#STILL not sure I'm happy with it but im done

[sukunasun]

I hope this ask finds you well! I simply MUST tell you about my latest Nanami fantasy. Feel free to ignore lol

So I've been obsessed with your Professor Nanami thoughts, I've always had little fantasies about him like that, but recently I thought of a combination between your Professor Nanami and the BEAUTIFUL chubby fem reader x Nanami fic you wrote.

I hate to take up your time but I simply must indulge in the thought. I imagine Professor Nanami, tall and awkward, stern and often seen as rude, falling madly infatiated with the new chubby biology professor that has joined his same university. They rarely cross paths, but when they do, he feels like a lovesick fool watching her go across the courtyard swiftly, shifting through documents, barely paying attention to the world around her. He wants to talk to her, woo her, pick at her brain and hear her ramble about her passion for her teaching subject. He wishes he still had that passion for teaching, wasn't dulled by the lack of interest in his students (Itadori is one of the few who brings his passion back every time he receives an update email).

But like I said, he's awkward, and he's a die hard romantic so he wishes they had a kind of "meet cute" encounter where she drops her papers and he helps pick them up, introducing himself, inviting her out to coffee. He feels silly when he imagines all the scenarios he could officially meet her, get her name from her own mouth instead of the university faculty index online. He just wants a chance to know her, learn about her, see her as more than a bubbly professor who is way out of his league.

Of course his thoughts don't stay pure. He often thinks of her late at night, in his office or his bed, finishing paperwork and imagining her taking his fountain pen away, coaxing him to relax with a neck massage, pressing her breasts into the back of his head. He imagines taking her on his desk, or a fancy hotel after a romantic dinner, something hot and wild or passionate and soothing. It's the only way he can get off nowadays, thinking about her in all the ways he wishes he could.

Maybe Geto and Gojo encourage him to get out of his comfort zone and ask her on a date. Maybe they do have a meet cute encounter and fall in love instantly. Maybe he's too timid around her and continues to pine in silence. Regardless, just the thought of her makes his stomach flip in the most delicious way, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to recover.

Alrighty, I'm all done lol. Thank you for your time and I hope you have the loveliest day. Your writing is always fantastic and inspires me endlessly, so I hope you're doing well 💕

thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! i loved loved loved reading this !! i'm so happy he's gotten so much appreciation, im sure he'd find it all very overwhelming and unnecessary, but it'll encourage him to give himself a chance for once.

because nanami's more than his semblance and stature. they say he's an awkward, rude man who's out to make his student's social lives just as non-existent. as. yuuji puts it, "he added an extra assignment for the week, now i have to cancel my date, i'm gonna be alone forever!"

and kusakabe snorts when you bring him up. "nanami kento? that guy only cares about work, he doesn't talk to women let alone go on dates,"

"must be one of those aloof and stoic types—" higuruma is at least observational in his judgement "—i don't know of his preferences, but in terms of dating...he'd likely be attracted to someone similar." he shrugs from behind his desk, stacks of files and paperwork piled high. his words could mean anything but higuruma rarely makes vague, blanket statements. never the kind to shy away from specifics and specific connotations.

thinking about it now. you and nanami would be equals in regards to intelligence. a pair of smart and capable people leading their fields. although when it comes to appearances, two people couldn't be more different. where he is tall and muscular, with thick forearms and a chest sturdy as a brick wall, you are rounded and curvy beneath your lab coat.

still, the general consensus on his not-so-friendly disposition wasn't enough to dissuade you, there's always a possibility he'd be kind as he is smart. the thought of running into professor nanami was a situation most unprepared for. what does one do when faced with the most unattainable man on campus. his accolades and accomplishments aside, it is clear he isn't pursuing a relationship. at least not in the way he's pursued knowledge and truth all this while.

it has never been more difficult to cross paths given that STEM and econs buildings were a distance apart. there hadn't been an overlap in students or staff meetings or social circles either, as if he were on a totally different side of the world. sometimes you notice him and it makes your heart flutter. a rare sighting of the creature of your affections standing by the window of his office but turning away the second he sees you, pulling the curtains shut. other times, he sits by the bench near the park, leg crossed over his knee as he balances papers on his thigh. even when deep into grading papers, he senses your presence walking by and leaves in an instant. his feet moving at a brisk pace, carrying an old messenger bag with him. as if he's doing it all on purpose, going out of his way to avoid you.

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

after nanami's dashed and made it to the safety of his office, he's left peeking through the small sliver of light from his curtains, watching you sigh and take a seat where he'd been.

"maah...he's staring again," gojo's voice is a grating sound to nanami's ears. always a mocking, teasing lilt heard from behind him. he's about to stop them from entering because they're always meddling at the wrong time but feels the weight of gojo's arm slinging over his shoulder. ah. too late.

geto laughs right in his face before shaking his head and tutting, "our kouhai hasn't learned a thing!"

"i don't know what you're talking about," nanami makes his defense. looking down at his loafers, they're all scuffed from years of wear, but he likes that the leather has darkened, the soles are still intact, and it has taken shape to his feet perfectly. kinda like how his two seniors are just as familiar. always circling and hovering around him, ready to strike with a jab or a hard truth. gojo and geto are terrible at subtlety as they are at being his wingmen.

"still wallowing?" gojo hums, his index finger coming up to nanami's cheek and poking the skin incessantly. "by the way you should really start using a toner—"

"stop it—" nanami swats his hand away, clicking his teeth "—i'm not wallowing." he sounds so juvenile like this, only with these two does he lose all reputation. turning back into that annoyed and moody teen with acne and a fringe, cooped up in a library and getting addicted to caffeine.

geto snorts, "you've made it your whole identity, 'woe is me, i'm so awkward and ugly and no one will ever put up with me'," he believes nanami's become attached to self-pity and judging by how well he's able to twist the knife with people, nanami isn't adamant on refuting his claim.

instead, he scoffs, "i never said i was ugly—" that he knows is an overstatement, but picking out the 'wrong' thing, the flaw in geto's argument helps to deflect from the unflattering truth. no one will ever put up with me. and geto knows nanami's swerving around because he gives him an unimpressed look, 'that's beside the point,' he'd say.

nanami tries to explain, "—it's always best to be honest and fair when making judgements of oneself." if that were the case, he'd remind himself of all the times he's chickened out of speaking to you. choosing to hide in the dark of his office to calm his beating heart at being caught red-handed or dashing away when you found him grading papers outside. 'coward' says the voice in his head. he ignores it for now.

"aw man he's being self-deprecating again, guru-chan do something!" satoru sighs, shaking his head as if disappointed, then hugs nanami. not a full teddy bear hug, but he squeezes nanami a centimetre closer with his slung arm, and it feels the same as being lit on fire. uncomfortable and definitely not helpful for the situation he's in right now.

suguru saves him at least by pushing satoru's arm away. "c'mon 'ken, you've been pining over her for months, what do you have to lose?" he counters and nanami doesn't know if he's more scared of being denied what he wants most or having to lose it all. weighing out the risks comes naturally to him but backing it up with indefatigable proof is unfortunately not a power he hones.

