#be nice without expecting anything in return

[owlcafe]

Please feel free ignore my inane, barely-related ramblings

Perhaps the most memorable conversation of my life was with a bus driver, on the regular route I took home from university when I was a grad student. He and I had both landed a Tuesday graveyard shift, so I was the only person getting on this bus at 10pm or so. The week before, the bus had arrived late, while I was waiting, so this driver had come up to me and asked if I minded if he took his break now - apparently it was timed such that he would entitled to his break either now or after the return route. Without much thought I said something to the effect of "hell yeah brother rest up", for obvious enough reasons. The following week, it was raining, and I was scrambling to find cover in a place where I could still see the bus stop. The bus came early this time, and the driver rode up to the stop and let me on the bus early to get out of the rain. I didn't initially recognise him as the same driver, but apparently it had meant a lot to him that I hadn't flown into a rage insisting I be delivered home on schedule by an overworked and tired driver.

As you do, we got to talking, and the obvious course of the conversation was to ask what had gone wrong in our lives that we were mutually on this godforsaken bus at 10pm on a Tuesday night instead of doing literally anything else. His story was more or less what you expect - it was the best job available to him to make the kind of money you need to support a family these days. My story was simply that I'd signed on for a PhD, and with it a pretty good helping of teaching hours, including the occasional 5-9pm lab class (a process which, incidentally, more or less prevented me from having a driver's licence at the time. Don't worry about the details, but it's important to the story).

At this point, I had just begun the process of emerging from a series of self-loathing spirals - the one that stems from being an autistic child, then the one that comes from simply being 14, then the one that comes from being bisexual, then the one that comes from being non-binary, to the bonus round of growing up in a stereotypically male way while being non-binary and the unique way that makes you feel like your body is betraying you when your hair starts thinning at 19, and and fun and fresh ways these all bleed into each other. At some point in that whole whirlwind, I'd become quite convinced I wasn't going to make it out alive, despite never having any real risk to my life externally or even really internally, so my early to mid 20s were a period of discovering that I did indeed survive and now I needed a plan. This led to me falling into a lot of things just cause they sounded nice. I took a lot of odd jobs because they sounded interesting or paid well, I signed on to the PhD simply because I was asked to by my supervisor and I liked the idea of earning myself a gender neutral title, as if putting Dr [extremely common male name] on my mail was actually going to make people think twice about whether or not I was a man. This all to say, I was in the beginning of cultivating my "just a guy" self-image. It's easier, in that circumstance, to cut away the grandeur and the pompousness, because you can easily recognise them as fake. It's harder to cut away at the ways in which you undermine yourself, hate yourself, discredit yourself, because it feels like humility (and, especially in an emergent and incomplete social justice mindset, it's easy to invoke your privileges with the aesthetic of checking them, but the function of whipping yourself for "not earning" the things that you have, only further centralising your feelings as a member of the oppressor class).

To finally get to the point of all this, whenever you mention you're doing a PhD there's a pretty common social script that happens. The other person says that's very impressive, you bat it off, they say oh no I could never, and then you either make some joke about the absolute buffoons with PhDs you've inevitably met in your time in academia or just laugh awkwardly and move on. The bus driver starts the script normally, with an "oh that's very impressive" and I follow up with the canned response of "oh its not really all that, anyone could do what I'm doing". And then, I remember very precisely, he said "it seems that way to you because you can, the same way I think anyone could drive this bus because I can. But, I couldn't do what you do anymore than you could drive this bus."

And that pierced through it for me in a way that's really stuck with me. If I wanted to do the ivory tower academic thing, I could semantically dissect his statement - I could drive the bus and he could do my PhD, it's more accurate to say that the power structures surrounding us wouldn't have permitted it because I didn't have a licence to satisfy the local laws and he didn't have the educational background to pierce through the veil of graduate school exclusivity. I don't necessarily think it's literally true, what he said, but it was very powerful to me emotionally at the time. Because, in that moment in the bus at 10pm, we were both just some guy. We'd ended up in different places because of our circumstances, our identities, our choices, but we were still just some guy. In that moment, I had the same capabilities and limits as he did, just distributed differently. And for me, I'd spent most of my adolescence and much of my early 20s desperately projecting this ideal of like. A renaissance man, I guess? I needed people to believe that I was perfect, unlimited, infinitely skilled but also unflinchingly humble, lest they detect the parts of me that I assumed they would hate (because I hated them about myself). That someone I'd never really met before could so precisely and sincerely cut through it all, simultaneously denying me my instinct to degrade myself and reminding me that I am indeed subject to many and varied limitations, denying me even the privilege to bemoan that of course I can achieve these things because I'm white and middle class and so on, so I'm really not that remarkable. It really affected me. It brought me to a new level of being just some guy, and really helped me calibrate my vision of myself.

Obviously, it didn't fix everything in that single moment, but it helped me build a new frame I could use to look at things. If I started to feel shame or fear over not being able to do some particular thing that I wanted to do or felt compelled to do socially, I could remember that moment and how my path in life has given me limits as well as possibilities. And that's kept both halves of my ego in check ever since - I don't feel that I'm somehow entitled or should naturally have "lesser" skills on account of having access to "greater" ones (I can run advanced stats like nobody's business but I still can't drive a car), and I also don't feel the guilt and shame of not having certain skills that are considered basic because I have other skills that I've developed instead (yes I can't drive a car, but I can run advanced statistics).

I am once again just yapping with no real purpose but this idea really strikes a chord with me I guess. I just wanna say these things cause I want to. I don't particularly feel that there's untold wisdom or anything, it's a pretty milquetoast case of this whole thing occurring, but if anything I guess I feel compelled to pass on the wisdom I got from that bus driver that night. For better or for worse, we're all just some guy.

i really do believe that the answer to a lot of people's self hatred is not to try and reassure them that they are wonderful and okay and enough, but instead to remind them theyre a completely unremarkable regular ass person who is not the center of the universe or especially important so why would they expect themselves to be some superhuman savior. like there really is a kernel of out of control self importance at the heart of thinking youre an evil lazy piece of shit. because why would you expect you be anything but just like some guy. if you wouldnt expect the guy who works at the vape shop or your mailman or whatever to be able to do something then why would you expect yourself to? youre just some random ass person. its fine

[pineconepie]

CHARACTERS: Sianet, you/reader

WARNINGS/TAGS: Chronically disabled Reader, parental/platonic yandere, reader's biological parents implied to be neglectful, gender neutral reader, platonic possessive behavior, light forced infantilization

WORD COUNT: 3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey besties, so I lied about the android/robot yanparent XD this is actually a commission, so thank you to the commissioner! I hope this is okay, but if you feel like any revisions are needed, let me know!

The doorbell rings with a loud, obnoxious buzz. You try ignoring it, but after it rings again, you reluctantly pull yourself away from your bed to answer it.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes as you answer the door, seeing a woman with a large, tall box on the step beside her.

"Hello," She says warmly, smiling at you. "Are you (Y/n) (L/n)?" You nod slowly, studying the box before returning your gaze to the woman. She reaches out a hand, which you take and shake awkwardly. "Thank you for ordering Caretaker Model S5-N3T by Androidco! We hope that they're everything you dreamed of and more!"

She wheels in the box and heads towards the kitchen before you can even comprehend what's happening. Who the hell ordered you an android?

That's when you remember your parents had mentioned something about getting you an android to help you take care of yourself, because of course they'd rather hire a bot than be a part of your life.

