#i love seeing what these clothes have gone through i love seeing history in the state of a piece of clothing

[sugarcoated-lame]

Lost and Found | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

Part One of my Single dad!Bradley miniseries | part two | library blog

*all my works are 18+, minors DNI

Summary: When Bradley’s four-year old daughter goes missing during a trip to the mall, he doesn’t expect to find himself so taken with the pretty stranger who helps her find her way back to him.

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: I suck at titling my stories and summaries :), a bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy and abandonment, (briefly) missing child, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, but then so much fluff, Bradley’s kid being too cute for her own good, implied age gap, I feel like dilf Bradley needs his own warning

a/n: I wrote this months ago and I’m a bit nervous to share, but the response to the teaser was so amazing (thank you <3) and dilf Bradley lives in my head rent-free, so I’m excited about this one! Also the picture on the right just screams dad Bradley to me! Thank you for reading, as always I’d love to hear your feedback, so please leave a comment/reblog <3

• • •

Bradley directs his gaze away from the rack of little girls’ clothes he’d been perusing, injecting enthusiasm into his voice as he holds up a hanger with a small, baby pink t-shirt dress hanging on it. “Hey, Bug. What do you think of this–?” 

He cuts himself off before the end of his question when he realizes that he’s talking to no one. “Where did she…?” 

He trails off, brows furrowed. Still holding up the child-sized dress that looks especially tiny next to his large frame, Bradley spins around, perplexed. She was just here.

- - - 

Bradley’s daughter, Caroline, who’d just recently turned four— and was growing up way too fast for his liking— was set to begin preschool next week. His little girl was growing right before his eyes and she needed a new wardrobe to accommodate that. So, Bradley had taken her to the mall to buy some new clothes for school. He didn’t know the first thing about little girls’ fashion, but he was sure he could manage.

He’d spent the last hour searching through clothing rack after clothing rack in the girl’s section of a department store, Caroline at his side, lips in a pout and shaking her little head ‘no�� at all of his choices, sandy brown curls bobbing along with her every movement. Bradley could tell the four-year old was getting bored, and he was becoming frustrated.

The buzzing of his phone with a text from Maverick granted him a brief reprieve from his predicament.

“One second, honey.” Bradley sighed, affectionately patting the top of his daughter’s head before looking toward his phone to answer some question Mav had about work.

He was happy for a moment’s distraction from getting ready to tear his hair out wondering if he was going to have to send his daughter to her first day of preschool wearing a trash bag because he didn’t know what the hell kind of clothes he’s supposed to buy for a picky four-year old girl.

Bradley had been a single parent for most of his daughter’s life. He and Caroline’s mother, Amber, had only been seeing each other for the better half of a year when they found out the news that they were expecting. And even then, their relationship was never really official.

The two met not long after the Uranium Mission, while Bradley was still on North Island taking some time to relax and awaiting another assignment. He’d gone to the little diner Amber was waitressing at, he thought she was cute and they’d hit it off straight away. Bradley got her number and the rest was history.

The Navy kept Bradley busy. He was always traveling for some assignment or deployments – sometimes gone for months at a time, so they only saw each other on the rare occasions he was in town. 

They’d hang out and hook up, maybe go on a date here and there, a sort of friends-with-benefits situation. There was definitely a sense of care between Bradley and Amber, but the lack of time they were able to spend together meant it never went beyond that.

When they learned that Amber was pregnant, they both knew it wouldn’t be easy. But they thought that, together, they could make it work.

A few months after Caroline was born though, Amber admitted that she couldn’t handle things.

Bradley took to being a father so easily. From the moment their baby was born and she looked up at him with those big, honey brown eyes that matched his own, he knew that he’d do absolutely anything for her. Caroline instantly became his world.

Amber, on the other hand, really struggled. She loved her baby of course, but deep down she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother. If she’d ever be. 

She figured it was better if she’d gone while Caroline was still young enough that she wouldn’t remember her, and knew that their daughter would be just fine in Bradley’s loving hands. And just like that, she left the both of them.

Bradley resented Amber for a while, but in time he came to understand. Not everyone was meant to be a parent. Besides that, he knew that there was no time for resentment. 

He was on his own with a four-month old baby and he needed to put all of his energy into taking care of her. So, he requested a more permanent position at Top Gun so that he could stay in one place to raise his daughter, and it’s been just the two of them ever since.  

 - - - 

Bradley couldn’t have been turned around for more than thirty seconds before he pocketed his phone and reached back out to grab the little pink dress off the rack to show his daughter. But, when he turned back, Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

Ok, don’t panic, Bradley tells himself. She can’t have gone far.  

“Caroline?” He calls out calmly, eyes darting around the surrounding area as he spins to look in every direction.

When he doesn’t receive a response, Bradley puts down the dress he was holding and begins to walk among the sea of clothing racks, still calling out his daughter’s name.

He searches the entire girl’s section of the store without success and decides to broaden his search, his heart beginning to speed up in his chest. Ok, he’s starting to panic.

Bradley picks up his pace, maneuvering from one section of the store to another, asking the other customers and few employees that mill about if they’ve seen his daughter. 

He knows he must look crazed, practically sprinting, his sneakers squeaking as he moves across the shiny floors as his repeated calls of Caroline’s name become increasingly more frantic — panting and on the verge of tears by the time he’s finished searching the entirety of the large department store to no avail.

Bradley stands frozen in the middle of the store, tears pricking his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly on the brink of hyperventilating. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mind racing through all of the worst scenarios. What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her? 

It’s his job to protect his little girl and make sure that she’s always safe, and he failed her. He’s all that Caroline has, and he feels like a failure of a father.

- - -

You’re walking through the busy mall with a couple of bags in hand, all finished with your shopping and ready to head home when you see her. 

A little girl — tiny really, she can’t be older than five — with curls a golden shade bordering between both blonde and brown, standing by the bottom of the escalator, alone. 

Playing with her little fingers as she looks around the crowd aimlessly with unshed tears in her big, brown eyes. The scared look on her adorable little face breaks your heart, and you know you can’t leave without making sure she’s okay.

You approach her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, speaking softly so as not to scare her any further. “Hey, honey. Are you alright?”

The look she gives you is a shy one, eyes widening before she looks down at her light-up sneakers and shakes her head. 

You can tell the little girl is apprehensive about talking to a stranger — smart.

Kneeling down to be at her eye-level before speaking again, and setting your shopping bags down at your sides, you tell her your name and ask for hers.

“I’m Caroline.” Her voice is sweet and shy, a near-whisper as she chances a glance up at you, eyes still shining with tears when she lifts her head.

“Are you here alone, Caroline? Are you with your mommy and daddy?” You ask her gently.

She shakes her head again, curls swaying along with the motion.  “I was with my daddy, but I lost him.”

The adorable pout on her lips might’ve made you smile, if it weren’t for the tears that follow, finally spilling from her eyes and trailing down onto her rosy cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can help you find him!” You soothe as your thumb moves to brush her tears away. “Where did you last see him?”

Caroline sniffles and thinks for a moment before speaking, a little bit louder this time.

“We were buying me clothes for preschool in one of the big stores, and my daddy had to answer the phone so I was looking all by myself. And then I got lost and I couldn’t find him.”

You continue to wipe at Caroline’s tears as she talks in that rambling sort of way that all little kids do.

“Preschool, wow. That sounds fun!” You try to take her mind off of the scary situation for a second and she nods excitedly at that, still sniffling. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

Her tears finally begin to slow as she talks about her dad.

“His name’s Bradley, but everybody calls him Rooster! He flies planes!” Caroline explains excitedly. 

You can’t help but chuckle as you tell her that her dad has a funny nickname, and that his job sounds fun. You’re happy to see Caroline give you a small smile back.

“Do you remember what store you and your daddy were shopping in?”

She has to think for a long moment, the most adorable, pensive pout you’ve ever seen on her face as she tries to remember.

She doesn’t know the name of the store, but she is able to describe it for you, and you’re able to make a distinction from there.

Standing back to your full height, you readjust your bags on one arm and extend your free hand out towards Caroline, offering her a reassuring smile.  

“I know exactly where that is! Ready to go find him?” Caroline grins as she takes your hand with an excited nod, tears no longer visible in her big brown eyes.

The two of you walk on in search of her dad — Bradley, and Caroline talks your ear off the whole way. She is absolutely adorable, telling you more about herself and asking you questions about yourself too, and you find yourself falling more in love with her sweet disposition by the minute. 

Within five minutes, you make it to the store that Caroline had been in last, hopeful to reunite her with her father who you figure must be worried sick.

- - -

Bradley isn’t quite sure how long he’s been scouring the massive department store looking for his four-year old daughter— though it feels like forever, time seeming to move in slow motion— on the brink of a panic attack and just about ready to phone the police when he hears a familiar high-pitched shriek of, “DADDY!”

He turns around at lightning speed — and practically gives himself whiplash — to see Caroline approaching him, holding a woman’s hand. 

When she lets go and bounds right towards him, Bradley lets out a massive sigh of relief. Kneeling down to catch his little girl in his arms, he feels like he might cry all over again, overcome with a flurry of emotions now that his daughter is safe in his embrace once again.

“Caroline, baby, you scared me half to death!” Bradley can’t keep the emotion out of his voice as he lifts his daughter into his arms and stands back up to his full height, lying his head atop of hers and squeezing her tight. “You can’t just wander off like that, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

He tries his best not to sound angry — she is only four after all, and he’s just thankful that she’s okay. Caroline’s arms wrap around his neck as he holds her tight, her face burrowing into the crook of Bradley’s neck.

“Daddy, I’m fine!” She insists. “And I made a new friend!” 

It’s only then that Bradley looks up at the woman who had reunited him with his little girl, standing a few feet away and watching them with a sweet smile.

Oh. It’s only then that he realizes, you are beautiful. 

Bradley’s honestly convinced you might be an angel. Pretty, bright eyes and a glowing sweet smile that nearly takes his breath away. And, you’d been kind enough to help his daughter safely find her way back to him.

Bradley just stares for a moment, lips parted and still holding Caroline in his arms, and he hopes that you’ll chalk it up to the overwhelming nature of the situation.

“Uh– thank you so much for bringing Caroline back to me. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” He rushes out, hand cradling the back of his baby’s hair. “I-I’m…” Fuck, why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

“…Bradley,” You finish for him. “Or, Rooster. Right?”

His brows furrow, a pensive look on his very handsome face, a look that you realize matches the one you had seen on his daughter’s face earlier. Cute.  

“How did you-” He begins to question how you know his name — and call-sign — but is promptly cut off by his four-year old practically screaming in his ear.

“I told her, Daddy!” Caroline exclaims proudly.  

For a man called ‘Rooster’, you sure were not expecting Caroline’s dad to be this good looking. But, fuck, is he hot.

Though he’s clearly got a few years on you, Bradley’s all tall and sun-kissed, tan skin. Broad shoulders and big, muscular arms on display in his fitted black t-shirt while he holds up his little girl, sandy curls a shade or two darker than hers. Whiskey-colored eyes that match his daughter’s, that you can only describe as puppy dog eyes. 

His deep, husky voice that sends tingles down your spine and beautifully shaped pink lips framed by a mustache that you’re surprised you find so attractive.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help.” You hope that he can’t see the flush you can feel blooming on your cheeks as you speak. “And, Caroline was great company!”

You wink at the little girl who giggles against his shoulder, and when Bradley smiles at you graciously, you can’t help but smile back. God, his smile is pretty.

Up in his arms, Caroline gets distracted playing with her dad's curls. There are a few moments of silence between you, though not uncomfortable, before Bradley speaks up again.

“Well, thank you again. I–uh,” Bradley clears his throat. 

“I guess we should let you go. We’ve gotta find some clothes for this little troublemaker, otherwise she’ll have to go to school wearing a garbage bag.” Bradley jokes in a playful tone, bouncing his daughter around in his arms as she giggles, and you can’t help but laugh too at the infectious sound.

“Daddy, wait!” Caroline shouts out before you can answer him.

“What is it, little bug?” Bradley murmurs as he strokes a hand lovingly over her curls. Caroline turns in his hold, directing her next question toward you.

“Can you come with us?” Oh, her puppy dog eyes are even cuter than Bradley’s, and you imagine he probably has a hard time ever saying no to her. “Daddy has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to girl clothes.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips as Caroline dramatically rolls her eyes and Bradley lets out an offended huff, the two of them staring at each other with matching, petulant pouts. Adorable.

“That is not true!” Bradley practically shrieks at his daughter and it only makes you laugh more.

“And, honey, she probably doesn’t want–” Bradley begins to protest before you interject.

“I’d love to.” You chime in with a coy grin and Bradley looks back at you, bewildered.

Sure, you figure he probably has a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, but what’s the harm in spending just a little more time with a handsome pilot and his adorable daughter? So far, you’re having a lot of fun.

Bradley’s brows furrow skeptically. “Are you…sure?”

You purse your lips, staring up toward the ceiling for a moment as if you really need to think about it before you grin and offer him a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I’ve got nowhere to be.” 

You hope you don’t seem too eager, but the matching smiles you receive from both Bradley and Caroline tell you they don’t mind.

Bradley’s honestly a bit shocked that you— a pretty, young, complete stranger, want to stick around to hang out with him and his kid, but he isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

So, once you assure him again that you’re happy to stay, he sets Caroline back on her feet and offers — more like insists — that he holds your shopping bags, and the three of you set off to peruse the oh-so daunting girl’s clothing section of the store once again.

Bradley watches in awe as Caroline grabs your hand, tugging you along as you help her pick out some articles of clothing.

The two of you chatter the whole time, bringing him into the conversations too, holding up articles of clothing and asking what he thinks, and Bradley is delighted to see how good you are with his daughter.

“This would look pretty on you!” Caroline holds out a little girl’s purple sweater dress in your direction. “Wouldn’t it, Daddy?” 

You’re biting back a grin as Bradley looks to you and then back to his daughter and chuckles.

“I don’t think it comes in her size, Bug.” Bradley’s gaze returns to you, mirth in his eyes when he continues, “But yeah, it would look very pretty.” 

You know he can see the obvious flush to your cheeks this time as his lips pull up into a smirk. 

Shaking your head, you look back down to Caroline with a grin. “I think it’d look even prettier on your dad.” That pulls a giggle out of both of them. 

Things go on like that as the three of you continue to shop, Bradley admiring how sweet and funny you are, how patient you are with his daughter.

The two of you discreetly sharing amused looks at some of the obscure things Caroline says that could only come out of a little kid’s mouth, banter coming easily between the three of you. 

After a short while, Caroline has an array of new outfits for school— and a new stuffed animal after some begging and very convincing puppy dog eyes from his four-year old while you stood by and tried not to giggle, and Bradley knows that he wants to get to know you more.

He hasn’t done much in the way of dating since becoming a single father. Aside from the simple lack of time, Bradley’s always been afraid that most women won’t want to stick around when they find out he has a kid.

That they might not get along with his daughter or worse, be upset when they realize that Caroline will always be his number one priority. 

Too scared to let his daughter get attached to someone only for them to leave, Caroline is his world and he’s been content with that. 

But now, after seeing the way you are with his little girl — and in such a short time, he can’t help but think that he already likes you being a part of it.

With the clothing shopping done, the sun is setting by the time you're all ready leave the mall. Bradley and Caroline walk you out to your car, and both are reluctant to say goodbye to you just yet. You can't say you’re too happy to part with them either. 

As he helps you put your bags in the trunk of your car, Bradley knows he needs to take his shot now — or as Hangman likes to tell him, he needs to get off his perch.

“Hey, could I possibly get your number?” Bradley asks, trying to sound as confident as his voice can possibly muster. “I’d love to see you again.”

Caroline pipes up from next to you, jumping up and down while she still holds your hand. “Me too!”

Is he asking you out? The breathless laugh you let out is one of shock, and you’re sure the look on your face matches as you glance between the adorable father-daughter duo.

You’re also sure that you’re blushing again.

For a moment, you can only stand frozen, lips parted, and when you realize you’ve yet to answer his question, you promptly close your mouth and attempt to school your features, quickly nodding your head.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You tell him shyly, and Bradley can’t help but smirk at the color that’s begun to paint your cheeks. 

He hands over his phone and tries not to smile too hard as you type in your number, glancing up at him and biting back your own grin while you send yourself a text so that you’d have his too.

You kneel down to squeeze Caroline into a hug, the little girl happily wrapping her arms around your neck. You leave her with a promise that you’ll see them again soon, though the way you look up at her father over her shoulder lets Bradley know that that promise is directed at the both of them. 

When you stand, Bradley gazes at you with a thoughtful smile before bringing you into a hug too.

“Have a good night, sweetheart.” The deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear, as well as the heat of his touch, leave your body feeling warm all over. That warmth never fading even as you watch Bradley and Caroline cross the parking lot, hand-in-hand, to get to their car.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon. 