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

you're having lunch with higuruma today. just lunch. a meal shared between two colleagues and nothing more—

—is what nanami tells himself when he spots the two of you by the newly opened cafe near campus. the scene is so picturesque as if taken from a painting. you sit by a window, sunlight pouring in and across your features, beaming rays of light decorating you in gold and amber. he's picked a few cues from the man opposite you, one being that whatever's going on between you two is beyond platonic intent.

which he can't fault the lawyer for. no man would pass up the opportunity for something more. who wouldn't fall within the first second of laying eyes on you? the way nanami did. he remembers your shiny hair blowing in the wind when rushing to and from lecture halls, the soft plumpness of your cheeks rising with every smile, a torch of passion lit in your eyes when hearing you talk about research. with interest and a warm, almost fond curiosity.

this is to say that nanami isn't innocent in his own intentions with you. berating himself is part of romance too. 'she's not a prize to be won. she's a woman. brilliant and beautiful,' he thinks it'll be easier to succumb to his insecurities, tell himself he's unworthy, but all he feels is a twisted guilt. the same guilt that curls and winds up his spine, clutching at his chest, pooling in his stomach as he watches the higuruma move across the table to caress a finger over your cheek. seemingly to brush away what little crumbs have peppered there.

nanami clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white and a vein bulges. so it's like that. he hates jumping to conclusions. it's uncharacteristic for him to make accusations and form baseless hypotheses. but why. why such a feeling. all because this man has acquired your favour? who is he to have earned the luxury of touching you so freely? when nanami wants and has wanted for more than a brush of skin or a friendly introduction, for longer than a meal or seasons passed. torturously, achingly counting seconds to gaining, no, receiving that privilege. as entitled, he isn't exempt from possession. and how human too. the unfeeling and detached nanami learns he's capable of wanting something for himself.

he watches for your reaction, but when you don't push higuruma away and thank him instead, nanami believes he's lost all his appetite. pasta left untouched until clear skies turn as grey and gloomy as his mood for the rest of the day.

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

he's in a rush tonight. no—a rut sounds more fitting.

after he's failed half his class on their weekly assignment and dealt with the pushback, he's about ready to explode from the stress. nothing seems to be going right. an unappetizing lunch, a disinterested batch of students, and he's three days behind schedule on that journal article. staring at his three-monitor setup and coming up blank on his daily writing. he can't seem to force his fingers to tap away at the keys, but they reach toward the whiskey bottle with ease.

nanami's a big believer in moderation but'll bend his rules again as he resigns himself to the guilty pleasures of fantasy and fleeting missives. he pours himself a glass, then another, and by the time he downs the fourth, his cheeks pink and heat up. clouding his mind and buzzing all over his skin soothingly. the alcohol is not nearly enough for him to pass out drunk, but it does release some tension in his muscles.

all the nerves and irritation slip away as he reaches straight for his trousers, unbuckling himself free with a one-handed manoeuvre. he's been jerking off every night now, grown accustomed to routine, it doesn't take long for him to leak through his boxers the moment he closes his eyes shut and thinks of you. his hard dick springs free and his balls ache for release. he tugs on them and groans when the sensation throbs up his shaft. the skin hot and glistening from his precum dribbling down. twitching head begging for heat, pressure, and suction.

he's got an array of scenes to choose from. making love after a long day. making love on your wedding night. making love in general. nanami loves a soft woman, and no one knows what he's really like when in private. strict professor by day, introverted and nerdy, who most believe is still a virgin. it's only here that he doesn't fumble and fidget with nerves. tonight he feels no remorse for imaging the way his cock looks slapping against your cheek, making you gag on it as you slobber drool and his mess down your chin. nanami almost feels bad, might curse himself for picturing a sweetheart like you on your knees, his fist wrapped around your hair so tight while you look up at him, eager to please.

used to picturing slow, sensuous kisses and even slower thrusts into you, he now opts for something dirtier to dismiss the scene he saw earlier today. 'you're jealous' the thought whispers through the fog and this time, he can't ignore it.

he fists his shaft hoping to imitate the feeling of your wet heat cling to him like a vice. he curls around you just as tightly. his cock fitting snugly, almost too big to take within your depths. you'll tell him just as much because he likes the praise. academic success has done little for his vanity, but hearing your sighing lamentations, sobbing ovations on his sheer size would make him feel just that bit better about himself.

but forget his self-esteem, this is purely for your pleasure. he wouldn't want you feeling anything but full and split open on his dick. he's tall and broad and has come a long way since he was lanky and swimming in his slacks. has an idea of just how much weight, how much pressure is befitting to trap you beneath him. don't be fooled by his quiet demeanor, nanami is always down to give you a good time. setting those prescription glasses to the side and gets to work. laying you back and propped comfortably, curves cushioned by pillows. with legs spread and a view to die for, nanami gets himself into position and eats you out like a meal to be savoured. taking his time, making you edge, urged only by your cries and moans.

he wouldn't mind if you caged him in, legs putting him in a headlock, but he prefers to have you spread-eagled and bucking for more. clit so sensitive as he nibbles and sucks on it, gently at first, like he's testing the waters, picking up cues and filing them away for future reference. he loves to learn and he's quick at it too. getting so good at it he's able to have you trembling and twitching for hours, coming undone with just his mouth and nothing more.

he pumps his fist and moans shamelessly because he's allowed this one thing. here in private, he lets out groans and grunts held under crumbling restraint, rambling on, "mine, mine, mine..." his legs spread, and his thighs clench when he's close to his climax. imagining the sounds you'd make, light and airy, deep and guttural, moaning his name and screaming for more. the beautiful professor below him taking every inch that slips past the channel of his slippery, rough fingers.

wet and heated, the head of his cock bobs and his thumb presses down right at the sensitive tip while his other hand grips the base tightly with sweet pressure, just like how you'd clench down on him. "i didn't think you'd feel so good 'ken," he hears it in your voice and it makes him smile just a little. call it arrogance but he knows he'll pleasure you just right. his beautiful professor looking shocked and surprised that he's no longer a man who cowers and runs away but one who takes want he wants instead.

his cheeks get hot and so do his ears, clenching his eyes shut and immersing himself fully. tipping his head back and cursing, "fuck—" he grits out desperate and dying to bounce you atop him, coiled around you like a snake, he'd love the weight, the feel, so soft, so full.

tongue going dry with every heaving breath, nanami sees a view of your face twisting in pleasure, gasping and shaking all over. your pretty lips gaping in a perfect o-shape as your eyes roll back and your fingernails rake down his chiselled back, just to hold on, just to ride out the immense wave of pleasure. shlick. shlick. shlick. he mimics thrusting into you on the comedown before he spills into his hand. white painting his skin and most of his office floor.

he sits back and sighs, his cock still leaking cum and he thinks he hates himself. still, it's only when he instinctively reaches for the neatly folded handkerchiefs in another drawer does he begin to contemplate his situation. "i'm done for..."