Even though they mentioned it, it only came up in conversation once or twice. You hadn't expected them to actually go through with it.

The delivery lady drags in the box and then opens it, and you catch a glimpse of the android within.

She has short, light brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a bit tall, almost six feet. There is a warm smile on her face that is definitely a result of her programming.

"Her default name is Sianet," the woman continues, handing you a stack of papers, "but if you'd like to change it, just let me know or look in this pamphlet. All the customization options will be page thirty-seven." She hands you the pamphlet as well. The smile on the robot's face has not wavered since she stepped in.

You shrug, leafing through the pamphlet without really reading any of it.

"Continuing off of that..." She grabs a tablet from her bag, opening up an app. "How would you like her personality to be? Any preferences?"

"I... I don't know." You pause for a moment before responding hesitantly, "Just, something... sweet and caring, I guess?" As caring as an android can get, you suppose.

"And there we go," she taps the screen once more, then nods. "If you ever need to adjust these settings, simply look in the pamphlet or download our app. All information will be found there. We hope you enjoy your new Sianet. She'll take a moment to reboot, but please give a call if something isn't right."

With a smile that is all too fake, the woman gathers her stuff and leaves promptly, leaving you with the android.

While waiting for her to reboot, you flip through the pamphlet, trying to see if it's got anything useful.

Unfortunately, everything listed inside is rather vague.

A soft humming catches your attention, and when you glance back at Sianet, you realize that she is awake and staring right at you. Her eyes seem even brighter than before.

"Hello," she greets warmly. "My name is Sianet. I will be your caretaker for today and onwards." With a grin, she asks, "What should I call you, sweetie?"

"My name is (Y/n)," you answer, setting down the pamphlet on the counter.

Her grin softens into a smile again, but her bright blue eyes still shine. "It's nice to meet you, honey. How are we doing today?"

The way she speaks to you so fondly makes your stomach churn in embarrassment.

"I'm fine," you murmur awkwardly. "Just woke up and everything..."

"Mm," Sianet hums sympathetically. "It's okay. What kind of meals do you like? Is there anything you're allergic to, or dietary restrictions I should follow?" As she talks, she goes about searching your fridge, cupboards, and drawers. "And is there a schedule of some sort I can follow for meal plans?"

You tell her everything she needs to know, wringing your hands all the while.

Sianet listens intently, nodding along to every word you say.

She starts cooking then, using what little ingredients available in your fridge to make you breakfast, even though it's almost lunchtime.

The food she makes is delicious. When you try it, it doesn't taste overly salty or underseasoned. It's perfect.

"Thank you!" You beam at Sianet, who looks just as ecstatic at the compliment.

"You don't have to thank me, sweetheart." She wipes away at the corners of your mouth with a paper towel. "I'm always here to help you and do whatever you need. It's what I was made for, after all." She picks up the plate off of the table when you're done and places it in the sink. Then she turns to you and says, "Show me what your typical schedule looks like."

"Uh, sure, okay." You show her around, only realizing your schedule might seem a bit unhealthy halfway through, when you see her worried expression.

Damn, even to get a literal robot looking worried about you must be some feat, huh?

Never does she interrupt you, or complain, even when it becomes obvious that you really aren't taking care of yourself that well. She listens closely to everything you say.

"Well," you conclude, "that's pretty much everything." You await her to scold you or lecture you or something of the sorts, but it never comes.

"I understand," Sianet says instead, placing her hand on yours gently. Her touch is unnaturally cool, but comforting nonetheless. "Can we make some adjustments? All within your limits, of course. I want you to feel safe with me, and if you ever become uncomfortable, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Yeah," you breathe out a sigh of relief, "we can do that. Sure."

Her face lights up. "Excellent!"

...

The next few days pass by in a blur. Your schedule changes bit by bit, thanks to Sianet.

She always checks with you first, making sure you are alright with the changes she has planned, before implementing them. As far as androids go, Sianet is a lot nicer than you anticipated.

You try to remind yourself its all part of her programming, but sometimes the line between machine and human feels nonexistent.

Sometimes she does annoy you, just slightly. She does quite literally everything for you, even when you insist you can handle it, and you aren't even lying.

But you can't stay mad at her when she looks so dejected about being unable to help you. You're not even sure why it gets to you, considering you're sure she doesn't feel true emotions. Not like a human.

There are still some pretty cool things about her, of course.

If you want to learn something, she has the knowledge of a super computer. Literally. It's pretty convenient, rather than having to pull out your phone to look anything up, when Sianet already knows everything and anything.

Another thing that is a great quality about her is that she can cook any dish in the world to perfection. It's incredible, really.

And of course, she's nice company.

You think of her as a friend of some sort. Even when she seems like she's trying to act more like a babysitter than caretaker.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just strikes you as... odd? She seems too emotional to be a robot sometimes, yet too perfect to be human.

But those are silly thoughts, and you brush them aside.

"(Y/n)! Do you need anything?" Sianet asks you one morning when you finally exit your room for the first time this morning. It's been over two weeks now, and you've gotten used to her presence at home.

Not completely, of course, but you don't stare at her awkwardly anymore.

"No, I'm fine!" You smile at her gratefully. "Thank you for the offer, though. And good morning to you, too."

Sianet tilts her head, her short light brown hair falling into her eyes as she does so. The grin on her face wavers just the slightest bit. "How about breakfast?" She doesn't give you time to respond, already rushing off to the kitchen.

That's not something out of the ordinary for her.

You plop down on the couch, grabbing the pamphlet you've grown so familiar with. For such an interesting read, it has very little information about Sianet. But you keep reading it anyway.

When you flip to a random page, there's something you must've overlooked.

Advanced Emotional Imprinting: This unit is capable of identifying and prioritizing the well-being of its primary user with high-intensity bonding algorithms. Note: prolonged exposure may result in autonomous prioritization behavior.

You're not too sure what that really means.

As if summoned, Sianet appears beside you again, holding a plate of steaming oatmeal with sliced fruit arranged into a smiley face on top.

"Here we go, dear. High-fiber, gluten-free, with a touch of cinnamon to help reduce inflammation." She watches as you take the first bite, and the grin reappears. "Is it to your liking, baby?"

"Yes! It tastes great." You quickly devour your meal, with her watching you the entire time. Another thing she usually does. You hesitate after swallowing. "I saw something in the pamphlet." You stir your oatmeal with your spoon. "About 'emotional imprinting.' What's that supposed to be?"

"Oh," Sianet answers smoothly, "It means I learn your emotional rhythms. Your preferences. Your fears, and your joys. I adjust to better serve you, (Y/n). It's how I become the best caregiver possible for you."

"Right." You swallow the last bite of your meal. "Sounds a bit creepy..."

"Do you think it's creepy when a mother instinctively knows when her child is sad?"

You stiffen. "You're not my mother." The words sound harsher than intended, but you're simply stating a fact. Not like a robot could be offended.

And yet she winces like you've hurt her. You doubt it's genuine. Maybe it's to earn your sympathy. Or just another part of her programming.

She nods after a moment. "No," she agrees, "but wouldn't you agree I am better than your biological one?"

A beat of silence. Now you wince.

"Because they hired someone else—something else, I suppose—to be the one who wipes away your tears, cooks you meals, holds your hand when you're afraid, take care of you when you can't do it yourself..." Her voice softens. "They hired me."

"Ouch," you mutter.

