#UNLESS you think you know who it is 👀👀

[cherry-holmes]

From Salt, Iron, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮: A Supernatural Series

(Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader)

Part 6: Wrong Kind of Bravery

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Dean is a son of bitch.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word count: +3.4k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (reader). Angst.

A/N: Hello! Part 6 is here😁 Hope you like it! What do you think?

aaaand, prepare for what’s next in further episodes👀 it’s gonna be a total rollercoaster🎢

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The morning after the kiss, you found yourself standing in front of the cracked mirror in your bedroom, eyes tracing the curve of your lips.

The imprint of Dean's kiss lingered, but the memory was more than just the softness of his touch. It was the way his hands had brushed against yours, the fleeting hesitation before the kiss, the weight of the air between you both afterward.

The memory of his smile from the night before came back to you: soft, a little nervous. The way his lips had tasted like whiskey and something sweeter....

And then the way he'd pulled back like he wasn't quite sure of himself, the sudden coldness in his eyes. It was like something snapped in him, shutting a door that had just begun to open.

You couldn't stop thinking about it. You shouldn't have kissed him, or he shouldn't have kissed you. Maybe neither of you should have, and yet, there it was.

"Claire?" Sam's voice drifted in from the hallway, breaking your spiraling thoughts. You quickly wiped your lips, as if the lingering traces of the kiss might be visible.

"Yeah?" you called back, pulling yourself from the mirror.

"We're heading out," Sam continued, his footsteps nearing. "Dean's getting the gear ready."

You nodded, though he couldn't see you.

Dean.

You exhaled, trying to shake the thoughts out of your head. Today was supposed to be about your first actual hunt. Not just staying at the motel, but actually getting into the job. There was no time for this. Not when lives were at stake.

You met Sam at the entrance, and as you stepped outside, the weight of the past twelve hours hit you harder. Dean was standing next to the Impala, eyes sharp and distant, like he'd put up some invisible wall.

He didn't even glance your way when you walked up. You tried, gathering every bit of courage you had, to look him in the face. But he acted like you weren't there. Like you were completely invisible.

It hit you hard, because before yesterday, he used to share those quiet, knowing glances with you. The kind that made you feel seen. Safe.

He'd even stayed by your side while you were unconscious for two days. You knew it because Sam had pointed it out every chance he got: the hours Dean didn't leave your bedside, the way he refused to let you move until the fever had broken and your trembling limbs had steadied.

And now, you were sitting in silence in the backseat, awkwardness creeping through your system. Dean hadn't said a single word since you left the bunker. Not to you. Not even to Sam, unless it was about the case.

What were you thinking? And you still dared to dream that he might have feel something too. Stupid, dumb girl.

You should have known better by now, that you meant no more to him than a little sister. Or maybe not even that. Just some poor, lost girl who had stumbled into his life, his job, his family, his routine.

And you should have known that he was the kind of man who doesn't stay. He wiped you from his mind the moment another woman offered him the comfort of her bed. And he likely did the same to her the next morning, returning to business as usual.

It was the kind of behavior you were supposed to run from. The kind your mother, or perhaps a governess long ago, would have warned you about. Because back in the world you came from—where ladies kept their voices soft and their emotions quieter—you were taught not to even know such things existed.

You were aware of all that just for a simple act of disregard towards you. But it surely didn't prepared you for the way Dean decided to handle the issue...

You were lost in thought, staring out the window. All you could see was your reflection in the glass—tired eyes, flushed cheeks, and the weight of too many unspoken words pressing down on your chest.

It wasn't until Dean pulled off the road at a service station to get gas that you were jolted back to the present.

The three of you stepped out of the car. While Sam headed toward the restroom and went inside to grab a few things for the rest of the trip, you got what felt like the greatest (or worst) idea: say something to him.

"Dean..." you began, your voice quiet, hesitant.

He didn't look at you at first, but then, slowly, his eyes flickered in your direction. That small shift was enough to send a jolt of hope through you. Maybe he was just as confused as you were. Maybe he wanted to talk about it.

You tried to smile, masking the knot tightening in your stomach. "About last night..."

But before you could say anything more, he cut you off with a sharp, humorless laugh.

"Don't get all worked up, alright?" Dean's tone was clipped, biting. "It was just a kiss. Doesn't mean anything." He shook his head, already turning back to the Impala like he couldn't stand to be near the conversation. "You're not really my type, Claire. And honestly? You're kind of... naive. You've got no idea what you're getting into, so don't start thinking there's something here. 'Cause there isn't."

The words hit like a punch to the chest, sharp and unforgiving. Your breath caught, your eyes stinging with the sudden rush of tears you couldn't blink away.

He wouldn't even look at you. Just stood there, arms crossed, wall built back up like you'd never even been allowed close.

You hadn't expected him to sweep you into his arms or confess he'd spent all night replaying the kiss over and over like you had... but you hadn't expected that either.

To be humiliated for trying to express your feelings. Because you just tried to, not even the chance to say anything more, before being cruelly exposed and humiliated.

You curled your fingers into your sleeves and lowered your gaze. You wouldn't cry in front of him. Not when he'd made it so clear it hadn't meant anything.

He was right: you were naive, and dumb, and stupid, and ingenuous, and, and, and...

The rest of the drive was a blur.

You didn't try to speak again. You kept your head turned toward the window, pretending to be fascinated by the endless line of trees and the darkening sky. You didn't even know what town you were headed to anymore. It didn't really matter.

Dean said nothing either, driving like he was running from something. If Sam noticed the tension in the air, didn't say anything.

By the time the Impala rolled into the small town, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon. The streets were nearly empty, the stores closed, and the night carried the sticky promise of rain.

Dean pulled into a gravel lot next to a squat motel, the flickering sign reading 'vacancy'.

Sam leaned forward, peering through the windshield. "We should get some rooms, then maybe grab some dinner. There's a bar open down the street. Or..." His voice trailed off as he glanced sideways at Dean, reading the tension crackling like a live wire inside the car.

Dean killed the engine and shoved open the door. "I'll check us in," he muttered.

You didn't move. You sat frozen in the backseat until Sam twisted around, giving you a look that was gentle, patient.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

You forced a smile and nodded. "Just a little tired," you said.

He didn't look convinced, but didn't push. Whatever it was, he knew it was between you and Dean. He'd have a chance to find out later.

Dean came back a few minutes later, tossing two sets of keys toward Sam. "Two rooms. You and Claire in one. Me in the other. I'm tired of the damn couch."

Sam caught the keys and nodded. You were grateful for his silence, for the way he didn't push or pry. Dean was definitely taking distance with you, and probably it was best. You should run away from him, too.

"Let's eat," Dean said, already starting the Impala again without waiting for an answer.

The diner was just a few blocks away. As you stepped out of the Impala, the cool night air brushing against your skin, a familiar flutter of wings stirred the silence. You turned just in time to see Castiel materialize a few meters away, his trench coat flaring slightly with the suddenness of his arrival. You swore you would never get used to it.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

He looked around at the dim lights and peeling neon signs, brow furrowed in that usual, confused way of his. "I was... bored," Castiel said simply, as if it explained everything.

Dean chuckled slightly, patting him on the shoulder before heading to the bar.

Inside, the ambiance was a vivid party, a stark contrast to the empty, quiet streets outside. A jukebox played something lively and rough in the corner, while a few people in country hats danced clumsily in the middle.

You slid into a booth next to Sam. Dean and Castiel took the other side. A waitress with tired eyes handed out menus and brought waters without asking.

All you ordered your usuals. Except Castiel, of course, he went with nothing.

"Alright," Sam started, opening his laptop, his voice shifting into business mode. "Victims were all last seen near the edge of town. No obvious connection between them: different ages, race, religion. Except their gender. All women. And there's been reports of weird sightings out by the woods."

You listened, or tried to. But it was hard to focus when you could feel Dean's presence across from you like a physical thing. Heavy. Sharp. Hurting.

You reached for your glass of water, but another waitress—younger and prettier—appeared just then with a tray: this time not just with food but also a small round of beers and a couple of shot glasses. Compliments of the house, she said.

"Long drive?" she guessed, smiling at Dean.

Dean gave her a half-smile, all charm. "Something like that." He didn't even try to hide his gaze from her rear end as she walked away, deliberately swaying her hips in a teasing way.

You felt it then... that stupid pang of jealousy. Hot and miserable and completely irrational.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed one of the beers and pulled it toward you.

Dean's hand shot out, covering the glass before you could lift it.

"Bad idea, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and gruff. His green eyes pinned you there for a moment, serious. "You don't know your limit. And this case it's not exactly a party."

You snatched your hand back, stung more by the condescending tone than the words themselves. "Dean, if you can have a few, so can I," you said, trying to sound confident even though your voice wobbled slightly.

Dean sat back in the booth, beer in hand, watching you with an unreadable expression. "It's different," he muttered before taking a slow pull from his bottle.

He'd better not have said that, because now it was a challenge. You ignored the twist in your gut, and grabbed the shot anyway, throwing it back in one go. It burned like hell, but you refused to cough or wince.

Sam and Castiel gave both of you a side-eye, half worried, half wondering if they'd walked into something they didn't want to understand. Sam gave a small, awkward cough and, wisely, decided to stick to the case notes.

You listened... sort of. One drink turned into two, then a beer. Two beers. And before you knew it, you were laughing too loudly at something Castiel said that probably wasn't even funny.

"You need to lighten up," you told Cas, bumping your shoulder into his. "Come on. Dance with me."

"I am not familiar with this kind of music," Castiel said, looking around at the people moving to the beat.

"Neither do I! That's the point!" you laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the dance floor.

Dean watched from the booth, jaw tight, beer bottle forgotten in his hand.

"What's up with you two?" Sam asked him, but when Dean shot him a sharp look and took a big sip of his beer, Sam decided not to push it.

The dance floor was sticky and cramped, the music loud and pulsing. You swayed to the rhythm, trying to get Castiel to loosen up. He moved stiffly, like he was calculating each step. You were drunk enough not to care about the weird looks.

You spun around, trying to get Castiel to follow your lead. He stumbled after you awkwardly, stiff as a board but trying. You were laughing, breathless, the alcohol making you brave and stupid. You felt happy. Truly happy.