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

when the long-awaited, much-anticipated 'meet-cute' happens, it doesn't go as he'd imagined. "professor nanami! we've never actually met so i thought i'd say hi," you put on your best smile, pushing your glasses up and hoping they hide the uncertainty in your expression. you squeeze a clammy hand on your skirt to soak up as much of the moisture before holding it out. only to have him stare at you questioningly in return.

the worse part isn't the skeptical expression, or the way his eyebrows furrow, or the way his lips grow thin, as if he's confused as to why you're speaking to him. like he wouldn't waste an introduction on you of all people. this is the downside of having a crush, the inevitable letdown and rejection you feel when realizing nanami might know you exist, but he doesn't acknowledge your existence.

you've been told you're quite the personality, cute, bubbly, approachable. so why the hell won't he just talk to you! it's not like you did anything wrong and you hate being made to feel stupid. you're a professor in your own right, and he's just staring like you were less than. not even worth a hello. so you laugh it off, "well, see you!" turning around and berating yourself for even trying. this man was just as they said—detached and cold fucking hearted.

"w-wait!" his hand reaches out to catch your arm. the sudden lunge almost toppling him over and falling atop you. "forgive me, it seems i was stunned." he swallows.

"stunned?" you ask, suddenly curious.

with his eyes blinking behind his glasses, nanami moves to push them back from slipping down that bridge of his nose. he looks so endearing, it instantly makes you smile. "yes, well, you...you're talking. to me." he lets you go after his hand has overstayed it's welcome around your bicep, pulling back towards the front of his sweater, brushing it off for nonexistent lint. (of course not, nanami would be the kind to steam and brush it clean after every wash)

"that is true yes," you reply, eyes crinkling at the berth of your smile, wide enough, bright enough, infectious in nature. so much so he gives you one in return. just the smallest tilt of his own lips. in a second his face goes from night to day. almost like the clouds that part then, crepuscular rays shining upon his golden hair and lashes.

after a few seconds, he seems to have calmed, but his heartbeat hammers the same, you know this because his face turns pink. "i'd like to...talk to you." he says, and you take him up on that request.

[deathricedrawn]

i'm ready to try

[wojtekaneko]

Oscar bts Celibacy gif everyone C:

[broodygaming]

From a narrative POV, I'm so happy Imogen hit the big red button. I think ppl are up in their feels about the whole thing, which is valid. But it IS a fictional world. No real people are going to get hurt. It's fantasy. So with that in mind,

BURN IT DOWN IMOGEN!!!! CHOMP CHOMP!!! LETS GO!!! GODS FOR LUNCH!!!

Gods (lol), I'm just so stoked to see this kind of build and character arc where they ACTUALLY DO THE THING!!!! It gets threatened SO much, over and over and over again. The temptation, the growth, the resistance. We've heard this story in media billions of times. So, so rarely do they hit the big shiny button. This is like, Anakin choosing the dark side. It's SUCH a bolder choice and I respect and love it so much, I'm so stoked to see the drama and insanity that's going to unfold.

[as-dreamers-do]

how do you tell if problems are 1) life being not perfect bc we live in a fallen world 2) correction from God for sinning 3) trial from God for growth 4) spiritual warfare

asking for a friend

[llycaons]

im finally feeling awake now so @pharahsgf this is the post I was talking about

foolish. reductive. immature. disrespectful. willfully ignorant. WRONG

[fishparasite]

feel weird. can't sleep. ack

[telephonemarketer]

genderfluid aro bi (middle school) -> bi transman (high school) -> bigender bi butch (early college) -> butch lesbian (late college)

[todayisafridaynight]

STILL HAVING SUCH A NORMAL ONE ABOUT THAT RGGJO BUT NO Y7JO GETTING REALLY GOOD AT HOUSEWORK I SEE THE VISION… I'm pickin' up what you're puttin' down…

Because I've always wondered how unprepared Jo would've been going into everything. On one hand, he did leave home really young, but since he was working and Ikumi wasn't, one could argue Ikumi would've been the one to handle the housework at least while they were together.

Inversely, I do kiiind of feel like Jo would've done at least Some Things when he could to ease the burden on Ikumi based on his attempt to comfort her at the station. I'm reading way too much into it but it's notable that, despite him definitely being a smoker and them hoping for a miscarriage, the ashtray in their apartment is spotless.

But we only really see his living situation when he's with Ikumi and don't get to see what--if anything--changes when he's on his own, when he has to do everything and not just Some Things. But with regard to food, if you're in survival mode like that, while it is more economical to make food at home, it would make sense that any quality of cooking would be passable. That's not going to fly with a kid who's lived in the lap of luxury his whole life.

So I've always had a lot of feelings about Jo Bettering Himself for Masato's sake (even when Masato isn't necessarily being reasonable) and his overblown neurosis at the prospect of falling short--the post you mentioned in your tags is Exactly It. But, you know, it's cheesy, but I firmly believe he could do whatever he set his mind to, if he can manage to learn Every Martial Art and become a glorified (and very competent) accountant after dropping out of high school.

Also uhhhhhhhh entire post reminded me of this (���ら on Pixiv) that's it that's the ask

Ok I'm glad we both caught on to Jo's attempt to console Ikumi and the considerably-clean home. Evidently he was probably self-sufficient enough, but nothing extraordinary- just whatever passed as 'suitable' for them, so it's not as though he's going in totally clueless (but certainly not knowledgeable enough to match Masato's extremely-high standards. Bless Arakawa but he definitely spoiled him a little).

Even if it is a 'cheesy' sentiment, Jo very much has proven that so long as it's for Masato, he's willing to do anything and everything no matter how big (joining the yakuza) or small (probably like. learning how to make quiche)

[tinymilkcarton]

v

[amazinglyashy]

HI I LOVE ur lads headcanons ‼️ idk if u do angst but im feeling some angsty/hurt/comfort........... can i pls request the lads men's reaction to the reader rejecting their confession bc we think they deserve better...... someone who doesn't have a heart condition (like the mc) or something........

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! And oh man, I love angst and hurt/comfort, as long as I get to give it a tiny bit of hope/a happy ending! I felt this one though, I've thought about it before with my own MC…….. a few dozen times- Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request! <3

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to you rejecting their confession due to feelings of inadequacy

Rafayel -

Rafayel is… surprised, to say the least.

Not only do you not have any memory of him or the things you did together- the things you did to him- but you also are straight up turning him down when he finally realized that he needs to confess to you all over again.

He's pretty upset.

It'll definitely turn into an argument, and you know he's hurt. Damn, you're hurt too, just having to turn him down. He makes you feel something, like you're special. Like you're everything to him. Like you're not…

Broken.

And it'll come out eventually. Maybe not blatantly so, but in small ways, your feelings of inadequacy will start to leak through the cracks that are forming in your resolve as you try to refuse a man who has already been refused his love by fate and prophecy for far too long.

And somehow, that makes it so much worse. Because he can fight fate, he can go against the currents of time and the ever evolving cruelty of human nature. But he can't do anything about the feelings raging inside your own head.