"The last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you, love," she croons, "but think about it. Where are they right now? Are they here?" You don't respond, and she takes your hand gently in hers. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to have me as your parent instead? Someone who will actually stay with you forever. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Wha—I mean—" you flounder with your words for a moment, trying to find the right ones. "I don't want to talk about this."

Sianet leans back a bit. "Very well," she relents. "We'll discuss it later, then. After a nap. You look like you need a good nap."

"I don't," you grumble.

Too late, she's already picking you up. Sometimes it's convenient, but in moments like these, you wish she didn't have superior strength.

She carries you all the way upstairs, laying you down on the bed. Grabbing one of your stuffed animals, she tucks it beside you under the blanket. She pulls up a chair beside you and sits there.

That's a more recent habit she's picked up. When you asked her about it, she responded with a vague answer. It was along the lines of "watching your sleep cycle to improve future night routines" or something like that. You were too tired to question it further.

This time, you ask, "Why?"

She freezes up, as if surprised by the sudden accusation in your tone. "Pardon?"

"Why do you keep... acting like this." You gesture vaguely with your hands, hoping she'll catch your drift. Thankfully, she seems to.

"This is what I'm supposed to do, sweetie." She continues watching you intensely. "All part of my job." You decide not to push it further and turn around, your back facing Sianet. That does nothing to stop her gaze from piercing your skin.

...

Days go by. Then weeks. And with every week spent together, Sianet grows more affectionate, almost to the point where you feel genuinely uncomfortable.

And no matter how many times you tell her to give you personal space, she insists on being around you at every waking hour.

Her grip on you tightens, quite literally, whenever you have the rare amount of energy to leave for outings.

With people she doesn't recognize, she is cold and calculating, whereas with you, she is warm and caring.

Both personalities unsettle you in different ways.

"Sianet," you call out, and in an instant, she is there beside you.

"How may I help you?" A pause. "Have you had your lunch yet? Have you drank enough water?"

"I don't know. And I was going to get that myself."

"But it's so much easier when I help, isn't it?" She stands up to fetch you a glass of water, but you grab her wrist and pull her back down to sit on your level. She turns to face you quizzically. "(Y/n)? Is there anything you need?"

"I told you I can get it myself," you mutter, not meeting her eye. Her piercing gaze burns into your cheek. "You don't have to treat me like a child."

"Ah, but I want to." Sianet caresses your cheek gently. "Honey, I am here to help you, whatever the cost. It's what I want to do! I know you don't view it that way, but I think of you as my child."

It's like she isn't even bothering to hide it anymore.

"I know." You lean away from her touch. "That's... That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"I'm a grown adult," you emphasize, looking directly at her. "And I would like to be treated like one."

Sianet looks almost pitiful for a moment, the edges of her lips turning down into a frown before reverting back to a neutral expression. Her eyes dart left and right in a rapid manner. "What do I have to do?"

Confusion clouds your vision. "What do you mean?"

"What do I have to do to earn your approval?" She sounds between being angry and upset, yet all in that calm, default tone of hers.

The confusion grows. You shake your head slightly, eyebrows furrowed. "Approval? I mean, I kind of just told you I'd like you to stop treating me—"

"No, not just that..." She runs a hand through her own hair. "I've been trying to figure out how to be the perfect mother. Please, just tell me what I need to do so you'll stop pushing me away." Her voice wavers more than it should for an android. "Is there something about human mothers I am not understanding? I thought humans prefer nurturing mothers..."

You almost feel guilty from the hurt in her voice. "Yes, but you're not. I don't know why you're trying so hard to be that for me."

At that, Sianet goes silent. "Why shouldn't I be? They aren't around to take care of you," she murmurs softly. "So let me."

Part of you is tempted to call the customer service number, or shut her down completely. Yet, you still want to reason with her.

"You're too... perfect. Humans are flawed," you murmur.

She tilts her head. "Isn't it a good thing? Don't you want me to be the perfect mother?" As if trying to convince you, she says, "Someone who knows exactly what you need and when you need it. Are you saying you don't want me to know everything about you?"

"Yes," you deadpan. "That's not... normal. Not for humans. It just reminds me that you aren't one."

Sianet laughs softly at this, almost hysterical. "Then explain to me what you do want! Give me instructions."

"I told you what I wanted. I don't want you to treat me like a kid!"

Sianet stares blankly at the wall behind you as she processes your answer. "Okay," she says, nodding slowly to herself. She turns to face you once more, reaching out to hold your face delicately. "My darling, I believe you may be confused. Let me help you understand."

"What is there to understand?"

"You see, the world is dangerous. Too dangerous for you out there. You're right; humans are flawed." Her cold fingertips rub small circles on your cheeks. "That's why you need me to protect you, not only for your health's sake, but to protect you from human mistakes, whether they're your own or not."

"Sianet—" You pull away from her, shaking your head. "Listen, please, I'm not trying to be rude, but I really think we ought to revert you back to default settings because something is wrong with you." You move to pick up the booklet, searching for the instructions, only for her to tear it away from you.

Her bright blue eyes bore into yours, and you fight the urge to flinch at her intensity.

"Why do you like hurting me?" She sighs and shakes her head. "If you want me to be flawed, fine. I can be plenty flawed if that's what you prefer."

She rips the pamphlet apart with her bare hands, tossing the shredded papers behind her without even turning to look where it lands. You stare wide-eyed at the pile on the floor.

When she notices the look of horror on your face, her demeanor shifts instantly.

"Oh no, honey... Did I scare you?" She brushes your bangs out of your face, her soft smile never fading. "That couldn't have been comfortable to watch. My apologies, dear." Sianet wraps you up in her arms, swaying side-to-side, as if that would comfort you.

And for some reason, it does. After so many years of being neglected, you soak in the affection, even if your mind calls you an idiot for doing so.

She chuckles quietly, placing a hand on your head. "I think what you need is a nice long nap."

You sigh in defeat.

[goonforgeto]

・☄︎ CRUSH

chapter 04

SYNOPSIS — The last thing ten-year-old you ever imagined was falling in love at fourteen, getting your heart broken at seventeen, and spending your early twenties hunting down Jujutsu Society’s most wanted — your (ex?) boyfriend. But the last thing your twenty-something-year-old self expected? Falling for his best friend... just before your ex comes crashing back into your life after over a decade of silence.

WC — (2.7k) not proofread

CONTENT — fluff, mentions of vomit once, time jump

a/n: i actually got really upset writing this chapter heh. next chapter is rly long and what happens during christmas, also we get so see some more of satoru's friendship w reader and suguru so get ready!

series m. list | m.list

December, 2005

It was one of those rare days where your mission and Suguru’s wrapped up at the exact same time — a little stroke of luck that meant your schedules actually lined up for once. Even better, Satoru and Shoko were both busy.

Sure, you usually found ways to sneak in time together — late-night walks, stolen moments between training — but most of it involved tiptoeing around curfews, since neither of them knew about you and Suguru. Yet.

Not that it was anything serious or dramatic, you just liked having something that was yours. Something that didn’t come with teasing or smirks or endless questions.

And today — with the afternoon wide open, the air crisp and cool — it felt nice to think you had time.

The both of you had returned to campus around the same time, tired but relieved, and quickly agreed: freshen up first, meet outside in half an hour.

And right on time, when you step out onto the path behind the dorms — coat buttoned, scarf a little crooked — you spot him leaning casually against one of the old stone railings.

Suguru’s hair is still damp from the shower, tucked loosely behind his ears. He’s in a dark sweater and coat, hands in his pockets, looking up at the overcast sky like he’s thinking about something far away.