- - -

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! x

Part 2 will be up next Wednesday! <3

UPDATE: you can read part two here ! ❤️

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @simonscumsock

also tagging some people who reblogged/replied to the sneak peek : @fanficfandomlove @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @maverick-wingman @teacupsandtopgun @katiemcrae @colourfulsuitwonderland @becks-things @bradshawsbaddie @bradshawsbitch @valhallaas @roger-that-cap @woodkiller

. . .

[sebscore]

hi ! I love your gen z driver series so much !!

i have a request that she and zhou show up to the padock in the same outfit unplanned

like i feel this would happen - they both fancy showing up in something so different and the other would be wearing the same thing !! <3 fashion icons think the same 😌

THE HELMET BET

pairings: zhou guanyu x driver!reader / f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: swearing. based on the 2022 grid. mention of sexism and racism. joke about doing an orgy.

author's note: idk if this is what you had in mind, but I had already written a small part of this fic and then your ask came in and I couldn't help myself. I love zhou so much, ugh thats my man fr. also, thank you for loving the series, it means a lot to me 💞

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''We're gonna get in trouble.'' Zhou said, shaking his head. 

Y/N frowned at his words. ''Why would we get in trouble? It's always super boring and our bet can at least spice it up a little.'' She reasoned, using a lot of hand gestures to show how serious she was. 

''You know those meetings are about our safety, right? We should take them serious.'' The Chinese driver didn't want to get in hot water with the stewards. 

''But this is a serious matter! We're putting an end to the debate,'' she retorted back, not seeing the harm in using the upcoming driver's briefing for their bet, ''lately, I've been seeing way too many people saying you've got better style than me and I've had enough of it.'' 

The female driver had seen the countless online discussions between fans regarding the most stylish driver on the grid, the winner usually switching between herself, Lewis and Zhou. In her opinion, Lewis had the best style, she didn't need to think twice about it. But it is important for her to know who his successor is, who is the number 2? 

To answer that question, she had come up with a brilliant idea: her and Zhou wear their best outfit to the next driver's briefing, not some team merchandising, and they get the other drivers to vote on which outfit is the best and therefore, which person has the best style. The person with the most votes gets to design a helmet for the loser and they have to wear it at the next racing weekend. 

''Okay, I'm in,'' Zhou admitted, shaking hands to commemorate the challenge, ''be prepared to lose, Y/N.'' 

''Don't worry about me, Guanyu.'' 

Y/N was confident in her win. The young woman knows she has style, her several brand deals with high-respected fashion houses being the proof of that. However, she knew not to underestimate her rookie friend, Zhou has had some killer outfits in the ongoing season. 

They had known each other for some years, but it was only this year that the pair had gotten close. Y/N broke the ice by complimenting one of his outfits at the start of the season and the rest was history. 

The outfit she had gone with was simple, but she looked good and she felt great in it. It was inspired by one of Michael Schumacher's paddock outfits (reference), knowing she would at least have Mick and Seb's vote with that one. 

Y/N got out of her car, ready to make her way to the F1 paddock and straight to the driver's briefing. In the corner of her eye she noticed Zhou's car pull up, his performance coach waving at her through the window. She reciprocated the action and decided to wait for him, thinking it would be nice for the two of them to enter together. She was curious as to what her friend would be wearing, secretly hoping he had fumbled the bag really hard. 

Her hopes came crashing down as Zhou got out of the car, observing the clothes he was wearing and noticing one clear detail. 

They were wearing the same outfit. 

Her eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head, in complete disbelief. ''Are you fucking kidding me, Zhou?'' 

The Chinese man appeared to be much more amused by the situation, covering his laughter with his hand. ''You look very nice, Y/N.'' He giggled, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

''It's turned into a ''who wears it better'' challenge, what the heck.'' She commented, eyeing him up and down before glancing at her own fit. 

Zhou chuckled. ''Well either way, I'm winning.'' A small smirk appeared on his face, still sure of his win over his friend. Y/N simply scoffed, grabbing her pass from her purse and walking to the entrance. Zhou and his coach followed her steps, still entertained by her annoyance. 

As soon as the paddock reporters noticed the sight of the two drivers, their cameras were whipped out from their bags and they began taking candid shots of the pair. Zhou and Y/N played along for the cameras, pointing at each other's outfits and pretending to look annoyed. 

Eventually they made it to the right room, already seeing most of the drivers waiting inside. Zhou went in and greeted the others, while Y/N waited outside, ready to lock the door as soon as everyone had arrived and was inside. 

Lando had been the last one to walk down the hallway. ''Hurry up, Norris!'' She exclaimed, her hand motioning for him to pick up the pace. 

''Why? I'm on time.'' He replied a bit agitated, it was a bit too early in the morning for him to be scolded by his friend. 

Y/N didn't respond to him, simply pushing him into the room and locking the door, making several drivers look up from where they were sitting or standing. 

''Y/N, what are you doing?'' Sebastian spoke up, curious as to what she was up to this time. 

The young woman urged Zhou to get up from his seat and to stand next to her. The man felt a bit embarrassed, but followed her orders. Y/N stood in the place where their director normally sat when he answered the drivers' questions or listened to their concerns. She placed both her hands on the desk, looking like a teacher that was about to scold her students.

''As we all know, Mr. Hamilton over there is widely accepted as the driver with the best style,'' she pointed at Lewis, who nervously smiled as the other drivers glanced at him, ''but that's not why we are gathered here today! We are gathered here today to decide who his successor is. Who is the most stylish person after Lewis? That's a question that we will settle once and for all, here, now, in this room.'' She finished her monologue. 

''Me and Mr. Guanyu found ourselves in a battle for the title of second most stylish driver of the grid, so I challenged him. We would wear our best outfits today and have our lovely colleagues vote for who had the best one. But as you all can see, me and Mr. Dior over here, are wearing the same exact fit.'' Y/N waved her hand between herself and Zhou. 

''So, instead of you deciding who is wearing the best outfit, you'll be voting for the person you think is wearing the outfit best.'' She concluded. 

The crowd had mixed reactions: some looked confused, some seemed entertained by what Y/N had told them and others appeared to not care. 

Kevin was the first one to speak, getting up from his seat and walking towards the door. ''Y/N, this is not the time to do this, we're here to talk about the race.'' He was about to turn the lock when her voice stopped him. 

''Magnussen, you're being a party pooper- do you want to be a party pooper?'' She looked at him sternly, trying to convince him to sit back down and go along with her antics. ''Don't pretend like you're not secretly enjoying this.'' The Haas driver rolled his eyes, but defeatedly put his arms up and went back to his seat. 

''Alright, we'll go around the room and each person says either my name or Zhou's.'' She explained further, moving in front of the desk. 

Checo's hand went up in the air. ''Can we also pass?'' He asked, looking at Y/N. 

''If you refuse to choose, we will consider it sexist and racist as I am a woman and Zhou's Asian.'' She answered him, garnering chuckles around the room and a nervous-looking Zhou who hoped people took it as a joke, since he didn't want to be making enemies as a rookie. 

Y/N clapped her hands together. ''Okay, we'll start with our party pooper, KMag! Me or Zhou?'' 

''Zhou, since he didn't yell at me and didn't call me a party pooper.'' He chose, making the female driver narrow her eyes at him. ''Alright, 1 for Zhou.'' 

The person sat next to Kevin was his teammate, Mick. ''Schumacher!'' He was about to speak, but the woman interrupted him. ''Before you choose, I took inspiration from one of your dad's outfits.'' Y/N tried influencing his decision. 

''I was gonna choose you anyway.'' He told her, making her jump up as her and Zhou had an equal score. ''Thank you, Mickie.'' She smiled brightly at him. 

''Valtteri?'' 

''I choose Zhou, I'm loyal to my teammate.'' He answered, smiling at the man in question. 

''Lando?'' 

''Zhou, because he doesn't humiliate me in front of the entire internet.'' The McLaren driver said, referring to their regular back-and-forths on social media. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. ''You're such a crybaby, Rumplestiltskin.'' Her words caused Lando to give her the middle finger, but it was all in good fun. 

''Anyway, Daniel?'' 

The Australian pretended to think hard about his answer, looking in-between her and Zhou. ''I'm gonna go with Y/N, cause I'm kinda scared what she'll do to me if I don't choose her.'' His answer got a laugh out of the other drivers, some of them nodding their heads. 

Y/N herself couldn't help but break a smile at Daniel's words, happy her friend had chosen her. ''Okay, next one.'' 

The voting was nearing its end and there was a tie, 9 people had chosen Zhou and 9 others had voted for Y/N. It all came down to one person. 

Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

Despite some of the drivers' dislike for the bet at the beginning of the meeting, everyone had gotten pretty invested. ''The maestro himself has to choose his next prodigy.'' Daniel joked, looking at the 7x world champion. 

Lewis shifted in his seat, not too fond of having the last vote on the matter. ''Can't I just say both of you? The two of you look very good.'' 

''No, mate! You have to choose.'' George argued, the others agreeing with him. 

Y/N was quite sure that Lewis would choose her. She was much closer to him than Zhou and the pair had talked about fashion before, discussing how it was a great way to express yourself. She was already designing Zhou's helmet in her mind. 

''Well, then… I guess Zhou.'' 

Her mouth dropped open, shocked that the senior driver had chosen the rookie over her. She wasn't the only one that seemed surprised by his choice, Seb turned around in his seat and Pierre's eyes had widened, mouthing ''wow''. 

The young man next to her, lightly slapped her arm. ''I'll send the design to your team next week, Y/N.'' He teasingly laughed, a big smirk present on his face. 

''This is a joke, right? I can't be number 3!'' She dramatically stated. 

''Hey! What's wrong with being the number 3?'' Daniel looked up, feigning being offended by her words. 

She was about to give another monologue about betrayal and how men are all the same, but several loud knocks on the door interrupted that from happening. Y/N sighed, but took a few steps to turn the lock. 

Their director didn't look too happy. ''Why was the door locked?'' 

''We were having an orgy.'' She sarcastically answered him, not planning on explaining to him why she had blocked the door from opening. 

''Y/N!'' 

The actual driver's briefing began and soon enough most drivers were already dozing off, some of them even wishing Y/N and Zhou's bet had taken a bit longer. They wouldn't admit it to the young woman, but ever since she'd made her arrival to these briefings, her unserious antics had made them much more bearable. Some drivers had even started looking forward to the meetings, because the girl always had something up her sleeve. 

As soon as the last issue was resolved, the meeting ended and everyone was out the door. When Zhou saw Y/N talking with Mick and Esteban, he swiftly moved next to Lewis. ''Hey, man,'' he patted the Brit's shoulder, ''thanks for that, I really appreciate it.'' 

''No problem,'' Lewis smiled, ''we made a deal, I'm keeping my word.'' 

Zhou nodded. ''Yeah, you vote for me and I let you help me design her helmet.'' He recalled the promise they had made a day earlier. 

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of SA, discussions of sexual situations.

Word Count: 1k

Previously On...: You went through Bucky's text history with Jade. It was... illuminating, but also soul-crushing. You're not sure how you're going to get past this.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the engagement you've been giving the story! It means so much to me to see everyone so invested! I love you all! Some of ya'lls theories are WILD, and I love them! Keep 'em coming! And if you've sent me a speculation or comment and I haven't replied, it only means that I can't respond without giving away too much information about what's to come, so I feel it's best for me to keep my trap shut; not that I don't appreciate and love you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1 @les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The next several weeks passed by quietly. Or, rather, as quietly as living in a towerful of superheroes could be expected to be. You and Bucky danced around each other in a strange sort of limbo since you had officially broken up–almost two months ago, now– no longer lovers, yet not quite just friends. It was difficult. It was painful. He would say something, or give you that look, and you’d be so tempted to melt into his arms. Hell, or rip off his fucking clothes. But you’d remember everything that had happened, the way your life had been completely unended in the span of an evening, and the urges would vanish like smoke in the wind, and the walls would return around your heart.

You’d wanted to ask Steve about what Bucky had said– about getting erections when he sparred, but he was still ignoring you, not wanting to engage with you in any form of conversation that didn’t directly concern Avenger work. It was beyond frustrating, the length his cold shoulder had gone on for, but you couldn’t force him to engage with you.

There was, however, one person you could ask, though you were fairly confident Bucky would be furious at you for doing so. Oh well, you thought. If he didn’t want you asking questions about it, he should have never given you reason to question the things he told you in the first place.

“Hey, Sammy,” you said, cornering your friend in the training room after he finished a run on the treadmill. 

“‘Sup, Baby Girl?” Sam wiped his brow with the hem of his shirt. “Come to watch Ole Sammy get all sweaty?”

“Ew, gross,” you shoved him playfully. “Not even a little bit. I have a question for you, though.” You handed him his water bottle, and he took it from you gratefully, chugging down a few swigs before looking back to you.

“Shoot,” he said. “I got all the answers.”

You chewed thoughtfully on your bottom lip, wondering how exactly you were going to word your inquiry. “You ever spar with Bucky?”

Sam slowly lowered his water bottle and eyed you suspiciously. “Why?” he asked you slowly.

“It’s a simple question, Sam,” you responded as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Have you sparred with him, or not?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, as though trying to determine whether or not you were luring him into some kind of trap. “I have,” he drawed out.

You raised a brow. “Anything… weird ever happen to Bucky when he really lets himself get invested in a fight?” you asked. “Anything… unusual?”

“So, he finally told you about that, huh?” Sam asked, mirroring your stance. 

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific, Sam.” You put all of your weight onto one foot. 

“Well, either you know, or you don’t,” Sam argued. “It’s not my secret to tell you.”

You were growing frustrated at his reticence to give you the information you were looking for. “Come on, Sam. Let’s just say Bucky told me about something that occasionally happens to him when he fights, but I don’t know if I can believe him or not. I’d ask Steve, but he’s not speaking to me at the moment, so you’re my only way of confirming if what he told me is true or not. I need you to be straight with me. Please.”

Sam studied you, his expression unreadable. “What the hell happened between the two of you, Pocket?”

“Nothing I want to talk about right now, Sam,” you told him, your impatience beginning to show. “Are you going to tell me what I need to know, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, finally giving in. “Alright. So, sometimes, when Tin Man really gets into the heat of it, he gets…” Sam coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the line of conversation, “excited.”

“Excited.” You rolled the word around in your mouth. “More specific, Sam.”

Sam rubbed his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Baby Girl. You gonna make me spell it out?” You nodded, eager for him to get on with it.

Sam’s eyes rolled heavenward, as though he were praying for the Lord to give him the strength to deal with you. “Sometimes he gets a fucking boner when he fights, alright? You happy now?”

You should be. You really should be. It meant there was one thing, at least, he’d been honest with you about. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Did he tell you why?” you asked, instead.

“You’re just asking me to break all kinds of confidences today, ain’t ya, Baby Girl?” You gave him a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” Sam finally relented. “It was awkward as hell, the first time I noticed it happen, but Barnes said it was a left over from the shit Hydra did to him when they were programming him to be the Winter Soldier. They wanted to make him… excited by the fight, aroused by it.” Sam shook his head, disgusted by what his friend had endured. “So, they did all kindsa shit to merge the two– sex and violence, until his body couldn’t tell the difference between ‘em.”

You blinked once, twice, three times at Sam’s words. You supposed you should feel grateful– here was confirmation Bucky’d spoken the truth to you, and you were fairly sure that Sam wouldn’t have lied to your face to save Bucky’s ass. And yet… and yet. Sam, and Steve, as well, had been privy to this part of Bucky’s past that he’d felt the need to keep from you. Even that thought brought you more conflict: if it was something Bucky had shared with Sam and Steve, it made the fact he’d shared it with Jade less significant. But, the angry voice in the back of your head insisted, he’d still chosen not to share it with you. And that still stung. Your thoughts just spun in circles.

“Got anymore horrifically awkward questions for me?” Sam asked, and you realized you’d been silent a bit too long.

“No,” you said, shaking your head as though to clear your thoughts. “Uh, that was it. Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.” You turned to leave the training room.

“I’d say ‘any time, Baby Girl,’” Sam called after you, “but that was awkward as hell and I sure as shit never want to talk about Bucky’s erections with anyone ever again!”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[probablyhuntersmom]

I hadn't spotted these a year ago:

Oh my god, guys???!!! Parallels:

2. These are the same face - the Depression Face.

It tugs at my heart like nothing else, because...