And suddenly, you felt a hand close around your wrist.

"Hey, baby," a rough voice slurred into your ear. You stumbled, turning to find a man standing way too close, reeking of alcohol and smoke. "Your boyfriend here don't look like he knows what to do with you. How 'bout you come dance with me instead?"

You pulled your hand back, frowning. "No, thanks."

But he reached for you again, and you stepped back out of his reach, your head turning to Castiel for help.

Castiel stepped in, his expression unshaken. "She is not interested. Please leave."

The man sneered, looking Cas up and down with a smirk. "What you gonna do about it, pretty boy?"

The man grabbed your arm hard, yanking you off balance before Castiel could even move. You let out a cry, twisting and shoving at him, panic flaring sharp in your chest as Castiel tried to reach for you.

Before anything else could happen, a blur of motion crossed your vision.

Dean shoved past Castiel, fist flying with a brutal precision that sent the guy flat on the floor. The crack of knuckles meeting jaw echoed loud over the music.

"She's not yours to touch," Dean growled, standing over him, his chest heaving.

"Dean..." you tried to say something, anything, but he didn't even glance at you.

"DEAN!" Sam, who was approaching the scene, shouted behind you.

Another man, bigger and heavier, was about to punch Dean, but Castiel intervened, pushing him away. The fat guy threw a punch straight at the angel's face. You cried out for him, but you saw the attacker clutch his hand to his chest, his face contorted in pain. Cas didn't even blink.

"I'll distract them. Go!" he shouted.

"Let's go," Dean snapped, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the exit. Sam scrambled to catch up with both of you.

The cold night air hit you like a slap when Dean shoved the door open. He didn't stop walking until you were halfway across the parking lot, his grip still tight on your wrist.

"Let go!" you finally yanked free, stumbling back a step.

He whirled around to face you then, his chest rising and falling with anger, or maybe something else. Fear. You could see it now, bleeding through the cracks in his fury.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You can't just... walk around acting like nothing's gonna touch you. This life... it doesn't work that way. You get careless, you get hurt."

"Dean..." Sam warned.

You swallowed hard, blinking against the tears that threatened to spill.

"I was just dancing," you said, voice small.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, stepping back like he couldn't stand how close he'd gotten.

"You're not some... girl at a bar," he said, his voice breaking into something hoarse. "You're..."

He stopped himself, clenching his jaw. Sam gave Dean a sharp look before turning to you.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, but it was a lie. You weren't okay. Not even close.

Another flutter of wings and Castiel was there.

"Let's get out of here," he hurried and the four of you get into the car.

The ride to the motel was silent, the tension in the air thick enough to choke. Dean's jaw was clenched, eyes focused on the road ahead, while Sam kept glancing between the road and Dean, clearly unsure of what to say. Castiel sat quietly next to you in the back, his expression unreadable.

When you pulled into the parking lot of the motel, it felt like almost all the alcohol in your blood had worn off.

The boys were already walking toward the motel door, but you didn't follow immediately. You stood there for a moment, the emotions swirling inside you: the hurt, the confusion, the lingering taste of rejection... and somehow, a spark of something else you couldn't quite name.

"Dean," you called after him, your voice firm, with just a hint of drunkenness left.

He paused but didn't turn around. "What?"

You took a few unsteady steps toward him, your mind buzzing with everything you hadn't said earlier. "Could you give us a moment, please?" you asked Sam and Castiel.

The angel turned around and disappeared into the room. Sam looked at you both, unsure, but decided it wasn't his battle to die for.

"What?" Dean repeated, his voice bored and exasperated. But his body language said otherwise. He was tense, nervous.

"One minute you're bloody lovely to me, and the next... you're just plain rude. I haven't the faintest idea what you want from me. I don't understand it, Dean. I really don't." Your words came out slurred, but the pain was still there, raw.

Dean's hand clenched into a fist, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away again. But he didn't. His face a mix of frustration and something else you couldn't understand.

"Deer..." His voice was low, edged with something painful.

"Don't. Don't 'deer' me now when you've been treating me like rubbish." you snapped.

He took a breath to keep the frustration away. It didn't work, of course. "You don't know what this life does to people. What it does to me."

You took another step closer. "And I've got to pay for it, Dean?" you whispered. "That doesn't give you the right to hurt me."

As soon as it left your lips, a sob tore from your throat. You didn't try to hide it; you just let the tears fall freely.

Dean's eyes softened for a moment, and then, without warning, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hands cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. "Please, don't cry," he murmured.

"Then don't make me," you responded, barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry, deer."

Every cell of your body screamed at you, telling that you should step back. That you shouldn't give him the opportunity to get under your skin just to have him rip it off tomorrow with his indifference and meanness. That you should just get into bed and sleep the night away, or you gonna regret it.

But instead, before you could think or say anything else, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was nothing like the first. It was rough, desperate, and full of everything neither of you had been able to say. It tasted like tears and tequila. You could feel the heat of his body, the pressure of his hands on your face, and for a moment, it was all you could feel.

You kissed him back, despite the tears, despite the pain, despite everything you shouldn't have felt.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless. You leaned against him, your forehead resting against his chest, the sobs still wracking your body.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Claire," Dean whispered, his voice strained.

You didn't know either. His eyes were soft, but there was something unspoken there, something that made you want to stay and figure it out, but your mind was a mess, your heart too raw to deal with it right now.

"I don't expect you to know," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You rubbed your eyes, feeling the weight of everything press down on your chest. "Maybe... maybe we just need to sleep it off, yeah?"

Dean opened his mouth like he was about to say something more, but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

You took a step back, your body moving on autopilot, as if you couldn't stand there anymore, couldn't face him, couldn't keep pretending that things were fixed by a kiss when they were so far from it.

"Good night, Dean," you said, didn't wait for a reply.

Instead, he just saw you head toward your shared room with his brother, feeling the burn of your tearful eyes.

Slipping into the room, you closed the door quietly behind you. Sam was in the shower, so there was no need for a walk of shame or worried glances from him.

You finally allowing yourself to collapse onto the bed. The weight of the night settled into your bones, and you couldn't shake the feeling that things were never going to be the same again.

NEXT PART

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Let me know if you want to be added in the Tag list!

[kimbapisnotsushi]

As far as public bathrooms go, the one at Ocean’s Edge isn’t all that bad for throwing yourself a pity party in.

The sinks are all sleek and modern-looking, with gold faucets and polished stone basins. Large oval mirrors hang above them, and—true to the club’s name—little neon fish swim all over the navy-blue walls. [Speakers somewhere in the ceiling play the lulling sounds of waves rolling against the shore.] There’s even an air freshener plugged into the corner that puffs out coconut-scented mist every ten minutes[, so that you can truly feel like you’re in a tropical paradise while throwing up from however many drinks it takes to make you forget about a shitty day.]

The black stall isn’t exactly roomy, but Morisuke has just enough space to stretch out his legs while he perches on the edge of the toilet, chewing his bottom lip as he stares at his phone. The screen is bright in the bathroom’s dim lighting and draws all of Morisuke’s attention like a moth to a flame. 

Please, reads the last message. It had been two weeks since then. Kuroo, talk to me. What did I do?

Kuroo never responded. Rereading the conversation makes Morisuke feel like he’s dragging the claw of a hammer across his heart, but he keeps scrolling farther and farther back. 

Let’s end it, Kuroo had written. This didn’t really mean anything, after all. I have better things I could do with my time.

Six months. Six fucking months, and none of it meant anything, apparently. Not the late nights they stayed up to make fun of inaccurate sci-fi series, or the times they met early at the cafe for breakfast because it was their only chance to get together for the day. Not even the time Kuroo opened up about his mother, his gaze distant, and Morisuke had held his hand to anchor him to what was real and here and whole. He still remembers that soft smile Kuroo had given him after, the way they'd curled up on the couch like two puzzle pieces slotting together. Morisuke had offered him tea, hot chocolate, whatever he needed. Kuroo just laughed and kissed his temple.

All I need is you, he had said. You're perfect, Yakkun. i couldn't ask for anything more.

And then not even a week later, Morisuke was getting dumped over text.

"Stupid," he says out loud now. “Dumbass. Idiot. Why the fuck did I ever fall for him?”

The bathroom door creaks open, letting noise from the club spill in, but Morisuke doesn’t pay it any mind until he hears a familiar voice calling out his name. 

“Morisuke? Are you here?”

“No,” Morisuke grumbles. His voice echoes off the bathroom walls. “Go away.”

“You made me promise to stop you before you do anything stupid.” Footsteps fall closer until they pause right outside Morisuke’s stall. Damn Sugawara Koushi and his unwavering loyalty—he’d probably break in if he had to. “Are you planning on doing anything stupid?”

Morisuke unlocks the stall door and lets it swing open. He glares at Koushi, who just smiles back at him. It’s a hot summer night and they’d been surrounded by heated bodies on the dance floor, but Koushi still looks totally put together. Meanwhile, Morisuke is sweating through his socks and the back of his neck feels way too warm.

So, yeah, he’d needed a break. It’s not like he came to the restroom just to feel sorry for himself. 

“You had me worried,” Koushi says. “The last time I saw you, you were downing your seventh shot. And that was after the two drinks you already had.”

Was it really? Morisuke hadn’t been keeping track. He’d just asked for something strong. And again. And again. And then for one more, perhaps two or three times. Maybe five. 

Whatever. Morisuke is feeling perfectly fine. His head is a little foggy, sure, but he’s fine. He can totally think this through. 

“I wanna text him.”

Koushi makes a choked sound. “Oh, no. You are very drunk, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” Morisuke frowns at his phone. “He never told me why. I want to know that much, at least.”

The door to the stall next to Morisuke’s flies open with a bang, and he and Koushi jump. A body wedges itself between them: tall and broad-shouldered, with artfully-tousled chestnut hair, glasses framing brown-sugar eyes, and a jawline that could cut through steel. Hot, but not Morisuke’s type.

Kuroo had been Morisuke’s type.

-- an excerpt from don't text your ex, a kuroyaku exes-to-lovers fic where yaku gets unsolicited advice from a stranger in the club bathroom

[fireemblemfancies]

Yuri/Shez as a pairing is creeping up my frontal lobe...

