was super excited and nervous before that, so I think I'm just a little goofy.

Kara also was happy to meet the woman who's music I had been blaring for that whole six plus hour car ride back to Nashville, and she's agreed to play pinball with me at our home bar! Major win!

We stayed until one in the morning, Kara ordered pizza to the hotel, and we had safe flights back home the rest of the day.

It was such a fun trip and I'm still losing my mind at all the little bits of it.

When I stream next (soon) I'm sure you'll hear about all this again. Along with my breakdown of eclipse conspiracies I've spent far too much time analyzing. <3

#talking tag #quinn hills

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k0droid · 10 months

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megumi and reader

a/n: it's currently 1:29am. all my drabbles are written at night oof | thank yall for 98 likes | thanks for 157 likes <3

tw: megumi likes you, fluff, gn reader (referred to as 'you'; i chose pink bcuz i like pink), swearing, gojo jumpscare 💔

fushiguro megumi would describe himself as a neutral, calculating man. he’s not the one to get touchy-feely and closes himself off - even to his best friends.

so why is he such a stumbling mess around you?

maybe it’s the way you smile at him. the way you beam at him makes his heart skip beats. you’d cheese at him as if he didn’t just call you a nuisance.

maybe it’s the way you remember his interests whenever he mentions them.

“hey fushiguro! yuji told me you like my little pony! who’s ya favorite outta the mane six?” (it’s twilight. he’ll make sure to whoop itadori’s ass for revealing that to you.)

maybe it’s the way you’ll sit and talk to him for hours on end, explaining the lore to your favorite indie horror game. fushiguro, though he tries not to show it, is hooked on your every word.

however, he’s so confused why you’re friendly to someone like him.

megumi is well aware that he’s not the easiest person to like. and he’s fine with that. This irritable boy is not a jujutsu sorcerer to make friends.

but when you’re around, all of that is out of the window.

suddenly it’s a tuesday night and fushiguro is lounging next to you on a couch. the lights are dimmed and Home Alone is playing on the tv. he just had to mention he’s never seen the movies before.

“you WHAT?! b-but it’s a classic! how could you have never seen it? this is a crime! come,” you grasp his hand firmly and start leading him downstairs, “you gotta see it with me!”

and here you two are. megumi is grateful towards whatever force or deity prevented him from watching the movie earlier. kevin is way too sadistic to be an eight year old. by the end of the movie, dude can’t help but feel bad for the robbers.

yo ass cackled to every dangerous stunt that kid pulled so maybe it’s just him.

fushiguro makes a move to get up but he notices a weight on his shoulder. he looks down and see your sleeping face. no way he was too engrossed in a movie to not notice the love of his life you slumped on him. he doesn’t wanna leave you here but he’d much rather be in the comfort of his own room-

poor boy just about has a heart attack when he hears you mumble “gumi don’t leave yet…”

damn it. the way you cling onto his arm has his chest pounding so bad he’s almost afraid you can feel it through his body.

megumi curses under his breath (“fuck…so cute”) and returns to the sofa. he waits for you to go back to sleep - which you did - but he ends up falling asleep with you. he’ll never admit it but he did enjoy the time spent with you and nothing could ruin it for him.

...

scratch that. gojo walked in on you two, looking for a romcom to cry himself to sleep to. he snapped a couple of pics and left all giggly n shit. satoru is definitely going to use them as blackmail.

unfortunately, gojo is fushiguro’s wingman.

a/n: the ending was kinda rushed but i hope you enjoyed. if this gets enough likes, part two will center around wingman! gojo and gumi.

tags: idk? lemme know if you wanna be tagged

#prettygyalpluto #anime #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #gn reader #gojo jumpscare #black writer #black reader #x black reader

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sunnynwanda · 4 months

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Under the influence: Part 2

Part 1

As per popular demand, couldn't leave this one without a part 2 :) I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: suggestive? perhaps, enemies with benefits, jealousy.

Villain was never the smothering type. They weren't needy, clingy or possessive. They never got attached and certainly were not one to get jealous. They would be pegged as indifferent and detached, if anything. They hated feeling suffocated by unwanted attention and trapped in endless power plays, so they distanced themself enough to make their stance clear. In other words, Villain didn't do relationships.

But this time was different. Their night with Hero evolved into something they were not anticipating. At first, the whole enemies-with-benefits situation seemed like a good idea. Both of them needed an outlet from their daily lives and struggles - and what better way to do that than fucking out the built-up tension? And it worked well. Too well, if they dare say.