He's sure going to try though.

Angrily but calmly, he will start firing off things he has done for you, just because he's loved you so much, throughout all of your time together and even before. He doesn't know if it'll make it worse, make you feel like he already does too much for whatever it is you see yourself as, but he's going to do it anyway. And slowly, it'll start forming into the things you two do together- the things you've done for him when he needs you.

And you're going to be there a while, because until you start to realize, until he starts to chip away at that dark feeling in the deepest reaches of your mind and heart, he's not going to let up.

Not now, not ever.

Sylus -

He's a bit taken aback, but he's not particularly surprised. He had seen this coming, mentally prepared himself for it, even. He knew after his treatment of you when the two of you had just met again for the first time, that any sort of official relationship between you two would be tricky to get to. Especially putting an actual label on it.

He'll be a lot more surprised when he reads between the lines at your words, and realizes it's not because you're still scared of him, but because you don't think you're good enough for him.

"You can't be serious, sweetie."

He's not going to force you to accept his confession, but regardless of how timid or aggressive you become, whether you escalate it vocally or try to exit the conversation, he's not arguing with you. He pretty much refuses to, as he instead begins to state snarky facts as he crosses his arms, watching your reactions as he does.

"When you patched my wounds a month ago, was I not deserving of your hands caring for me because they were shaky and belonging to you? How about that girl you muttered about that we saw at the café who was mad at her boyfriend to the point of shouting, when he didn't get her the right cake she wanted? Are you saying you're worse than her? Helping me on jobs simply because you want to exist near me is… not good enough for me?"

"Sylus, that's not what I'm saying-"

"Oh don't worry sweetie. I know exactly what it is you're saying. I just know it's a particularly misinformed, self loathing thought for you to be having. Don't you think it's insulting for you to decide who I give my love to? After every calculated decision you have witnessed me make?"

He'll finally soften, reaching out a hand to gently rest on the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gentle back and forth.

"You don't need to be concerning yourself with what I deserve in a partner. You should have faith in my opinions, if not for yourself, but for your confidence in me, sweetie. After that, the rest is up to what you truly want in your heart."

Zayne -

His reaction is definitely the most reserved initially, especially until he realizes why exactly you're turning him down.

He definitely has the passing thought that maybe you're just misunderstanding him again, just like back with the snow seals when the two of you were still kids.

When he realizes that's not the case, and instead, it's your own internalized feelings, he's first a bit relieved, and secondly- pretty perturbed.

"It's interesting to know that's your perspective, given how much you enjoy those fictional stories with ironic pairings. I would think that it would be the most romantic thing for a heart patient to be in a relationship with a cardiac surgeon.

His biting but well-meaning quips aside, he's not quite sure how to break it to you that he used to be in a similar boat, and still is to some capacity. Which is partly why he's a bit upset to understand your perspective.

He's genuinely surprised you haven't processed the timeline of the two of you and your lives. Your accident that caused the state of your heart, his leaving to study medicine and become a specialist in cardiology and a renowned cardiac surgeon- are you not able to see that it's not an inadequacy for him, but his own lack of knowledge when you first started having issues made himself feel inadequate? Why he left without a word for years in the first place?

And not just that- it also applies to other fields too. He has no issues helping you where you need him, because he knows the extent of your capabilities, much like he knows his own. And he will spend forever if he needs to, to show you that loving is not about who does more. It's about doing what your partner needs, no matter how much or how little that is, and loving each other through every hard moment.

And you're about to hear every ounce of his convincing, opinions, and own feelings, until you start to see. Until you finally see.

Xavier -

Unless you tell it to him straight, he's not going to know why you rejected him. He'll be hurt, but he'll accept your rejection graciously and politely, before trying to figure out just how to get you to accept it.

There's an increase in claw machine dates, movie night invitations, and how much he helps you with missions or even just around your apartment. Eventually, you process the weird behavior and you're all but forced to confront him on really truly why you rejected him.

It's Xavier, so you try to play it off as a lighthearted situation or a joke, but you can see his expression darkening, and you're not sure if it's because of him being upset at your words, or realizing just how much time he has sunk into you with how... broken of a person you are.

Turns out, it's the former!

It's hard to not realize such, as he's pulling you into the tightest hug he's probably ever grabbed you into.

For a while, it's just you and him standing there, with him squeezing you tightly and you not knowing what to do with your hands or the lump rising in the back of your throat. He doesn't really know what to say, but he does know he needs to say something.

"I'll definitely make you see that you're more than enough for me."

"Xavier- that's not how this work-"

"I know, and I don't care. I- I need you to know that you're everything to me. You're not inadequate, or broken, or anything you've been telling yourself. You're more than enough. You're more than everything to me. And I'm not going anywhere until you finally understand that."

[leclercwriting]

enchante | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem reader

you are daniel's new enchante model (and secretly, his girlfriend)

masterlist

enchante

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caption: new model and collection. say hi to @ y/n.user !

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danielricciardo: welcome y/n!

y/n.user: hii

user74: she is so pretty!!

y/n.user: thank you sm xx

user36: i though that enchante had enough models

user4: maybe she's special to daniel

y/n.user

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caption: enjoy the butterflies

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danielricciardo: 🦋

user6: THE CAPTION AND DANIEL'S COMMENT??

user67: they're dating for sure

user5: she looks like his sister lol. gross

y/n.user: guess we ain't looking at the same person

user46: SHE SILENCED THAT HATER

landonorris: hiii y/n

y/n.user: gosh you're such a fan lando

danielricciardo

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caption: don't forget to check the new enchante collection. creds for photos to my lovely y/n xx

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y/n.user: you're welcome bae xx

user6: OMG THEY'RE DATING FOR SURE

user5: so this is a soft launch of their relationship?

maxverstappen1: no

danielricciardo: maximilian

y/n.user: I love drama

user4: y/n is just enjoying the attention

y/n.user

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landonorris: I KNEW IT!

danielricciardo: u didn't

y/n.user: no.. u didn't. U thought that I'm his long missed sister

user67: LMAO

user99: I'm so happy for danny. He's finally happy

maxverstappen1: congrats dude

danielricciardo: thanks maxie

y/n.user: MAX EMILIAN STOP FLIRTING WITH MY MAN

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, y/n.user and 754,980 others

caption: finally where im supposed to be

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user8: he's finally done with f1

user88: omg I'm so happy for them

landonorris: u deserve this bro

maxverstappen1: finally

user7: max is so real

danielricciardo and y/n.user

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1 234,849 others

caption: we're happy to announce that we're married! and y/n is finally mrs. ricciardo

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landonorris: CONGRATULATIONS GUYS!!

y/n.user: thank u lando

danielricciardo: xx

maxverstappen1: congratulations from me and kelly and P!!

danielricciardo: thanks mate

y/n.user: thanks guys!

user56: omg!!

user89: they're endgame for sure

user6: now only baby

danielricciardo: don't scare us

y/n.user and danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, kellypiquet and

3, 484,939 others

caption: we had to wait for this announcement because of some problems at the start of the pregnancy, but now everything's okay, and we're happy to announce that another ricciardo is on her way.