[snzyspencer]

A public speaker with a terrible cold who is trying to speak through the pain in their voice.

They’re subtly trying to wipe their nose with their sleeve or a tissue they keep fishing out of their pocket.

They’re doing their absolute best to hide the fact that they’re ill from the people they’re presenting to but their voice is thick and stuffed up.

They’re just trying to rush through what they have to do so they can go hide pitifully in some corner and finally just blow their nose.

Sick presenters ♥️

[peachymilkandcream]

I’m legit this close to giving in to my demons and writing a totally non-canon smutshot of Evelyn and ✨someone else✨ so hmu with requests quick before I give in 💀

[solar-nightengale]

@lizardthelizard You wanted my thoughts, you're getting them 😏 Three and a half weeks later but you're still getting them ehehehe 😌😌😌 (Idk what to make of them so have fun with that word wall of mayhem)

August 2.18 | Zelena 3.16

[isaacathom]

actually uyeah im bored im gonna run it down. what specific Thing does naielle have with (pretty much) every member of her family that has her fucking wracke with guilt or smth

At a very basic level, a context - naielle comes from an elf napoleonic france, with some specific details that the usual max lifespan is closer to 500, and that the emperor has no heir and is like. 450. i wrote it down somewhere. doesn't matter. So naielle, being exiled from elf france, very early on made the assumption that she could Wait Out the collapse of it. That the emperor would die in, yknow, 50 years, the power vacuum would be contested by every general and cousin and random former nobleman, and the country would be ripped apart, nullifying her exile by technicality. this established,

Saroel - Naielle's grandmother, 495.

Naielle loves her grandmother. She's this wise and cunning lady, who survived the turmoil of Bonaparte's rise to power by making deals and using the family's noble fortune to buy favour. Her husband died in the post-rise period, and Saroel didn't. She bought the life of her and her children when her husband was accused of treason. She's clever.

Naielle has her engagement ring, a gold band designed to snugly fit under a wedding ring, a piece of jewellery older than the empire itself. Naielle used it as a blueprint to craft a pair to it, and matching wedding rings, with which to propose to her girlfriend Xistina.

If Naielle waits out the empire's demise, she'll never see her grandmother again. Never be able to tell her she was right when she told Naielle to be careful about her historical research, or show her the now complete wedding ring. She'll never get to hug her one last time and be enveloped in a stiff embrace that smells of old pines and old times, like the oils of the paintings and brass of the sculptures that make up the universities museums, of the motar that keeps its bricks together.

Laucian - Naielle's father, 333

Naielle is a daddy's girl. She's her father's son, without question or ambiguity. She's got his square chin, his broad nose, his golden eyes, his curly hair (albeit lighter than his - her mother got lucky with that). She's got his passion for history and all that came before, for the nebulous space of was and may have been.

For Naielle's 100th birthday, Laucian gave her a red ribbon. He's not from a noble background, rising from the peasantry with a father in the military and a mother a nursemaid. He has no heirlooms to grant. But the red ribbon, Naielle thinks, is just as meaningful as the engagement ring, because it's a connection to that paternal grandmother, Shana. She was a hard worker, stern with her charges and utterly doting on her own children, sneaking small things from the noble houses she served to give them. She wore her hair in intricate braids, which she taught Laucian and his brother how to do, and she tied them, always, with red ribbon. It was her favourite colour, she'd say.

Shana died when Laucian was only 24. A child, in elf terms. He's worn a red ribbon ever since, 300 years, for longer than Shana was even alive, in her memory. And he hands this down to his daughter, who takes after him so strongly, and in whose smile he can undoubtedly see his mother's.

Naielle adores her father. She fears, down to the bone, that she has disappointed him. That in her exile she has perverted the passion they share for history, turned it into a reminder of the crushing weight of the empire. That she's ruined something.

She still wears the ribbon in honour of a woman she never met. She never learnt her braids.

Oriphira - Naielle's mother, 321

She didn't inherit any particular gift from her mother - Saroel's engagement ring was a joint gift, a blessing for such an item to skip a generation to find itself on Naielle's finger.

They haven't always been close. Oriphira inherited her own mother's preservative streak, an understanding that the family exists at a knife edge between imperial eradication and flourishing, and a single wrong move could damn them. She grew up in that tumultuous era. She would have watched her father die, or march to die, dragged from their home by imperial troops. She would have seen the pathetic graves for him and his brother, her beloved uncle, and known they should not lie there. That a family mauseleum lay open and expecting, and would recieve naught. That they were disgraced. That it was only Saroel's cunning which saved the life of her and her younger sibling.

Oriphira has seen her family's birthright, such that nobility can claim it, ripped from their grasping hands. She's clawed for every inch back. She's fought for the university Saroel used to buy their freedom. She's fought for the healers and medical practicioners to return to her town in the post-revolutionary period, as she watched her own child die of a preventable childhood infection, watched her sibling die of a stomach left to fester and rot without aid. She's seen the gods abandon that town, and she's filled that void.

She's a tough woman, and she is tough to love. Naielle does all the same. She may not have understood it then, the depths of the sacrifices her mother had made for them all, the agony she must have gone through with every child thereafter. The ingrained fear of heights, inherited in most of her children, after another fell from the roof.

But Naielle gets it now. Now that she fights in a war in a different land for its very existence, she finds that common ground. The two fight a war for their continued existence.

And Naielle imperilled it, didn't she? By raising imperial ire, a century after they last turned their baleful gaze Odelia-ward. By reminding that families like theirs, descendant from noble excess, can still be a threat.

She doesn't know what lengths her mother went to in order to keep them all safe after she left. She supposes the military service of her siblings may have shielded the family. But she knows her mother calculated the loss, and weighs that debt on Naielle's soul.

She wishes she could tell her she gets it, or thinks she does. That she understands the responsibility her mother is unjustly laden with. The blood on both their hands.

Aedelie - Naielle's older sister, 201

Naielle and Aedelie have almost a century in age between them, and its a very different dynamic than to any of their other siblings. Aedelie has to carry that torch, borne by Saroel and Oriphira, of being the responsible one. Being measured, and careful, and keeping everyone safe.

And Naielle always felt very safe. Her older sister was gentle and kind, a bulwark against anything that might hurt her. No monster under the bed would dare lay a finger on her when they knew Aedelie was never far, and even when Aedelie enlisted in the army she left her strength with them.

Aedelie's married, you know. She married a human man around 5 years ago, a fellow soldier in her cavalry unit. They have a little elf daughter, cherubic and giggly, just 2 years old with a wide toothy grin. Or so Naielle's been told.

If she waits out the collapse, she might never even meet her brother-in-law, a kind and soft-spoken man with a reflexes of an acrobat and hair like beach sand. She might never meet the man who makes her stern sister smile softly, with eyes that sparkle. A man whose duty, such that it is, is to protect Aedelie's life with his own.

Naielle is terrified for them both. War wages, and the Empire swings the proverbial club high overhead and demands blood, and her sister and brother-in-law must provide. None of them might see the two of them again. Forget the mortality of a human, anyone is mortal in the line of fire. And Naielle happens to know of a weapon, currently travelling by sea towards that firing line, and she fears what will happen when it goes off.

Quenaris - Naielle's older twin brother, 122

What can you say about a twin that isn't obvious? Peas in a pod, identical up until their mid 30s when he shot up like a stalk and left her a few inches shorter. The two know each other better than anyone else, Naielle is certain. She knew his adult name long before he told anyone, and he hers. She is him, and he is her, and they're two halves of a great whole.

Quenaris knew something was wrong, didn't he? That Naielle was lying when she said she had everything under control. That Naielle was hiding something, sparking like a fire in a cave, desperately being smothered. He saw the glitter in her eyes and knew it wasn't emotion that shone through, even if he couldn't identify the source.

She told him everything was fine. She didn't apologise for lying when it became clear it wasn't. That the situation had spiralled out of her control, that her warlock pact - a grave illegality as it stood - had shown her things she shouldn't see, and sent a beacon to the empire to observe.

He knew she lied. And she couldn't apologise, because to stay and do so would have seen her treason identified and laid bare before the Empire's vast apparatus. It would see her killed. She had to flee.

It ate her alive, it truly did. She didn't know how much he knew, how much he held against her.

She was lucky enough to see him, for only a few minutes. To hold him tight, as though by a hug they might be one and whole, and to cry, and tell him she was sorry. That he accepted her hug, and shed tears of his own, is enough for her.

It would still hurt if she never saw him again. Less, maybe, now that she knows he misses her too. Or more, to have given him a glimmer of hope that things might be normal in the future. She's scared of facing his ghost centuries from now.

Mariela - Naielle's younger sister, 110

Where do you even start?

These sisters have never been close. Each claims the other is irresponsible, too easily distracted, too something. There's always something wrong. Naielle isn't patriotic enough, Mariela is too patriotic. Naielle is too wrapped up in her books and shit that happened centuries ago, and Mariela is too concerned with her magic and the things that will happened soon, months and years in the future.

They're similar, and very different.

Naielle had no particular feeling towards her sister when she was forced to flee. To never see her again would hurt, but not as much as with others, a feeling tempered by the knowledge that Mariela would have some snide remark or another on her return. She lied to Mariela, but Mariela wouldn't care, would she? Naielle can't fathom the idea that Mariela cared either way, beyond that Naielle had embarrassed them.

Then Naielle came back, briefly, briefly, just to marry her fiance, and got roped into capturing Mariela.

What's Mariela been doing? Well, she'd taken what remained of Naielle's notes, on old histories and the magic so thusly entwined, and turned it into a weapon. A different weapon entirely, one worse than most others, and which Mariela saw simply as a tool. Naielle was a fool, she said, to focus on the historical implications of her research, and not to use its practical benefits. Look what lies in our grasp - the power to unravel reality!

Naielle was furious. She took Mariela as a prisoner of war.

And then her patron took her as a warlock.

It was not willing - Mariela made no deal, was offered no bargain she could stomach. Her will was superseded, Naielle's consent to the idea assumed, and her body made to channel magic it rejected.

Naielle did this. She did not know it would happen, had not even considered the possibility, wanted none of it. Mariela will probably never believe her.