3. Oooh never paid attention to this:

4. These lil' guys were moving and animated while sleeping here, aww:

5. The screenshot below, to me, is foreshadowing that Hunter may have expressed his wish to study at Hexside...but once that wish is actually granted, he too is gonna be depressed - at school, specifically - for months, and frustrated that he simply cannot be enthusiastic about classes the way he initially hoped. He'll push and push himself and judge himself for why he "can't even" enjoy lessons he's supposed to be excited about:

6. Do you think they took Hunter to the zoo's bird hall, before he carved Waffles (I personally view it as a good element of exposure therapy)? :

7. People usually put the S1 screenshot of Luz drawing light glyphs, next to the one with Flapjack fading away...but I saw this too:

It makes me wanna chew extra recycled cardboard about Luz and Flapjack parallels, specifically. Because of what they both offered to the world, if you think about it:

8. If Camila went through an outfit change like this in her nightmare:

Imagine the mayhem of Hunter's many nightmares with his many outfits :S

9. A really good reference for how Hunter healed pre-timeskip, is this sequence, where the order has been altered a bit below:

(who knows, maybe Willow recorded a lot of vids of him on her scroll T___T)

10. Wow this sums up the show doesn't it:

11. Ugh you can't tell me that...they wouldn't have had a similar-ish mirror scene with Waffles and older Hunter to these, if we had a full S3 or more seasons:

Him approaching a mirror with no palisman beside him...I can't imagine how that was in those horrible months. (Maybe he does this before heading out to conduct a Palisman Adoption Day)

12. I feel really happy, confidently believing that he unlearned this body language:

in the presence of adults, especially his new parental figures. Coercive control wasn't a dominating theme in his life anymore. And while we didn't see it onscreen, he would've found the space to even initiate connection via physical touch with his parents, like what Luz naturally does here:

I say "physical touch" specifically, because to quote @idlescree's amazing video analyses, Hunter's own physical body - not just his mind - was the ultimate and most intimate battleground for Belos to exert control, by possessing Hunter and using him as a puppet in the most direct way possible. So for Hunter to get physically close to family to express love after Flapjack's death, in spite of terrible spooky thoughts that he might still gravely injure others...that isn't a small feat at all.

13. I think his casual sweater is a plain gold colour, and his cosplay outfit has its yellow colour: because he's still influenced by Belos.

The black of the wolf tee and in the cosplay, feel to me like foreshadowing of his post-possession grief. Even after Flapjack is gone, Hunter still thinks about Belos and is still walking around in the same cosplay outfit. His newfound freedom and healing is reflected in his timeskip design (calm midtones of orange and blue): when Belos has no more hold on him via a painful history. We would see a progression from the predominant darkness of the black colour to those peaceful midtones on his clothing.

14. Best one saved for last! It's a headcanon, but I draw a few connections. @childlikegoblinqueen and I were talking about him likely returning to the place where poor Flapjack was slain, even if it takes a number of years before he can do so. Waffles will be with him.

Imagine...instead of running frantically in the night:

he calmly strolls during a beautiful Halloween evening, with autumn leaves blowing in the wind once again:

There are no horrors awaiting him, and very importantly, he can believe that.

And he visits the spot at the lake, and puts his hand to his chest:

but for once, he can smile while doing that specific gesture. All the times that he has put a hand to his heart in the show, he wasn't smiling (link). He then leaves and then returns to his family (walking in the opposite direction of the portal above) to have an actually joyful Halloween celebration.

[mononijikayu]

what are you doing new year's eve? ― nanami kento

The cafe was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them. Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

GENRE: Post - Jujutsu High, 2010s;

WARNING/s: Love at First Sight, Humor, Fluff, Hurt, Mild Angst, Emotional Scars, Mentions of Guilt, Depiction of Depression, Learning to Live with Grief, Moving Forward;

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

listen: what are you doing new year's eve by ella fitzgerald

malmö i mitt hjärta | what are you doing new year's eve

next: polaroid love

HE THINKS HE SHOULD HAVE WORN A WARMER COAT. Nanami Kento could feel his nose numbing as he tried to breathe air into his already exasperated lungs. He knew it was far too cold to wear this sort of coat. But he did not feel like going back into the house and scrambling through his winter clothes. He also did not want to see his grandmother fuss over him. She worries as much as his mother.

As much as he loved them both, he did not want them to worry too much about him. The cold could be bearable. But perhaps his restlessness was not. He needed to get out of the house. He just couldn’t take the four walls of his room anymore. He wouldn’t be able to bear it much longer.

The bitter wind, crisp and biting, meandered through the labyrinthine streets of Copenhagen, weaving its way around the ancient architecture that bore witness to the city's rich history. Each gust carried with it the distinctive scent of the nearby sea, a salty whisper that spoke of untold tales and distant horizons. In this Nordic city, where the air was charged with the essence of maritime adventure, Nanami Kento walked with purpose.

A year had passed since Nanami made the daring decision to sever ties with the tumultuous world of jujutsu. The echoes of battles fought and sacrifices made lingered in his memory, but the decision to leave it all behind had granted him a newfound sense of freedom. Seeking solace from the haunting shadows of his past, he found refuge in the comforting embrace of his grandparents' home—a haven nestled in the heart of this foreign land.

The cobblestone streets beneath his boots whispered tales of centuries gone by, and the vibrant hues of the buildings stood in stark contrast to the monochrome memories Nanami had left behind. In the midst of this cultural tapestry, he discovered solace, a respite from the constant turmoil that had defined his life.

As he walked through the city, the wind tugged at the collar of his coat, a reminder of the world he had chosen to leave behind. Yet, there was a promise in the air, an intangible current that hinted at new beginnings. Copenhagen, with its fusion of tradition and modernity, offered Nanami a canvas on which to paint the next chapter of his life.

Arriving at the doorstep of his grandparents' home, he felt the weight of the wooden door, weathered by time and stories. It swung open to welcome him, and the warmth within enveloped him like a familiar hug. The walls whispered tales of his own childhood, and the aroma of his grandmother's cooking wafted through the air, grounding him in the present.

In this foreign land, amidst the echoes of harsher winters than that of his own, Nanami discovered the beauty of starting anew. The bitter wind, though relentless, became a companion on his journey of self-discovery. As the sea-scented breeze caressed his face, he couldn't help but feel that, in Copenhagen, he had found a sanctuary—a place where the echoes of the jujutsu world could finally be drowned out by the soothing symphony of a city that embraced him without judgment.

It was a crisp winter morning, the kind that painted the world in hues of silver and white. Nanami Kento ambled through the narrow, quaint streets of the city, a foreign canvas upon which his footsteps left imprints of newfound freedom. The Nordic air, crisp and invigorating, filled his lungs with each breath, replacing the dense, suffocating atmosphere of the jujutsu world with the promise of serenity.

As he meandered through the snow-covered landscape, the weight that had burdened his shoulders for so long began to dissipate. The Scandinavian calm enveloped him like a soothing balm, soothing the wounds inflicted by battles fought and choices made. The city, adorned in its winter finery, seemed to cradle Nanami in its embrace, offering respite from the storm he had weathered.

Yet, in the quiet moments of solitude, Nanami couldn't escape the specters of his past. The thought of Mikoto Nobuhiko lingered in the recesses of his mind—the glistening eyes, the unspoken emotions that danced between them as they parted ways in the dorms. The memories of youth, now distant echoes, resurfaced, particularly the haunting image of standing before a cobblestone tomb where a dear friend rested, taken too soon. Nanami often found himself plagued by self-blame, haunted by the belief that he could have done more, that he could have altered the course of fate.

In the quiet of Copenhagen's winter, he couldn't shake the dreams of Yu Haibara and his infectious boyish smile. The gentleness that once defined Yu, stolen away by the unforgiving hands of the cruel world, haunted Nanami's subconscious. Yet, like a mantra, he reminded himself that those days were gone, a realm he could never revisit. The past, with its joys and sorrows, had become an unalterable tapestry that no amount of yearning could unravel.

Copenhagen, with its cold tendrils caressing his skin, became a sanctuary where Nanami sought solace. The chill, instead of biting, cradled him tenderly, a reminder that he had escaped the clutches of a world he could never truly leave behind. The city, with its ancient charm and modern allure, became a backdrop for Nanami's journey forward.

It whispered promises of a new beginning, a life unburdened by the shackles of the past. In the heart of Copenhagen, Nanami found relief, and as he navigated the snow-kissed streets, he embraced the present, determined to forge a path ahead—one guided not by regret, but by the gentle touch of a city that offered him a canvas upon which to paint the chapters of his rebirth.

The familiar street greeted him like an old friend, its cobblestones beneath his feet whispering tales of summer days gone by. Just a few months ago, Nanami Kento had wandered these same lanes during the summer break. The memories of those warm days lingered, woven into the fabric of the city's essence.

His grandfather, a jazz musician with a passion that spanned decades, had been a regular attendee of the music festival that graced the city every summer since the '70s. Kento, in tow, became a witness to the traditions that bound generations together. It had been a family affair, with his mother, equally enamored with jazz, usually accompanying them. However, that particular summer, his mother opted to spend time with his grandmother, leaving Kento with his father and grandfather.

As he traversed the familiar route, Kento couldn't help but reminisce about that summer day when the vibrant world of jazz had captured his senses. The infectious rhythm and soulful melodies had beckoned him, and he had surrendered himself to the music, if only for a brief moment. Little did he anticipate that this impromptu decision would act as a catalyst, altering the trajectory of his life.

The memories of that summer warmed his heart as he strolled through the well-trodden path. The city, once again alive with the spirit of jazz, seemed to echo with the tunes that had left an indelible mark on his soul.

And then, as if the city itself orchestrated a serendipitous encounter, he found himself standing in the same spot where destiny had intervened months ago. His gaze fell upon a young woman, her beauty transcending the ordinary. A wide smile graced her face, and her infectious laughter mingled with the music that enveloped the space. Her dress swirled around her as she danced with a partner, the joyous energy radiating from her like a beacon.

She fell into her partner's chest, laughter bubbling forth like a melody, and when she turned to face Kento, her eyes sparkled with an intensity that rivaled the sun. Before he could fathom what was happening, she took him by the hand, her eyes silently urging him to join the dance. 

A playful gleam lit up her eyes as she extended her hand toward him, the vivacity in her voice cutting through the ambient jazz notes. He felt hesitant for a moment, turning to his father and grandfather with sudden panic. He did not know how to react. They nodded at him, smiling and urging him forward.

The air was charged with excitement and vibrant wonder, and as the first notes of a jazz tune enveloped them, Kento couldn't resist the magnetic pull of the music and the enchanting woman who had chosen him as her dance partner.

"Come on, don't be shy! Let the music guide you," she urged, her grin infectious, and in that instant, Nanami Kento felt a magnetic pull that transcended both time and space.

Without a word, he took her hand, and as their fingers intertwined, an unspoken connection ignited. The jazz, a melodic symphony that seemed to resonate from the very heart of the city, served as the backdrop to their impromptu dance.

The crowded space with its eclectic mix of jazz enthusiasts faded into the background as they swayed and twirled to the rhythm of the music. The world ,with its indifference and worries, ceased to exist within the warmth of the shared moment. In the heart of Copenhagen, surrounded by the echoes of jazz, Nanami Kento and the mysterious woman moved in perfect harmony.

The music, like a benevolent guide, dictated their steps, leading them through a dance that felt both spontaneous and rehearsed. As they spun and dipped, the energy of the jazz festival enveloped them, creating a cocoon where the troubles of the past and uncertainties of the future held no sway.

The woman's laughter, a melody of its own, echoed through the cobbled streets, interweaving with the jazz notes in a harmonious dance. Nanami, typically reserved and guarded, found himself surrendering to the rhythm, losing track of time and space. For those fleeting moments, the weight of the jujutsu world, the ghosts of his past, all seemed to dissipate in the cadence of their shared dance.

As the final notes of the jazz piece resonated through the air, the applause of the café's patrons brought them back to reality. The woman, still caught in the joy of the dance, turned to Nanami with a bright smile. 

"That was amazing! Thank you for dancing with me," she expressed, her eyes reflecting genuine appreciation.

Nanami, a rare warmth lingering in his eyes, met her gaze. "No, thank you. It was a pleasure," he replied, a sentiment that transcended mere words. 

He tried not to be embarrassed as he stepped away from her and back towards his father and grandfather. They continued to clap and laugh and praise him for doing well. Father even bragged about having taken a video and promised to show it to his mother later. He groaned about it as they continued to walk off and go to the path towards the other jazz musicians.

He did not know if it was the Danish sun that was hot all summer that made him feel so warm.

But as he turned back, seeing the young woman smile and giggle.

He was certain that the warmth he felt would stay with him throughout.

The spellbinding dance in the heart of bright, sunny Copenhagen had not only offered Nanami an escape from his past but had also kindled a connection that felt destined—a dance of a lifetime that he would carry with him, a cherished memory of a summer's day in a city that had become his unexpected refuge.

Restlessness gripped Nanami Kento with an unyielding tenacity, casting a pervasive shadow over the edges of his solitude. Within the confines of his own thoughts, dark tendrils of contemplation writhed like wildfire, unwelcome and intrusive. He loathed this emotional turbulence, an unwelcome companion that had persisted, refusing to release its hold on him even after the passage of time.

Seated with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, Nanami took deliberate, deep breaths, attempting to quell the tempest within his mind. The warmth of the beverage offered a comforting contrast to the internal chill that clung to him. It was a battle against the relentless onslaught of thoughts, a struggle against the emotions that threatened to consume him.

In this moment of quiet reflection, he pondered the futile hope that distance could sever the ties to haunting memories. He had sought solace miles and miles away, yearning to escape the accusatory gazes that whispered tales of abandonment and the painful eyes that spoke the language of goodbyes.

As he sighed, the warm breath escaping his lips seemed to carry with it the weight of unresolved emotions. Nanami couldn't escape the relentless echoes of the past, and even in the sanctuary of a quiet corner with a steaming cup before him, the turmoil within persisted. The hot chocolate, a feeble antidote, offered temporary respite, but the battle against the haunting shadows of his thoughts endured.

It was a struggle against an invisible adversary, an emotional warfare that unfolded within the confines of his own consciousness. Nanami, with each deliberate sip, attempted to find solace, seeking refuge in the simple act of indulging in the warmth of his drink. Yet, the restlessness, like an indomitable force, continued to linger, an ever-present companion on his journey through the labyrinth of his own emotions.

The familiar walls of his grandparents' home, while comforting, seemed to close in on him, urging him to escape the confines of his own thoughts. Sensing his need for reprieve, his grandfather, a sage figure of wisdom and understanding, suggested a simple remedy—take a walk.

The time-worn walls of his grandparents' home, though steeped in familiarity and the embrace of cherished memories, now seemed to tighten their grasp on Nanami Kento. Despite their comforting presence, they took on an almost oppressive quality, closing in around him like silent witnesses to the turmoil within his mind. The quietude of the rooms, once a haven, now echoed with the resonance of unspoken thoughts, urging him to seek refuge beyond the confines of his own contemplations.

His grandfather seemed to recognize the restlessness that brewed within Kento's being. Perhaps his mother has felt this way before too. Grandfather smiled at him tenderly. He was like a sage whenever Kento looked at him. It was as though he was someone who years carried the weight of experience and the gentle wisdom of time. 

Certainly, he sensed the need for reprieve in his grandson's troubled heart. It was amidst this silent acknowledgment that the elderly patriarch offered a remedy as simple as it was profound—take a walk and relieve your heart with the sights of something else.

The suggestion hung in the air, laden with the unspoken understanding that sometimes, the remedy for a restless soul lay not in grand gestures or complex solutions, but in the simplicity of a deliberate step outside. The labyrinth of thoughts could often be navigated more effectively under the open sky, where the vastness of the world provided both perspective and solace.

Nanami, sensing the gravity of his grandfather's suggestion, nodded in silent agreement. It was a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that transcended generations—the understanding that, in the face of internal struggles, the wisdom of an elder could guide one towards a path of renewal.

As he stepped out into the crisp air, the creaking door behind him seemed to release not just his physical form but also the weight of his emotional burden. The world outside, bathed in the soft hues of daylight, became a canvas for introspection and healing. 

Nanami's footsteps echoed the rhythm of his contemplations, each stride serving as a subtle declaration of his intent to navigate the labyrinth of his thoughts with the simple act of walking—an age-old remedy, whispered from one generation to another, under the watchful eyes of time.

The winter air greeted him coldly as he stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of Copenhagen. With earphones in place, the soothing rhythms of bossa nova provided a backdrop to his aimless journey. Each step resonated with a silent yearning to untangle the threads of his restless mind.

The city unfolded before him, a tapestry of ancient charm and modern allure, and Kento wandered through its labyrinthine streets, losing himself in the rhythmic cadence of his footsteps. As the city whispered tales of its storied past, he meandered through the enigmatic alleys, the bossa nova notes acting as a companion to his contemplations.

However, fatigue eventually set in, and as if guided by an unseen force, Kento found himself standing at the entrance of a familiar courtyard. The air seemed to shimmer with a sense of déjà vu, transporting him back to the vibrant days of summer. It was as if the city itself conspired to lead him to this very spot.

Without much thought, he stepped into the charming café tucked away in the corner of the courtyard. The ambiance was a sensory symphony, the warm notes of a saxophone enveloping him like a gentle embrace. The air buzzed with the lively laughter and animated chatter of cafe-goers, creating an atmosphere that felt alive with shared joy.

Nanami chose a seat near the small stage, drawn like a moth to the enchanting voice of the singer who held court before a captivated audience. The music, a melodic potion, seemed to weave a spell around him, momentarily quieting the restlessness that had plagued his thoughts. The singer, with a voice that resonated with emotion and grace, commanded the attention of everyone present, casting a spell that transcended the ordinary.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the café and the entrancing melodies of the festival, Nanami Kento found himself once again caught in the embrace of the city's magic. The saxophone's soothing tones and the singer's enchanting voice served as a balm for his restless soul, providing a sanctuary where the worries of the world outside momentarily ceased to exist.