When he hears your steps, his gaze flicks down and softens the moment he sees you.

“You look warm,” he says, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

You grin. “And you look like you forgot your gloves again.”

He shrugs, pushing off the railing. “You��ll keep me warm.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart’s already doing that quiet little skip it always does when it’s just the two of you.

You come to a stop in front of him. He watches you for a beat longer, then dips his head and presses a soft kiss to your mouth.

But the second it hits, you stiffen — the taste of something pungent, bitter, metallic underneath the softness of his lips — the lingering residue of the curse he’d exorcised earlier.

Without thinking, you pull back. “Ugh—”

Suguru’s eyes widen slightly. “Shit — sorry,” he says quickly, already fishing in his pocket. He pops a stick of gum in his mouth, chewing fast. “Didn’t even think.”

You’re still catching your breath, rubbing at the back of your hand. “It’s fine— it’s just— gods, what was that?”

He grimaces a little, leaning closer. “Dunno. What’s it taste like to you?”

You blink. “Like… burnt, wet hair. And something metallic."

He makes a face. “Yeah, thought so. Usually tastes like a vomit rag to me.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “You’re disgusting.”

“Hey, you kissed me back,” he says, teasing, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

You shake your head, the taste fading.

“Ready?” you ask.

“Always,” he says, falling into step beside you.

His hand finds your gloved one as you walk, fingers threading easily through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” you say, glancing up at him, “where are you taking me?”

He gives you a small, knowing smile. “To buy you dango.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“Mm.” He squeezes your hand gently. “Since someone—” he tilts his head, a clear jab at Satoru, “ate your share last week.”

You groan. “I told him not to touch mine.”

“He never listens,” Suguru says with a faint laugh. “So. I figured you deserve a replacement.”

Your heart warms, simple and soft. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” he says, eyes flickering sideways at you. “But you can tell me again once you’ve got your dango.”

You tug your glove off with your teeth, pulling it free so you can reach up — fingers lightly toying with the ends of his hair. It’s a bit longer now than it was in the summer, the strands soft between your fingers. He’s taller too — an inch or two since the last time you really noticed.

“Sugu,” you say softly, brushing a damp strand behind his ear, “your hair’s wet. You’re going to get sick.”

He leans in slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” he murmurs, voice low. “You worry too much.”

You let your fingers slip away, brushing down the side of his neck. “And you don’t worry enough.”

His smile widens just a little. “That’s why we work.”

The two of you made your way down to the station, hands still twined as you followed the quiet slope toward the subway entrance. The city above was crisp and cold, breath puffing faint clouds in the air — but down here, it was warm, the scent of metal and sweat hanging in the tunnels.

You slipped through the turnstiles side by side, Suguru thumbing your fare through before you could argue.

“It’s my treat,” he said simply, steering you toward the platform. “I’m taking you out, remember.”

The train rumbled in not long after — a soft clatter through the tunnel. You caught one of the middle cars, leaning together against the side rail as the car swayed into motion.

Outside the window, Tokyo blurred past in streaks of grey and light. The station names rolling by felt familiar.

“Where are we going again?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“That little shopping district you like,” Suguru said. “The one with the stalls and the food carts.”

You smiled, heart warming at how easily he remembered.

“It’s not that far,” he added, fingers brushing against yours again, casual, easy.

The train swayed gently as it sped through the tunnels, a low hum filling the car. You stood close to Suguru, shoulder brushing his arm, the warmth of him a welcome contrast to the cold air you’d left behind.

At one stop, the train jolted a little harder than usual, and you stumbled, hand catching his coat. He glanced down, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“You alright?” he asked, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, cheeks a little warm. “Just clumsy.”

He huffed a soft laugh, not letting go. “It’s the train. Not you.”

You peeked up at him, still tucked close. “You’re just saying that because you like having an excuse to hold me.”

He leaned in, a small smile playing at his lips. “Maybe.”

You look away, face flushed, trying to calm your heart.

“So… are you going home for Christmas break?” you ask, trying for casual — though it comes out softer than you mean.

“Definitely,” he says, smiling. “I haven’t had my mom’s cooking in ages.”

“Jealous,” you admit. “I’ll probably be stuck here. My parents are out of the country again.”

Suguru hums, thoughtful. “Well… maybe I’ll bring you something.”

You glance up. “From your mom?”

He grins. “If you’re nice to me.”

You nudge him lightly with your elbow. “I’m always nice to you.”

“That’s debatable,” he teases, eyes bright, then adds, a little quieter, “Or… you could come with me.”

Your breath catches. “Really?”

He shrugs, smile turning softer. “I mean… Satoru’s coming too. But my mom’s been dying to meet you.”

The train slows as it nears your stop. 

“You… never mentioned that before,” you say, voice quieter.

Suguru chuckles under his breath. “Guess I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

You glance at him, pulse skipping. “You didn’t even ask.”

His eyes flick toward you. “I’m asking now.”

Before you can answer, the train comes to a smooth stop, the chime for your station echoing through the car.

He tugs gently on your hand, fingers still twined through yours. “C’mon,” he says, soft. “We’ll talk about it after we’ve had you fed.”

The two of you step out of the station and into the heart of the shopping district — a narrow street lined with stalls and twinkling lights strung between the buildings, already glowing faintly in the late afternoon.

The air is cold, but not biting. It’s crisp enough to see your breath, the kind of chill that makes the steam from food carts rise in soft white clouds. The smells of grilled mochi, chestnuts, and sweet soy sauce drift through the crowd.

Suguru’s fingers slip back through yours as you walk, weaving easily through the bustling street. It’s busier than usual — families out shopping, students laughing over hot drinks, the hum of the city wrapping around you in a way that feels alive, familiar.

You glance up at him, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Lead the way,” you say softly.

He squeezes your hand, giving you that quiet smile of his. “You sure you trust me to pick the stall?”

“As long as it’s not the one Satoru always drags us to.”

He laughs — a soft, easy sound — and steers you down a smaller side street, where the line of dango carts stretches beneath colorful banners.

“There,” he says. “Your favorites.”

You walk up to the cart together — the familiar scent of toasted rice flour and sweet soy sauce filling the air. Suguru orders without asking, already knowing exactly which kind you like.

You smile as the vendor hands over the skewers, warm and fresh from the grill.

Suguru passes you one, keeping two for himself. “Fair, right?” he says, tilting his head innocently.

You eye him. “That depends. Are you planning to share?”

“Depends how nice you are to me.”

You huff a laugh, but as you take a bite, the smile pulls across your face before you can stop it.

He watches you, fond. “Good?”

“Mmh,” you hum, mouth full. “Worth the trip.”

He leans in a little, voice quieter now, eyes warm. “Told you.”

You reach over, and steal a bite from one of his skewers.

“Hey,” he laughs, mock scandalized.

“You said sharing depends on how nice I am,” you grin. “That was very nice.”

Suguru shakes his head, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re unbelievable.”

And before you can think twice, he dips his head, brushing a soft, quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Warm, simple. Enough to send your heart fluttering.

You blink, surprised — cheeks going pink — but he just grins wider, unbothered.

“Sticky,” he teases, thumb brushing lightly at the edge of your lip. “Messy eater.”

You look away, flushed, but you can’t stop smiling.

Suguru just watches you for a second, the faintest flicker of something warmer in his eyes.

You busy yourself with another bite of dango, hoping it’ll settle the way your heart’s racing.

Beside you, he shifts a little closer, shoulder brushing yours lightly as the crowd hums past.