It doesn't matter what Naielle thinks of Mariela's original ideas, her plans to turn utter destruction into a military tactic. It doesn't matter the differences of their personalities, that the two don't get along. Naielle did this. She forced this on her sister, intentionally or not, and she intends to make it right.

She expects she'll never right her initial mistake, the pact that brought her into exile in the first place. She fears she'll not right this. But it's in her power to do so, and whether Mariela wants her there or not, Naielle will fix it. Naielle would betray almost anyone to fix what she's done, burn most any bridge, because it almost isn't about Mariela anymore. It's a proxy for every mistake she's ever made, every harm she's brought, a way to try and make up for the life she ruined for herself by ever doing this.

If all goes well, Mariela will go home. Naielle can only hope she understands how much that means.

Yivien - Naielle's younger brother, 104

Probably the person for whom Naielle has the least consideration, a fact that would invariably infuriate the poor boy. The two have somewhat less in common than Naielle to Mariela, but do have one key thing - their academic focus. While Naielle is a historian, Yivien is an architect, and spent much of his youth fighting for their father's attention, to little success. Naielle was his daughter, following in his footsteps - Yivien's achievements weren't as important.

If Naielle was honest, and looked critically at herself, she would concede that Yivien is the smarter sibling. His grades are better, his grasp of abstract fundamentals stronger, he's quicker on the draw. It isn't fair, she reckons, that she was given that attention. The boy earned it, or ought have done.

She would struggle to tell him that. She doesn't think its pride - she never said she was the smartest sibling. What she struggles with is the idea that she needs to correct it, when surely, that burden lies with her parents for not acknowledging him better when she was around. Did she hog their attention? She isn't sure.

But as days grow darker, and doom grows nearer, she wonders if she should have said it anyway. Care or not, guilty or otherwise, he deserved their attention, and it was denied him. And she's responsible, in some capacity. Shouldn't she have tried to fix it? To say she was sorry?

The longer it goes, the more she thinks maybe she means it sincerely this time.

Xistina - Naielle's wife, 135

God, what could she say to her that she hasn't said already? Her most dearly beloved, a part of her soul, the keeper of her heart in turmoil. They've known each other nearly a century, and Naielle can only hope for centuries more.

Xistina wasn't in the country when Naielle went into exile. She was on business, sailing the sea, plying wares and doing trade under the gleaming sun. She would not hear news for months, till she landed in a bustling port and spotted no beaming face amidst the crowd, no-one all but ready to leap aboard before a gangplank was ever lowered. Naielle didn't know what she'd heard. She wished, dearly, that Xistina could have heard it from her.

She doesn't know what Xistina knew. She doesn't know if her fiancee saw the stars in her eyes and saw the meaning behind them. She spent years in dread. At least her siblings, her family, heard of the matter directly, that she'd had a feeble chance to defend herself in the hours before she fled. Xistina knew naught, and could learn less, and Naielle could not reach out for fear of potential consequence. Her fiance could not be party to treason. Her distance would keep her safe.

Her fiancee knew more than she thought, had an ear to the ground and the sea, and loved her still. She wore Saroel's ring proudly as a token of their love, and kept it in care over the decades.

Xistina knows it all, now. Naielle travelled across the planes to see her, to know her truly, all secrets bared on both sides. Pirate and Warlock, Traitor and Traitor. Let the empire declare their treason in love if they wish, for she has it.

And it scares her to think she might let it go. That, having come so close, having even successfully married her after decades apart, that they might lose it all. And that it will be Naielle's fault in totality. Her fault for her treason, her fault for leaving for the distant lands, and her fault for not staying when she had the chance. Who better could have ferried a wanter criminal than a rebel corsair? Where else could Naielle find that kind of safety? And yet she left, for she felt a duty to a war that still wages, and she knows there's a chance she will never return. That she will have given her wife - her wife! - false hope of a future together, of merry centuries in a free Sylvian land, or aboard a ship in the glittering sky, where no mortal government dared tread.

She fears she's given her wife a lie, and did not know it when she spoke.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can’t stop thinking the tall horror men of homicipher. I’m like 5ft something, so I know damn well these men tower over me…am I discovering something? Maybe 👀👀👀but I know I ain’t alone. TRUE STORY: Also there was this guy that came into my place of work moths ago with his family and he was TALL, bending down to get through the doorframe TALL but he was lovely.

So how do I imagine these boy would react if they see that you’re clearly ogling them for how tall they were.

Mr crawling

Given the fact that you’ve only seen him stand once, it was enough to have your jaw dropping to the floor. He was taller than the fucking doorway that he had to manoeuvre himself under it, and suddenly you’ve forgotten that you were being kidnapped by Mr Stitch, too intrigued by his height and now understanding why he had lied to you about his ability to stand.

He thought he would scare you but in fact made you feel the complete opposite, you loved how tall he was and you couldn’t get it out of your head, even when he’s back on his hands and knees to comfort you. The illusion had worn off and now you wanted to see him tall all the time, but you didn’t want to pressure him into doing so unless he felt comfortable.

‘You’re tall, really tall.’ You said in awe as Mr crawling coddled you against his chest.

‘Scared?’ He asked as though he was fearing your answer, which broke your heart as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder in an attempt of comfort.

‘No, handsome.’ You replied as Mr Crawling made chirps and purrs of happiness as he held you closer to him.

While he’s still not fond on standing to his full height, the fear of his intimating stature would chase you away one day embedded in his heavily, he would find some comfort in knowing that you loved his tall stature and love you even more for not forcing him to do something he clearly was uncomfortable with; preferring to shower him in kisses and remind him that whether he’s standing or on his hands and knees you loved him regardless.

Mr silvair

The man can feel your eyes on his back constantly. He knows he’s taller than most but the way you looked and admired his full height like you wouldn’t be able to anymore.

He wonders whether this was something only you seemed to have or whether other humans also felt possessed by the need to gawk at people above a certain height. Or was it just you that has this particular expression upon seeing his tall stature in general.

He would take notes of how his height seemingly did something to you that then triggered a chemical reaction within your brain to make you find his height appealing and possibly a requirement in finding your perfect romantic partner.

Or more specifically people of similar height to Mr Silvair himself or anyone close enough to his height to qualify. Mr Silvair soon deduced that you liked the domineering presence of someone much bigger than you, someone who’s able to drag you wherever as though you were nothing but weightless to them, almost like a ragdoll.

He’d soon find that this is in most cases considered a kink amongst you humans who found the height difference between partner rather erotic.

Mr Scarletella

Finds your content ogling of him flattering and thinks that it means that you were finally, finally reciprocating his obsession with you for your own obsession with him.

He’s another one who takes note of how you like how tall he is in comparison to you, always looking at him whenever he was entering the room, eyes widening when you see him having to bed down to get through the doorway, and your eyes never leave him even as he’s walking towards you; seemingly getting taller with each step until he’s in front of you and you’re looking at him in awe and hitched breath.

He’s obsessed with your expression each and every time and uses his height to his advantage. Such as doing things like putting his hand above your head and on the wall, looking down at you with those obsessive eyes of his as his smile seemed to widen upon hearing your breath hitch and eyes widen once more.

His height continued to elicit a reaction out of you that Mr Scarletella loved and adored and wanted to see more of in the future.

Mr Hood

Finds your constant ogling of his height interesting.

He didn’t know why you were so surprised he’s this tall, he’s been with you this entire time and it was only recently did your mind seemed to inform you of your Incredibly stark height difference, and bam! Suddenly he’s the subject of your constant staring and ogling as though it would be the last thing you did.

It was humorous to say the least and will earn you some head pats and cheek caresses that has you leaning towards his comforting and gentle touches.

It wasn’t something that you hide from him as half of the time you didn’t realise you were doing it until Mr Hood pointed it out with curiosity, meanwhile your left flustered as your mind held certain thoughts towards his legs, thighs and large hands.

Poor Mr Hood, he understood to some extent but after a certain point it’s better to explain to him that you find his height rather appealing to you in more ways than one.

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

funny things ace has done/said that makes me think he might genuinely have feelings for the player character

flirts but then says it's a joke. literally goes "haha jk. unless? 👀"

suggested sharing a bed Twice

"i don't have time for dating when i have to worry about you" SIR????

"i didn't think i'd be into your type, but maybe i was wrong. just kidding! or am i?" I AM GOING TO KILL YOU

immediate first reaction to seeing yuu in danger is to protect them

legitimately worries about yuu when they're not around

gets defensive when yuu is insulted

hated the idea of having to abandon yuu to save himself during the playful land event, wanting to stick with them even when everyone was in active danger

is, to my knowledge, one of the Very few people who actually has yuu's phone number (im pretty sure he's the only one that actually asked for yuu's number?? malleus cmon step it up /j)

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I WAS?!" him literally every time yuu was in danger but is saved by someone else and wasn't the one to save them

his first response to getting an SOS from yuu was to drop everything and run to them instead of letting anyone else know (bro probably didn't even explain what was going on to his family 😭)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction To You Being Their Controversially Young Girlfriend

Warnings: Implied Smut, Legal Age Gap, Age Gap Relationships, Daddy Kink, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Possessive MW2, Degradation, Mention of Corruption, Mentions of Innocence, Mentions of Naivety, Praise Kink (M Giving), Implied Choking Kink, Angry Sex, Groping, Brat Taming, Man Handling/Woman Handling, Dumbification Kink, Gentle MW2, Rough MW2, Self-Consciousness, Mentions of Blood/Injury, Insecurity, Profanity, Pet Names, Fem Pronouns Used For Reader.

Ghost

Pretends he doesn’t care about the age gap, but he secretly does.

You’d never know it, but he worries that he’s roping you into a relationship – a long-term one at that – when you should be out, meeting guys, gaining life experience.

He also fears that, in some way, he’s corrupting you, that his selfish desire to keep you close to him will lead to you being targeted or you eventually resenting him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him otherwise, he’s still going to worry about you.

There are a few ways you can put his mind at ease, though. Namely of the bedroom variety.

More on this later 👀.

He spoils you silly, absolutely rotten. Anything that catches that pretty little eye of yours and he’s already got it gift wrapped. He feels it’s the least he can do after you’ve shown  him that life isn’t just an endless cycle of suffering – an infinitum of anguish – that he does deserve happiness and a chance at love.