It was her, singing as though an angel sent from above.

Nanami Kento felt his lips part, but no words could come out.

He felt that same warmth, just as he had that summer's day in her arms.

As the musical crescendo reached its zenith, the singer's gaze, like a beacon in the dimly lit cafe, found Nanami Kento's eyes. In that ephemeral connection, a knowing smile graced her lips, a silent acknowledgment that transcended the audible notes and resonated with the unspoken language of their shared musical experience.

In that moment, it was as if a secret pact had been forged, sealed with the mutual understanding that they were both voyagers on a sonic journey, each note a stepping stone leading them to the heart of the melody.

The singer, bathed in the golden glow of the stage lights, seemed to surrender herself to the intoxicating passion of the music. Her eyes, illuminated with a spark of something indefinable, drank deeply from the chalice of its harmony, as if she were communing with a force beyond the tangible. It was a transcendent communion, where the boundaries between artist and art blurred, leaving only the essence of emotion that permeated the air.

For Kento, the allure of her presence became an irresistible force, a magnetic pull that tethered him to the heart of the performance. As he watched her, he felt not just the music but the very essence of her being infused with the atmosphere.

It was as though she and the music were indivisible entities, two sides of the same coin, each note an extension of her soul. In the canvas of the cafe, where the air hummed with the residue of melodies, life unfolded before him in the form of this captivating songstress.

The symbiosis between the singer and the music was palpable, a dance of mutual surrender. It was as though she embodied the very spirit of the composition, becoming the living, breathing manifestation of the melodies that cascaded around her.

The passion that emanated from her was contagious, and in that intimate space, Nanami Kento found himself caught in the intricate dance between artist and audience, the boundaries between their worlds momentarily dissolved.

In the presence of this goddess, life seemed to harmonize with the cadence of her voice. It was as though the cafe itself had become a sacred space, where the divinity of music and the essence of existence converged, creating a symphony that transcended the ordinary. 

In those moments, as the singer basked in the afterglow of the song's climax, Nanami Kento couldn't help but feel that he had witnessed not just a performance but a manifestation of life's profound beauty.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the atmosphere of the cafe transformed into a timeless realm where Nanami Kento found himself ensconced in the spell of both music and the captivating presence of the singer. The rhythm became a pulse, and time, a fluid entity that seemed to elude the constraints of the clock. She sang, her voice a melodic river that coursed through the air, and Kento, a willing captive, lost himself in the undulating waves of sound.

Her singing was a continuous offering, a stream of prayers that flowed from her lips, each note like a sacred incantation. Kento, seated in the audience, listened with a reverence that bordered on the worshipful. It was as though he paid homage to a goddess of music, and in the repetition of the praises, he found himself entranced by the enchanting cadence that echoed through the space.

In a serendipitous twist of fate, Kento learned that she was a last-minute replacement, a sudden vacancy in the band leaving them without a singer.

Her brother, a member of the jazz band, had called her at the eleventh hour to fill the void. She chuckled at the unexpected turn of events, downplaying the praises that showered upon her. She waved them off, saying she was no singer. That she was no professional.

Yet Kento, a discerning listener, recognized the truth in those praises. They all ring true. Her voice, a celestial melody that resonated with his very soul, had woven itself into the fabric of his being.

When the final notes of the last song melted into the ether, the cafe erupted in applause. The singer, basking in the aftermath of her musical journey, cast a gentle smile in Kento's direction. It was a moment of acknowledgment, a silent exchange that transcended the applause and connected them on a level beyond the tangible.

As she prepared to leave the stage, she thanked everyone for coming. She started to say goodbye to members of the band and grinned at them, joking with them for a bit and kissed her brother's cheek and left the stage. Her brother was doing the next set as just jazz music, and so the claps and cheers finished and began anew as the band started to play once more. The cafe had turned into the bar it was at night.

The warmth of the cafe–bar gave way to the chill of the outside world. Opening the door, she let out a disgruntled sound and started complaining about the winter cold with her thick She started to stepped out into the cold, fumbling with the buttons of her winter coat. In that transitional moment, as the boundary between the magical world of music and the reality of the winter night blurred, Kento felt an unfamiliar impulse surge within him.

Seizing the opportunity, propelled by a courage he hadn't known existed, he stepped forward to bridge the gap between their worlds. The cold air hung heavy with anticipation as he took a chance, driven by an urge to break free from the silent observer and become an active participant in the unfolding drama of the night.

"Wait," the words escaped Nanami Kento's lips, a sudden impulse that caught even himself off guard. The singer turned towards him, her eyes a curious but kind inquiry, as if the melody of his voice had woven its own verse into the lingering notes of the music. "I think I know you."

Her gaze studied his face for a moment before recognition sparked in her eyes, and a smile began to blossom on her lips. "I met you, this summer. Didn't I? We danced together, just nearby!"

A nod from Kento, his heart resounding with each beat, a rhythm echoing the memories of that summer encounter. "Yes, I just... I just thought I was mistaken."

Her grin widened, a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, you weren't. Good for you, hm?"

"I, uh... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither," she responded, her hands finding refuge in her pockets, the winter air lending warmth to her words. "But my brother needed my help, and it's his last gig for the year. I thought I should help him out."

"I see."

"What's your name?"

"Kento," he replied, the syllables escaping almost too quickly for his liking. "Kento Nanami."

"Oh, you're Japanese?" A moment of realization crossed her features, and she gracefully bowed to him. Switching to Japanese, she continued, "It's nice to meet you."

Caught off guard, he reciprocated the bow, his face reflecting a mixture of surprise and astonishment. The unexpected reunion and the sudden switch to their shared language in the heart of Copenhagen added an unforeseen twist to the unfolding moment.

She giggled as she shared her name, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as if Nanami was attempting to etch it into the recesses of his memory.

"I think I should go, Nanami—kun. After all, it's getting late."

"O-oh, uh... of course."

With a casual wave, she added, "Happy New Year, Nanami-kun."

"Happy New Year," he replied, the exchange marking a momentary farewell. Yet, just as she began to turn away, an inexplicable force pulled at him.

He called out to her again. That was what stunned him. He called her name by the pure, unexpected impulse. He did not know if she will turn around. But when she turned, still smiling, he could feel his heart pound so hard in his chest. It hurt to feel so warm inside, so almost exposed to the echoes of life. 

Yet he knew he wanted to be greedy, at this moment.

Nanami Kento thinks he will not be able to not speak his heart aloud.

Because deep within, he found himself reluctant to let her slip away. 

Scratching the back of his head, heat flushing his face, he mumbled, "I don't really do this, and I... I don't really know what will happen after I say it. But I just had to ask."

Her grin persisted, "What is it, stranger?"

"Would you like to have a meal with me?" He mumbles out, barely coherent. "Not here....just. Let's look for a place to eat at."

The question lingered in the air, suspended between the notes of the fading jazz melody, the enchantment of Copenhagen's winter night, and the thread of connection woven through their shared history of a summer dance. 

It was a daring proposition, an invitation that transcended the boundaries of the ordinary, as if the cafe–bar itself held its breath in anticipation of her response.

Her eyes, still carrying the sparkle of their shared memories, held a playful curiosity as she considered his invitation. The cafe and bar, wrapped in the quietude of the aftermath of the performance, seemed to wait with bated breath for her answer. 

The allure of possibility wafted through the space, a subtle hum in the air that resonated with the unspoken possibilities of a shared coffee, a continuation of a story that had begun in the rhythms of a summer dance.

She tilted her head, the smile on her lips carrying a hint of mischief, "Well, Kento—kun, I suppose it would be a shame to let such an unexpected reunion end so quickly, wouldn't it?"

Nanami Kento felt a surge of relief and excitement, the uncharted territory of possibility stretching before them. It was as though this moment just felt right. Everything he felt was right. Everything he felt about life shifted and changed and merged and broke. Everything in this moment was beyond comprehension. Everything about tonight was a once and a lifetime miracle.

"I'd like that," he replied, a sincerity in his voice that mirrored the warmth that had been kindled within him. "Very much."

She hums back, happily. "Hm, me too."

Their conversation, a delightful blend of laughter and shared memories, intertwined seamlessly with the enchanting atmosphere of the night. The lamplights cast elongated shadows on the cobblestone streets, creating an intimate tableau as they meandered through the city's silent alleys.

It was a dance of words beneath the glow, a choreography of sentences and responses that mirrored the ebb and flow of the moonlit waves on a distant shore.

The moon, a silent sentinel in the celestial expanse, bestowed its tender glow upon them, as if lending an ethereal blessing to this rendezvous. Its silver light, filtered through the winter night's breath, painted their silhouettes against the backdrop of Copenhagen's timeless beauty.

Underneath the moonlit canvas, they strolled with a leisurely pace, navigating the labyrinth of streets with no particular destination in mind. Each step was a sentence in the unwritten story of their night—a story that seemed to unfold organically, propelled by the magnetic pull of shared laughter and the quiet understanding that words could convey.

As they wandered, the city's pulse seemed to quicken, echoing the cadence of their conversation. The facades of historic buildings, adorned with tales of centuries past, watched over them like ancient guardians privy to the secrets exchanged in the moonlit embrace of the night.

The chill in the air did nothing to cool the warmth that radiated between them. Their breath mingled with the winter mist, creating an ephemeral veil around their steps. It was a dance of tenderness, orchestrated by the moon's watchful gaze and accompanied by the distant symphony of the city—footsteps on cobblestones, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the murmur of waves caressing the nearby shore.

As they continued to amble through Copenhagen's nocturnal embrace, the moonlight etched a silent poem in the sky, an ode to unexpected reunions and the timeless beauty of shared moments beneath its watchful eye. The city, in its slumber, whispered its approval, its ancient heart beating in harmony with the melody of their conversation. And in that tranquil interlude, two souls found solace in the delicate dance of words and the moonlit romance of a winter night in Copenhagen.

The cafe and bar was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them.

Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

writer's notes: i hope this makes up for the overtly sad sad stuff i write on here. this is a new year chapter for the new years!!! happy new year everyone!!! thank you for your support throughout 2023!!! let's be together happily in 2024 too!!!

fact about nanami and his wife this chapter: nanami's parents visited and attended a jujutsu sorcerer christmas party. his parents showed gojo the video of young nanami dancing with his wife in copenhagen. needless to say, nanami is not pleased. nanami's wife often comes to her brother's rescue when the singer of their band makes excuses. she has a really good singing voice and it helped nanami during sleepless nights or after a nightmare. she's been recruited a couple of times to be a professional singer, but she prefers writing! nanami's wife can speak japanese because her favorite uncle married a japanese woman. she wanted to be able to speak to her, so she and her aunt learned japanese and danish together. i always imagine nanami's wife's voice be like narumi from wotakoi while i write her dialogue. she sounds soft spoken but energetically bright to me. she was played by arisa date. here's a sample of narumi's voice. nanami's top three favorite music genre is hard rock, alternative rock and jazz. but he would listen to all types of music too. nanami's wife likes a lot of sorts of music, but she grew up around jazz, pop and ballad. the day of their wedding, gojo's present to nanami's wife was a giving her a flash drive of second year nanami kento singing and jamming out to evanescence's bring me back to life. his wife calls it the best video ever. nanami has tried to take the flashdrive but his wife has made subsequent copies! copenhagen is nanami and his wife's favorite city to be in whenever they're in denmark. its everything to them to be there on july, when the jazz festival happens when they first met and near new year when they had they met again. the years after this, when they confessed in snow flower, on new year's eve, when he and her came back to the jazz bar and ate at the same place as their first date as a couple.

[swallowtail-lotus]

Playful Much? {Michel Nostradamus x Tanjiro!Reader}

Repost

Looking back, I realised I never really wrote anything for him... I'll have to change that hahaha

________________

You walked alongside Brunhilde and Göll, a gentle smile on your face. You knew what the taller valkyrie was thinking. You both knew Buddha's victory against the Demon Lord, Hajun had unnerved the gods, except you, of course.

You weren't really paying much attention to the two valkyries and what they were talking about, but you knew it was about Buddha.

When everything was silent for a moment, you poked your head out to see what the two were staring at.

You didn't expect another Brunhilde in the room.

"There's two of her?? That shouldn't be possible unless it was Loki and his usual shenanigans, but I don't feel his aura at all. So who could it be?" You pondered, staring at the second Brunhilde in shock.

"Huh? What? Huuh?! Th-There's two Hildes??" Göll shrieked, her head looking at the two Brunhildes repeatedly. A tick mark appeared on real Brunhilde's forehead.

"What are doing here... With MY clothes on... Nostradamus?!" Brunhilde asked with anger, pointing her finger at the other Brunhilde. You and Göll looked at the ravenette valkyrie in confusion. More for Göll than you in curiosity.

The other Brunhilde took off the clothes and revealed a male with short hair and pretty eyes. His clothes were certainly interesting to you. He threw the clothes away and cleared his throat.

"Allow me to prophesy!" He said, pointing at you and the two valkyries.

"The ones to win Ragnarok will be the gods!" He exclaimed, now pointing at you specifically. A small gasp left your lips and your eyes widen.

"Y... You mean mankind's gonna lose?!" Göll exclaimed. Brunhilde and Nostradamus stared at each other for a few seconds before the male fell back from laughter.

"Khee hee hee! You bought it!" He laughed, his loud laughter filling the room. You looked at Göll, whose face was heating up, possibly from embarrassment. You held in your giggles, covering your mouth with your hand.

"S-sister Hilde!! What's his problem?! He's really peeving me off!!" Göll snapped, pointing at the male, clearly angry. It was really hard to keep your giggles in because of Göll's reaction. When Brunhilde was about to answer Göll, your laughter rang through the room.

"L-Lady (Y/n)?!" Göll asked.

"See? This lovely lady gets it." The male smiled, leaning back.

"As I was going to say, exactly what you see, Göll. The man before you is the most obnoxious man in all human history." Brunhilde spoke, patting the younger valkyrie.

"And unfortunately, he's really fucking strong." The older valkyrie finished, scratching her head. You already knew from the aura he had. You took some steps closer, scanning the man before you with your shiny eyes.

"Ah, just what do you think you're doing, Ma Chère?" Nostradamus asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Apologies. I was just examining your aura. You have a powerful one." You replied, your lips forming a gentle smile.

"Th-this pervert, who tries on your clothes without your permission is strong for real?" Göll inquired, still upset about what happened a few minutes ago.

"Yes. However, continue with your pranks and I will cut you from the roster and send you back to helheim." Brunhilde answered, folding her arms. 

"Huh?! Not thaaaat!!" The male exclaimed. You tilted your head at sudden loudness.

"Those monsters did stuff to me I can't even describe. Truth be told, they left my body and soul in shambles." He shivered. You sniffed the air, the familiar scent of someone's lies reaching your nostrils.

"To be sent back there, after you chose me to represent mankind and called me here, brunie..." He lied again, his hands clasped in a prayer. When the ravenette valkyrie opened her mouth, you stomped your foot.

"Please stop, young one. We both know of your lies." You snapped, you smile long gone and arms folded over your chest.

"If you truly felt like it, you could have come back any time. Even if it took killing the guards." Your eyes widen at the statement. This small male human could've come here without being called here?

"I guess, yeah! There's just a certain Je-ne-sais-quoi about that place the makes it all so appealing!~" Nostradamus chimed, throwing away the white cloth he used to wipe away the fake tears.

"H-hang on a minute! H-he's a human, right? W.. why was he in helheim?" Göll asked the question you wanted to ask.

"He broke the god's taboo and became the only one in all humanity to be cast into helheim." Brunhilde explained. Your eyes expressed shock and worry, mostly shock at that info.

"Ehehehehe! Don't flatter me too much! You're overexaggerating!" Nostradamus laughed, looking all happy.

"B-broke the god's taboo? What the heck did he do??" Göll panicked, her face showing fear.

"He destroyed the bifrost." Brunhilde answered. Both you and Göll held fearful expressions. Why would this human do such a thing?

"Y-you destroyed the bifrost?! Why would you..."

"I didn't destroy the whole thing, though. They got to me eventually!" Nostradamus admitted, poking his tongue out in a childish way. You played with the silk around your arms, not knowing how to respond to such information.

"Is there any reason why you're here?" Brunhilde questioned, staring at the male.

"Ooh yeah. I was just wondering if it's my turn yet." Nostradamus recalled. That perked your interest.

"No. Your turn is still a long way. Because you are our joker." Brunhilde responded. A ring from her device caught all your attention. You took a spot behind her, looking down at the screen display. You sworn your felt all colour drain from your figure at the next fighter for the gods.

"What?! Round seven is H-H-H-Hades?!" You had an idea of how Göll was feeling about that. Hades is one of the strongest Greek gods. Nostradamus and Göll were talking at once, slowly giving you a headache. Second after you moved away from the ravenette valkyrie, she shoved them off her. You moved to catch the human male, his head nearly hitting your chest.