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landonorris: I'm gonna be an uncle!!

danielricciardo: you're still a kid yourself landinho

y/n.user: no way I'm letting you alone with my baby

user7: HER??? OMG ITS GONNA BE A GIRL

maxverstappen1: congratulations guys!

danielricciardo: we're gonna be good dads emilian

kellypiquet: so happy for you girlie!! we need to see each other

y/n.user: yay i can't wait to see our babies grow up

user6: no way daniel and max are gonna become dads in 2025

user88: maxiel becoming dads is so wholesome

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: fluffy, domestic grumpy Joel drabble—he finds you after a trail ride with Ellie, acting all huffy like you were gone for days instead of a few hours. But for all his grumbling, he can’t seem to keep his hands off you, sneaking in every touch he can while you untack your horse.

I had this dream last night and after getting done with my morning shift at the barn (yes im a tried and true horse girl) I had to get home to write it asap. I really hope you guys don't mind my random stream of consciousness fluff ideas because I don't plan on stopping

The sun was dipping behind the mountains when you and Ellie rode back into Jackson, the warm glow stretching long shadows across the main road. The ride had been good—brisk air, the scent of pine, the rhythmic drum of hooves against the dirt. Ellie had been chatty, as always, rambling about how she totally could’ve shot that deer quicker if you’d just let her.

You laughed, nudging your horse forward as the gates swung open, and right there—like he had been waiting, though he’d never admit it—was Joel.

His arms were crossed, his mouth set in that usual line of perpetual disapproval, but the second his eyes landed on you, something softened. It was quick, a flash of warmth before he scowled at Ellie instead. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled.

Ellie huffed as she swung off her horse. “We weren’t exactly in a hurry, old man.”

“Obviously,” he muttered, though his gaze flicked back to you, sweeping over you like he was checking for any sign of trouble.

You grinned as you slid off your horse, your boots hitting the ground. Before you could even brush the dust off your pants, Joel was there, his hands bracketing your waist as he pulled you in. His lips pressed firm against yours, warm, familiar, and entirely unapologetic despite the fact that Ellie was loudly gagging in the background.

“Oh my God, can you guys not?” she groaned, dragging her horse toward the stables.

Joel ignored her, his thumb tracing along your cheek as he reluctantly pulled away, his voice gruff but low just for you. “Go get cleaned up. I got the horse.”

You tilted your head at him with a teasing smile pulling at your lips. “I'm perfectly capable to untack my own horse,”

Joel exhaled through his nose, already shaking his head. “Never said you weren't.”

“But I want to.” You met his gaze, steady and unwavering, knowing exactly how this would go.

He held your stare, jaw ticking, that stubborn streak flaring like he was about to tell you to get your ass home. But you saw it—the way his resolve crumbled almost immediately. Joel never really fought you on anything, not when you looked at him like that, not when he’d do just about anything to make you happy.

With a sigh, he muttered, “Stubborn woman,” before stepping back and nodding toward the stable. “Fine. But you brush 'em down. My back ain't gonna put up with that tonight.”

You beamed, looping your arm through his as you led your horse inside, and though he grumbled about how he was too old for this, you saw the way his fingers lingered against yours, like he had missed you the entire time you were gone.

The scent of hay and leather wrapped around you like something familiar and safe as you entered the stables with your horse in tow. Ellie was already tending to Shimmer, loudly talking about how next time she’d take you to a cool spot by the creek she found, but you weren’t paying her much mind. Joel was right behind you, keeping close, as if he still wasn’t convinced you’d made it back in one piece.

You pulled your saddle off and hoisted it over the railing, rolling your shoulders to ease the weight. Joel moved beside you, unclipping the bridle from your horse, his touch careful as he slipped the worn leather over her ears. “Good boy,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a rough palm against the gelding’s neck. His hand brushed against yours as he stepped past, slow and deliberate, like he was making sure you felt it.

It was such a small touch, but it sent warmth curling up your spine.

“You do the brushin',” he murmured, voice low beside you. “I’ll put this away.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Delegating, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, deadpan, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Gotta keep you in line somehow.”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “Oh, that’s what this is? You think you’re in charge?”

Joel gave a low huff, shaking his head as he passed behind you, his hand dragging slow along your waist. “Ain’t no thinkin’ about it, sweetheart.”

You smirked, brushing your horse with a little extra purpose. “Mm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that, Miller.”

That earned you a sharp look, but it didn’t have a single ounce of bite. He moved past you, close enough that his palm landed at your lower back, just for a moment, a quick press of warmth before he was gone. Always touching, always making sure you were there, close enough to reach.

You picked up the brush and started working through your horse’s coat, sweeping in long, even strokes while it grazed on its hay. Joel returned a moment later, settling in the stall, already working the leather cleaner into the seat of the saddle on the railing. But every time you passed near him—every time you shifted to reach another spot—his hands found you. A steadying palm on your hip. A slow drag along the small of your back. Fingers curling at your elbow, thumb smoothing over the inside of your wrist. You wondered if he was even trying to help or just wanted to stare.

“Y’know,” you mused, keeping your tone casual even as heat bloomed under every touch, “you could help.”

“I am helpin’,” he said, completely serious. “Cleanin' yer damn tack. Supervisin’.”

You shot him a look. “Uh-huh.”

Joel exhaled a slow breath, like you were really putting him through it, and finally relented. He stepped behind you, so close his chest pressed against your back as he reached around you to grab another brush. Instead of moving away, he stayed there, caging you in with warm, steady hands.

“Like this,” he murmured, guiding your hand with his own, their weight pressing down together against the horse’s coat.

You swallowed hard, heart knocking against your ribs. “You think I don’t know how to brush a horse, Miller?”

He smirked, his breath warm against the side of your face. “Just makin’ sure.”

You scoffed, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to. He was teasing you, but you could feel the way he lingered, the way he soaked up every second of being this close, like he’d been waiting for it.

Ellie made a disgusted noise from across the aisle. “Are you guys seriously flirting while brushing a horse?”

Joel barely even glanced her way. “Go home, Ellie.”

She groaned, muttering something about old people being gross as she grabbed her stuff and left. But you barely noticed. Joel’s hand was still over yours, fingers brushing slow circles into your skin, like he had no intention of letting go.

“You miss me that much?” you teased, leaning into him just a little.

Joel grunted, pressing a kiss against the top of your head before stepping away to put the brush back. “Every damn minute.”

Your stomach flipped at that, at the gruff honesty of it, no hesitation in his voice. You watched as he opened the stall door, letting your horse into the pasture for the night, his movements slow, easy—so at home here, so at home with you.

When he turned back, his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you gently from the stall. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Let’s go eat.”

You exhaled with a smile, warmth curling through your chest. “Fine. I’m starved.” You hesitated for just a second, then reached for his hand, fingers slotting between his as you squeezed. “And, Joel?”

He glanced down at you, his grip instinctively tightening. “Yeah?”