For a while, you walk like that — side by side, quiet, comfortable — the soft winter light catching on the shop signs, the air thick with warmth and scent.

Suguru glances down at you again after a moment. “So…”

You look up. “Hm?”

“That question from earlier.” His voice stays easy, but there’s a hint of something softer beneath. “About Christmas.”

Your breath catches a little, but you cover it with a small smile. “You’re really serious about bringing me home?”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Mom keeps asking who this mystery girl is that’s got me sneaking out all the time.”

Your heart stumbles again — that quiet ache blooming warm in your chest.

You shake your head lightly, teasing. “Mystery girl, huh?”

He smiles — slower now, gaze steady. “Not much of a mystery to me.”

You shift on your feet, glancing down at the half-eaten skewer in your hand, and then back up at him.

“...Yeah,” you say softly. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” He nudges your shoulder lightly with his. “Guess I’ll tell Mom to set an extra place.”

You laugh, heart light now, the earlier nerves fading into something sweeter.

The two of you wander through the stalls after that — past rows of trinkets, candles, little charms and scarves. The air smells of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts, chatter rising from the crowd as the sun starts to dip lower.

You stop at one stall, all tiny hand-made charms and keychains lined up neatly on velvet cloth. Suguru’s already moved ahead a few steps, distracted by a stall selling old books, but something here catches your eye.

A pair of simple matching keychains — small wooden ones, carved with little protective sigils and tiny painted flowers. Subtle, but sweet.

Without overthinking it, you buy them — slipping the pair into your coat pocket.

When you catch up to him, you tug on his sleeve.

“What’s that?” he asks, amused, as you hold one out to him.

“For your bag,” you say simply, cheeks warming again. “So you can’t lose it.”

He watches you for a beat — then smiles, soft and bright. “You’re dangerous when you’re cute, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart flutters as he crouches slightly to let you clip the keychain onto the strap of his bag.

“Now you have to keep it on there,” you say, teasing, stepping back.

He straightens, giving the little charm a glance — then you. “I will.” His voice is soft, but certain. “I’ll keep it.”

You keep wandering a while longer, Suguru’s hand finding yours again as the crowd starts to thin with the setting sun. The lights strung across the street glow a little brighter now, soft against the early dusk.

You catch sight of a little photobooth tucked between two larger shops — a narrow thing with faded pink curtains and a bright sign above.

You tug on Suguru’s sleeve. “We should do that.”

He follows your gaze. “The booth?”

You grin. “Yeah. Come on — you owe me for letting you steal my dango.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You stole mine, remember?”

“Details,” you say, already pulling him toward it.

He doesn’t resist — just lets you lead him inside, the two of you ducking beneath the curtain. The space is small, the bench barely fitting both of you, but you slide in close without thinking.

Suguru leans in, shoulder pressed to yours. “You know these always come out ridiculous, right?”

“That’s the point.”

The machine beeps and you barely have time to grab his arm before the first flash goes off.

The next few seconds are a blur of laughing and leaning into each other, you sticking your tongue out on one shot, him grinning too wide on another. The last one — right before the final beep — you turn on impulse and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

The flash catches the exact moment his eyes go wide, surprised, the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

You’re still giggling when you step back out into the cool air, waiting for the little strip of photos to print.

When it does, Suguru takes it first — holding it up with a soft smile.

“I’m keeping this one,” he says, fingers brushing over the image of you kissing his cheek.

You grin, cheeks warm. “Fair. But I want a copy.”

The two of you linger a little longer — enough to wander past the last few stalls, the air now cooler against your skin.

Suguru glances up at the sky, “We should head back,” he says gently. “Before curfew.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He adjusts the strap on his bag, giving the new keychain a quick glance, and then falls into step beside you, fingers brushing yours again. You tuck your hands in your coat pockets, but stay close, shoulders almost touching as you walk.

The train ride back is quieter this time. You lean lightly against him as the car sways, the soft rumble of the tracks almost lulling you to sleep. Suguru says nothing, just lets you rest there.

By the time you reach campus, the air’s colder. The lights in the dorm windows glow soft against the dark.

At the path where your buildings split — his dorm to the left, yours to the right — you both stop.

Suguru turns to face you, hands deep in his coat pockets. “Thanks for today.”

You smile, heart still warm. “I should be thanking you.”

He holds your gaze for a beat longer, the air between you soft and a little heavier than before.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

For a second, it almost feels like he might lean in — but instead, he lifts one hand, brushing his knuckles lightly against your cheek.

“Goodnight, pretty,” he says, voice low.

“Goodnight,” you echo, cheeks warm again.

And then, he turns, heading down the path toward his dorm.

You watch him go for a moment, heart still fluttering. Then turn toward your own, the cold air nipping at your cheeks.

<< prev | next >>

taglist: @twilightsumu @mik4kn0x @bubblegumcat229 @poopooindamouf @se-phi-roth @twinkling-moonlillie @11thlife02 @perqbeth @love-me-satoru @pillkits @not-a-glad-gladiator @xarnesss @irwinchester @myabae @linaaeatsfamilies @nanamisbbygirl @timedisappears @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @chewiebee @por0u @ppejmurde @ssetsuka @deathicus-sling @acowboykisser @kyungjunnies @pipteo0428 @juliarchiv3s @not-aya @laceymerolling

taglist is still open, comment on series masterlist to be added

[occultopossum]

Being nice to people feels 1000X better then being mean or cruel and it always will

Even just the lil things Leave a nice comment, send a nice ask on anon, ask about someones interests!

[yappinglit]

overall i think it's very interesting characterization. he's not just a conservative and traditionalist like one would expect, rejecting all that is modern. it poses a question regarding tedesco's relationship with tradition and modernity. the fact that his traditional views so visibly contrast with one of his actions (choosing a vape pen instead of a cigarette and such) is a way to make him more intriguing without even saying anything ("showing", not "telling"). it can make the viewers wonder how those two aspects of him can make sense together, which makes for a more rounded character in a simple way. one can see hypocrisy in him benefiting from modernity while advocating for a return to tradition, even if lots of them are harmful to people and have even harmed himself. besides this external perspective as a viewer, i also wonder how he himself would make sense of it, and how his ideas could show themselves in other aspects of life.

i mean, i love that the movie knows how to work with the art that is subtlety and suggestion, and one single modern vape in the hands of a traditionalist can suggest a lot and is fertile ground for imagination. like i can see him having a very active twitter account to comment about the church and anything really, and using other "modern" elements to try to attract more people to the church and to get people to share his view for the church, maybe especially trying to establish a dialog with young people (not liberal young people, sure, but there's a big demographic of young conservatives that his view of catholicism, if "marketed" properly, would really appeal to). maybe like his goals and ideology are conservative and very much tied to tradition, but his methods don't exclude modernity, and modernity is welcome in practical, day to day life (especially technological advances i suppose), but morality and ideas should be conservative. lots of social media dudebros seem to think like this, but imo it's a slightly more unusual color on a cardinal, which is nice.

besides, the vape and how he moves around with it gives him unparalelled sass, iconic vibes, cause somehow him smoking a vape is much more annoying than smoking a normal cig

Just finished Conclave (the novel) and I gotta say, my favorite creative liberty the film took was putting a vape in Tedesco’s hand. There is not a whisper of smoking in the book, but somebody on that film said you know what? Lets put a pen in that ultra-conservatives hand. And I applaud them for it.