"Are you okay?" You asked the man, standing him up on his feet. The light haired male turned around, giving you his teasing smile.

"I am now~" He sang, his eyes staring into yours. When you wanted to speak to the Valkyries, you didn't see them in the room. They must've took off to go find the next human fighter. You walked to the doors when you felt something grab your silk.

"Aw, don't you wanna stay with me? Am I too much?" Nostradamus teased, sitting back down on the table with his usual self. It was like he was inviting you back to him.

"Well, not really. I admit, I am surprised about you becoming the first human to be cast to helheim." You admitted, your eyes closed and your gentle smile on full display.

"What can I say, I just wanted to know what'll happen if I destroy that gate." The male beamed.

"By the way, you look really cute. Your slightly feminine features actually suit you very well, oh dear Nostradamus." You complimented the man, bringing his locks of hair in your hands.

"Huh?"

[rachalixie]

slipped my mind

you and hyunjin are happily together. too bad you forgot to tell anyone that.

warnings: gender neutral reader x hyunjin, food mention, alcohol mention, friends to lovers

genre: fluff, (unintentional) secret relationship

word count: 1000+

it isn’t that you and hyunjin were trying to hide your relationship from your friends, it really wasn’t. it just, happened. like that.

let’s go back to the beginning shall we?

hyunjin has always been affectionate with you, ever since the first day you met. as soon as you were introduced he wrapped his long arms around you in a hug and he smelled so good and he was so tall and you knew then that you were gone for him. felix complained for months about how unfair it was that he immediately pressed up next to you but it took so long for hyunjin to accept felix’s cuddles.

you quickly became close friends, your personalities meshing together like peanut butter and jelly, just like your friends insisted they would when they introduced the two of you. he laughed at your jokes and you found him hilarious, he liked to give you hugs and you liked to receive them. you simply got each other, more than anyone else ever had. it was a match made in heaven, truly.

it took forever for him to make a move. the both of you were so dramatic but so shy that you danced around each other for months and months, hoping the other felt the same way but not willing to risk your friendship. it finally happened when he drove you home from a 3racha party and you invited him inside, which wasn’t uncommon; you were often each other’s ride home since you lived in the same building. this time though, he pressed you up against the door as soon as he shut it and all but attacked your lips with his own. he kissed you like he thought you would disappear, like you would turn to dust if he let go of you. he pulled back with his eyes wide a minute later, a ‘sorry’ about to fall from his lips, but you pulled him back in with just as much fervor and the rest was history.

things were almost too smooth after that. dates were easy since all you had to do was take an elevator two floors up to his place. there was no awkwardness between you since you both already knew each other so well. you didn’t have to introduce your boyfriend to your friends because they already knew him.

which, in retrospect, is where the problem probably began. you didn’t have to introduce hyunjin as your boyfriend, so you didn’t bother to tell anyone at all.

group hangouts were the same as they were before. hyunjin was all over you? no big deal, he always has been. the two of you agreed that kissing in public wasn’t really your thing, so any amount of PDA you displayed was seen as friendly and normal for you. your cat likes hyunjin more than she likes you? that little rascal always has. the two of you go home together? well yeah, you live in the same building. no one was there to see you both stumble into the same apartment at the end of the night and fall into the same bed together.

it all came to a climax when minho and felix try to meddle into your love lives. all in good nature, they later claimed, as if you would believe those gremlins. you’re sitting in your pajamas eating cookie dough ice cream and watching love island when minho showed up at your apartment with a grin one night, telling you to cancel any plans you had and to get dressed.

“wear something nice,” he said, already flicking through your closet and throwing articles of clothing onto your bed. “you’re going on a date.”

“i’m going on a what?” you stood there in the doorway of your room, mouth gaping.

“a date,” he said slowly, as if talking to a toddler. “you know, the things that people who aren’t you go on to meet other people and then get laid-“

“whoa whoa, slow down,” you cut him off, frowning. “i go on dates. i have a boyfriend! it’s-”

“yeah, sure.” he deadpanned, finished outfit held out in front of him. “put this on. you’re going to get drinks so put on that dark red lipstick you have too.” he pushed you into your bathroom with the clothes and shut the door behind you, leaving you standing there in utter shock. was minho setting you up on a blind date? why would he do this when you have a boyfriend? he knows this. he knows this right? your phone chimed several times from your back pocket, bringing you out of your internal panic.

felix just stormed into my place and told me to get ready for a date?????

im hiding in my closet

send help?

hyunjin’s texts read, surprisingly not broken up into fragmented sentences like he usually does when he’s freaking out.

minho just did the same thing to me, you type back, hands shaking slightly. what was happening?

are you also going to get drinks?, he asked a minute later, making the wheels turn in your head.

yeah

wait

are they setting us up on a blind date with each other???, your breathing is picking up, the confusing pieces starting to fit together.

why would they set us up on a date if we’re already dating

wait

babe

did we forget.

to tell our friends that we’re dating.

as soon as hyunjin’s words registered, the final piece slotted in to make a jangled up complete puzzle. you forgo texting back to hit the call button, putting your phone on speaker and throwing the clothes minho gave you onto the floor.

“help?” hyunjin almost screeched into the phone as a greeting.

“i can’t help you! i need to help myself!” you answer back just as frantically, gesturing with your hands uselessly.

“how did they not know? how did we not tell them? it’s been months!” hyunjin wailed, and you resisted the urge to scream in frustration. “we celebrated our anniversary last month!”

“hyune, we celebrated our friend-anniversaries before we started dating, oh my god, we didn’t tell our friends we were dating, we’re so screwed.”

“we’re in a secret relationship. we’re in a secret relationship. we’re living the plot of a rom-com. how is this happening-“

suddenly your bathroom door swings open, making you scream, and you hear felix’s deep voice through your phone on the counter as him and minho both gasped.

“you’re what?”

—

sequel

masterlist

[bradshawsbaby]

Ooh, I love these cozy prompts! How about "did we fall asleep?" "i think we did.." for either Bob or Rhett x Honeybee - your choice! ☺️

Thank you for sending one in, my friend! I decided to go with our dear Bobby for this one 🥰

It had been a long week of work for both you and Bob, and the two of you had been looking forward to a weekend of uninterrupted alone time for days. Between Bob’s long hours on North Island and all the extra shifts you had been picking up for the sake of your wedding budget, you and your fiancé had been like two ships passing in the night for what felt like ages.

But this weekend, the stars had aligned perfectly. You and Bob both had off, and you were determined to make every moment count. It wasn’t going to be about wedding planning stuff either—you had assured him of that. All you wanted to do was spend some quality time with your favorite guy. Bob always went above and beyond to show you how much he loved you, so you had taken it upon yourself to go above and beyond planning every little detail of this weekend.

Tonight, you had a reservation at one of your favorite restaurants in La Jolla, the restaurant where you and Bob had gone for your third date—which also happened to be the night you shared your first real kiss. Then tomorrow, the two of you would be spending the afternoon at the San Diego Natural History Museum—you loved seeing your sweet fiancé’s eyes light up as he walked through his favorite exhibits—followed by a picnic in Balboa Park. And as for the rest of the weekend—well, you hadn’t just purchased several new lingerie sets for nothing.

You were buzzing with excitement as you began packing up and getting ready to leave work, pulling out your phone and sending a quick message to Bob, even though you knew he might not see it for a while yet.

I’m so excited for tonight! I have a date with a really cute aviator 😉 Hope he likes me!

You were pleasantly surprised when your phone buzzed only a moment later, and you smiled as you opened his reply.

Oh, trust me, he doesn’t just like you. He LOVES you! I can’t wait! See you soon, sweetheart ♥️

As fate would have it, you got stuck in a bit of traffic on your way home, which meant that you and Bob ended up pulling into your driveway at the same time. Dropping your things on the ground, you launched yourself into your fiancé’s open arms and smothered him with kisses, knocking his glasses askew in your excitement.

Bob chuckled in that shy way of his, his cheeks and ears turning red, which made your heart warm with love for him.

“You’d think I’d been gone for a few months instead of just a few hours,” he grinned, keeping his large arms pressed against your back as he dropped a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I just missed you,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and gazing up at him.

Affection blazed in Bob’s eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours and nodded slowly. He knew you weren’t just talking about today.

“It’s been a long week,” he sighed, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he bent to pick up your things with his other hand and led you to the front door of your modest home, the first one you’d shared together. “Thank goodness it’s finally Friday.”

You sighed softly as well, letting out a loud yawn as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. “I know, I’m exhausted.” Glancing at the clock, you noted, “We have some time before we have to start getting ready for dinner. Why don’t we just rest our eyes for a little bit?”

“This is why I love you,” Bob laughed, lifting you into his arms bridal style and carrying you to the bedroom.

The two of you giggled happily as you nestled together on top of the blankets, still in your work clothes, and closed your eyes, figuring a nice twenty minutes of laying horizontally would restore some of your energy.

When you opened your eyes again, the bedroom was shrouded in darkness and you had no idea what day it was.

Fumbling around in the dark, you reached out for your phone, bumping your snoozing fiancé in the process. When you saw the date and time blaring across your phone screen, your stomach sank.

Groaning beside you, Bob sat up slowly, looking equally confused as he blinked a few times. Turning to look at you, he ran a hand through his hair and tried to bite back a yawn.

“Did we—did we fall asleep?”

“I think we did,” you nodded, glancing down at your rumpled work clothes. “Oh, Bobby, our reservation!”

It was already two hours past your reservation time, and you had two missed calls from the restaurant.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Bob assured you, sitting up more so that he could take you into his arms and press a comforting kiss to your shoulder. “We can go another time.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think that we would—”

Bob shushed you with a kiss, running his fingers through your hair and holding you close. “I don’t care about the reservation,” he whispered against your lips. “I just want to be with you. And holding you right here, in our bed, after the longest week known to man feels like a pretty good way to start the weekend to me.”

Smiling, you snuggled up against his chest and relaxed. “I love you so much, you know that?”

“I know it,” he replied softly, rubbing your back. “I love you, too.”

cozy and content prompts

[childotkw]

Oh my God you like lucemond. My favorite writer likes my new obsession. The best tomarry/Harrymort writer I know likes lucemond.

When can we expect the fics? (Pretty please?)

Nnggghhhh fine. I'm thinking of calling it ruination because it's ✨dramatic✨

(Also, anons, you flatter me - let me repay your love by feeding our budding obsession)

It's essentially a 'Lucerys survives the fall and keeps his memories' story. The piece of Arrax's body that he was attached to took the brunt of the damage, and he washed up on a small rocky, uninhabited island, miraculously alive.

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

Lucerys woke on the shore of an islet.

Cold water lapped at his legs, a teasing threat, and his body ached down to his bones. Each breath brought with it a fresh wave of agony, his ribs rattling in his bruised chest.

But none of that could eclipse the yawning, cavernous, echoing sense of loss ringing like a death knell in his heart.

Arrax.

His eyes burned with sea salt and sand and fresh tears. A sob caught in his throat, iron pooling in his mouth as his new reality etched itself into his soul.

His dragon, his life-long companion, his friend - gone. Snatched. Taken.

...

Eventually, Lucerys managed to pull his battered body further up the shoreline until he collapsed, trembling, at the base of the dark rock outcrop that seemed to dominate the tiny island. As he dragged his weakened legs close, leaving red imprints from his blood-soaked clothes, his dark eyes finally scanned his surroundings.

And what he saw made the sorrow the flooded him feel but a drop compared to the rage that seared its way through his blood.

He hadn't washed up alone.

Chunks of flesh - soft pink muscles and pearlescent white skin - were scattered up and down the small inlet.

The sight hollowed out what remained of his lucidity.

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

It'd explore what the violent and sudden loss of his bond with Arrax would do to him.

For days Lucerys would be trapped on this islet in Shipbreaker Bay. The waters would be too harsh for him to dare to swim (not that that meant much with the distance between him and the mainland), and his only source of water would be the collection of rainwater that pooled in some hollows in the rocks.

He'd manage to create a small fire from some sun-dried wood that washed up, but when the hunger kicked in and the shaking got too much for him to try to hunt fish - he'd have one thing to eat.

The idea would disgust him, horrify him - a desecration and a last betrayal towards his friend. But hunger's a hard foe to battle, and another part of him would think that even now Arrax was looking after him, protecting him from starvation.

This would be the catalyst, because two days later is when Cannibal came for him.

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

Arrax had been light and warm, their bond crackling merrily like a campfire. Inviting. Mischievous. Young.

Cannibal reminded Lucerys of the jagged mess surrounding the Iron Throne. Cold steel and dangerous. Steeped in a history he would never experience, that he could only see the end result of.

He loomed large in the edges of Lucerys' senses, still as wild and threatening as he had been when he came for him that day.

Their bond was nothing like his and Arrax's. There was no love there, no affection - only a keen possessiveness and the rumbling, storm-like understanding that they were the same.

Cannibals. Cutting their teeth on the flesh of other dragons.

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

Cannibal would fly Lucerys back to Dragonstone - their return a mix of terror and jubilation.

Jubilation, because the son they feared dead had come back to them.

Terror, because not all of him returned on the back of the largest, most infamous wild dragon.

A light in Lucerys had gone out, the last dregs of his innocence died in Vhagar's jaws, and it would be obvious to everyone that looked at him.

He would be sharper, darker and more aggressive as his bond with Cannibal settled and their ferocity fed on each other's; and he would be aflame with the need to avenge his first, gentler dragon.

Rhaenyra would be concerned, dreading what these changes meant; but Daemon would be the one to turn the endless rage into a weapon.

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

Daemon's hand curled around the base of his neck, the weight familiar and firm and warm. Lucerys allowed his step-father to tilt his head, a thumb pressing against the hinge of his jaw, and he met those purple eyes without fear.

"Alright?" the man asked, whisper soft and painfully gentle despite the violence evident in the lines of his face.

Lucerys paused, blinking heavily, and exhaled with bitter honesty. "No," he answered.

Daemon smiled at him, a small quirk of his lips filled with fatherly fondness. "You will be," he promised, tugging Lucerys in until his forehead rested against the man's chest.

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

Eventually, news would break that Lucerys survived and now rode Cannibal.

And Aemond, who no longer had kinslayer hanging over his head, the word whispered at his back like a dagger sinking into his soft flank, would be torn between relief, guilt and the same niggling want that had dogged his steps every day for the last ten years.

[luvly-writer]

XOXO

Ch. 18 Nothing happened in the way i wanted

-•-

Author’s Note: I find it so funny that whenever I come back I release like five chapters then disappear, I love that 😭

Warnings: Mentions of SA and predatory behavior. Beginning of angst.

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @grandstrangerphanthom @1lellykins @cangosleepnow @dreamspectrum @its-maemain @tamimemo @nightw-izhu @trasshy-artist @gabriiiiiiii @pank0w @writing-for-the-hell-of-it

Masterlist:

-•-

Thud Thud... Thud Thud... Thud Thud...

I could feel my heart in my throat. I took the napkins and kept on twisting them in my hands. I feel Grandma's gaze on me and her hand on mine, stopping me from fidgeting.

"Mona, you are going to be okay. You have constantly gone against your father and you will win once again. Plus, I am right here. Your father won't intimidate me," she reassured you with a smile and a wink. You were both sitting in one of the family rooms in the Vanderbilt manor. You had arrived early and had been served coffee. Your father had been taking his sweet time in arriving, always one for theatrics. You remember a time when this sort of dramatics was used in playing around with your sisters. Charlisse always wanted to be a dragon or a pirate; Aurora presented herself as the princess, the unicorn, I always wanted the mermaid and the adventurer. Our father was always the narrator of our little ploys and we would present them to our mother. He used to be so warm and caring and loving sometimes..but when I got to middle school, after my grandfather's death and the beginning of my sisters' competition for CEO, he grew colder and harsher. I would love for my father to go back to the way he was before...

Snapping me out of my daydream, my father enters the room and sits across from us.

"Margaret." he said curtly and my grandmother looked at him dead in the eye, "William...You look terrible," she responded, causing me to snort a little. Grandma was never one to hold back on my father. She was right though, my father looked horrible. He had eye bags and his clothes looked crumpled, something highly unusual for William Vanderbilt. "It's been a rough few days, Marge" he responded and turned to me.

"Y/n.." he acknowledged me softly and I squeezed my grandmother's had tightly before answering, "Father."