Your smile turned softer, quieter. “I missed you too.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but his hand slid from your waist up to the back of your neck, tilting your face up to lean into you. He kissed you slow, deliberate—like it wasn’t enough to just hear it, like he needed you to feel it. Needed to remind you, in the only way he really knew how, just how much you meant to him.

Joel Miller was never a man of many words, but the way he held you, the way he kissed you in moments like this...it said more than words ever could.

[decayed-cartilage]

do you currently take requests? i absolutely ADORE the way you write hannibal and may be a little (aka very) obsessed with the current intern series.. if you do requests could i request dark/yandere hannibal general headcanons :33 could be nsfw or sfw im fine with literally anything you write 🥲

A/n: thank you for suggesting 😊 I really hope I do this justice... Ive never like done this format and I think I wrote a lil too much 😮‍💨 but please let me know how you feel!! 💕 Big kisses

WARNINGS: stalking! Smut! Fingering! Taking advantage! Mentions of death! Allusion to cannibalism!

Yandere! Hannibal headcannons + mini fic(s)

Masterlist

Yandere! Hannibal who deliberately took up new hobbies—ones he knew you loved—just to have an excuse to spend more time with you.

Y/N lit up the moment she stepped into the studio, her eyes wide with happiness. It was an expression I had come to enjoy—genuine, seeing me among the rest of the potters.

"Doctor Lecter! I had no idea you enjoyed pottery as well!" she said, her voice warm, even a giggle slipping out.

I smiled, hands still dusted with clay. It was true that I had no particular passion for pottery, but I had learned. For her. And now, standing before me, she believed this was a passion of mine.

"Of course, Miss L/n," I replied easily, meeting her gaze. "I'm sure we've spoken of it before."

She hesitated, just for a second. Had we? The question flickered behind her eyes, but she dismissed it just as quickly. If I said it was so, then surely it must be.

She launched into conversation without another thought, her words flowing freely—soft, lively, unguarded. I nodded at all the right moments, smiling when she laughed, watching the way her enthusiasm bubbled over. It was an effortless thing, listening to her.

But my attention wasn’t truly on her.

It was on him.

Her boyfriend stood just behind her, arms crossed, gaze flicking disinterestedly over the room. He had no appreciation for the art, not even for the things that brought her joy. He was here out of obligation, not care. And yet, he stood at her side, playing the role he assumed was expected of him.

I watched him, my gaze steady. Unwavering. Not a glare, not an obvious threat—but something quieter. A measured, deliberate look that spoke more than words ever could.

He felt it. I could see it in the way his posture tightened, in the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes for long.

Good.

She didn’t notice. She was still talking, still laughing, blissfully unaware of the moment unfolding between us. But I held my gaze a beat longer, just to be sure the message was understood.

Just to be sure he knew he didn’t belong.

Yandere! Hannibal, who carefully manipulated doubt into your mind, never overtly suggesting you leave your boyfriend—but making you see the cracks you’d once ignored.

Hannibal watched you unravel in real-time, your delicate fingers fidgeting with the loose thread on your sleeve, your voice quiet, hesitant. You were always hesitant when it came to him. That fool. That boy who didn’t understand what he had—what he was so carelessly throwing away.

"He left me in the middle of the store… and I was so scared," you murmured, like you were embarrassed by the admission, like it wasn’t something that should infuriate you.

But you weren’t angry. No, you were simply hurt. Still trying to justify his actions, trying to shrink your feelings into something more tolerable, something that wouldn’t make you seem like a burden.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, though the tension coiled within him like a serpent.

"He knows about your anxiety, doesn’t he?"

The way your breath hitched—so subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t watching for it—told him the answer before you even nodded.

Of course he knew. And yet he still did it.

How reckless. How unworthy.

Hannibal’s fingers curled slightly against the arm of his chair as he studied you, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you question it, just long enough for the thought to begin forming in your own mind before he spoke again.

"Then he knew what he was doing."

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. One that you needed to hear. One that you needed to accept.

You frowned slightly, your gaze lowering as if you were trying to find some hidden excuse for him among the lines in your palm.

Hannibal leaned forward just slightly, lowering his voice, making it intimate. “And when you found him… what did he say?”

You swallowed. That small, nervous movement of your throat. He wanted to reach out, to smooth his thumb over the tension there. Instead, he waited.

"He just laughed. Said I was overreacting."

Overreacting.

Hannibal nearly smiled. Not out of amusement, but out of sheer disbelief at the audacity of such a dismissive remark.

“I see,” he murmured, but there was nothing soft about it. “Tell me… if it were the other way around, if you had left him there, knowing his fears, knowing how much distress it would cause him, would you have simply laughed?”

Your reaction was immediate—head shaking, eyes widening, an instinctual no.

Of course not. Because you were kind. You were thoughtful. You cared too much, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

He tilted his head, studying you, letting you sit with the realization. “Then why does he deserve that kind of grace?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Nothing to say. No excuse to offer.

Good.

Hannibal relaxed back into his chair, watching you intently, watching the weight of his words settle into you. He didn’t need to say anything else. The idea was already there, curling around your thoughts, winding itself into your heart.

All he had to do now was wait.

Yandere! Hannibal, who held you as you cried over your breakup, but secretly was getting off on it.

She collapsed into me the moment she stepped inside, her fragile frame trembling as if the weight of her sorrow had finally become too much to bear. I caught her effortlessly, as if I had always been meant to, my arms wrapping around her without hesitation. She was so small like this, so breakable, and yet, she clung to me as though I were the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely.

I settled her in my lap, letting her bury her face against my chest, her quiet sobs muffled against my suit. My fingers threaded through her hair, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she melted into my touch. She fit so perfectly here, as though she had always belonged in my arms.

"There, there," I murmured, my voice a soft lull, soothing, patient. "You’re safe now."

She shuddered at the word, pressing closer, gripping my jacket like a lifeline. Such a delicate thing, so desperate for comfort, for security. And she had come to me for it. Just as I knew she would.

I had warned her. Had spent countless hours listening to her, guiding her, gently nudging her toward the truth. That man had never deserved her. He had only ever caused her pain. And now, here she was, weeping in my arms, proving me right.

I tightened my hold on her, tilting my head down so my lips were close to her ear. "I told you, my dear," I whispered, my voice a quiet promise, a claim. "I would never abandon you like he did."

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t question it. She simply let herself sink deeper into me, into my warmth, into everything I had been so patiently offering her.

And God, if that wasn’t the most intoxicating thing of all. The way she nestled into me, completely unaware, her soft, warm body pressing so perfectly against mine. Every shudder, every shift, only made me grow harder—her delicate frame settling right over my bulge. She didn’t notice, too lost in her grief, too trusting, too utterly mine.

Yandere! Hannibal, who killed your ex and invited you into his home as if he did nothing.

She arrived at my door without memory of the decision to come, her body guiding her on instinct. I saw it in the way her frame sagged, the way her breath hitched unevenly, her red-rimmed eyes barely able to lift to meet mine. The moment I opened the door, her lips parted, voice ruined.