Hero's birthday was three months ago, though it felt much longer than that. Their days went by in a grey haze while the nights blurred into something akin to a nightmare. They met up once or twice a week. Those were the only days that Villain remembered clearly. It felt like they were constantly drunk, only sobering up for the few hours that they spent in Hero's bed. Always in secret, of course. Hero had a reputation to uphold - being seen so much as talking with Villain would be a disaster. Publicity mattered more.

Which was the exact reason for Hero's official date today. And no, Villain did not give a damn about the arm candy that hung onto Hero like their life depended on it. If their sweet smiles and exaggerated giggles made Villain sick in the stomach, it had nothing to do with Hero. Villain despised public displays like that, simple as that. They knew the annual reception was coming up - and Hero needed someone to take. Again, for publicity. The few dates they had sparked discussions, which was what their PR team was building drama for - a red-carpet moment.

Villain huffs, annoyed that Hero cancelled on them for the ditz they were fake dating. Yes, they had every right to date whoever they liked. It's not like Villain had any claim over them or anything. But it still stung. They tried to convince themselves that it was their pride, but the dull ache of their chest spoke otherwise. They slammed a hand over their heart, willing it to shut up.

"I thought you had plans," Hero's voice interrupts their inner monologue rather harshly.

Villain whips around, eyebrows rising. "What are you doing here?" Hero shrugs, sitting down on the cold concrete of the roof Villain was occupying. "Though you had a date?"

Hero nods, mind absent as they trail their eyes over Villain's forced smile and strained jaw. "I did. It ended."

"That soon?" Villain cringes when the question comes out, flooding their throat with rising bile. They intended it to sound sarcastic. It's pathetic how badly they fail to control their emotions.

Hero chuckles, oblivious to the tribulations of their archnemesis. "Took some pics at the bar and walked them to their door."

They don't understand why Villain even wants to talk about something this insignificant. They'd prefer to be kissing them by now, like they always do on this roof.

"That's barely even a date," Villain comments, their voice bitter with something they've not deciphered yet. It's neither jealousy nor anger, the taste more reminiscent of... disappointment? They don't know.

"As long as it counts with the press. Wouldn't wanna waste my whole evening," Hero replies, eyes trained on the city lights. After a moment of silence, they turn to face Villain. "Do you have time? I know I cancelled, but I'm here now."

"What, your contract doesn't cover sex?" Yeah, definitely disappointment. They pray Hero won't question it. "I don't have time, though. I've got places to be and people to rob."

"Hey, are you mad at me?" Hero finally seems to be using their brain, but Villain is nowhere near being happy about it.

They curse under their breath and attempt to salvage the situation by acting dumb. "Why would I?"

"I- you seem off and..." They stop mid-sentence, stepping back into the shadows to avoid being seen when they see a reporter crossing the street.

'Course, publicity over everything," Villain bites their tongue a little too late. They shouldn't have said that. They have no right or reason to feel hurt. And yet they do.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hero steps towards them, about to get hold of their hand, but Villain withdraws it.

"Nothing," with that, they leave, deserting Hero on the cold roof.

Hero is left lost in thought. They keep replaying the conversation to try and make sense of what happened but fail to see the pattern of their behaviour, albeit unwilling, that caused the change in their dynamic with Villain. They are exhausted from the constant role they are forced to play, and Villain is the only escape they have - or, had, as it seems they will now be deprived of it, too.

Hero was in despair. Between patrolling the streets, constant nagging for interviews, fake dating and not seeing Villain other than for battle for two whole weeks, they felt overwhelmed and utterly helpless. It was too much - everything happening at once, urgent demands after pressing requirements after persistent responsibilities. They felt like a caged animal and had no one to blame - all of it was their fault. Thus, Hero was losing their sanity, and the one person that had the ability to ground them wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Another thing that was entirely their fault.

And if all of that was not enough, they had to attend the stupid reception that the mayor was hosting.

"Just my luck," they mumble, struggling with their hair, as their fingers tremble with unreasonable irritation.

They know it's not a big deal, they've been through the same kind of event a dozen times before. Today wasn't gonna be any different. They'll have a glass of ridiculously expensive champagne, force a smile here and there, nod and look invested when someone talks, take pictures for the press and leave as soon as they can. Even if their mind races back and forth, not allowing for a moment of quiet.

Needless to say, by the time their car stops in front of the city hall, Hero is on edge. They are attacked by flashing cameras and a billion questions fired at them as they walk through the doors, ignoring everyone. A glass is pressed into their hand as they enter, the mayor appearing by their side in a matter of seconds. The evening proceeds as predicted until a painfully familiar voice invades their wandering mind.