"Shall we?" he gestured to both of us and I nodded. He cleared his throat and began speaking, "Before anything...I am sorry, my sweet dewdrop, for everything I've put you through these last few years...I know this in no shape or form begins to excuse anything I've put this family through but I do want you to understand the big why of everything and maybe we could begin a journey where you could forgive me. I love you, sweetie, I do. Your sisters and you are my pride and joy, my greatest creation, and my proudest achievement. I am deeply sorry I have neglected you all these years in the name of the family business and image. A few years ago, when you were in middle school and my father died, in his will he left very clear and strict instructions on what had to be made. Were they not to be followed, everything that we owned would have been put at risk. You see when I was younger, I was much like you...I had a passion for music and it flowed through every breath I took, I wanted to pursue it freely yet my father disregarded it because someone had to take the mantle of the family business. I rebelled for some time and did whatever I pleased, I had the freedom to do so seeing as the family lineage was important to the old man, and me being an only child, I wouldn't be at risk of getting disowned. The old man...he was....furious and pulled some strings so that no matter what, I would fail so that I would end up back home and submitting to taking the mantle. His plan worked and to avoid risking history from repeating itself, he left clear instructions for you girls so that no one stepped out of line. One of the clauses was that everyone was to be part of the family business, the second was that you all had to be married, and if by the time you were 20, you weren't married, it was the board's obligation to find you a suitable husband. The third was that you all had to keep the best image possible so that you wouldn't drag the family name to the ground...the same way I did years ago...My lawyers have been working on ways to invalidate the clauses for years, Clarisse and Aurora knew how to play within the clauses but you...I'm afraid that with your mother's free spirit and my temperament and rebellion, you proved to be a force too difficult to control. No one knows that more than me. I got so lost trying to not lose everything and please my father who is already in his grave, that I forgot the most important thing, my family. I am so sorry for all the years I have mistreated you, Charli, Rora, and Mom. You deserve so much and it took you showing me how much I am acting like my father to reevaluate my behavior these last years. I promise, I will do my best to mend and better all my wrongs."

You were stuck to your chair...honestly...fuck your grandfather. Everything made more sense now, why you always visited your grandparents when your grandfather was gone, how you'd see your other grandmother more often when he died, why he was never mentioned, the drastic change in your father's behavior after his death...

"I knew there was a reason I never liked the man," said your grandmother with a huff as she took a sip of her glass of wine. This made you and your father laugh.

"What about the clauses...do I still fall under them?" you ask. It was the one thing that still worried you...was Morris still in the picture, did you still have to take a place in the family business, was marrige still an obligation-

"No. A few days ago, my lawyers called me. After retting a meeting with the board after New Year's and discussing the clauses, they were finally able to find a breakthrough. Everyone took to voting and decided that the best outcome was to proclaim them invalid. What are a dead man's wishes but silent demands? You are free, I spoke to Mr. Morris. Which speaking of, I want to clear the air that he was the board's decision. They were pressuring us to choose him seeing as he used to have a clean record." He answered.

"I still don't get why you would allow that roach of a man near your daughter, William! This is worst that a disgrace, he was disgusting!" Margaret grumbled and my father agreed with her.

"You said he had a clean record?" I asked focusing on that weird part.

My father nodded, "Ah yes, a few weeks ago, some information was leaked to our members of the board about sexual assault allegations and predatory behavior in Mr. Morris. After we hired some private investigators, we found most of the information to be true. Tomorrow the board is releasing an official statement of apology directed to you. I am deeply sorry, my dear. I do promise to be better." he said taking my hands in his a giving the a squeeze.

"I am free.." you say softly, and both your grandmother and father smile.

"You are. No competition, no family business, no arranged marriage, you are free to be your own person, kid" he assures. "I am very proud of you, dewdrop. I talked with your grandmother over the phone. Once you finish college this may, both of your trust funds will be officially released to you."

"I can open my art gallery!" you say tearing up and both of them nod proudly. "Time to share the good news with Tim, Mona. I bet he is going to be delighted," Said your grandmother.

Shit...Tim...It has been weeks since you'd answered a message of his. You knew it was unfair to him, to just ghost him out of the blue. You had a good reason too...well as far as good reasoning goes. You hadn't talked with him ever since spending Christmas with him and ignored all of his invitations for New Year's...Your conflict must have been visible in your face because your grandmother rand father looked at you concerned.

"About that..." you say and take a deep breathe.

-•-

You were finally going home to your apartment after the very long day you had. You had confessed...Not to Tim, no... your family. After explaining the whole thing to your grandmother and father, they were conflicted, to say the least. As they were battling with being proud for outsmarting the entire family and media, disappointed for your lying, and concerned for your well-being, your sisters and mother had arrived and were filled in the entire thing. At first, no one wanted to believe you. They reassured me that they couldn't believe it was fake because they swore the love between the two of you looked real. No one could act that well, yet you were in denial. As everyone sat for dinner, they all agreed on one thing, Tim and you were meant to be and clearly in love, but neither of you was seeing it. Your sisters and mother were insistent in your talking with him, but you were in denial. Your father and grandmother tried a different approach by saying how much they approved of him and how he would make a great addition to the family. Still, you saw no sense. You loved Tim, that is true, but you appreciated him as a friend too much. He was your friend, the one who you learned to trust and tell everything, he was the one who had your side any time, he was the one that showed you every movie you had missed, every game you had never played, every story you didn't know. Sure it had only been two months since you met, but he became such a strong part of your life that you weren't sure you wanted to ruin by confessing how much you loved him. Tim was your friend, he was just helping you out, he knew how to play a part well because he had practiced with his double life, he was just playing a part for you. He wasn't...he....didn't...love...no, you didn't even want to think it. Tim was a good guy, Tim loved to help others and he always gave his best for others, that's why he was so convincing, because he is Tim. He is pure and devoted to a good cause. He was Tim, your Timmy, your friend, mine. He was everything, the closest thing you had to twin flame and you didn't deserve and you shouldn't tarnish the purity of that relationship.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you noticed you were about to pass his apartment complex and noticed his lights were on. You told the driver to stop. You were putting an end to this. The driver parks in front and you tell him you will be quick. You step out of the car and run to the lobby. Having been recognized there, they let you up without a problem. Finally, in front of his door, you knock roughly and call him out.

Lo and behold there is Tim Drake in all his glory when he opens the door. He looks more tired than usual, is the first thing you notice. Ever since the two of you started talking, you have been helping him get a better sleeping schedule and his eyebags have lessened by a lot. But now, weeks later, you can tell your absence took a toll on him. His eyes showed he was conflicted. Anger, relief, sadness, tiredness, and something else you couldn't quite put a finger in. (Admiration and love, sweetie, that's what it is)

"Just when I was enjoying my inner peace..was wondering when you'd deem me worthy of your presence again," he said and you flinch at the slight snark and glare he gave you.

"You are angry, rightfully so" you start and he cuts you off, "Really, what gave you that impression?"

"I have a good explanation"

"That so?"

"My father set me free.." you say and his eyes soften a little

"Which means.."

"I don't have to get married, I won't be forced to be part of the family business, I won't have to deal with Morris anymore" you say softly and he nods, pleased.

"That's good angel, still don't get why I had to be ghosted for it. We started this together we should end it together" he stresses and I look down

"I know, its just that...that means that"

"That?" he preassures

"We are over." I finally look up, trying to keep my tears at bay, "And I've been trying to find a way to tell you."

-•-

extras:

Grandma calls Y/n “Mona” because of Mona Lisa

William calls Y/n dewdrop because of her obsession with mermaids when she was a kid

I changed the time line a little bit. Tim and Yn know each other from high school (Gotham Academy), having both been each other’s crushes, but the formally met on November. Spent the last of November and all of december together. She stopped talking to him after christmas and ignored him until the second week of January which is this chapter.

[fisheraser]

SPLATOON 3 NINTENDO DIRECT SIDE ORDER ITS HAPPENING ITS HAPPENING OH MY GOD

okay. analysis time

MY GIRL AAHHH SHES BACK!! okay SO. inkopolis square. but dead. its a bleached coral forest basically. there seems to be this sorta of,, electricity thing going on throughout the trailer that we can see on the lobby tower. overall looks dope as hell

WE HAVE THE FULL FIT!! FOR BOTH GENDERS!! okay first of all what are those ink tanks? sorta looks like those IV bags. same with the outfit,, the shoes sorta look like casts and the clothes look like some sort of sensory deprivation tank suit. a lot of medical vibes going on from the white color and everything. i love it

PEARL BOT! no questions about it, marina definitely made this for her (the wives :D) its interesting that pearl isn't actually there (marina isn't either, ill talk more about my theory later) but she can still talk to us through this robot. also love how marina added the sliding eyebrows to make it more expressive LMAO

i love how we can ride pearl bot as well. i think this will be an important feature, wonder if we can control her when this happens :O

okay what are these? i think the first one on the left is a mem cake, not really sure what the others are though

okay im seeing a theme of electricity and we can see in the background it sort of glitching, so i think side order might a simulation or something. the huge orb in the middle is definitely some fucked up zapfish (where you end the level im assuming), but its glitching and then a ton of the skeleton creatures come out of it

it looks like a ton of dead fish (dedf1sh...?),, we havent seen any octolings that you need to fight yet so these seem like the new enemies replacing them for side order. though i do wonder if we'll ever encounter an evil octoling (or inkling or salmonid, who knows) also are these an entire new species? or just some simulation creature

i also love how instead of ink, its the same electricity we've been seeing used to summon the weapons. this whole realms creation definitely has something to do with marina since its side order and its super technologically advanced

okay WOA numbers. definitely something marina would implement. i don't have much to say about this but yea, im loving the tech-y themes going on. it also seems like pearlbot is helping you fight these guys since she is shooting lasers at them. if she's sorta like small fry, i wonder if we will ever get to use her as a bomb, or if she is automatic

also its confirmed that the octoling is indeed agent 8! i was like 90% sure but im glad its definite

okay the biggest thing about this trailer, DEDF1SH!!!!!!!!!

"just another bystander who got sucked in." what sucked them in? my theory is that marina somehow trapped them in a simulation she made of a world thats orderly- maybe she made it after the final fest?or is this an already existing place? maybe some whirlpool was created after octo expansion and this place exists under inkopolis square?

SHE HAS A NAME!!! ACHT!!!! also i am so glad all of the fan theories were correct and she isn't evil, just still partially sanitized. i wonder if that will be a factor in the story? more dedf1sh lore?

her glasses are different! since she doesn't have the hypno shades anymore she prolly has much more awareness now since she isnt being brainwashed, though she is still sanitized- but i think the music is counteracting the effects of that since shes a dj and shes always wearing headphones

also why is her arm bandaged? what happened to her? also all this time i thought she was wearing a tshirt LMAO

i am a huge dedf1sh fan and i have quite a few theories about her, so i hope she is an important character in the story of side order and we get some backstory

ESPECIALLY ABOUT HER HISTORY WITH MARINA!! they are both djs so that probably is important, but i am really excited to learn more about them. i think marina mightve gone missing and we are looking for her too?

the color chips seem to be like, stat boosts? and also 8 started to gain color once you add them! its sorta like deep cut's colored fingers. wonder if this will be a new feature after the dlc! i loveee customization options

this seems to be the respawn animation which !?!?!? IS SO COOL!?!?!

i have no idea what this is but. oh my god. i am so excited for this. its happening.

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 4)

Josh kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, discussions of pregnancy, language, etc

“You’re not one of those ‘cilantro tastes like soap’ people, are you?” Josh asks, knife hovering over the herb mid chop, as if the possibility has only just occurred to him.

“No.” You smile from your perch on the counter. “I happen to have a very sophisticated palate, thank you very much.”

With a nod, he carries on and then sprinkles the tiny bits of green over the avocados he has already sliced into crescents.

Your fingers inch out to swipe a piece, only to be swatted away like a child reaching for an electrical outlet. “Lime first, sweetheart.” He shakes his head. “You’re worse than Lil.”

She’s long asleep, nestled in cozy sheets and little girl dreams.

Truth be told, had you the slightest idea of what was good for you, you’d be long gone, too. But when Josh fixed his hopeful eyes on yours and asked you to stay and join him for a late night snack, he’d won the fight before you’d even stepped into the ring.

Jake was gone again. Wandering on to his next gig, guitar case slung into the backseat of his car to keep his beat to hell and back bag company.

“They booked me for an entire week.” He’d bragged (only slightly humbly) “Place is fuckin’ history, too. Used to be a speakeasy during the prohibition.”

“Well, make sure to stay outta any leftover moonshine,” Josh had teased, yanking him in for a hug. “You can’t play for shit even when you’re sober.”

He focused his radar upon you then, embracing you warmly with a goodbye kiss soft on your neck and hidden from prying eyes by his hair. “See you soon, poppins. Don’t go getting any prettier on me, my poor heart couldn’t stand it.”

Is it normal to feel both elated and devastated to see someone go? Because that’s exactly how you felt. How you always feel when Jake saunters back out of your lives. He causes more trouble for you than you know what to do with, but you can’t claim he isn’t worth it.

So, with his vanishing twin off once more, you simply couldn’t refuse Josh’s offer. He leans towards pensive melancholy in the first few days without his brother.

He once described it as feeling homesick, and you’d marveled at the bond between them…wondered at the invisible string that seems to tie them together, always pulling them back to one another.

“Here, taste.” Josh speaks around the wedge of lime in his mouth and guides a forkful to your mouth, hand cupped beneath it to keep things tidy.

It’s delicious, and you tell him so, watching with rapt attention as he spears a piece of his own and pops the same fork into his own mouth. It’s only a stupid shared utensil, but it strikes you as incredibly intimate.

‘Where’d you get the recipe?”

“No recipe.” He shrugs, looking bashful under your praise, and then taps his temple, “This is where the magic happens.”

You reach forward and poke his blushing cheek softly “Impressive.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of a big deal. I pick my own clothes out, too. Every single morning. Tie my own shoes. The whole thing.”

A hush falls over the dimly lit kitchen as the two of you pick through the bowl, but it’s a comfortable quiet. Still, being the mayor of make-everything-my-business-town, you break it.

“When we were at your parents the other day, Jake and I were in your room and…”

“Yes, love.” He tilts his head and studies you as if looking for signs of a concussion. “I showed up to ruin the party, remember?”

God, you’re such an idiot!

“There was no party, Josh, come on.”

“Please.” He scoffs, slipping another bite into your mouth “You should’ve seen the look he gave me when he walked out. He might as well have pissed a circle around you to mark his territory.”

“Lovely.” You roll your eyes and savory the tang of lime on your tongue.

“What can I say? I’m a born romantic. Anyway, go on. You and Jake were in our room and…?”

“I asked about her.” You suddenly feel horribly intrusive. You never should have broached the subject.

He makes a small sound of acknowledgement and then sets the fork aside, giving you his full attention. “And?”

“And, I don’t know.” Your hands in your lap become your hyper-focus.

“Curious kitten, aren’t you?” There’s a grin in his tone and it eases you into peeking up at him. “Well, what did our dear Jacob have to say on the matter?”

“He said he loved her.”

He cocks his chin in confirmation. “He did.”

“And he said you slept with her.”

Once again, he nods. But slower this time, with regret permeating the room. “Not my finest hour.”

“I guess I just wonder how you come back from something like that?”

He grabs a fresh lime wedge, pops it into his mouth with a contemplative expression, and then offers it up for you to suck once he seems to have found his verbal footing.

“Jake and I have always been the ones to mend the fissures in each other's hearts…even when we’re the ones who’ve created them. I fix him. He fixes me. That’s just how it is.”

You pull on the lime with your lips, like some strange pacifier, offering nothing. What do you say about something you can’t begin to understand?

“Did you know that twins start interacting with each other in the womb at around 14 weeks?”

Now you’re the class act speaking around a lime wedge in fascination. “Really?”

“Mhmm.” He smiles at your widened eyes, lighting up the way he so often does when he spots an opportunity to teach someone something “Researchers studied twins in utero and found they begin reaching for each other at 14 weeks and engaging in comforting behavior. Stroking each other’s heads, holding hands, things like that.”

Your heart swells imagining their tiny translucent hands seeking each other out in the dark.

“Here’s the really amazing part. All this happens before the senses of sight and hearing develop. Which means…”

“The only thing you knew was each other.” You interject.

He seems pleased with your understanding. “For quite a while, yes.”

“So what you’re saying is that it would take much more than some girl to shake such an indelible bond.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek “Right. Even if she wasn’t just some girl.”

He’s no longer talking about the bubbly face smiling out from fading snapshots pinned to a wall across town, but you pretend not to notice.

He watches you, scrutinizing his opponent across a chessboard, and then asks a question of his own. “Why is it that you’ve never asked about her?”

Confused, you shrug inelegantly. “Well, I didn’t even know she existed until the other day. Kinda hard to ask about someone you don’t—“

“No.” He drops his hand away from your face and rests it on your knee instead, circling the pad of his thumb over the worn denim. “Lily’s mother. You’ve never once asked about her.”

“I asked Jake once.” You murmur, almost ashamed of your inquisitiveness.

A short laugh escapes him, “Oh, I’ll bet that went over like a lead balloon.”

You laugh with him, glad for the dissipated heaviness. “A few obscenities I don’t care to repeat is about all I got out of him.”

“Sounds about right. He hates her because he loves Lily so much.”

“Will you?” You prod gently. “Tell me about her, I mean.”

“Not much to tell.” He fits himself between your legs and tenderly toys with the tiny speck of an opal you wear around your neck. “I think I always knew it wasn’t going to work out, but I moved her in anyway when we found out Lil was on her way.”

Jake was right, you hate her already for the rejection you pick up on in his confession.