Very gentle during sex. Unless you ask him not to be.

Expect a lot of praise in bed.

Many a night have you found yourself pinned under Simon, his mouth to your ear as he pants, moaning, telling you how you’re “Such a good girl, taking me so well,” while he fills you with long, languid strokes.

Other times, he’s not so gentle.

Oftentimes, usually as a result of purposefully making Ghost jealous, have you been pinned against a hard surface – one of convenience rather than comfort – with Simon at your back, the tent in his pants catching you.

His voice is deep, husking and carnal as he reminds you who you belong to.

“Like having your pretty little cunt ravaged by an older man, don’t you, Love.”

He’s very protective of you.

He sometimes construes your young age as innocence, naivete. Hence, he never lets you out of his sight when you’re out together.

Scary dog privileges.

Absolutely feral, down bad for you: you only have to do or say the most minimal of things to make him melt, to become a slave to his adoration for you.

That being said, he’s paranoid that one day you’ll see him as he views himself and leave him for someone better – someone you deserve. Someone younger.

He’s damaged goods, you still have your whole life to live. And yet you stay with him, promise him that he’s the only man you’ll ever love.

As stated earlier, Simon can be persuaded of your dedication to him via special, particular means.

However, if you play into his insecurities, even to get a rise out of him, he’ll pounce on you, grab your wrists and pin you to a wall, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him.

And, beneath dark lashes and darker eyes, he makes a promise to you.

“Oh, you think a younger lover can pleasure you like I can?” he says, his head tilting. “Don’t you worry, Darling. I’ll fuck that idea outta that pretty little head of yours until the only thing rattling around in there is me.”

König

Somewhat insecure in your relationship. Especially when he gets disapproving glances and glares from passers-by when they note the very obvious age difference between the two of you.

But, his love for you can overcome any measure of anguish, social or otherwise.

He’s the gentlest giant you could ever hope to meet, both in and out of bed.

When he feels like it.

He treats you like you’re innocent and pure, shielding your eyes from graphic scenes on TV and gruesome stories in the newspaper.

Sometimes he has to remind himself that you’re a fully-grown woman, even if you are younger than him.

You send him absolutely feral whenever you wear his clothes btw.

Seeing as any one of his shirts could be your nightdress, he calls you his “Minnie Maus”, and treats you as such.

Pls sit on his lap, he’ll only be able to die happy once you do.

He fears judgement from others whenever you enact PDA, so to make up for his lack of willing to be physical with you in public, there isn’t a moment where you’re without him at home.

Extended periods of time in your presence tend to send him a bit…funny.

A little bit silly.

And by silly, I mean there’s a single thread of humanity keeping him from tearing your clothes off at any given second.

Especially if he’s seen a younger guy looking at you earlier in the day.

One of the few times he’ll get physical with you in public is whenever he catches someone looking at you with a glaze over their eyes he knows all too well.

He approaches you from behind, slipping a pythonic arm about your waist and pulling you into him.

Only now does your admirer look away, leave the premises entirely, once they catch sight of König’s gargantuan proportions and the rabid look in his eye.

Once you get home, he’s on you before you can even shut the door.

It’s times like these that König doesn’t feel insecure about the age gap between you.

Because he knows, no matter how little you’re willing to admit it, that nobody will ever be able to make you scream and cry and tremble like he can.

“Did you like that boy’s attention earlier, Maus?” he says, his eyes cattish and voice serpentine. He bears down on you, his hand about your throat as the other travels under your skirt.

“Is my love not enough? Are my affections wasted on you?”

His eyes glint in the dim light of the bedroom. His teeth look sharper – primal – in the low glow of the bedside lamp.

“No matter. I’ll make you remember how much you need me,” he presses into you. The bulge between his legs feels far too big for you to take.

“Inch by bloody inch.”

Valeria

You’re her little Angel, her Goddess, the light of her life and her reason for living.

That does not exempt you from her teasing, however.

Sexual or otherwise.

She’s particularly fond of randomly grabbing your backside when she’s walking past, or smacking it so hard that you yelp and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Even if you use your puppy-dog eyes on her, disobedience is not accepted under her roof.

In fact, trying to wriggle out of any punishment she has planned is enough to make her grab you and pin you to a wall, her grip unrelenting as she sucks and bites your neck, leaving harsh red marks and a sense of helplessness as she does what she pleases with you.

“Don’t go fucking around behind my back again, Chiquita,” she tells you, her nose touching yours and her eyes black. She brings her knee between your legs, pressing into you.

“Or next time I won’t just stop at your throat.”

She loves dressing you up in the finest clothing money (and a ghastly reputation) can buy.

She thrives on having you hanging off her arm like a dog on a leash; she gets to show you off to her subordinates and business partners who know they’ll never even have the thought of having a chance with you entertained.

Valeria’s mood can fluctuate in bed.

Sometimes, she treats you like a common whore she found on the street, fucking every ounce of rage, hate and venom into you until some part of you’s left bleeding as Valeria’s panting on top of you, her lips to your cheeks as she kisses your tears away with a whiplash-inducing gentleness she seemed incapable of minutes ago.

Most of the time, she’s loving and kind, putting your needs above her own.

Sure, she still teases you, makes you work for her love and dedication, but you know she’d do anything for you.

You can tell in her tone as she tells you of how she would “Scorch the earth if only to find a fragment of you in the wreckage.”

You disappearing or being taken from her is her biggest fear, and at night she holds you tightly against her chest, your buffer against the world she would sooner see in flames than relinquish you to.

Price

He’s so father-coded fr.

He calls you his little girl, his Princess, Love, Darling, Dollie — anything that highlights your fragile nature.

Shows you off to his friends just so he can show them what they’re missing. He adores the feeling of you curling further into him under the eyes of his task force, the look in their eyes relating something savage, primal, as they look at your bare thighs – the pinnacle of which shadowed by John’s shirt – and watch something they can never have, never touch.

John hides his insecurity well, but he does secretly worry about the age gap.

Especially when he watches younger men looking at you in ways he does.

The difference being that, while they offered you the world and would give you nothing, you are John’s world.

When you can tell John’s feeling worried, comforting him is a surprisingly easy task.

A kiss to the temple and the promise that he’s the only man for you is usually enough to put his mind at ease and make his face break out into a smile.

On the rare occasion it isn’t, however, alternative methods are at your disposal.

E.g. screaming John’s name into the night as your nails drag down the expanse of his back, bodies scorching as he brings you to tears with his touch and his unrelenting pace.

He will absolutely hold his rank/age over you when he’s like this, no longer a point of contention or shame for him as he tells you he’s the “Only one who can make you whimper like a fuckin’ dog,”

“Such a good girl for me, my good little cocksleeve,” he rasps in your ear as he bounces you on top of him, his hands about your waist, preventing you from fleeing or falling off.

“God, you’re so beautiful — so— fuck— gorgeous.” He’s panting, gasping, growling.

“And all mine.”

Horangi

You’re the only thing that matters to him.

At this point, he only remains as a military contractor to ensure that he can keep you in the style to which you are accustomed.

Calls you 자기야 (Jagiya – Honey, Darling).

His favourite thing to do is sit you between his legs and wrap around you like armour.

In case you couldn’t tell, he’s highly protective of you.

You can make him do absolutely anything — he’s at your beck and call.

You can get him to buy you anything if you give him what he likes to call ‘kitten eyes’ eyes.

Even if you’re being a brat, he remains calm and treats you like his little angel, his sweetpea.

Unless you push him too far.

At which point, he won’t hesitate to tame you if you try your luck.

He’ll have you bent over his lap, holding you down with his forearm as he turns your thighs and backside red-raw with the slap of his belt.

“Don’t start crying now, 자기 — you brought this on yourself.”

He never fails in the aftercare department, though.

Always filling your head with words of affirmation as he bathes you, carrying you to bed and tending to your skin with soothing creams and soft touches.

Hong-jin goes super feral crazy when you call him 오빠.

A common honorific used towards any man older than the person using it.

Even if you don’t understand the implications of it, Hong-jin does. And yes, it does tend to make him a bit silly.

Silly enough to know that he’s not going to last long and needs to get home ASAP to deal with…something.

Which he also makes your problem, pressing messy, desperate kisses to your lips as he tries to get his shirt off, your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat skyrocketing.

“I need you, (Y/N),” he says, breathless, almost growling. Yet, his eyes are wide, pleading. A doe-eyed prince with the aura of a wolf king. “And I’ll have every inch of you.”

Alejandro

Pre-established passionate lover.

One who is fiercely protective over you.

If anyone — and I mean anyone — catcalls you, makes passes at you, or even looks at you in the wrong way, Alejandro makes sure to enact righteous fury upon them.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re 110% satisfied, regardless of context.

You want a new wardrobe ? It’s done. A new car ? All yours. You need Alejandro now and it can’t wait ? Why, how can he say no when you whine like that, when you tug at his sleeve and tuck your head against his shoulder.

He calls you “mi Princesa” and makes sure everybody knows you’re his and he’s yours.

A thorough lover is how you might describe him.

Especially after he’s so willing to bend you against the nearest surface to get you off, no matter the time of day.

You can bring him to his knees with just a look. Turn him from the most respected soldier in his department into a feral wolf.

Which, if you play your cards right, can end very well for both of you.

Alejandro likes to play a game whenever you’re riding him.

He grabs you by your hips and anchors you on top of him.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on for, mi Corazón,” he says, flashing you a sultry smile before he’s bucking into you at the pace of a mechanical rodeo horse at full speed.

“Holding on” can mean anything from not being pounded off Ale’s hips to staving off your orgasm for as long as you can.

Failure to do either is when you see Alejandro at his most wicked. When he’s all teeth, a shark’s grin, his eyes dark and his voice low as he tells you that he needs to “Train your endurance. How else are you going to take me again, hm?”

Needless to say, you’ll be lucky to be able to get out of bed the next day.

Rodolfo

His heart beats only for you. And as a result, he treats you like royalty.

As he should.

You want it ? You got it. 

In abundance.

You have the best of everything and Rudy loves nothing more than seeing your face light up when you receive one of his many gifts.

That, and having you sat on his lap, raking your fingers through his hair as he tells you about his day.