"Where's your date?" Hero attempts to turn but a firm hand prevents them from moving.

"Villain." The sigh of relief that escapes Hero is audible even over the music. The can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of their lips. God, they missed that voice. "I came alone."

"Hm?" Villain quirks an eyebrow, rounding them to stand face to face to their beautiful yet miserable archnemesis. "How come?"

"You're talking to me now?" Hero looks at them with barely contained contempt. They want to yell at Villain for ignoring - better yet, abandoning them. But that would imply admitting they were in pain.

"Excuse me? I've talked to you plenty." Villain tilts their head, lying through their teeth, but Hero sees right through them.

"No, you have not," their voice is scornful, eyes fixed on their fingers gripping the glass until their knuckles turn white.

"What, did you miss me?" Villain knows it's a poor attempt at mockery when their heart is leaping up their throat.

"I did," Hero admits, as if it's perfectly ordinary for them to say. In their mind, it is. "Why do you look surprised?"

Villain shakes their head, flabbergasted at the path their conversation has taken. The music grows louder as people start flooding the dance floor. "Why would I?"

"Don't give me that bullshit again," Hero pleads, their gaze searches Villain's face for answers but upon not finding anything, they stretch their hand towards them, opting for a different route. "Dance with me?"

"What?" Villain meets their eyes, their expression incredulous. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Perhaps I am," Hero leads them to the center of the room, ignoring the immediate stares and whispers. They are done with hiding. "I've missed talking to you," they murmur into Villains ear as they draw them closer by the waist, "and holding you."

Villain can't breathe, their lungs contracting in their chest at the feeling of Hero's palm against their back. "Did someone spike your drink again?"

Hero shakes their head no, prompting Villain to focus on them. They notice everyone's attention and their manager freaking out in the corner.

"Hero, people are watching." Villain can't tell if Hero is sound of mind at this point, but they still try to reason with them.

"So?" Hero winks before dipping them back. It's an act of rebellion, Villain assumes, barely suppressing their smirk. Fucking finally.

"There are reporters," they point half-heartedly, amusement creeping into their voice.

Hero lets out an exasperated huff but when they speak, their tone is firm and determined. "I don't give a damn about reporters. I need you."

"But what about..?" Villain's question is cut short by Hero's lips pressed against theirs. Their lips part at the suddenness of it, and Hero uses the opportunity to slide their tongue into their mouth. A few gasps and a shriek of horror escape the guests but Hero couldn't care less.

When they pull away, Villain's eyes remain closed to keep all of the spectators out of their mind. "Your public image is in shambles now."

Hero shrugs, an ecstatic grin stretches their lips when Villain meets their gaze. They recognise the familiar dangerous sparkle before Villain can utter the words. "Kiss me again?"

"Right here?" They question, stunned by the request because it was Villain - the same Villain that was disgusted by public sentiments. Villain's eyes go blank again, just like they did in Hero's kitchen when they assumed their advances were unwanted. Hero shakes their head frantically to stop their assumptions from forming. "Yes. God, yes."

Hero barely manages to get the words out before capturing Villain's mouth with theirs in a starved kiss. They feel famished, ravenous as they swallow Villain's every gasp. Suddenly Villain doesn't hate PDA anymore. They allow their arms to snake around Hero's waist, holding them close as they resume swaying to their own rhythm. Hero cups Villain's face and drags their lips over their jaw, before leaving a soft kiss under their ear. "Let's get out of here."

Part 1

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @yes-i-am-a-percyjackson-nerd

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filmofhybe · 7 months

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Smallest among Millions - Jake Sim - PT1

synopsis : you know you aren’t well known in your company, but when your company is having a celebration of their 50th anniversary, you went all out, coming out of your comfort zone. Causing your boss - Jake, to admire you more than just you in the office building.

Pairing : jake sim x fem! Reader

genre : Boss x employee AU! , fluff

word count : 815

a/n: listen I know this boss x employee typa story is so overused but I really like these type of story and Jake would fit the boss role sm so yuh🤭 and I’ll be posting part 2 soon! Also my requests is now open! Feel free to drop your ideas and confessions, maybe even some enha pics🫶

part 1 | part 2

“Oh y/n, since you’re still finishing off those papers, maybe you should finish them for me as well. Thank you so much. I will see you tomorrow!” One of your colleague said, as she places another stack of paper onto your desk before walking out. You sighed, staring at the almost finished stack of paper in front of you. Well not anymore because now you have another stack.