“She changed almost overnight…didn’t want much to do with any of it. Mom helped me shop for everything, because what the hell did I know? I read the books and set up birthing classes, which she refused to go to, just shit like that…”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe the absurdity of it all. “I brought all these baby name books home once and you know what she said? ‘Just pick something.’ It gutted me. I couldn’t understand how she could be so cold.”

You spin an errant curl around your finger and wait for him to go on…and on he goes.

“I really saw it one day when she came home to find me painting the clouds on Lily’s wall…”

“You painted those?” It touches you deeply to picture him, brush in hand, working diligently to create a perfect world for his little girl.

“I did. I already told you, I’m kind of a big deal. Anyway, she said it was a waste of time and that if I wanted the baby to see clouds so damn bad, I could just take her outside. Then she bitched about the house smelling like paint. I knew right then that it was never going to work.”

“She didn’t care enough about the baby you were already in love with.”

“Not even close.” He leans into your hand as you pet at his hair. “Then Lil was born and it was like watching a cat who doesn’t know how to care for her kittens. You know the ones? Gotta force ‘em to stay in the little box with their babies? That was her.”

“How could anyone not fall for Lily immediately?” You ask with honest confusion. In your eyes, it doesn’t seem possible.

“I ask myself the same question every day. Long story short, I came home early one afternoon. I should’ve had at least three hours left on campus, but I wasn’t feeling well, so I cleared the rest of my schedule.”

He looks far away as he pulls forth the memory. “There she was stuffing a bag full, with three others already zipped up tight on the bed, and the baby strapped into her carrier. I remember thinking ‘I’ll bury her in the backyard before I let her step foot out of this house with Lily.”

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of you. Such aggression seems out of place on his tongue. He doesn’t follow suit.

“I really think I meant it.” he mulls it over for a blink. “Yeah, you know what? Scratch the ‘think’, I definitely meant it.”

“You’re a good dad, Josh. The best, even.” You definitely mean that, too.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” There go those pink cheeks again. “Anyway, that was the end of that.”

Biting down on your lip to suppress another laugh, you play along “She’s buried in the backyard?”

“Made Sam dig the hole. Told him I was putting in a tiny pool.”

The laughter finally comes, “You’re an idiot.”

You’ve no way of knowing, but watching you laugh, he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen…and he’s seen a great many beautiful things.

“Nah, she only had Lily in her seat because she had planned on dropping her at my mother’s to avoid a messy goodbye with me. Last I heard, or cared, she was living in Wyoming of all fuckin’ places. She’s never so much as sent her daughter a birthday card. Which is for the best anyhow.”

You take a deep, sorrowful breath “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he pats your thighs. “She was a shit mother and a shit person. There’s not a damn thing to be sorry for. Besides, I wouldn’t have needed a nanny if I wasn’t some Hallmark movie single dad, and where would we be without you?”

Jake’s voice rings out inside your head. He’s in love with you.

Without giving you time to answer, he marches on. “Alright, my turn. You gonna tell me what was going on under my poor mama’s roof the other day?”

“Just Jake being Jake.” It’s hardly an answer at all, but you pray he’ll leave it at that.

Wrong.

“He was on my bed, you know. So I assume you had been to, until you heard me coming, anyway. Did you fuck him in my bed?”

His voice has changed in pitch. Just a little deeper, rasping with secrecy, and for some ungodly reason the word ‘fuck’ breathing out of him makes you flush with warmth.

You answer swiftly and truthfully. “I didn’t fuck him at all.”

“But close, right?” How does he always know?

Your silence answers the question well enough for him.

“Hmm,” he looks you over like he’s trying to fit jigsaw pieces together. “I know a lot about my brother. More than most can say…there’s that twin thing again. And I know how he is, and I know that’s why you think you want him so badly.”

You aren’t following, so you remain closed-mouthed and await elaboration.

He hands it over readily. “I know a lot about you, too. I can see way down deep inside you. You’re careful, and meticulous. Independent. You hold your fucking own, all day, every day. But it gets old doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You’re nodding gently along with his observations without even realizing.

“Yeah, it does.” His hands are in your hair now, holding you in place with a firm grasp to keep you nose to nose. “It gets old, and you just want someone to make it all go away sometimes, don’t you?”

Nodding. Nodding. Nodding. Is that all you know how to do? Evidently.

“And you think Jake, with his rock and roll-my dick drags the ground-bullshit is the one who can give it to you like that…but that’s where you’re wrong.”

“Josh…”

His fingers tighten in your hair, “Quiet.”

Fuck. Your thighs would be squeezed together were he not standing between them.

“If you want someone to give you that, you’ve been sleeping in the wrong bed, goldilocks.”

This is a bad idea. Terrible. Possibly the worst idea. The magnum opus of horrible decisions…but that no longer seems to matter much to you, and it never mattered to him to begin with.

Tentatively, with nerves scratching their claws along the folds of your brain, your tongue laps against his bottom lip. It’s so plump and full, warm, soft as buttery suede.

Instantly, you want more, need more…and so you take it, curling another lick in the exact same spot.

It’s as if you’ve fired a starting gun into the air, and there are no longer two of you. It’s all hands and tangled limbs. Shared panting breaths. Mouths and teeth. Low rumblings of sound that vibrate out of his chest and make you clench up tightly in your jeans.

Jeans. Your favorite jeans, have been for years, but all at once, you loathe them and wish they would disappear.

Roughly, he pulls you to the edge of the counter, grinding insistent rolls of his hips against you. He’s hard. So hard…and the thought alone causes your already wild heart to pound so frantically you wonder if he can hear it. Your head tips back, knocking against the cabinet behind you with a dull thunk, as his mouth searches the uncharted waters of your throat.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, preparing to rip it over your head. Your nipples are aching and pleading for attention, and you want his mouth on them so badly you’d gladly beg.

But, he stops you.

“Not here, sweetheart. She could wake up and walk in.” Even desperate to finally have what he’s wanted for so long within reach, he’s still her father first. You’d have it no other way.

“Bedroom.” You move to hop down, but he shakes his head, cupping your still hidden breasts like they’re wonderful, coveted prizes he’s worked tirelessly to win.

“Too close to her room.” He looks up deviously, with lust and something mischievous playing about in his darkened stare “I tend to be a bit…vocal.”

Vocal? Maybe there is a god, after all.

“Josh, please…” your legs have wrapped around his waist, gaining leverage to writhe against him like a common whore.

His eyes sweep the room in rapid fire thought, and then, there are his hands fisting into your shirt to haul you off the counter in a graceful sweeping motion.

Your feet never touch the ground (where does he hide all that strength?) as he maneuvers you into the pantry. The door closes with a click as he fumbles around blindly in the air in search of the string that will bring the light to life.

The space is suddenly illuminated, spotlighting two sets of feverishly shaking hands fighting to pop buttons and lower zippers.

He’s tugging your jeans down, granting your silent wish for them to go away, but when you move to reach inside his own, he pulls back and shoves you up against a wall of shelves. Blue boxes of Mac and cheese rain down, dry pasta tucked inside cardboard rattling like maracas at your feet.

Your shirt has gone as well, when did that happen? The cups of your bra are pulled down by his curled fingers, displaying your breast round and gorgeous just for him.

Whining softly you fight to catch your breath, but promptly lose the battle when his mouth, silken and wet, closes around your nipple to suck lightly…just enough to make you long for more.

He gifts it a tiny nip of his teeth and then releases. You mourn the sensation so deeply, tears seem a very real threat.

“You didn’t deny it when I said you two were close to fucking the other day…” his mouth is pressed hot against the shell of your ear as you palm his cock through his pants.

A shake of your head is meant to mean, ‘I don’t want to talk about him’.

He either doesn’t get the message, or just doesn’t care to heed it. The pads of his fingers dance a lovely little circle over your clit through your panties just once. That small action draws a pathetic whimper out of you, and the sound alone causes his cock to jerk, untouched.

“What did you let him do to my girl?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Josh,” your hips rock away from the shelving in search of his fingers. “Touch me…fuck, please.”

“Is that what he did?” His voice is a smoky, ghostly finger curling, guiding, beckoning you closer.

“Why do you even care?” You huff, growing pettish and impatient. “It isn’t a contest.”

His fingers have gone back to teasing you, sweeping over your aching clit, sinking into your thighs, thumb tracing patterns over goosebumps. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. When it comes to you, there is no contest between Jake and I…you just don’t know it yet.”

Your incessant need takes over, rendering you helpless to your desire, and you leave your body in the clutch of auto pilot. Grabbing him by the wrist, you shove his hand into your panties and lose your footing when his knuckle slides over your clit.

His arm is tucked around your waist in a split second, holding your weight effortlessly. “Fuck, you’re soaked. Who’s this sweet little pussy so ready for?”

Your hands rake into his hair, pulling it lightly, and then harder still when he groans at the sting. “You, Josh. Only you.”

“Only me right now,” he corrects, fluttering his finger rapid fire as though it were his tongue. “Wasn’t only for me the other day. That’s alright though, love. I’m gonna make this pretty cunt all mine.”

Where has this been hiding? Surely this isn’t the same Josh you stepped into the kitchen with tonight.

This isn’t the Josh who brings his daughter a tiny surprise every day, even if it’s simply a stick of gum, just so she knows he’s always thinking of her.

This isn’t the ray of sunshine Josh who claps and whistles wildly in public when his favorite golden palm tree fireworks explode into the sky every 4th of July.

Josh who will spend an hour coaxing a splinter out of your hand so that it doesn’t sting. The Josh who cries when Bambi’s mother dies because “Walt Disney didn’t have to be such an asshole”.

“What are you thinking?” He sounds immeasurably turned on, but there’s intrigue there too. He genuinely would like to peek inside your head.

“I’m wondering who the hell you are.” A breathy laugh stumbles out of you, followed closely by a gasp when he slips down to tease you into believing he might ease a finger inside.

“Sweetheart,” he dips down and sinks his teeth into your neck lightly, careful not to leave a mark that might be asked after in the morning over a tiny bowl of Lucky Charms. “I think you’ve always known what lies beneath. Isn’t that right?”

Flashes of memories flicker through your mind like heat lightning— fast and unexpected. Heated looks, a deliciously possessive drag of his hand over the curve of your waist, a smoldering comment that could be taken as nothing short of innocence if you chose to lie to yourself about it.

“Yeah,” A slick smile plays over his beautiful lips, tip of his tongue resting at the corner, just barely there. “What a smart girl you are.”

Never before have you been much for praise, it always seemed slightly contrived. But, coming from him? You’d eat it up with a spoon, scrape the bowl, then hold it out for seconds. Please sir, I want some more.

His fingers snap the elastic of your panties, tugging you out of your thoughts. “Show me.”

He wants you to pull them aside, you know that much…but you’ve a stubborn streak a mile wide that doesn’t know when to shut up, you know that, too. “You want it? You do it.”

The words have scarcely tripped off your tongue and his hand is wrapped around your neck, forehead tilted in close to yours, opposite thumb latched over your bottom lip to hold your mouth open submissively “I said show me.”

You are no longer yourself. Panting and desperate in this tiny room, surrounded by boxes of Cheerios and canned goods, something long gone is marching up front and center. Some animalistic evolutionary leftover that has found its time to shine once again, and you are reduced to no more than your need.

Pulling your panties to the side, you gaze up at him through your lashes and issue a whispered, please.

He leans back, longing to soak in the sight of what he’s imagined one too many times to count. “Look at you, sweetheart. Fucking stunning. My perfect, pretty girl has a perfect, pretty cunt, doesn’t she?”

You should feel shy, on the spot, way too ‘seen’. At least, normally you would. But with Josh? You feel like art adorning a gallery wall that he has traveled across miles and seas simply to admire. You feel beautiful here, bathed in his perception.

Reaching down slowly, he holds your eyes locked in an embrace with his own as he dips a single finger deeply into your warmth. Arching into his touch, your entire body shakes with electric anticipation, but just as quickly as it is given, he takes it away.

That very finger slips into his mouth as he sucks it clean with a muted hum of bliss. “You’re just sweet as can be everywhere, aren’t you, love?”

You reach for him, finished with his game, and more than ready to get on with it, but he pulls away and bends to ease your jeans up before opening the pantry door, leading the way with an ‘after you’ motion of his hand.

“What?” Your brow is stitched into a frown of confusion.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, mock-sympathy thick in his tone. “I think it’s time you went to sleep thinking about me for a change, don’t you?”

Incredulous, you can manage no more than a stunned stare.

“Off you go.” He smiles innocently.

You shove him out of the way, feeling foolish and very near tears, but he grabs your arm and spins you around before you can hit the hallway.

“If you can look me in the eye tomorrow morning and tell me that this didn’t feel more right than anything that’s ever happened between you and my brother, I’ll hand over my blessing and step aside.”

“Fuck you, Josh.” Wow, how eloquent.

“Yes, that’s the idea.” He laughs. “Eventually. Amongst other things.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @paleshadow-ofadragon @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @joshkiszkas @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

[lovelybrooke]

Platonic Yandere Jayce and Viktor Headcanons (Arcane)

A/N: Before we start, I would like to say that I am not abandoning One Piece or The Last of Us, I just want to write for other things, and I really like Arcane, and I want to write for it. Please feel free to request for either fandom, I would love your input and ideas. Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy. Thank you.

Ever since you were a child, you've been interested in Mechanical Engineering. You've been making robots before you could even speak. Your parents were very proud of you and encouraged your abilities, even though you were a child of Vaun, they believed that their child could be something greater.

Your love for machines is how you met Viktor, an awkward kid who could barely walk. You two bonded over your shared love for everything mechanical, and as you both got older, you encouraged him to pursue his dream of going to the academy. He wanted you to go with him, but your parents were getting sick, and you wanted to be there with them. He made you promise you would see each other again before he left, you of course promising to find him when you were older. You hugged goodbye and left.

That was 12 years ago, you parents log gone, and you being forced to work for some very shady people. You've hardened in those many years, but your love for science never lessened. You dreamed of escaping Zaun, finding yourself to the top side, and enrolling in the academy. You want to prove yourself and live up to the expectations of your parents, but Zaun was not a place where people could dream, and you felt trapped and there was nothing you could do but wait. For years, you've been saving money in order to find a place to stay on the top side and escape.

Once you finally made enough money, you immediately found a small apartment and left without looking behind you. It wasn't the greatest, but it was enough for you, and it was better than the shack you previously lived in. You managed to buy some clothes that helped you blend into Piltover.

When you finally met Viktor again, he was ecstatic. He of course, wondered how you managed to get to leave Zaun. Once he's caught up to speed, he quickly tells you about all's he's done the past 13 years. Your most interested in his advancements in Hextech, asking if it was okay if you could see his lab. At first, he wants to show you, mostly to show off, then he remembers that Jayce exists. He truly believes that Jayce would embarrass him, even if it was in good faith.

However, it's very hard to say no to you, and he invites you on a day when he's sure Jayce wasn't there. He rants and raves about all his accomplishments. He's really excited, since he's often overlooked when it comes to Hextech as a whole. However, since nothing goes the way he wants, Jayce interrupts you two, surprised that Viktor brought someone over. You introduce yourself, and start a small conversation with Jayce, which Viktor tries to get over with as soon as possible. Jayce warmed up to your pretty quickly, allowing you to come over to their shared lab whenever you liked. After this, the rest was history.

Viktor and Jayce disagree on a lot of things, but they always agree on one thing, and that's you. As Jayce continued to rise in power with the counsel, he began abusing his power to spend any time he has with you. This aggravates the hell out of Viktor, who constantly feels as though Jayce takes everything from him, including you. So, he uses his status as childhood best friend to get you stop hanging out with Jayce and spend time with him. You and him can relate to so many different things. No matter how nice Jayce is, he'll never experience a fraction of what you and Viktor have gone through, and he knows it.

Jayce really cares about you. He sees you as the sibling he's never had and projects a lot of his brotherly instincts onto you. He treats you like a little baby, even though your only a few years younger than him. He likes to make you food, and you two cooks together when he gets time to himself. He also will dumb a lot of worries onto you. This includes things with Hextech, the counsel, and even Mel. He doesn't see a problem with this, viewing trauma dumping as something siblings do.

It also doesn't help that, as Viktor grows sicker, you begin spending more time with him, to take care of him. You move in with him to help take care of him when he gets too sick to walk or move. You are also very much against him using shimmer and making parts of his body mechanical. Eventually, as the sickness and the shimmer take over his body and mind, you move out, ending your friendship as you refuse to watch someone you care about so much basically kill himself. He begs you not to leave, saying it will only worsen his illness, but you have no choice.

You turn to Jayce, who at this point holds an extreme amount of power on the counsel. You don't know what to do, and you want to help Viktor, and so does Jayce. So, you both take time to study and look for a cure. It takes time, but you eventually create something that can suppress Viktors symptoms. While it isn't invigorating as shimmer, it helps, and he couldn't be more thankful. Him and Jayce both feel indebted to you, Viktor because you helped save his life, and Jayce because you saved his friend.