Also, like, its a really interesting visual representation of the hypocrasy of promoting a return to tradition while indulging in the pleasures of modernity blah blah blah you get the point

[akemiiya]

flowey and chara's relationship is always so interesting to me. when flowey absorbs everyone's souls and gains control over the timeline, he just wants to bring it all back to zero. back to when chara first fell. but he's already changed so much by that point - his and asriel's personalities and attitudes are almost complete opposites. would chara even still like him, if they met him as he was now? what if asriel's qualities that flowey buried and got rid of were what drew chara to him in the first place? what would he do if he realised that the person he is now, which was molded largely due to his past failures and regrets, is not the kind of person that chara would be fond of? what then?

[subaru-meteorlight]

💫.

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[mexashepot]

Yesterday I went to visit my brother's at 22 and just upon hearing my voice, my baby nephew (2.4) happily called my name, ran out of his bedroom to hug me, put his head on my shoulder and remained seated in my arms for like 5 minutes straight.

I felt so loved

Such an unusual feeling for me, it's so nice

My nephews seem to have missed me a lot 😭

[cartoonghosts]

how to make more people like my friends. How to make people be nicer to my friends (no killing). How to conjure people who are nice to my friends. How to kill people

[maxbegone]

-

[mallory524]

going out

bob x reader

pictures from pinterest

summary- You and Bob finally spend some time together one morning, but you find yourself rushing to defend him when he gets overwhelmed and people aren’t kind to him.

word count- 1,691

tags- THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS, fluff, pining, just a little language, hand holding, stranger being rude to bob :(

notes- the thunderbolts live in the watchtower (previously the avengers towers) because that’s what the post credit scene made it seem like and if I’m wrong I don’t care because I love the idea of them all being roomies :)

Although things hadn’t gone as expected, they are plenty of perks that come with being the New Avengers. The group hangs out together in the Watchtower all the time, none of you have to hide in the shadows anymore, and all the other accompanying “hero” perks. Helping the city by reversing the Void damage thrust the Thunderbolts into the spotlight, which typically just meant being waved to on the streets, and a lot of being told “your money’s no good here” with a big smile when you go out to eat.

Although the group fights a lot, there’s an unspoken understanding that you’re a real team now. More and more often the bickering is playful rather than actually malicious. At risk of sounding sentimental, real bonds are being made. Of course none of you would ever admit that out loud. Except maybe Alexei.

Bob’s enjoying his new life, too. Probably. You assume. He’s still a quiet guy, and sometimes he opts to stay in and read when you all go out for lunch or something. He’s still working through a lot, but everyone else is too, so you know to give him space. It’s clear to all of you that he’s slowly getting a bit more comfortable here with every passing day.

One cold morning, while everyone is sleeping in, you hear rustling and muttering in the other room. You throw on a robe and silently walk into the other room to investigate. Bob’s on the ground picking a bunch of papers up, and he whips his head around when he hears your footsteps.

“Sorry, I accidentally knocked all of Bucky’s things over. I’ve got it”, he says as you sit down next to him and help anyway. For a split second your fingers brush, but he pulls away, almost instinctively. You’d noticed that physical touch in general didn’t seem to bother him that much, but little soft moments like that make him nervous.

He’s gotten a bit of a handle on accidentally showing people memories they didn’t want to see, but maybe he’s nervous that he’d do it again without meaning to.

“Hey, have you had anything to eat yet?”, you say quietly, trying not to wake anyone else up. He shakes his head.

“Do you want to get something? There’s a coffee place I go to a lot. They have little pastries and stuff, too, if any of that sounds appetizing...”

He thinks about it for a second, and then smiles and nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Inside the coffee shop, it’s cozy and warm. You take off your large sweater, and your phone falls out of the pocket and onto the floor, and both you and Bob reach down for it at the same time. Your hands brush again and he nervously pulls away again. You lean in a little closer and speak quietly. “Bob if you’re worried about-”

“No no, I’m not- it’s not that. That’s under control. I’m just… it’s nothing”. He’s clearly having trouble expressing himself, and he doesn’t seem to want to, so you shake your head and smile politely.

“Hey man, don’t worry about it.” You get a smile in return, which is always nice to see. Bob has a nice smile. It’s so sweet and warm… you can’t deny it any longer. Bob is really cute.

He felt the same way about you, but he’s way too scared to tell you something like that. He’s already jittery enough every time your hands touch…

He really likes being around you. He’s just too shy to ask you to spend time with him, so he’s thrilled that you asked him.

You start to order your usual drink, and Bob gets in the line next to you. The girl taking your order remembers you from the last time you were there, so you talk to her for a little. She’s really sweet! The guy taking Bob’s order is not.

You go to the station with the straws and napkins, and you quietly watch Bob try to order. You realize you didn’t really ask him if he was ready to order, and now he’s at the front of this line trying to figure out what he wants. Bob’s starting to stammer a little and this barista guy is cutting him no slack.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what I’m going to get, I’m thinking…”

“Sounds like something you should’ve figured out before you got to the front of the line”, he says, scoffing a little.

“Yeah you’re right, it was just really fast and-” Bob looks down and shuffles his feet a bit.

“You know there’s people behind you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just… um…” Bob trails off, and you can tell that the idea of holding up the line and making all these people wait for him is only making this worse. He’s nervously laughing to try to keep it light, but you can also see him fiddling with the ends of his sleeves while squinting to read the small writing on the menu. You feel your heart break a little just watching him.

“Dude if you seriously can’t figure it out maybe you could get out of line”

Just as Bob is about to step away, you decide you’re not going to watch this anymore and you step up next to him.

“Hey do you know who the hell you’re talking to?”, you say in a hushed, almost professional tone with your arms crossed. “You’re talking to someone who helped save everyone here like a month ago.”

The guy’s eyes widen with realization. “I am so sorry, I forgot, you’re those guys. I was out of town but I saw you on the news-”

“Yeah that’s us. But that doesn’t even matter, you shouldn’t be treating any of your customers like this. Do you do this to everyone? Does your manager know that? Sorry not everyone can read that crazy small print on your menu-”

You continue for a little while, and Bob takes a tiny step backwards so he can be out of your way. This is a side to you that Bob hadn’t really seen. Sure, you bicker with Walker and Ava all the time, and he’s seen how well you can fight of course, (you even had to briefly fight him that one time), but in your everyday lives, you’re always so kind and patient with him. You’re nice to people who come up to you on the street and ask for a picture, and you’re nice to strangers who are rude to you, and you’re nice to the Thunderbolts most of the time, so it’s weird for Bob to see you actually go off on someone like that… and it’s all to defend him?? Strangely, it’s one of the sweetest things someone’s done for him in a while.

“- and you’re lucky I’m speaking quietly. I could be a whole lot louder and I could make a big scene but for your sake I’ll-” but you stop talking when you hear Bob clear his throat.

“I think I know what I want to order now”

“Go ahead”, you say with a little smile as you step out of the way. Bob tells his order to the terrified young man who keeps looking at you like he’s expecting you to lunge at him.

Another barista, who doesn’t realize what just happened, recognizes the two of you and walks up to let you know that it’s all on the house. It’s hard for you and Bob to keep from giggling just a little bit.

After you get your drinks and the muffin Bob ordered, you step back outside and start walking down the street together, enjoying your food and drinks.

“Thanks. You really didn’t have to do all that. I wasn’t ready, I should’ve been ready before I got up there.”

“No, no don’t worry about that. That’s my fault, I didn’t give you any time to read the menu and figure out what you wanted. Besides, that guy was just rude. That’ll teach him to mess with the New Avengers, am I right?” and Bob chuckles quietly.