And that’s your life, you were always doing your colleague leftover work. It was because you’re too nice to say no. And because they know you’re the smallest among millions of them. Of course, if you have a lower status than your them so you will automatically take over their leftover work as a sign of respect. Don’t want to lose the job now do we?

You continue finishing off their work before handing it to your boss - Jake Sim. Jake was the boss every women in the company falls for, imaging themselves having a little office love with him. Greeting him politely with their hands on their chest if he passes them. Sometimes even messing up their work just to enjoy the little scolding from him. (But ending up throwing you their work to finish off.) But to you, he was just a normal man. A normal business man that’s trying to get all his employees to perfect their work. And you were always the one who perfects it, which makes him admire you.

“Y/N, you should know how much I want to promote you. But if I do, my department will fall apart, I hope you don’t mind staying here a bit longer.” Jake exclaimed while maintaining eye contact with you. You shock your head suggesting you don’t mind staying in the department longer. His eyes lit up from your answer before handing you back the stack of paper.

“You should come to the party tomorrow. I hope to see you there so I can tell others how good you are at working with me.” He smiled sweetly to you. “I’ll think about it sir.” “Is Jake to you, y/n.” He noted you before sending you off. You grabbed your bag as you left the now dim office. So ready for the weekend. And also the party.

“Mimi I really don't know what to wear.” You particularly yelled into your phone. The day of the party is probably 9 hours before you have to arrive at the exact venue.

“Right so stop stressing out, what about that white dress with sparkly heels? How does that sound?” Mimi asked, hoping to finally get your approval.

“Are you insane? I’m not getting married.” At this point, you want to rip all your hair out from stress. Staring at your closet blankly.

“Oh my god how about that black long dress, with a split hem and black heels. Is the most classic thing on earth. And I know you will devour that fit so hard!” You can tell she threw her hands into the air as she said the last line. So you took out the dress she described and some black heels you spent your whole savings on. The dress fit you so perfectly, it clings to your curves and the heels gave you some height, making you look tall and confident.

You walked into the hotel, thanking the security for holding the door for you. You held onto your purse tightly trying to find the venue.Realizing it was on the top floor, you pressed the elevator button that would take you there. As you stepped out of the elevator door. You told the registrar who you were before stepping inside the venue.

It was such a luxury place, with tall ceilings and big chandeliers. Huge windows allow you to look straight down at the city. Small bar on the balcony as well as in the middle of the venue. You grabbed the champion that was offered to you before walking around the place, not realizing how many people had their eyes on how gorgeous and angelic you looked.

“Y/n!” You turned around, breaking your thoughts, realizing it was Jake who called for you. He was surrounded by a lot of people, who’s now staring at you. This was way out of your comfort zone. But nonetheless you walked over because your boss called you.

You smiled at the other people sweetly as you stood beside them. He put his arm around you before introducing you to them.

“This is y/n, one of my best employee, she is the reason our sales are so high.” He took a chance to praise and brag about his amazing employee. The others were super surprised by his comment.

"Jake, not only do you have a good employee, you even have a pretty one.” One of the women said, flashing you a sweet smile. You thanked them for all their compliments.

Jake was really flattered by the amounts of compliments thrown towards you. Because he knows what they said was true. Your beautiful, smart and hardworking. Getting butterflies everytime he sees you walking into his office with his other employees work in your hand, making him fall for you more. But other than that, he is finally relief that you’re comfortable around more people who works in the office.

Part 2 coming soon🫶

taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @skepvids

To be on my taglist, please comment or reblog to be added :)

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hanayanaa · 8 months

Text

regarding the symbolism of V's glasses:

(plain text in read more)

** addendum: when she gets posessed in the middle/end of episode 5, and she's on the ceiling, her glasses fall off, because...gravity, duh.... but it symbolizes the loss of her true self in that moment, as well as telling the audience it's V that got posessed without having a character say it. the loss of the glasses also represents a loss of innocence, as she's actively being traumatized there, since she's still conscious, but unable to control her body as Solver uses her.

after N gives her back her glasses, she comes back to her senses, therefore returning back to her true self.

oh, the glasses she had during the sentinel fight were the same ones she had during her worker drone days by the way, if you look closely at the frames, the damage is the same! she had them this entire time....

pic 1:

discord message:

idk why but the glasses still on her mutilated fucking body hurts me so bad

like almost a representation of her innocence, or her true self

.....