At this point, they both become very protective of you. They both let you have your own life, but they use their power to subtly remind people that you belong to them. For example, buying you stuff, like when Jayce buys you a new apartment that was much better than your old one. Or when Viktor makes you jewelry from scraps of his old machines.

Viktor and Jayce don't really acknowledge your past in Zaun. Viktor likes to talk about your childhood with him, he doesn't really take into account the time you spent without him. Jayce tries to make you forget about everything from your time in Zaun. He teaches you Piltover history, buys you more fancy and "proper" clothes, and even attempts to get you a job on the counsel, which you quickly deny. Sometimes you open up to them about your struggles living in the bottom side, but it never really goes anywhere, especially with Jayce.

Regardless of all that, they care about you very much. They want to see you live a better life then you previously had, and they work hard to give you that. While Viktor sometimes feels as though he can't do as much as Jayce, but he is relived when he sees your awe at his creations. Jayce wants to be a good brother to you and will go as far as introducing you as his sibling to others when in public. They will do anything for you but aren't afraid to manipulate you to in order for you to stay with them.

A/N: I really don't know how to feel about this, but I hope you enjoy.

[riizewrtr]

Can you do fm!reader secretly asking stepdad!sangyeon to creampie her because they got history and because fm!reader is on a pill? I just love how you handled your first sangyeon request and I suddenly got an idea for a continuation. 🤭😅

ok!! this will just be a continuation, just another night of fucking when mom is gone! hehe

content: con, stepcest, stepdaddy!sangyeon, you call him daddy, creampie, pet names(baby, princess, babygirl, etc), 18+, mdni!!

there was something you ALWAYS wanted, but never got. i mean, you never asked. you don't know why it never occurred to you to bring it up.

this secret relationship you had with your stepfather!sangyeon has been going on for quite a while. your mother never suspected a thing, why your stepdad always wants to stay home when you're back at home. it felt exciting & very exhilarating that maybe one day she WILL find out.

you and sangyeon were excited when your mother said she was going on a business trip. that means you could have daddy's cock everyday, for about 3-4 days at least.

"god, this has been hell." sangyeon groaned, as soon as the door closed after waving goodbye to your mother, sangyeon wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up and started kissing and sucking on your neck. small giggles filling the air, as he walked you and himself to your bedroom.

"daddy.. can i ask you for something?" you whispered, your breath hitching in your throat when he pulled off your neck to look at you. gently placing you down on the bed, as he caressed your waist with his thumb. "yeah babygirl, what's up?"

you felt butterflies fill your stomach and your cheeks burn hot. "c-can you... cum inside me? i'm on birth control.." you whispered, looking at him with doe eyes.

sangyeon was quiet for a little before sighing, "baby you know i can't risk it.." he trailed off, looking down at you the grip on your waist tightening. you nodded, before pulling his face down to kiss him. "Mm," he moaned, his hands moving up to lift your shirt over your head.

He cock hardened when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. Your nipples were already perked up deliciously. He took your right nipple into his mouth sucking and twirling his tongue around your nipple. His free hand moving down to rub your core through your shorts.

Your body unintentionally started squirming under him, sangyeon using his strength to his advantage as he used a hand to hold your waist down to stop you from moving.

sangyeon didn't even bother removing your shorts, he pushed them aside, gasping. "you're not wearing panties either," he smirked, his index rubbing between your slit. his finger prodding your hole. a small sigh escaping your throat through the makeout session you were sharing with sangyeon.

"daddy, i need you.." you whimpered, sangyeon just nodded in response. No time for sangyeon to do foreplay from how needy you and he were.

Sangyeon wasted in no time of discarding his clothing, he moved your body more up so your head laid on the pillow. he wrapped your legs around his waist, a hand on the headboard, the other guiding himself to prod against your entrance. your pussy was dripping wet at this point, sangyeon was infatuated with how gorgeous your pussy looked that day.

"you ready, princess?" he asked, seeing you nod gave him the go to push himself slowly into you. a small whimper coming out, you clench around his cock from the sensation. why did he feel so big today? why is his cock so fucking hard today? so many thoughts escaping your mind.

"daddy you're so hard today.." you moaned as he started at a slow pace. he chuckled, nodding before placing a kiss on your forehead. his grip on the headboard caused the bed to move a little once he brought up the speed of his hips, fucking into you deeply but at a steady pace.

"you like that, babygirl?" he groaned.

"yes, daddy.." you moaned, you wrap your fingers around his arm while the other one played with your nipples. You breasts bouncing with each thrust.

"it feels so good, daddy!" you whimpered loudly, his cock head hitting that sweet spot inside of you. his throbbing cock filled you up so well. he wasn't going fast today, he wanted you to feel every thrust and every vein on his cock. "I know baby, fuck.." he moaned, his grip on your waist pressing red onto you.

"I-I'm gonna cum," you cried out, your face contorting in pleasure. The pressure in your abdomen was on the verge of breaking. "Keep going, daddy please. I need you so bad." you moaned louder and louder.

"Cum for me darling," he groaned, the lip tucked between his teeth was hard enough to draw blood. He was watching the way your cunt swallowed his cock whole. The slick causing loud lewd noises to fill the air. It only intensified when you squirted over his cock. A small squeal and whimper filling the air.

The view of the wetness and noise was enough for Sangyeon. "Fuck it.." he whispered, his thrusts becoming erratic before he released himself deep into you. "Oh my god.." he moaned, feeling you clench and pulsate around his cock was a feeling of heaven. He's never carried a load as much as he has released in you.

He kept thrusting slower and slower as he rode out his high. When he pulled out he viewed your pretty cunt pulsating and clenching around nothing but pushing out the cum he had filled you with.

You looked him in the eye before licking your fingers and rubbing and stuffing the cum back into your pussy. A groan escaping Sangyeon's throat. "Baby..." he smiled before, placing a kiss on your hair.

[p0ssywhippedcream]

gosh just like, imagine L being somewhat sexuqlly frustrated, case pulling him down and such.

at nights you stay with him, keep him company, ramble at him (which, in turn- he listens, almost being consumed by your voice) while he works. General things.

But now, since he's nearly dying; not having time to take care of himself, too shy to ask you to help- he's just. Suffering through it. One night you seem to just coincidentally turn him on without knowing. He tries holding himself back, not excusing himself or saying anything. They way you delicately put candies in your mouth, the way your fingers glide through the sweets, picking just the right one

g o s h, mans just can anymore, finally has enough of it and just rams you into his desk

*giggles* gosh i love you, y’all know me too well 🤭

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

L loves listening to himself talk, but he loves listening to you talk even more. Your words are coated in honey, voice articulating things he’d never ever imagined. You talk about anything, everything, as long as it sparks curiosity or conflict.

L’s gone through typing thousands of sentences listening to you ramble about necklaces, history, food, shoes, video games, books, ex lovers, humanity as a whole, Poland and society. Sometimes you don’t know if he’s actually listening but when he throws a glance in your direction with an interested expression, you know he does care about what you’re saying even if he doesn’t say it too.

So you continue to come in your comfortable clothes, sit with him and practically burst with information and opinions while stealing his sweets every now and then. L likes you, you’re authentic and honest, you wear baggy t shirts and sleep shorts and smell of mint when it’s closer to bed time for you and you’ve recently brushed your teeth. And you’re consistent, every night, 7 on the dot, he hears the waddle of your padded feet slapping the stairs and the squeal of a chair’s hinges as you sit down and scoot towards him.

He likes that about you, you’re precise, but lately he finds himself conflicted. He loves your visits, loves sharing whatever edible heart-attack he has, loves your beautiful, sweet voice next to him. But he dreads the feelings that come with it. His heart races, palms sweat and vision blurs, intense bodily reactions that cause terror and confusion. He feels like he’s dying. And nobody can focus when they’re dying.

Plus, he has an erection that would be fairly obvious if his knees weren’t in the way of you line of sight. He did some research in a spare moment and discovered many things about himself, the important ones being that he’s most likely aroused and that he may have feelings for you. So, you arouse and intrigue him.

He goes through a few nights thinking that information would be enough to calm his symptoms but soon realizes it’s worse now then before because he’s actually aware of the way he looks at you and where he looks at you now.

He can’t help his eyes falling to your pretty, bouncing breasts as you descend the stairs. He can’t help his attention on your pump lips forming words he can hardly hear anymore. He can’t help the blood rushing straight to his cock when you lean out of your chair to grab a bite of his cake and your shorts lift up ever so slightly, allowing the curve of your ass to be seen from where he sits.

He considers asking for help and immediately mentally reprimands himself for even considering the great L would need help. He doesn’t have time for anything else but working and sleeping and he can’t compromise himself just because he’s feeling a little aroused. So he doesn’t do anything, and suffers the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You greet L with a smile and giddily bounce over to your designated seat next to him, grabbing a hold of the back of the chair.

“See anything different?” You ask with an excited grin.

L furrows his brow and studies you for a second but comes up empty and shakes his head.

You sigh and give him a faux frown.

“The pajamas?” You spin and he notices what you mean. Deep red strawberries litter your shorts, that seem slightly shorter than the others you wear, and your pink socks have strawberries sewn into the sides. Then you’ve finished spinning and L can see your shirt clearly, he almost goes into cardiac arrest. Directly where your nipples are, there are two small strawberries poking out on the thin fabric.

L quickly clears his throat and turns his chair back to the monitors, bringing his legs closer to his chest, “Very nice.”

You huff and plop down next to him, stealing the fork in his hand and nipping some cake, “‘Very nice?’ I thought you would think they were cute.”

L looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“They’re cute.”

You giggle and turn towards him more, using your foot as leverage to push off the table so that you’re closer to him.

“I know, right? I found them last week shopping with Misa and she said that you were gonna make fun of me but I thought you’d like ‘em so I bought ‘em.”

L thinks for a second then turns to you with a surprised expression, which for him is just a slight eyebrow raise and eye widening.

“You bought them… for me?”

You shrug like it’s no big deal.

“Yeah, thought you’d like ‘em. You’re all about strawberries anyways.”

L’s heart is racing so fast it feels like it’s going to pop out of his chest and run a marathon.

“Well.. you were right. I do like them.”

You throw a smile with teeth his way and he flatlines.

“Anyways… what’ja wanna talk about tonight? I’ve got a few ideas.”

L tries to focus on whatever document he’d been working on before you arrived but you steal his attention again as he sees you pushing your chair even closer to his.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

You make a dive for the bowl of candies next to his keyboard and he gawks at you.

You lean over the arm of the chair and smile at him innocently, “What, you can’t share? Mr. Billionaire is greedy.”

You draw out the ‘dy’ in greedy with a giggle and drop the candies back at his frown.

L shakes his head at your antics, “No, I mean what are you doing so close? Can’t you talk from over there?”

You ignore the ego pang you could take and shrug, dropping eye contact in favor of your finger nails suddenly being very interesting.

“I dunno… thought we were close enough that I could sit here.”

L recognizes your expression and sighs, looking straight ahead at his screen.

“You can. I don’t mind.” He pretends not to see the way your face lights up again and pretends a little harder not to notice the tingling feeling inside his stomach.

There’s a few moments of silence before the creaking of your chair shifting ever closer to his draws a quarter of his attention. The arm of your chair bumps his and he glances to his right to see your mischievous grin beaming up at him from where your head rests on his chair, nearly falling onto his lap.

L must be a pro at this point when it comes to ignoring his feelings but he still struggles to keep a straight face when your hands come out to trace shapes into the side of his jeans.

He can’t tell how long it’s been that you’ve been talking about meaningless things or how long you’ve been practically in his chair with the way your whole body leans onto his. Could’ve been ten minutes, twenty or an hour, L’s too enthralled by your presence to get work done at his usual pace.

You reach your hand out to the bowl of sweets and L watches you in his peripheral vision as your delicate fingers search for your favored flavor, gently brushing the others and softly plucking one up. The way your eyes seem so focused on the task, lips curling into a bottom bite as your hand pushes the candy through reddened lips.

You hum in satisfaction at the taste and L’s thoughts scatter, leaving only the sight of you on his mind. Taking quick note of how little work he’s gotten done tonight, of his aching erection rubbing against the rough confines of his pants and the way your nipples poke out just right on the shirt, barely visible under the strawberries and makes a decision he’s yet to regret. L is going to get laid.

“Y/n, stand up.” Puzzled, you do so and tug on the bottom of your shorts when they come up too high.

“I… want to do something, you may stop me at any time.” You nod and make a concerned face that fades as he stands too, cupping your face and angling it towards his.

The only sign of the anxiety he feels inside is the shaking hands the cradle your jaw with uncertainty. He meets your eyes with hesitant eye contact and sees only pure desire and trust back.

L’s lips gloss over yours, barely a whisper yet enough to make you whimper and tangle your hands in the mess of his hair. You pull his towards you with urgency, slotting your lips against his much more desperately.

You taste like raspberries and toothpaste and months of longing, L feels like he might die when your hands wander down to his chest and fist the fabric of his shirt with a muffled gasp. L knows you’ll stop him if you don’t want anything further so he takes a leap of faith and drops his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His throbbing, clothed erection brushes your thigh with a groan from you both.

You pull away, lips kissbitten and eyes glazed over with lust. L’s heart chases after you, beating like crazy inside it’s poor little cage.

“You look angelic.” His words fumble out like a broken dam but he means it, almost proud of himself when you blush and smile.

“What was that thing you wanted to do?” You change the subject with a nervous fidget of his shirt in your fists.

“You, if you’d let me.” He sounds bold and sure of himself but he’s hardly controlling himself from begging you to just kiss him like that again, even though if you did, he’d surely fall completely in love with you.

You met his eyes with a unfamiliar shyness and nod quickly.

“I’d let you..please, do.”

He allows his signature proud smirk to take his lips before he takes yours again, hands wandering down to the ruffle at the edge of your pajamas.

He tugs them down your thighs slightly and cups your ass in his big hands before breaking the kiss.

“Turn around.”

Your back faces him and he uses his leverage to bend you over his desk, his mind freezing up when he notices a dark spot on your pink panties, puffy clit poking out on the material.

He trails his fingers up towards the waistband and slowly pulls them down, a string of arousal between your pussy and panties growing thinner and finally breaking once they’re down where your shorts are.

“You’re incredibly wet.” L remarks with a finger sliding through your dripping folds, eyes catching the full body shiver you do.

“You’re incredibly attractive.” You snap back quick but there’s amusement in your tone. “Sometimes shit happens.”

He mentally rolls his eyes and simply replied by propping you up in a easier position, pushing your back into a arch and your ass high in the air.

“May I?” He asks, hoping you understand the implication by the sound of his zipper.

“You may.” You respond with a cheeky grin over your shoulder, “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He wants to say something romantic but he doesn’t know how you’ll take it.

Right as his hands clasp your hips and tug you closer to his waiting cock, he lets it slip.

“For you.”

You both know there’s implications behind that more than just him saying he’ll ask for consent but you ignore it for now. You know later, when you’re stumbling back to your room with a giddy smile and sore legs, you’ll giggle to yourself over the thought he may want you for more than just sex.

His tip angles at your entrance and he takes a breath before gently pushing in, pulling a sensual gasp from your mouth as your wetness expands around him. Curses fall easily from your lips as you shuffle your legs farther apart, feeling him bottom out completely.

You already feel your pussy ache, accommodating the stretch almost painful but wonderfully full at the same time. L, on the other hand, is also greatly feeling the size difference. He’s been holding his breath and mentally clicking through past cases to keep himself from busting a load too soon, his hands an iron grin on your poor waist.

A wet squelch sounds as he begins pulling out to thrust in again and your red cheeks flame even harder, knowing you’re definitely soaking him and yourself.

L waits for a second and slyly says, “Is that a snail in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

You laugh loud and abruptly, nearly choking as he pushes in again through the joke. You love his sense of humor but sometimes he’s really got to read the room, still though, you feel more at ease.

L feels his cock tense and balls clench and resolves to move faster, in order to please both parties. His hips slam against yours deeply as he fucks himself into you, your slick pussy driving him halfway mad.

“F-fuck.. please! Please, L, please!” You sound like you’re crying from the desperation in your voice but from the pornographic moans leaking at a consistent rate, L knows it feels good to you.

Atleast he hopes it does, and when he realizes he wants to make it better, he angles so that with each thrust, your clit rubs against the smooth table and instantly feels the effects, your cunt squeezing infinitely harder.

He lets out a choked noise for the first time and you nearly cum right then, his broken voice groaning sounds ethereal to your ears.

“Y/n…I’m going to orgasm.” You almost chuckle at his use of vocabulary but nod hurriedly nonetheless.

“Mmmm..me too, fuck….harder, please!”

L thrusts harder at your command and gave a few final desperate ruts before letting out a string of your name connected to a deep, long sob of ‘fuck’. You clench around him and pant out his alias as you shake through your release.

He nearly falls on top of you and thankfully rolls to the side with a satiated look, slowly pulling himself out of your sore, dripping hole.

After a few beats of heavy breathing, you shoot him a tired smile and ask, “Get what you wanted?”

He looks back at you with something unidentifiable and smiles slightly too.

“For now.”