“Hannibal.”

The sight of her in distress, so utterly lost, sent a quiet thrill through me. But I said nothing at first. I merely stepped aside, allowing her entrance. She obeyed, stepping into the warmth of my home, though she looked as if she hardly felt it.

Her arms wrapped around herself as she stood just past the doorway, fragile, crumbling. "He's dead," she whispered. "They found him—my boyfriend. His head was on a fence. Just… stuck there. In the middle of nowhere."

I shut the door with a soft click, carefully hiding the satisfaction that curled in my chest.

"That's terrible," I said, smoothing my voice into something gentle, something she needed.

She let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Terrible." Her fingers brushed at her swollen eyes, sniffling. "I just… I don’t get it. Who does that?"

I took a slow step closer, allowing my presence to steady her. “Cruelty is often senseless,” I murmured. “But you shouldn’t let this consume you.”

She shook her head, lips pressing together, fighting another wave of emotion. "How am I supposed to just… move on from this?"

"You don't have to figure that out tonight." I reached for her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder, watching as she exhaled, accepting the comfort, needing it. "You need to eat. Come, sit with me for dinner."

She hesitated. Her stomach twisted—grief stealing her appetite, no doubt. But she was exhausted, vulnerable. She needed something to ground her, and so she followed.

The meal I had prepared sat warm and inviting before us, though she barely touched it. Her fork scraped against the plate, each bite an effort. Her body was weary, her hands shaking as she set the utensil down. Her lip trembled as she pressed her fingers into her lap, trying to control her breathing, trying not to break.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, voice cracking. "I—I can't stop crying. I feel so stupid. I don’t even know why I came here." A weak, bitter laugh left her. "I just… I didn't know where else to go."

How beautifully tragic. How utterly mine.

I took my time, dabbing at the corner of my mouth before setting my napkin aside. "There is no need to apologize," I said, calm, unwavering. "Grief isn't something to push down. You are allowed to feel this, especially here. You are safe with me."

Her pretty lips trembled further, her lashes wet with fresh tears. They spilled over before she could stop them, a choked laugh escaping her as she shook her head.

“God,” she sniffled, grabbing her napkin and dabbing at her face. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

I tilted my head, gaze steady. “Not at all,” I murmured.

A fragile smile attempted to grace her lips, though it barely held. She played with the fabric of her sleeve, her fingers delicate, uncertain. Slowly, she picked up her fork again, forcing herself to eat. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I leaned forward slightly, watching her closely.

“You don’t have to find out.”

The words wove themselves into the air between us, binding her tighter to me. If she weren’t so drained, so consumed by grief, perhaps she would have questioned them. Perhaps she would have felt the weight of my claim.

But instead, she only nodded, clinging to me as her anchor, unaware that I had already secured her in place.

Yandere! Hannibal who fucked any thought you had of your ex out of your head.

Her sobs were beautiful. Each one made her smaller in my arms, pressing closer, seeking comfort, seeking me. I held her as if she were fragile, my touch gentle, patient—calculated. She was unraveling, and I had known she would.

I had known she would come to me.

And now, here she was, breaking apart, utterly lost. My sweet girl. My perfect little dove. She lifted her head, glassy, swollen eyes searching for something, anything, that might make the pain lessen. I could see the moment it happened—the way her gaze faltered on my lips, how the realization hit her.

Yes, my dear. That’s it.

I had been guiding her to this, shaping her thoughts, her fears, her dependencies. Him—that waste of a man—was gone, and she was here, right where she belonged.

When she leaned in, uncertain but desperate, I met her halfway. My lips captured hers, firm and knowing, a promise sealed in the heat between us. She gasped into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound greedily, my fingers threading through her hair to keep her there.

She thought this was a mistake. A reckless, grief-fueled lapse in judgment.

She was wrong.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

As our kiss deepened, it quickly unraveled into something messier, more desperate-a frantic clash of lips and breath as she melted into me.

"So good for me, angel," I murmured against her mouth, my voice dripping with approval. My hands found her hips, firm and possessive, guiding her as I pulled her into my lap. A satisfied hum rumbled in my chest as I pressed her down against me, ensuring she felt just how much I wanted her.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as she rocked against me. A soft whimper escaped her lips, swallowed by our kiss. I could feel her trembling, begging for me.

Breaking away, I trailed heated kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her pulse beating wildly beneath my lips. I nipped at the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from her.

"Please," her voice barely above a whisper as Her nails scraped lightly down my back,

I growled low in my throat, my control slipping, Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire as she gazed up at me.

"Tell me what you want, angel," I commanded, my voice rough with need.

"Touch m-me," she pleaded breathlessly. " hurts s’bad." She slurred through whiney hiccups

I smirked, trailing my fingers teasingly along her sides. "Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Show me."

She whimpered, arching into my touch. Her hand grasped mine, guiding it lower, over the swell of her breast and down her stomach. My breath caught as she pressed my palm between her thighs, where I could feel the heat radiating through her clothes.

"Here," she whispered, her cheeks flushed. "Please-"

My hands slipped under her skirt, gently caressing her silky thighs. She shivered beneath my touch, her legs parting instinctively. I traced lazy circles on her inner thighs, inching higher with each pass.

"Is this what you need, angel?" I murmured, nipping at her earlobe.

She nodded frantically, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking more contact. "Yes, yes! please- don't stop."

I chuckled darkly, my fingers finally brushing against the damp lace of her panties. She gasped, her back arching beautifully.

"So wet for me already," I purred, applying the slightest pressure. Her hips bucked, chasing the friction. "Such a needy little girl."

I captured her lips in a searing kiss as I pushed her panties aside

My fingers found her slick folds, toying with her sensitive nub. She moaned into my mouth, her hips rocking desperately against my hand.

"Please," she whimpered between kisses. "I need more. Please, please..."

I circled her clit slowly, building the tension. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she writhed in my lap.

"What do you need, angel? Tell me," I commanded softly.

"Your fingers... inside... please," she panted, her eyes glazed with lust.

I smirked, enjoying her desperation. Slowly, torturously, I slipped one finger inside her tight heat. She cried out, her inner walls clenching around me.

All I could do was admire her beauty—the way her glassy eyes pleaded with me in silence as she clung to me, desperate and fragile in my arms.

"More," she begged shamelessly. "Please, I need more."

I added a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that made her see stars. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her. My thumb circled her clit as I pumped my fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm.

"That's it, good- good girl," I murmured, watching her face contort in ecstasy. "Let go for me. Show me how good it feels."

Her hips rocked frantically against my hand, chasing her release. I could feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers.

"I'm- I'm so close," she gasped, her nails raking down my back.

I leaned down, capturing a nipple between my lips through the thin fabric of her shirt. The dual sensation pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry, her body tensing and shuddering

She panted softly as she came down from her high, her wide, doe-like eyes gazing up at me with a mix of gratitude and adoration

She was now totally under my control

[infamous-if]

February 2025

hellooo. I don't have much to update but it's good to keep myself accountable anyway! This year is all about managing my time in order to release more chapters these 12 months than I did last year. I thought I'd be able to release Chapter 4 in February but it's looking like March. Either way, I'm trying to plan better to be able to release Ch 5 not long after. Fingers crossed!