brain blast

bc every time she has the glasses on or they're shown, she's her true self, or is coming to or revealing her true self

in EP 5 when N puts them on and she slowly comes to, and in EP 6 where she drops her defenses and is genuine to Uzi

(animated emoji of guy slamming the ground)

and the fact she's been carrying them this entire time, her true self never left her

her true self is still there, behind all the layers of hurt and fear, and all her defenses that she puts up

that kind and sweet and shy girl is still there...

the one who loves puppies and blowing bubbles and waving around dumb flags 😭

pic 2:

(replying to previous message i sent saying "ahhh...now that she's lost [her glasses].....")

brain blast..... before she always had them, but she was hiding them on her body, much like she hid her true self in order to protect herself, because she's so scared of everything. But now that she pulled them out and couldn't get them to hide them again, her full self is now always going to be shown, mostly anyway

but the shattering of her glasses means two things:

1) her protective walls coming down, being vulnerable and honest with her friends and teammates

2) her hope and innocence being completely lost. She's in despair. She really, really doesn't think there's any light at the end of the tunnel for her. She's given up. She's given up, and she knows she's either going to be abandoned or die, and that right at that moment, that place of death was the most peaceful option for her solemn scared mind. She would be free from her endless cycle of pain, and her body would be torn apart to never be able to be used agsin. And her teammates no longer care for her, so she's not hurting them by dying in this way, surely. Her and her body are no longer going to be a burden on everyone either. She can finally find peace, her expression at the end is solemn, but in a strange way, hopeful and at peace. Her only hope at that point was to be released from her pain, however.

10.3 hours !!!! 🎉🎉🎉

(referring to the total hours spent literally just ranting about V at that point LOL...it's like at 12 1/2 now)

#fuck u solver i unironically cant stop saying brain blast LMFAOOOO #also V's glasses arent perfectly round #theyre more like errrr droopy downward pointing ovals???#i have similar glasses but theyre pink ive never been more proud to be blind as a bat 💖#v thesis paper #v murder drones #serial designation v #murder drones #absolute solver #murder drones episode 6 #murder drones 6 #murder drones spoilers #probably my magnum opus tbh #THE TUMBLR APP IS SO NOT IDIOT PROOF IT FUCKED UP MY FORMATTING LIKE TWICE AGH #murder drones theory #md v #chia vent #intelligent words

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thegridgoddess · 11 months

Text

Prove It | Charles Leclerc Pt. 7

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x fem!wolff!driver oc

Summary: Charles has a new teammate, but just because she's pretty doesn't mean he's gonna make things easy for her.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, angsty Charles, slow burn till it hits you in the face. Piningggg. George Russell best friend and ultimate mom energy, Lando Norris sibling energy, Pierre Gasly is the worst in this ngl, and Toto Wolff sucks here (not a good dad!). Also did I mention the angst? Remember that this is all purely fictional.

A/N: I kept my promise, didn't I? Also, you guys, it is so difficult to find George Russell pics where he is just NORMAL for these cover images. The man is either always in uniform or shirtless, there is no in between. Still love him though. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 3k

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The sun had already been shining brightly into her room hours well before Riley’s eyes finally cracked open. She sat up with a start and regretted the movement just as quickly. Her head was pounding, but not enough to distract her from the poor decisions made last night. One, by her own doing, the other, well… she had yet to see if it was actually a poor decision.

Kissing Charles was a mistake. She wanted to blame it on the drinks but she knew full well it was her own fault. She couldn’t help it, seeing him standing at her doorstep looking so… so… ugh. He tended to be ugh very often, she thought.

It should have been fun and regrettable in a totally different way than it ended up being. None of her feelings toward the matter helped explain why Charles said what he did. Why did he have to say something so confusing?

I don’t want it simple. I want all of it.

What was that even supposed to mean for them exactly? Was she supposed to suddenly believe that Charles, the man who spent the better part of the season in opposition to her, wanted to be with her? Yeah, right. She’d have better chances of believing Pierre wanted commitment.

At least that’s what she would think if she hadn’t heard the words come out of Pierre’s very mouth this morning during a much-needed distracting make-out session.

He drew her back, looked her in the eyes, and said I wanna do this with you. Let’s do things the right way.

It was absolutely insane is what it was. Had the world completely come off its axis? Charles is cryptic about a relationship with her, which is bizarre in its own right, but then Pierre did the same, which is equally bizarre if not more concerning. But maybe she was the crazy one for agreeing with Pierre.

She slammed back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. She probably would have laid there until the end of time–packing be damned–if it wasn’t for the knock on her door. Hadn’t she had enough visitors at her door recently?