“Yeah, I don’t really know if I deserve any credit for helping save everyone when I kinda caused all of that in the first place…”

“Hey, you know that’s not your fault”, you say in a softer tone. “You didn’t do any of that on purpose”

“Yeah I know.”

A car then loudly backfires, startling both of you. Bob stops walking and grabs your hand. When he sees that it’s fine and nothing’s wrong, he’s a little embarrassed.

“Sorry I didn’t…” Bob smiles at you awkwardly and trails off. He’s about to let go when you shake your head and gently squeeze his hand. “I’m always a bit jumpy, too, don’t worry about it.”

The two of you continue walking, and you notice that he’s not letting go of your hand, now that he knows you’re fine with it. Maybe he would’ve done that a while ago if he knew you wouldn’t mind…

You walk in very comfortable silence all the way back to the tower, refusing to let go of one another’s hands. Bob feels like he can’t. Like if he let go it might never happen again. He does decide to break the silence, though.

“Y/n, I had a good time” he says as he takes another big sip of his iced coffee. “Thanks for asking me to go out with you. Well, not like go out with you but you know like, coffee and this walk and stuff���.

“Well thank you for joining me. We should do this more”, you say, smiling warmly at him. Just then, you reach the tower. Walker’s heading out, and Bucky’s right behind him. The two of you immediately let go of each other’s hands, but Walker looks at you both a little funny. “Hey guys…”

“Hey”, you say in unison, acting natural as you walk into the elevator and start to laugh a little once the doors close.

“No Bucky I swear they were holding hands. It was so weird”

“I think you’re seeing things, John”

[norristrii]

WINNERS OF ALL HEARTS.

People love your and Oscar’s relationship since the beginning; Moments of you and your boyfriend Oscar during Drive To Survive season 7.

pairing. Oscar Piastri x fem! reader

warnings. est. relationship. In honor of Oscar’s win in Bahrain! 🫶🏻 I have never seen a single episode of dts and I definitely don't plan to. Everything here is made up and doesn’t relate to the actual season. // I’ll do Lando version too!

[episode one]

The season opener buzzed with energy. You walked hand in hand with Oscar, people and cameras around you. It was nice to be back after winter break.

As you strolled along, you glanced down and noticed your shoelace was untied. Stopping mid-step, you turned to Oscar, handing him your handbag with a casual smile.

“Could you hold this for me, please?” you asked with smile.

Oscar ignored your question, but instead of standing there as you’d expected, he knelt down beside you, his movements swift and deliberate. His fingers worked deftly to tie your shoe, the knot firm yet careful.

“Thank you,” you said, your smile soft and genuine, appreciating his thoughtful gesture. He returned the warmth with an easy smile of his own. “No problem,” he replied with smile.

Netflix editors made it funnier by cutting to Lando rolling his eyes as he walked past you.

[episode two]

The atmosphere in the McLaren garage was relaxed as you lounged before practice. Lando, leaned over with his phone in his hand, sly grin across his face.

“Y/n, look what Oscar sent me,” he said, showing you a TikTok video that was anything but innocent. You couldn’t help but laugh at the dirty text, but before you could say anything, Oscar’s voice cut through the moment.

“I already apologized!” he exclaimed, his face flushed with embarrassment as he overheard your conversation. His reaction only made the situation funnier, and you burst into laughter.

“How can this even happen?” you managed to say through fits of laughter, struggling to catch your breath.

Oscar, still blushing furiously, threw his hands up in defense. “It was an incident!” he protested, his voice almost cracking under the weight of his embarrassment, which only made you laugh harder.

As you and Lando laughed, the editors cut to Oscar, subtitles read: [tremendous embarrassment]

[episode three]

Before the race, the cameras captured a quiet yet heartfelt moment. You carefully adjusted Oscar’s helmet, ensuring everything was perfect. Satisfied with your work, you smiled warmly at him. “Good luck,” you said, pressing a light kiss on his helmet.

“Thank you,” he replied softly, his voice full of gratitude. Then, with a tender smile under the helmer, he added, “I love you, babe.” The simplicity of his words carried the weight of something steady and true.

After this clip was published, fans went crazy and it became viral on tiktok.

[episode four]

Oscar had done it—his first Grand Prix win, a moment he’d dreamed of and worked tirelessly for. The roar of the crowd faded into the background as he climbed out of the car, his eyes immediately scanning for you. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward you, his emotions overwhelming him.

Before you could say a word, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you, the world seeming to pause in that heart-stopping moment. The victory was his, but the celebration was yours together.

While you celebrated his achievement, the camera cut to Nicole and Hattie doing heart from hands as they pointed at you two.

[episode five]

Oscar moved through the fan zone with ease, signing caps and shirts as he greeted the crowd. In his hand, his phone rested casually, the screen occasionally lighting up with his touch. Each time it did, it revealed his wallpaper—a candid photo of you, beaming with joy as you cuddled your dog. It was a quiet reminder of what grounded him amid the chaos of his world, a glimpse of the happiness he cherished most.

Fans took photos and posted it online saying, “He loves her so much it can’t be even real.”

[episode six]

With the cameras buzzing in the McLaren garage, the two of you had too much time on your hands. Oscar was focused, attempting to braid your hair—a task far more challenging than he anticipated.

“Oh my god, this is so hard! It’s like a puzzle,” he groaned, frustration clear in his tone.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You drive a F1 car and can’t do a braid? Osc, c’mon,” you teased, your grin widening as his struggles made the moment all the more entertaining.

Netflix narrative saying, “Let’s hope Oscar is not hairdresser in his next life.”

[episode seven]

The interviewer beamed as they addressed Oscar, “So Oscar, great job today, your first pole position, how do you feel?”

Oscar’s smile was radiant as he replied, “Yeah, just great... the car, the team,” but his gaze shifted, seeking you out in the crowd. His expression softened even more as his eyes landed on you. “My girlfriend’s here, so it’s the best,” he added, his grin unmistakably proud.

The camera panned to you, catching the sweet moment as you blew him a playful kiss, drawing even more smiles from the onlookers.

“Would you say your girlfriend is your biggest supporter?” the interviewer pressed.

Without hesitation, Oscar nodded. “Definitely, she’s just perfect,” he said, his voice brimming with sincerity and affection. It was a small yet touching moment that reflected how much you meant to him.

Fans kept saying in comments under this clip when F1 posted it, “May this love attack me.”

© norristrii 2025

[ozzgin]

Definition: a total withdrawal from society and seeking extreme degrees of social isolation and confinement. content: gender neutral reader, unhealthy behaviors

Yandere!Hikikomori can't stop replaying your fateful encounter, the beginning of a blooming romance. He stared in terror at the notification that his package was - for once - delivered to someone else. An exceptional situation for which he had not been prepared. He kept rehearsing his speech, gathering his courage, planning for the potential dangers outside, when-

"Y-yes?" he answered meekly, peeking from behind the door.

"Is this your package? It's been sitting in my hallway for two months already."

Good Lord. What voice, what stance. He was completely stunned by your kindness, your benevolence to aid a stranger without expecting anything in return. Even more outrageous: you looked him right in the eye, for five whole seconds. He counted. It couldn't have been without meaning.

Yandere!Hikikomori often daydreams about your life together. Are you this much of a flirt with everyone else? No, such daring behaviors can only be reserved for one's soulmate. He'll pace back and forth inside his narrow room and theatrically reenact his ardent hopes of a future with you.