Chapter 4 is an exciting chapter for me. No one has guessed the Challenge yet (I think?) which makes me really happy (and relieved) because I feel like it'll be a real surprise lol. There's a certain way you can play the chapter that gives you a lot of page time with certain characters which makes the chapter feel very different depending on a choice you make early on. Chapters like that, while a lot more work, are more exciting because I'm able to explore a lot more with the characters. I've always been intentional with the narrative because ~foreshadowing~ but now I really need to make sure I have everything in order so there's a lot of outline revisiting im doing haha

I've been asked if there will be a valenreign special and yes! It's a main route so it's always planned along with the other routes. I'm working on it now! I still don't know whether the sub ros will be getting one and even if they do, it won't be canon. I've been told there's still chapter 3 POVs that people want to read so that'll be done after.

It's been a year since i opened for beta testing and I haven't done anything about that so yeah im prob going to have to do that over again becasue im sure everyone forget 😢 sorry

But yeah. That's it! I'm probably missing other stuff but i'm too juiced up on chapter 4 to think right now. Happy February :)

[harrietswriting]

Could you do a little fic with Johnny or Pony x reader (platonically)?? I was thinking something where reader and Darry are dating, so she takes on the role of "mom," and one day, when the gang's all flopped around, Johnny/Pony accidentally calls her mom, and while everyone is kinda teasing him she thinks it's the sweetest thing ever

OKAY TYSM IM IN LOVE WITH UR WRTING 🤭🤭🤭💍💍💍

An: OMG THIS IS THE CUTEST IDEA EVER! Thank you for requesting it! 💕 I going to do this with Johnny

W: not proofread, reference to Johnny's mommy issues

Word count: ~1000

When you started dating Darry, you hadn't realized you'd not only be getting a boyfriend, but also 6 new friends. You quickly grew close to all of them since they seemed to always be at the Curtis's house and so were you. One of the boys you were particularly fond of was Johnny Cade. He was a sweet boy who clearly looked up to you and was one of the only boys who was excited when Darry brought you over for the first time.

Without even realizing it, Johnny was starting to see you as a mother figure. You were caring, sweet, patient, helpful, loving, everything Johnny wished his mother was like. You made him feel comfortable, like he could come to you when he was feeling down. You started to slowly become a safe space for him.

One night, you were over at the Curtis's and helping Darry make dinner. Well, really you were making dinner while Darry was ranting on about life. You feel bad for him, truly. Losing your parents then having to become your younger siblings' provider and guardian can't be easy.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with him, baby." He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed. "We can't afford a tutor for him. And, I mean, he's not stupid, he just doesn't put his full effort into school. A 68 in math isn't like him." Darry rambles on and shakes his head.

"I'll help him." You say.

He looks up and his eyes meet yours. "You don't have to do that."

"No, no, it's fine. I want to help him." You reassure him with a smile.

Darry smiles back and says, "Alright. Thank you."

Just then, the front door opens and in walks Dallas, Ponyboy, and Johnny. Soda and Steve were sitting on the couch in the living room, so naturally a choir of "Hey, guys"s, "Hi"s, "Hey man"s, start.

Ponboy walks over to the kitchen to inquire about dinner.

"Hey, what're you guys making?" He asks, looking between you and Darry as he stands in the entryway.

"Spaghetti!" You say, then you add more quietly, "It's one of the only things I can cook."

Darry chuckles and Pony smiles. "I like spaghetti." He tells you.

"Good."

Johnny approaches and stands next to Ponyboy in the kitchen entrance.

You smile. "Hey Johnnycakes."

"Hey Johnny." Darry nods. "You gonna stay for dinner tonight, kid?"

"Uh, sure. If that's okay." He responds. Of course it's okay, and you, Darry, and Pony all echo that statement at the same time, talking over each other. Laughter follows. Once it dies down Darry tells Pony that he has to finish his homework. He responds with a groan, "I know."

"Y/n will help you when we're done making dinner." Darry ruffles your hair with his hand and you swat it away.

"Really? Thanks." He says not very enthusiastically, clearly still not pleased about having to do homework at all.

"Don't mention it." You smile.

You suddenly remember that earlier today the news forecast said to expect lots of rain tomorrow, and since Johnny normally walks to school, you were going to offer to give him a ride.

"Hey Johnny?" You look at him.

"Yeah, mom?" He meets your eyes then processes what he just said. He instantly goes red and there's a look of almost- horror in his eyes. "I- I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." He quickly stampers.

Your heart melts, yeah, it was an accident, but he would've said it if he hadn't thought it. It makes you so happy that you provide that comfort for him. You simply smile, not wanting to embarrass him farther. "It's okay." You say. Darry looks so confused but doesn't say anything about it. Pony on the other hand, laughs. "Mom? Johnny, she's like 20!" He teases.

"I didn't mean to..."

"Cut it out, Pony." You say, and he shuts up. You huff then look back at Johnny sweetly. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow morning, so I was wondering if you wanted me to give you a ride." You look at Ponyboy, "I can give you a ride too, Pony, if you need one."

"Oh, sure.. thanks." Johnny says quietly. Poor guy's still flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, I can take Pony to school tomorrow." Darry says as he stirs the noodles in the boiling water.

"Darry, that's no fun!" The youngest Curtis complains.

"I'm no fun?"

"No."

You sigh, "It's fine, Darry. If I'm already taking Johnny, why not take Pony too? They're going to the same place."

Darry looks at you with a hint of admiration in his gaze. "Fine. You do too much stuff for us, you know." You smile. "I love helping you guys. You're like family." You press a quick kiss against his cheek and Pony gags.

"Ew."

"Be quiet, boy."

You and Johnny laugh at the interaction. Man, do those two have a strange dynamic.

"I'll pick you up at 7, Johnny, and Pony, some time soon after that."

The next morning you get up way earlier than usual so you can take these boys to school. You pick up Johnny first. When he opens the front door you realize his house is strangely quiet. His parents must like to sleep in. Once you two are in the car and you pull out of the driveway, Johnny speaks.

"Hey, I'm really sorry I called you mom yesterday. That was weird and I can't stop thinking about it. Like, that's so embarrassing."

"Oh, no, you're fine. It's okay. I really don't care." You try to reassure him.

"But also... some times... I wish I did have a mom like you. Uh, you're patient and caring. I wish my mom was like that. Sorry if that's weird."

You turn down the Curtis's street and shake your head. "Not weird. I'm a positive, women role model in your life and you don't have good a relationship with your mom. You don't have to keep apologizing. That's pretty normal."

"Oh."

You park your car in the driveway, then reach over and ruffle Johnny's hair with a smile. "Let's go get Pony, kid."

an: I didn't know how to end this 😢 hopefully you enjoyed it!