The frown on her face quickly fell away once she saw Lando standing there, water and ibuprofen in hand.

“Thought you might be needing this,” he said, holding them out to her. “George fixed me up hours ago. He gave up on trying to wake you up though and left me in charge of resolving this state,” he gestured to all of her and her bird-nest mess of hair.

She stepped away from the door letting Lando in. “When will George learn to stop tasking people after my well-being? I am perfectly capable of handling myself on my own.” She popped the pills in her mouth and took a gulp of water to wash them down.

Lando had the decency not to disagree with her given the blatant mess she was standing in. He just gave her wide eyes and plopped onto her bed as if it were his own.

“Where is George anyway?” She asked him.

“He’s already off. Mercedes runs a tight schedule and all that.” Riley rolled her eyes, ever opposed to her father’s team. “But if you ask me the only tight-wound thing around here is him. The man has got to learn how to relax.”

“You’re not wrong about that my friend,” she said, pulling out her suitcase. “Anyway, what’s been going on with you? I’d rather not talk about myself right now.” She placed her suitcase on the bed next to Lando.

He gave a wistful sigh and laid back all the way, hands behind his head. “I was talking to this girl recently, but it didn’t go anywhere.”

Riley chuckled slightly. “Well, that might be because your idea of romance is sitting around eating McDonald’s in a hotel room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said unconvinced, “like that’s a problem. You never minded when we did it.”

“Yeah well, that’s because we’re friends and usually hungover when that happens.” She continued tossing clothes into her suitcase. She never had this many clothes to pack before she started going out with Lando and company. A noble sacrifice, she thought.

“Okay, let’s not pretend like you’re an expert in the romance department. I mean, seriously, Pierre?” He asked incredulously. “Come on, the guy is like a walking red flag.”

“Lando,” she chastised and threw a pillow at him, not wanting to have this conversation.

“What?!” He whined, easily catching the pillow and clutching it to his chest. “Not only does he generally seem douchey, but he calls himself ‘tripod’, you know? You have to have seen the video by now.”

“Lando,” she said, this time more playfully, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Oh god, no, please.” He looked mortified. “Don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me that was you.” He didn’t want to see her response, opting to bury his head in the pillow instead.

Riley laughed. “He’s not so bad, is he? I know it can seem that way sometimes, but he can actually be really sweet at times.” Lando peeked out from the pillow only to show a face of disgust, eyebrows scrunched up with a frown in tow.

“Sure, but like, isn’t he known to… sleep around?” He put out there lightly.

“Lando, it’s not cheating if we’re not together, which we are now anyway, so it’s not anything to worry about anymore.” She zipped up her suitcase and stood it up.

“Oh,” he said casually and then jolted up. “Oh! Pierre?! But you– But I thought– Ch–”

“You thought what?” Riley pressed a hand on her hip.

“Nothing,” he said tight-lipped, hands raised innocently.

“Now are you coming or what?” She asked, standing at the door. “Well, I guess it’s you I’m following anyway.”

“What, you don’t wanna take the Ferrari plane back with a certain someone?” Lando asked cheekily.

“Forget it,” she said exasperated. “I’m calling Pierre.” And she took her leave out the door.

“It’s still your first win!” Lando yelled out. “You should be celebrating with your team!”

When he didn’t get a response he whipped out his phone, hoping his call would go through. Lucky for him, either the flight landed, or Mercedes pulled out all of the stops for their flights and the drivers that took them. It was probably the latter.

“Hey, George. We have a problem.”

_____________________________________________________________

The Imola race was canceled so Riley was able to make an early trip home. It had been far too long since she’d seen her Monegasque apartment, but that was to be expected with the job. The place was hardly home anyway. It was barely furnished with personal belongings and had the untouched look of being abandoned even well past Riley’s move-in date.

It was nothing like her home back in America where her mom was. Unfortunately for her, that work commute was just impossible.

She set her suitcase and bags down on the floor. Pierre refused to carry them on the premise of not depriving Riley of a good workout. He claimed to still be a gentleman, however, as he held the door open for her.

“Welcome, I guess,” she said, heaving a little as she gestured around to her apartment. She had the distinct suspicion her suitcase was well over the weight limit for a commercial flight. She vowed to cut back on her packing next time though she had a bit of a reprieve since the next race was here.

“It’s cute,” Pierre said. “Very… nice,” was the word he opted for. Riley didn’t take any offense to it given that she actually didn’t care what Pierre thought about her apartment–she certainly didn’t.