He omits the more gruesome details, fearing he’ll taint you with the blood on his hands if he doesn’t.

Speaking of lap-sitting, it’s your one-way ticket to an eventful afternoon with Rudy.

Cockwarming is his go-to, your legs wrapped about his waist as he fills out reams of paperwork, pressing kisses to your shoulder and telling you “What a good girl you’re being, mi amor,”

Be prepared for a tidal wave of praise for doing the bare minimum.

It doesn’t matter if Rudy’s topping or bottoming, he’s going to let you know how you’re making him feel, how nobody will ever ensnare him like you do.

“I love you,” he rasps, eyes half-lidded and skin glistening with sweat as you take him.

“I love you, I love you so much–” He growls, back arching into you as you catch a sensitive area. His chest is heaving and his eyes are dark.

“I’ll never let anyone else have you.”

Graves

This guy was made to have a controversially young girlfriend.

Calls you “Babydoll”, “Babygirl”, “Little Lady”, etc.

He unironically refers to himself as “Daddy”.

E.g. “You were eyein’n up that necklace for a while, Darlin’…” His hand slips to the crotch of his jeans, rocking his bulge into his palm.

“Maybe if you ask Daddy real nicely, he’ll get it for you.”

He’s actually very caring. He’d buy you the world if it meant seeing you smile.

He never expects anything from you in return.

He just can’t pass up the opportunity to have you in his arms, to touch you.

Graves can tend to go overboard with the gifts, though.

Calls you “young thing” when he’s feeling humourous.

On the flip-side, he can (and will) use your age gap against you. Like Price, but more Southern.

He’ll be very condescending when he’s mad, tending to use terms that undermine how intelligent and capable you really are.

“If you’d just listened to me and gotten it through your tiny head that I’m doing what’s best for you, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

On the flip-flip-side, he uses your age gap as a jumping-off point into…dubious activities.

#1 dumbification kink enjoyer.

He’s a switch with top lean, what can I say.

“Can’t do anything without me, can you, Sweetheart.” It’s not a question. His eyes are too serious, too stern, for it to be. He’s  pounding into you, hands either side of your head, caging you beneath him.

Between his panting, he presses a wet, uncoordinated kiss to your lips.

“I’ll make sure you can’t even think without me by the time I’m done with you.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

Can you make a jealous chishiya? Where chishiya tells the reader to thet information about arisu but the reader and arisu gets along prety well and chishiya gets jealous? Thank you.

♠️ Chishiya being jealous about you and Arisu getting along pretty well ♠️

A/N: Hey, sorry for letting you wait so long. Maybe you have already forget that you wrote me this request but I like the idea behind it, so I decided to make this my "comeback". 👀

I'm actually not sure if I understood it the correct way, but I definitely understood you want a Chishiya who is jealous about the fact Arisu and you are get along splendidly. 😋

Hopefully it reaches you and I also hope you will enjoy reading this. ♥️

Characters: Chishiya

POV: gn!reader

Warnings: Not given.

C h i s h i y a

I don't see him being a jealous person actually.

Unless you give him a reason to ...

Chishiya isn't even a person who falls in love easily.

But when he is falling for someone, he falls pretty hard.

So, you have to deal with his feelings and his behavior when he sees you together with Arisu, chatting and laughing together as if there would be no tomorrow.

Okay, to be fair, nobody knows if there would be a "Tomorrow" ... but that's something different!

Arisu may be a great help to him when it comes to collecting all the cards, but sometimes Chishiya thinks Arisu is his downfall.

Especially when it comes to you.

Yeah, but don't think he will talk about it- he is more concerned with hiding his feelings from you than actually speaking about them.

Even if you already have realized something isn't okay with him, he wouldn't admit it.

"I'm used to it that you are not talking much when there is nothing important to discuss about." "I can hear your "but" even though you didn't said it yet." "Then guess what I wanted to say next." "I don't have any problems, I feel fine, no worries."

Nobody said it would be easy with him. He can be as cold as he looks and it's hard seeing through him, even for you.

Still, he can be a calm and cool person as much as he wants- but he's just a human being. You can endure a lot, but at some point everyone reaches their limits.

You and Arisu are talking a lot? Fine.

Arisu makes a joke you find funny, so he watches both of you laughing and having fun with each other? Alright, you aren't his trophy, everyone can have other friends next to his own partner.

But seeing both of you hugging after a game ...

Because you saw someone die in front of your eyes and you are now overwhelmed by many different emotions ...

Well, enough is enough.

"Step aside, Arisu, that's not your part, alright?"

He was waiting for you the entire time you were in the building, so it's not hard for him to find you both outside being ... needy.

"In the future, you'd better keep your hands to yourself." "Excuse me what was that?" "You already understand."

While Chishiya switches positions with Arisu and holds you captive in his arms, he just gives the dark-haired man a warning look.

… Even if unintentionally.

… And unconsciously.

"Well ... I better go then and ... leave both of you alone ... for now." Arisu lets off of you, leaving you to the person who means the most to you. "You better do."

Trying to catch your breath and calm down, you look up to Chishiya and Arisu alternately, feeling the tension between them.

Still, you can't help but start giggling a little.

Arisu und Chishiya both start looking at you now, irritated and confused.

"W-Well, wait ... just to make it clear- is there someone ... really ... jealousy?" "Yes, he is." "No, I'm not", he says calmly. "Okay, then ... let me hug Arisu again ... s-shouldn't be a problem when everything is okay. Right?"

Silence.

You smiling up to Chishiya, who is now biting his tongue and pressing his lips together, not even thinking about letting off of you.

Arisu watching in amusement.

"I'm ... just not fine seeing another one be there for you while I can be there for you. It's my job to cheer you up- even though I'm not the best in it, but I'm trying very hard." "You ARE jealousy, Chi!" "Oi, stop saying this, will you ... ?"

[ddejavvu]

Can you do a spencer reid with a bau reader who is younger and very atractive and when the bau are coming to see him at his apartment for whatever reason and use the key (derek probably has one ngl) they just find a mess of clothes everywhere and them just asleep together

When they wake up they are like:👀😶

Bau: 😏😏

They're not snooping, per se, but the BAU are profilers by nature, and it's not hard to spot the neon pink bra that's abandoned by the side of Spencer's recliner.

"Uh, I think pretty boy's mom has kinda aged outta stuff like this," Derek holds up the bra by one single strap, indicating the lacy cutouts that leave very little to the imagination, "Unless she's got a boyfriend we don't know about, and Spence let her have his place for the night?"

"Oh, come on, is it so hard to believe Spence has a woman here?" JJ pleads, but when she gets several 'subtle' glances from the rest of her team, she relents with a sigh, "Oh, fine. Maybe it accidentally fell into his basket at the laundromat."

"Spencer doesn't go to the laundromat," Emily recites, "Because he has 'no way to realistically verify that their machines are sanitized within proper health regulations'."

"Oh, dude, that man is a wet blanket," Derek scoffs, "But don't tell him I said that- he'll probably start on a tangent about mildew."

"We should leave," Hotch proposes, standing by the door where he'd been trying to keep up an air of polite disinterest despite his intent glances around the apartment, "His keys are hung up by the door, so I'm sure we're just not getting a response from him because he's sleeping. And if he woke up he'd kill you all for wearing shoes on his carpet, so it's in everyone's best interest to leave."

"Hold on!" Penelope gushes, "I just want to check!"

She creeps towards Spencer's bedroom, but at JJ's insistent, 'Shoes!', she chucks her heels back towards the door. One hits its intended blonde target, but the other whacks Derek in the arm, and Hotch is surprised that the dramatics that ensue don't wake Spencer from where he's presumably sleeping. He's sure Penelope will offer to kiss it better.

Penelope tiptoes towards the bedroom door, peering inside the small gap that he'd left before laying down, and finding a Spencer-sized lump under the covers. She nearly turns when she notices that it's larger than just Spencer-sized, and-

"Ooooh, guys," She rushes back to the living room, voice barely hushed enough not to wake you, "He's got a girl in there!"

Derek's victory fist-pump is accompanied by a whispered, 'My man!', but Emily reaches for a pen that's resting in the breast pocket of her blazer. She takes the bra from where Derek had set it on the arm of the couch, rooting around for a post-it in Spencer's drawer and finding a stack of them neatly tucked into the front-right corner. Typical. Just the way he does it at work.

While Penelope describes how close the two of you were sleeping beside each other- 'not an inch apart, guys, they were totally spooning!' - Emily scrawls a neat message on the post-it, dotting the I with a heart.

'Congratulations, Spencer and Mystery Girl!' She writes, leaving the sticky note over the lingerie that she sets on his countertop, 'Tell him to bring you around the office sometime soon - your bra is gorgeous, I need to know where you got it ~ Prentiss <3'

[the-faceless-bride]

Some Of my current ideas and obsession Blurbs (if you find any of them interesting, I'm open to hearing ideas 👀👀)

Part 2 ->

Imagine being a demon...

Imagine Part of your power has to do with death, corruption, and seeing who someone was when they were alive... as a demon, the death of Rengoku Kyojuro broke you. He was such a beautiful, loving, caring man. Giving such an unfair and unfortunate death... you just couldn't accept this...

Imagine You bring him back as he springs up after your ritual. His hair was a mess, covered in dirt, his clothes ripped. He gasps for air as if it was the first he's had in centuries... "Poor unfortunate soul, so sad, in need... come allow me to give you a second chance."

Imagine His horror. Him. Now a Demon. Tethered to you. Unable to die again unless you give him permission to do so... he tired. Sat in the sun. But while he felt weak and itchy, he didn't die. He hated it. Hated himself. He hated you. You who, while yes, didn't have malicious intent. Who gave him a second chance at 'life' as you called this... you who brought him back and unlike when he was alive in his final moments felt no pain, no hunger, he hated you.

Imagine slowly helping him come to terms with his eternal life. From Enemies (one sided) to Lovers letting him stay with you in your small hidden village of other demon families that have also been brought back and tethered to you. Still fulfilling his dreams, taking down the demons who "lost their humanity and deserved their eternity to end."