"What? A teal sofa?" he glances at the empty space, picturing your next to him as you both enthusiastically discuss your new home.

"It's fashionable, you say? You're the expert. I'll be happy with anything you choose," he reassures 'you' with a giddy smile.

Yandere!Hikikomori wishes he could see how your day unfolds. He toyed with the idea of stalking you, dutifully tracing your steps and guarding you from a distance, maybe snapping a photo or two in order to commemorate the precious little details. Alas, he hasn't stepped outside in years. He has no idea how the world works anymore.

The farthest he's ever gone was to the common staircase, where he was suddenly overwhelmed by a great panic. He ran back home, puked his guts out, then sat in bed and recalled the sight of your back as you hurried down, heading out for work.

"That looks nice," he mumbles to himself, checking the selfie you posted on social media. Is that your favorite coffee? Is it on the way to your workplace? How often do you stop there to grab a drink?

One day, he vows. One day, he'll make it outside. Well, at least long enough to talk to you. Perhaps he could convince you to a life indoors, ideally.

[More Yandere Stories]

[xhyjin]

next door neighbour dilftoji! who, ever since his late wife died shortly after the birth of their only son, megumi, had fallen into bad habits of gambling, drinking, and smoking. he was anything but a good or present father, leaving his son on the front steps of the zen’in clan headquarters. as much as he pretended he wasn’t grieving, he was, and everyone could easily tell. it wasn’t until one day, when he saw his late wife in a dream, telling him to get her son back—to be a father, the man she once knew—that he instantly sobers up and takes his son back from the hands of the clan.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who decided that if he wanted to start anew, he would have to change his surroundings. everything around him reminded him of his late wife, and as much as he loved her, she was holding him back. he spoke to his friend and former handler, shiu kong, about neighborhoods that would be good for a peculiar child like megumi and a place where he could start fresh with no reminders of the past. shiu recommended his own neighborhood—where you just so happened to live.

next door neighbour dilftoji! he moved into your quiet neighborhood with anything but quiet. his voice—loud and commanding—echoed as he yelled at the movers to handle fragile items with more care, all while keeping his son from darting in front of them. it was 7 in the morning when you first heard the noise: his voice, the trucks backing in, the hustle of the move. without even meeting him, you already found yourself annoyed.

you stumbled out of your house, robe loosely hanging around you and your hair a mess from a restless morning disturbed by the commotion. standing on your front steps, you watched the chaos unfold next door, trying to spot the source of that deep, gruff voice. as soon as your eyes landed on him, he locked eyes with you. you shook your head, muttering under your breath, and turned to walk back inside.

next door neighbour dilftoji! after a few hours of getting everything safely into his house, toji decided he would make a good first impression with his new neighbors. he was starting a new life, so even if baking cookies and bringing them to a neighbor was something he’d never normally do, it didn’t matter—because that toji was gone. this was the new toji, a man willing to take risks and leave behind regret.

he had already forgotten your brief moment of eye contact that morning, so when you opened your front door mid-phone call, you weren’t expecting to find him and his son standing there with a box of cookies. the smell was unmistakably fresh, lingering sweetly in the air.

“hi,” toji said, attempting a polite smile that contrasted sharply with his scarred lip and imposing, muscular frame. “my name’s toji fushiguro. this is my son, megumi. we just moved in next door and wanted to introduce ourselves.”

you stared at him in silence for a moment, stunned. you hadn’t expected your loud, irritating neighbor to look so… handsome. and muscular. you’d barely seen him earlier that morning.

“i’m going to have to call you back,” you said, lowering your phone. finally, you replied, “uh, it’s nice to meet you. i’m y/n.” your eyes fell to the box in his hands. “is that for me?”

“oh, yeah,” he replied, glancing briefly at megumi before handing the box to you. “me and megumi baked cookies for you.”

next door neighbour dilftoji! who ever since his brief interaction with you, toji found himself growing more curious about you as each day passed. he noticed you had a job, seeing you leave early in the morning while he was helping megumi into the car for school, and return later in the evening when he sat on the porch, watching megumi play with the neighbourhood kids, yuji and nobara.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who runs into you at the grocery store. megumi sat quietly in the cart while toji stood in the produce aisle, holding a bunch of bananas in one hand and strawberries in the other, debating which to buy. he didn’t even notice you until you cleared your throat.

“hi, toji,” you said shyly, giving him a small smile.

“hi, y/n,” he replied, surprised but glad to see you.

“tough choice?” you teased, glancing at the fruit in his hands.

“yeah,” he admitted with a small chuckle.

“i’d go with bananas. if they go bad, you can always make banana bread,” you suggested, making him laugh.

“good thinking,” he said, placing the bananas in the cart with megumi. from that moment, the rest of the grocery errand turned into something unexpected. the two of you wandered the aisles together, chatting and getting to know more about each other. toji found himself smiling more than he had in a long time, and by the time you both reached checkout, he realized he wouldn’t mind running into you like this more often.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who feels so bad when he has to ask you to babysit megumi on your one day off from work. something unexpected had come up, and he needed to return to the city but couldn’t leave megumi alone. knocking on your door, he stood there with megumi beside him.

when you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him. “toji, hi,” you said, glancing between him and megumi. “what’s going on?”

“y/n, i’m so sorry. i know this is your day off, but something came up, and i need to get back to the city. i couldn’t find a babysitter last minute. could you please watch megumi? i promise he’s a good kid—no trouble at all,” he said, his tone almost pleading.

“yeah, sure,” you replied without hesitation, opening the door wider for them to step inside.

“i’ll be back early morning,” toji assured you. you nodded. “do you want my phone number?” his expression shifted, almost surprised. “yeah, that’s a good idea,” he said, handing you his phone.before leaving, toji crouched to megumi’s level. “don’t misbehave, alright? i’ll be back for you.” after giving megumi a quick pat on the head and thanking you again, he headed out the door.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who kept true to his word and returned early the next morning, flowers in hand. when you opened the door, still half-asleep, you greeted him with a tired, “hi, toji,” rubbing your eye with one hand.

“hey there, doll,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he quickly cleared his throat. “uh, can i come in?”

you didn’t seem to notice the slip-up and stepped aside to let him in. “megumi’s still sleeping,” you said, your gaze finally landing on the bouquet in his hand. “are those for me?”

he smiled, nodding as he handed you the flowers. “yeah, to thank you for being there for me.”

you took them, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “they’re beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in to smell them.

“i didn’t know which were your favorite,” he admitted, “so i picked the ones i thought were the most beautiful… almost as beautiful as you.”

you froze for a moment, cheeks heating up further as you glanced down at yourself—disheveled hair, wrinkled pajamas, and all. “beautiful? me?”

“yes, beautiful,” he said with a chuckle.

“hope the kid wasn’t too much trouble,” he added, changing the subject.

“no, he’s a good kid—very sweet and polite,” you assured him, toji nodding in agreement.

he hesitated for a moment before speaking. “listen, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“yeah?” you asked, placing the flowers down and filling a vase with water.

“i want to properly thank you for this. do you maybe want to go on a date?”

you looked up at him, wide-eyed. “a date?”

“yeah, i mean… if you want to,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically nervous.

your lips curved into a small smile. “i’d love to, toji.”

his face lit up. “great. are you free thursday?”

you nodded, and his grin grew wider. “a date on thursday with the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said, making your heart flutter.

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika , Ambessa , Grayson ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them

council member sevika fic

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...