Besides, after a long flight with company present, there was only one thing either of them had on their minds right now–and it did not involve her giving him an Architectural Digest-worthy tour of her home.

They were still standing in the entryway as Pierre picked Riley up and she locked her legs around him, planting a deep kiss on his lips. A light sound escaped from the back of her throat and she momentarily got enough clarity to pull away for a moment.

“Hold on,” she said, hopping off Pierre. He gave her a look of either disappointment or frustration, Riley wasn’t sure which. “Let me go make sure my room isn’t a mess or anything.”

“You think I care whether you have clothes on your bed or not? That wouldn’t stop me, Riley,” he said, hooking a finger under her chin to make her look up at him.

She gave him a quick kiss and pulled away. “Trust me when I tell you, it most definitely would.” Pierre chuckled as she walked further into the apartment.

She walked into a hall and tugged open her bedroom door. The shriek she let out was not due to her bedroom reaching concerning levels of disorganization, in fact, it wasn’t messy at all. No, her shriek was due to the man standing in her way.

The tall Brit stared at her, arms crossed, with daggers in his eyes. George Russell was a force to be reckoned with whenever he was crossed with anyone. Riley would know best–the day she made fun of PowerPoint was one she’d never soon forget. So many nightmares about graphs, she shuddered at the thought. Glares from George were their own form of capital punishment.

“You know, on second thought Pierre,” she said, running out to intercept him in the hall. “It’s been a long flight and I’m actually really tired and want to sleep. Some real sleep,” she added seeing the smirk Pierre gave her. “And by that I mean I sleep here and you sleep in your fancy hotel.”

Pierre gave her a long look before finally sighing and giving in. “Alright, fine,” he said. “But just know that I’m beginning to believe you store bodies in there.”

“What?!” She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. “No bodies in there. So silly,” she forced herself to cough out. “Okay! See you later! Bye!” She said all at once, closing and locking the door after Pierre.

After a moment of heavy breathing, she yelled out, “What the hell, Russell?!”

“You what the hell?!” he said in retort and almost magically appeared before her. Seriously, George in a mood was not to be messed with. “Pierre?! I don’t even have time to go into all of the reasons why that is a horrid idea. Horrid!”

“Oh, what? Didn’t have time to make the PowerPoint just yet?” Riley couldn’t help herself, but that didn’t stop her from wincing at the cutthroat glare George threw her. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions, George!”

“Well obviously! They’re just really bad ones!” he threw his arms up. He paused for a moment, his tone growing softer. “Come on, Riley. This isn’t you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on!” She claimed. “Can’t I just have fun? Don’t I deserve fun?”

“Of course you do, Riles,” George said, caressing one of Riley’s arms in a comforting way. “It just seems like you’re setting yourself up to be hurt, and we care about you, that’s all.”

“We?” Riley pressed on. “Don’t tell me Lando is going to pop out of a closet somewhere.”

“No, no closets,” George laughed, “but he did give me a call concerning enough that made me decide to hop on a plane to Monaco instead of London where I should be,” he said more seriously. “So come on, Riley. You know you can talk to me.”

“Ughhh, fine,” she growled, trudging all the way to her couch and promptly plopping down. There was no getting rid of George once he decided to talk–especially when it comes to feelings. No bottling up anything where he was concerned.

“I talked to Toto,” she admitted. George furrowed his brows in confusion or shock, or maybe a bit of both. She continued on. “It was right after I won in Miami. I went to go see him because I stupidly got it into my head that maybe this time he would care. Maybe this time he would look at me and finally see something worth looking at.”

George gave her a pained expression, but he didn’t interrupt. “He wouldn’t even look at me. He was more upset that his drivers didn’t win than proud that it was his daughter who did.” She didn’t even notice the tears slipping from her eyes down her cheek until George was wiping them away.

It was a long moment before either of them said anything again. “Yeah, well, he’s a bit of a prat anyway.” Through her tears, Riley couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you just call my father, your team principal, a ‘prat’?”

“Yes,” he said, standing tall and proud. “I’ve quite taken to calling people prats, I’ll have you know. It really gets through to them I think.”

Riley gave a full-bellied laugh at the faraway look George got in his eyes as if seriously contemplating the matter. “Oh, George. What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know for sure,” he started. “But I think you’d be a lot more prat-like.” They both laughed at that.

“You’re right about Pierre,” Riley admitted with a heavy sigh. “I’m just with him because it’s fun and easy.”