Imagine the conflict you face, when His once friends and found family find him... a demon... still classic Kyojuro but yet so different... what do you do? An angry group of Hashira Pillars cursing you for what you did to their friend. Kyojuro broken and ashamed of what he is once more at the heart break of his friends being scared of him, some of them hating him all together...

Imagine him calling out to you, help him. Make them listen. Please. His Angel... his little firefly... please make them understand. He can't bare the way they look at him... help him... he needs you.

Rengoku Kyojuro × demon Reader Trope: Enemies to lovers

Now also Imagine being a demon...

Imagine being a demon who was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with Gyomei Himejima. Hopelessly devoted to a man who didn't even know you existed. You watched him at night, singing your sweet song and lulling him to a deeper sleep each night. Wishing nothing more than to one day be able to caress and memorize every inch of his mind, body, and soul. Wishing to kiss his soft looking lips...

Imagine desperately trying to deny what you know is true... you've heard it from your fellow demon 'friend' over and over again. And tonight, you were desperately trying to hold on to your dreams... "[name] just face it... he's a Demon slayer. A hashira. And to him, you're a monster... that something no amount of love is going to change. You'd be better off not thinking about him anymore. If you really love him, you'd let him go... besides a pretty human girl will probably catch his attention sooner or later..." You hang your head as tears fill your eyes, it's not true... it's not. He could love you. He could...

Imagine one day, you run into him in the Forest. The Forrest trees are so thick that the completely block out the sun, it's only a small section of the Forest. You liked to come here to lay in the flowers, and apparently Gyomei had thought the same...

Imagine He needed a quiet place, today had been a very hectic day. No peace and quiet today at all. He'd simply sat under a particularly large tree, focusing on his breath. You'd sat so unbelievably still. Not wanting to move and risk ruining this perfect moment. You were so close. You'd never been this close to him before and it made every part of your cold body ache.

Imagine accidently rustling the flowers catching his attention instantly, and he jumps to stand in a defensive position. You quickly kneel head pressing to the ground as you apologize for disturbing him, and not wanting any trouble. But oddly he doesn't attack you and instead he apologizes for startling you. At first you were confused. But then it clicked, you Had not attacked him like a demon would. He's blind. He doesn't yet realize you're a demon... this was it. Your chance. To speak to him. To hear him address you... to hear him say your name...

Imagine Pretending to be human, making it seem like you were a measly human girl who came here to sit in the flowers to relax... and this was how it went for some time... days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months. You'd been keeping this secret of yours for 3 months, your love for Gyomei stronger and flame of obsession brighter. And he'd become so open to you. Telling you almost eveeything... sure you'd felt guilty lying to him... but you just couldn't let him. Go...

Imagine one evening, the sun setting, the fireflies and the colorful flowers surrounding you... you gain the courage to confess... stilling your heart of how much you admire him, you know that he way not feel the same way... but even if he'll never belong to you... that's OK, you are happy to just dream and be his dear friend... but to your shock and joy he accepts your confession. He's gained feelings for you. You could almost cry... but then... in an instant the happiness... your happily ever after was ripped away from you in an unfortunate series of events "Dearest... your hands are so cold..." - "GYOMEI!" A his friend Mitsuri calls out her foot steps quickly approaching, more footsteps following behind. "AWAY DISGUSTING MONSTER!" she cries her sword just barley missing you as your arm is severed clean off. And instantly Gyomei's face goes through so many emotions... worry, Confusion, shock and finally realization... and he let's you go. You dash away vanishing... "Gyomei! Are you ok?! That awful creature tricked you! She must've planned to devower you then and there if I hadn't noticed your absence! Are you OK my friend!?" The sounds of other Confused voices all speaking over each other planning to find you... Gyomei thinks of her question... is he OK?... honestly... he doesn't know...

Gyomei Himejima × Demon Reader Trope: unrequited love/Forbidden love

[riddle-me-ri]

Jojo asks huh?~ how do these characters handle jealousy? Like their crush being flirted with by someone who is very touchy feely and reader being a tad overwhelmed and flustered. It can be the boys you think would have the most amusing reaction if you want or all of them if you want~ thank you very much:)

a/n: YESH FIRST JOJO ASK LETS GOOO and wee jealousy headcanons to boot lets gooo! Thanks so much and congrats on being the first! I hope I did everyone justice, still getting a grip on them all but having fun while doing it! The list isn't in any particular order…just the order they're in on my masterlist lol and also I didn't quite do all the characters I have listed because I was worried about being repetitive or it was hard to see them jealous, hope you guys enjoy!

Content Warning: small mentions of fighting and threats, nothing explicit or detailed.

How (some) Male JJBA Characters Handle Jealousy

Jonathan Joestar

- He's a little naive at first before he feels any true jealousy if that makes sense?

- Plus even though he does adore you…

- If someone was to get to you first, it's his fault for waiting, and you deserve to be happy…

- But surely you can't be happy with this stranger occupying your personal space so…rudely.

- Jonathan knows you well enough to know when you're getting uncomfortable…

- His skin crawls the way the person is clearly undressing you with their eyes…

- Jonathan tries to maintain his composure…not to embarrass either of you…

- As he calls you over to help you get away from the stranger.

- Jonathan can't conceal his small grin as he sees the look of relief on your face as you dashed toward him.

Robert E. O. Speedwagon

- Speedwagon doesn't believe he has a chance in hell with you anyway-

- He feels kind of guilty for even getting jealous…it's not like he owned you or you two were a couple.

- Speedwagon just…knows you deserve better than him…and most other slimy gents he's crossed paths with-

- Such as one that kept getting a little too close when you went to visit Speedwagon at a pub.

- Speedwagon grits his teeth as the patron attempts to wrap an arm around you-

- You try to be polite, give a laugh, and smile

- Maybe…he's overreacting…no he definitely is…

- It doesn't stop him from keeping an eye on you, though, in case the guy gets too comfortable and takes advantage of you.

- The relief on his shoulders when he sees you heading back toward him, leaving the random dude in the dust with a defeated look on his face.

Joseph Joestar

- Joseph tries to hide but is absolutely shit at it.

- He's the loud, brazen, confident type that can take it or leave it, unless it pertains to family or something/someone he cares about…

- And he really, really does care about you, just isn't sure how to show it.

- But Joseph, sure as hell isn't going to let someone whisk you away while he figures it out.

- If looks could kill, anyone that's even dared to tell you a pickup line would incinerate on the spot…

- It wasn't even a good line, Joseph has a far better one (its not, but it makes you laugh, and that's what counts)

- Some guy tries to wrap his arm around you, oh lookie there, I don't think an arm is supposed to bend that way~

- Joseph rarely ever feels bad…only when you berate him and tell him to cut it out, does he feel some guilt.

- I wouldn't be surprised if it's one of these discussions on his jealousy that he finally confesses his feelings (would be down to write that scenario if they're any takers 👀)

Caesar Zepelli

- It takes him longer to feel that gnawing green monster of envy.

- But when it gnaws it leaves marks.

- Caesar tries to remain composed…who could blame anyone to try and steal your heart away?

- However just anyone wouldn't do, not for someone special like you…

- Caesar challenges the offending person to a battle of wooing~

- In which Caesar shows how to truly win your affections in front of the person interested in you.

- Caesar of course wins this battle…

- Either by true deep feelings on Caesar's part OR because the person trying to flirt with you was utterly ridiculed and withdrew from participating…

- The former is most likely, but Caesar would deny it.

Jotaro Kujo

- Definitely the least jealous out of this bunch…

- He's more annoyed than anything?

- Like can't the dude tell you're not interested…

- Good grief, it's so obvious.

- Jotaro can tell a fake smile and forced laugh of yours from a mile away.

- Jotaro doesn't understand why you don't just kick this asshole to the curb-

- But he also knows you are too kind for your own good..

- If he’s got to come give you back up, he will~

- Jotaro has a way of leaving an intimidating impression on people…

- So maybe just maybe one look at him, and they'll know not to mess with you (cause you're his…neither of you know it yet)

Jean Pierre Polnareff

- Epitome of “do you wanna go, bro?”

- I swear this Frenchman is always aiming and ready to fight for your honor and peace.

- A knight in shining armor if you will.

- Onlookers can't help but assume you two must be a couple…

- Which makes your face even redder from getting so flustered.

- Polnareff gets rid of the “pest” easy enough, and now its back to courting you as usual~

- Polnareff doesn't nor did he ever hide the fact he has a major crush on you-

- These moments of vehement jealousy just further cements that fact.

- Please talk to this Frenchman and get him under control for your sake and others.

Hol Horse

- Hol Horse has no reason to be jealous…he loves all women and well, most women love him…

- He isn't clingy or belonging to anyone…

- You're cute as hell. Who wouldn't want to chat you up anyhow?

- Hol Horse can't blame anyone for trying, Lord knows he's tried and even got you to smile and giggle for him.

- However, he doesn't appreciate you giving that same sweet smile to the fellow at the other end of the bar…

- Hol tries to shake it off, you didn’t belong to him, y'all weren't a couple…should be no issues.

- He can tell you're just being polite to the guy. He's no smooth talker, but at least the guy's got some confidence…

- Hol Horse really has no reason to be getting up from his bar stool and walking over to you-

- It's rude to interrupt, really, and truly, but he can't really find it in his heart to care when you turn your attention towards him.

Josuke Higashikata

- cough cough like father like son cough cough

- He's a hot head, I can see him getting frustrated and irritated quickly.

- Just who the hell does that student think they're doing? Pinning you to your locker like some cheesy romance anime protagonist?!

- Koichi and Okayasu's efforts to restrain him are in vain

- But they're relieved to see you escape from the other student, which slowly dissipates Josuke's ire.

- Josuke is still upset at the idea that he almost lost you…

- Not that you were his to lose, but he really does care about you as more than a friend.

- If he comes across the student later, he's still very likely to tell that student to back off “or else”

- It does make Josuke come to the conclusion he needs to confess to you, and soon…

- (not that you two being a couple would cure his jealousy any better, but at least you'd help him calm down faster)

Rohan Kishibe

- Oh, please, him? The Rohan Kishibe, jealous?

- Of who? Oh, you conversing and smiling widely with that individual at an outside table at a cafe?

- Pfft please, why would he care?

- You're your own person, free to see and talk to who you pleased-

- Acts very nonchalant, but deep down, he's agitated.