“Oh thank god, so you don’t love him,” George breathed out in relief more to himself than to Riley.

“What? Love him? George, are you feeling alright?” Riley made a show of putting her hand on his forehead. “Besides, I think it annoys Charles and that’s always fun.”

The next voice who speaks almost gave Riley a heart attack. “Annoys? I think anguish, torment, is more of the ballpark you should be in,” Lando says, popping out of the half-bathroom by the living room.

“Oh my god!” She says smacking George on the back of his head. “You said he wasn’t hiding around here!”

“No, I said he wasn’t hiding in a closet,” George said as if the point merited value.

“We are all going to have a conversation about privacy and consent in the very near future,” Riley huffed, embracing Lando after also giving him the same loving treatment she just gave to George.

“Hey!” Lando cried out, caressing the back of his head. “I’m not the one cruelly punishing the guy who loves me.”

George stared at him with wide eyes, gaping, but Riley merely waved it off, not taking him seriously. “Pierre doesn't love me,” Riley said plainly.

“I wasn’t talking about Pierre. Ow!” This time it was George who hit Lando upside the head.

“What are you talking about?” Riley asked, growing curious.

“Oh nothing, just that Ch–”

“How do you even know about that?!” George stopped Lando before he could say any further. “I didn’t even tell you!”

“Mate, you didn’t have to,” Lando said with an all-knowing aura about him. “I was right there.”

“No, you weren’t!” George said incredulously, seriously rethinking his choice of friends.

“Uh, yeah I was,” Lando said. “I was literally sitting on your other side. And frankly, I think it’s quite rude that neither you nor Charles said hello.”

George was left speechless, rethinking his entire life now, but next to him, so was Riley.

“Charles?! You think Charles is in love with me?! That’s– Well that’s just–” Riley started.

“Honey, I don’t ‘think’ I know. I know so,” Lando corrected. “He said it himself. Tell her George.”

Riley looked to George for clarification, but the other Brit was staring at the floor as if there was something of interest to find in the wood.

“Have you all gone insane?” She cried out. “There’s no way that Charles–my teammate who hated me not that long ago–is all of a sudden in love with me.”

“George, back me up here,” he nudged the other boy, but George just glared at Lando ruefully.

“You guys talked with him about this?” Riley asked in disbelief.

“What happened to privacy and consent, Riley?” George pleaded apologetically, but it was all the confirmation Riley needed.

“We’re talking about the same Charles, right? Last name: Leclerc, also hotter than the sun itself?” Riley was losing it.

“Yup. The one and the same,” Lando nodded helpfully.

“Oh dear,” Riley said, putting her head in her hands.

“Oh dear indeed,” George said supportingly, rubbing his temples to fight off an oncoming headache.

“What’s the big deal, you guys?” Lando asked nonchalantly. “It needed to be said. We can’t risk you falling in love with Pierre after all.”

“And you choose now to tell me?” Riley gave her own look of exasperation at Lando.

“Well I wasn’t going to say anything, but now that we know the whole Pierre thing isn’t real, it means Charles has a shot. And honestly, it breaks my heart thinking about how he must be feeling right now.” Lando had the audacity to start actually getting choked up.

“Out, both of you!” Riley yelled at them. She needed time to think, alone.

Lando headed for the door in an instant.

“Actually, Riley, I was hoping I could crash with you since…” George trailed off at the face Riley was making. “Right! Lando, let’s go to yours, yeah?”

Lando nodded frantically and the two all but ran out of her apartment.

How could any of this be true? She began to spiral in her thoughts on the couch. This didn’t mean things had to change. In fact, she didn’t have to do anything about this information. These were Charles’ feelings, she wasn’t obligated to react to his emotions.

Except that there was a twisting feeling in her stomach she didn’t know what to do about. Even though she didn’t have to do anything about it, maybe she still wanted to.

No. No. What about Pierre? She had him to think about. They were together now and it wouldn’t be fair of her to break things off without even giving him a proper chance. He deserved that much at least before she went to sort things out with his best friend.

Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. Pierre. All she had to focus on was her relationship with Pierre.

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A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to be added to the taglist for all future chapters!

Taglist: @leclercwifey @hihiroc511-blog @omnesmorimur3 @siovhanroy @charlesswife @chilifanacc @satanfinalgirl @nikolaisblog @91vhs @dr3lover @onlyonetifosi @chiliwhore @nataliambc @livster @celine-xox @mrsmaybank13 @peachiicherries @purplephantomwolf @leclerc13 @deepestkpoponanime @moonclaine

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