- Why would you want to spend time with them and not him?

- Rohan tries to dismiss the thought and carry on with his day

- But the image of you clearly enjoying yourself lingers in the back of his mind~

- He'd like to be able to create such a moment, but for the both of you…

Bruno Bucciarati

- Honestly, Bucciarati is sort of ashamed whenever he feels that green monster on his shoulder.

- He tries to conceal it with the notion that he's just protecting you-

- Which is true, everyone knows how protective Bruno is, the same goes for you…

- However, the motivation to protect is slightly… founded on a different basis altogether.

- Which leaves room for jealousy to fester..

- Bruno is quick to pull you away when a random man gets a little too handsy-

- He's quick to push a man back if he finds the man far too close to you to whisper something…

- Bruno does get rather embarrassed for how brazen he acts…

- Perhaps he needs to take some inventory on his emotions towards you

- (please just accept this man's feelings and love him for the love of GOD-)

[grandprixprincess]

hermana || ln4

lando norris x fem!reader smau

summary: after running into lando at the singapore gp, he finally shoots his shot. reader is family friends with carlos and is like a little sister to him. friends to lovers.

warnings: some language

a/n: my first smau! all the images used were found on pinterest!

yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, iamrebeccad, and others

yourusername little getaway with my bestie <3

tagged: yourbestfriend

view all comments

yourbestfriend had so much fun ily

yourusername ily ❤️👯‍��️

iamrebeccad 😍

yourusername see you soon !!!

frienduser so cute!!

carlossainz55 posted

liked by yourusername, iamrebeccad, yoursister, and others

carlossainz55 Anything can happen in Singapore, ready for it 💪🏻🌶

view all comments

user1 carlos girlies how are we feeling???

user2 jaw dropped

user3 we need a trigger warning next time sir

yourusername when did this become a whore house?

user4 lmao y/n the icon you are user5 she's always dragging him user6 wait i'm new here...who is she to carlos?? user4 they are family friends and grew up together user5 yeah they are like siblings!!

yourusername posted a story

caption: ready to support mi hermano under the lights of singapore!

yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, yoursister, iamrebeccad, carlossainz55, landonorris, and others

yourusername singapore you were amazing ❤️ (minus the part where carlos crashed into the wall in Q3)

tagged: iamrebeccad, carlossainz55

view all comments

yoursister love you guys!

user1 the caption lmao

carlossainz55 not sure if we needed to mention that last part but happy that you joined us mi hermana!

yourusername ❤️

user2 ultimate sibling energy

user3 y/n stays keeping carlos humble

landonorris it was great seeing you!

yourusername you too! congrats again on the win!! user4 lando wtf are you doing here user5 they used to hang out a lot when carlos was at mclaren!

landonorris posted

liked by maxfewtrell, carlossainz55, yourusername, maxverstappen1, and others

landonorris Singapore you were amazing ❤️

view all comments

user1 LFGGGG YES LANDO

user2 lando three wins 🏆🏆🏆

yourusername okay caption stealer 🤨

landonorris oops my bad 😉 yourusername i'll let it slide since you won user3 lando norizz flirting on main??? carlossainz55 what's going on here 🤨 user4 carlos is just like us fr

yourusername posted a story

caption: ☁️🌅✈️

story replies:

yourbestfriend you better keep me updated on how it goes 😜

yourusername i'll call you tonight to debrief

landonorris can't wait to see you

yourusername thanks for offering to pick me up 🥰 landonorris of course. don't think I could've waited until Wednesday 😅 yourusername me either 😂

carlossainz55 hey you never sent me your flight info. what time do I need to pick you up?

yourusername ahhh sorry I meant to tell you!! lando is picking me up and taking me to your place carlossainz55 lando??? yourusername yes? carlossainz55 what is going on? yourusername wdym?

yourusername posted a close friends story

caption: 5 stars for my uber driver 🤩

story replies:

yourbestfriend omgggg it's giving passenger princess

iamrebeccad 👀

yourusername hehe i'll fill you in tonight yourusername unless carlos beats me to it 🙄

carlossainz55 when are you getting here?

yourusername tf chill

yoursister oh I just know carlos hates this 😂

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, georgerussell63, and others

f1gossip New couple alert? Lando Norris was spotted out and about around Monaco today with Y/N Y/L/N, who is known in the F1 world due to her close friendship with Carlos Sainz. Norris and Y/L/N first met back when Sainz was racing for McLaren. Y/N recently made a return to the paddock and attended the Singapore Grand Prix, in which Lando finished P1. Is this two old friends just hanging out or something more?

view all comments

user1 they would be such a power couple

user3 someone tweeted during the singapore gp that they saw them talking in the paddock!!

user4 omg yes I saw that! user1 did they say what the vibe was?? user4 they said that they hugged and it looked like they hadn't seen each other in a while. lando's comment on her ig post kinda confirms it too user5 omg long lost friends to lovers...we love to see it

user6 ya'll need to chill they're literally friends and have hung out before

user2 yes but they haven't been seen hanging out since carlos left mclaren

user7 george in the likes 💀

user4 please please please lando don't screw this up or carlos will come for you 🙏

user1 tbh so will the whole f1 fandom

yourusername posted a story

caption: @/carlossainz55 always makes me pancakes when I visit ❤️

story replies:

user1 girl we saw you and lando!!

user2 hmmm was lando at this family dinner by chance? 👀

yoursister him and those damn pancakes lol

yourusername don't be jealous

user3 rooting for u and lando

part 2

a/n: okay when I originally started this, it was going to be all in one part but then I realized because of the photo limit it would need to be 2 lol so part 2 coming later this week <3

if you'd like to be tagged, let me know!

[melliemell]

HEEy !! It’s the nonnie with the glasses back at it once again >:)

I’ve been thinking, annd how do you think the bsd cast (as always i would love if u added both the idiots aka dazai and ranpo) would go abt asking their S/O to move in with them? Ofc add any chara u like!!

ur awesome love u Pookie🫶☺️, — NONNIE WHO FOUND THEIR GLASSES !!!! (YIPPIE FOR THAT!)

hiii babess, hope you're doing well!!

you never fail to deliver with the cool idea, do you 👀👀

BSD ft. How they'd go about moving in with their S/O

(Dazai, Fyodor, Ranpo)

Dazai

Dazai’s not an easy man to live with and he’s perfectly aware of that. 

Would play it off as a casual remark on a random Wednesday, a teasing smile plastered in place yet his gaze won’t leave yours as he observed your reaction while acting carefree.

“I’ll get to wake up to your angelic face every morning. What man wouldn’t want that?” he’d say, draping an arm around your shoulders as you’d roll your eyes at his antics. You’d be all too used to him by now. 

But the thought would swirl in Dazai’smind for days. Feeling your secure embrace was too sweet a treat, and your chest glued to his back had a calming effect he was steadily becoming addicted to. If Dazai had the opportunity to have your warm breath tickling his nape, mind not even fully awake to complain about it as he floated in that blissful oblivion of early mornings–he was getting it.

He’d be spacing out days on end, coming up with as many scenarios of domestic life that he’d end up completely engrossed by the idea. It would be too hilarious to miss out on the play-dress of adult life. Even cleaning chores would seem exiting to him, knowing fully that vacuuming the house could just as easily turn into rawdogging it on the kitchen floor–clean or not. 

Dazai’d have you all to himself. 

Don’t expect you’d be moving in with him. He’s occupying your place the moment he gets the green flag. He’s so used to not doing anything all day that finally having a constant source of entertainment might do him some good. Not you though. Probably. But at least you’d get your boyfriend trailing after you, puppy eyes abused to the brim as he pleads for attention at every possible opportunity. 

Good luck. 

Fyodor

That’s the thing… Fyodor’s so out of the loop of normal life-living that he’d probably not have a home. Places he stays at? Yes, sure. As lavish as he wants or acceptably modest and enough to meet his needs? Very likely. But a home–a specific location he comes back to time and time again, seeking comfort in its familiarity? Unlikely. 

It would start out as him simply needing you to do little tasks for him. Fyodor’d keep an eye out on you, making sure you arrive to the specific city before him as you checked around the territory. Never staying in the same place as him but still keeping you close by. Just in case.

He’d need to establish a secure enough dependance from your side before he lets himself explore any romantic paths with you. There’s a reassuring quality to it, and Fyodor’s not the type to rush into any idea unless he’s completely prepared for the desired outcome. But once you’re together…

Get prepared for an ungodly amount of surprise visits from this man. There won’t be so much as you moving in together–the topic most likely not even discussed yet–but you gradually getting accustomed to the sight of him already at your place, waiting patiently as he sipped his cup of tea by the kitchen table. 

He’d be really good at nestling perfectly into your routine, knowing exactly where you were at all times. Not living together exactly but… existing together, maybe? It won’t be so much about the physical part, simply being in the same space together bringing a smile to his face. He’d stop arranging for his own place eventually, opting to stay with you every time you had to move to a different location.

It was unusual, but Fyodor wasn’t a usual man after all.

Ranpo

Suspiciously too eager for the moving-in together. Until you realise his plan all along–he won’t need to take cabs every time he goes home; you’ll take him home. Now isn’t that just perfect? You know where you live, and you live together. 

Ranpo never really understood the excitement over domestic life. It was definitely a win for all the attention he was going to get constantly, but it’s not like anything too major has happened. You just have to share laundry now, no biggie. 

Until the day he gets back from work, tired to the bones from dealing with people too stupid to let him do his job quickly, and alone. It’s in those late hours that he stumbles though the darkness to your home and…

There you are. Snuggled up in bed and waiting for him with a tired smile on your face. Ranpo’s chest will feel light, the weight lifting instantly as he lays beside you, cheek smashed into your neck as your scent engulfed him. He’s out cold within minutes; just having this secure presence around him would set him at ease instantly.

Ranpo really thought nothing much would change between you after moving together. And he was right, the good old dynamic of you both was still there, but… there was something else. Something new lurking in the early mornings sometimes, or the hum of your voice as you sang under your breath as you washed the dishes. 

Little things. 

Things he was exposed to constantly now that managed to make him stop in his tracks and just–exist in that moment. With you.

Ranpo’s never felt more content after stealing you away like this.