#Yes I did this whole piece for that one joke

[al-1-na]

𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rafe Cameron x bsf!Reader

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Comfort sex, emotional vulnerability, first time together, slow and intense sex, deep emotional intimacy, crying during sex, aftercare

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a brutal fight with Ward, Rafe shows up at your place wrecked and bleeding—mentally and physically—and finally lets go in the only place he’s ever felt safe: your arms, your bed, and this time… your body.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

You’d never seen him like this.

Not Rafe. Not your Rafe.

There’d been a lot of versions of him over the years—the golden boy, the reckless rich kid, the self-destructive mess. You’d seen him blackout drunk, high out of his mind, angry enough to shatter mirrors with his fists. You’d stayed up with him on your couch after breakups, patched up his bloody knuckles, dragged him to bed after parties where he drank too much and smiled too little.

But tonight?

Tonight he didn’t say anything when he stumbled through your door. He just stood there, soaked in sweat and tears, a bruise blooming over his cheekbone and his eyes red-rimmed like he’d been crying for hours.

You were off the couch in seconds, reaching for him. “Rafe—what the hell—what happened?”

He didn’t speak. He just grabbed you.

Fists full of your shirt, arms wrapping around you so tight it almost hurt, burying his face in your neck like if he let go, he’d fall apart.

“He said I’m nothing,” he whispered eventually, voice hoarse. “Said I ruin everything I touch. He said if I’d died instead of Sarah, he wouldn’t have cried.”

Ward.

You didn’t even have to ask.

Rafe’s whole body was trembling against yours. You felt the fight still thrumming under his skin—rage and pain and shame all tangled up, looking for a way out.

You kissed his temple, slid your hands up his back. “You know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know anything anymore,” he rasped. “Except… I didn’t know where else to go.”

You pulled him down into bed with you—no questions, no second thoughts.

He clung to you like it physically hurt to be apart, shaking as you pulled his shirt off, as he pressed his lips to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek. The kisses weren’t sexual at first. They were desperate. Needy. Bruised.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he whispered. “I feel like I’m falling apart. But when I’m with you…”

His lips hovered over yours. His voice broke.

“You make it stop hurting.”

It happened slowly.

Not like the quick, hot sex you both used to have with other people. This wasn’t about lust or release. It was about connection. About need. About something buried for years finally clawing its way out.

He kissed you like it meant something.

And for once, it did.

Your clothes came off piece by piece. There were no jokes. No awkward laughter. Just quiet, shaky breath and soft hands that lingered too long. You’d seen him half-naked a hundred times, but this was different. His eyes stayed on yours the whole time, like he was watching something sacred unfold.

When he pushed inside you, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t rough.

It was slow. Deep. Intimate.

He let out a sound like a sob the moment he bottomed out, head dropping to your shoulder, arms trembling as he held himself above you.

“I don’t deserve this,” he choked.

“Yes, you do,” you whispered, cupping his face. “You do with me.”

And that undid him.

Rafe moved in you like he needed it to survive. Not just the friction—but the closeness. His thrusts were deep and slow, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes glassy as he looked down at you like you were the only good thing left in the world.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer—like you could tuck all his broken pieces back together from the inside.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, voice raw. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel safe.”

You felt your heart crack right open.

You kissed him through it. Through the emotion. Through the shaking. Through the moment he started to cry—real, helpless tears—as he kept moving inside you, burying himself in the one place he knew he wouldn’t be judged.

You held his face in your hands and told him everything he needed to hear. That he wasn’t broken. That he wasn’t alone. That he was allowed to be soft with you. That he was allowed to be loved.

And when you came—together—it wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t pornographic.

It was quiet.

It was him shaking above you, whispering “thank you” into your neck as he spilled inside you. It was you stroking his hair, pulling the blankets up, wrapping yourself around him like armor.

After, he didn’t let go.

Even after you both stopped moving. Even after the tears dried.

His voice was barely a breath against your skin. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I wasn’t born to be hated.”

You kissed his forehead.

“Then stay with me,” you whispered. “Let me keep showing you how wrong he is.”

He didn’t answer.

But his arms tightened.

And he stayed.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

I don’t even remember getting in the car.

All I know is my hands were shaking too hard to steer straight, and I drove to the only f**king place that’s ever felt like something close to peace—your place.

You didn’t ask questions when I showed up, bleeding and bruised. You didn’t need to.

You always know.

My throat burned, chest tight like I’d swallowed broken glass. Ward’s voice was still ringing in my head, loud and cruel and sharp. “You’re a f**king failure. You should’ve died instead of Sarah. At least she had potential.”

I don’t even know if I yelled back. I think I just left before I snapped in half.

Now I’m standing in your room, and you’re pulling me into your arms like you want me there. Like I’m not poison. Like I’m not everything he said I was.

Your hands are on my face. I realize I’m crying when you wipe a tear off my cheek with your thumb.

“Rafe,” you whisper, soft like silk, “you’re okay now. You’re with me.”

That’s when I break.

Not loud. Not angry.

Just broken.

I bury my face in your neck and breathe you in like oxygen. My arms wrap around you so tight you probably can’t breathe, but I need you close. I need you. I don’t know how else to survive this night.

You lead me to bed. You undress me like it means something, like you’re not just helping me out of my shirt—you’re peeling off all the shame I’ve been drowning in.

You kiss me, and I swear I almost lose it.

I’ve kissed a lot of people. Too many, if I’m being honest. But this? This kiss hurts. Not in a bad way. In a way that makes me feel everything I’ve been numbing for years. You kiss me like you know what I’m afraid of. Like you’ve been waiting. Like you see all of me—and you still want to stay.

I look at you, stripped bare in front of me, and I can’t believe I’ve never touched you like this before. Not once. Not in all those years of sleeping in your bed, laughing in your car, watching your face when you thought I wasn’t.

And now I have you. Like this.

You let me push inside you slow. Careful. You gasp, and I almost stop.

But you pull me closer, and I swear I could f**king cry again.

You feel so good—warm, tight, real. You wrap around me like you want me to be here. Like I’m not some violent wreck you’re babysitting. Like I’m yours.

My hips move on instinct, slow and deep. Every thrust feels like an apology I don’t know how to say.

“I don’t deserve this,” I whisper against your lips.

You grab my face, eyes locked on mine. “You do with me.”

That sentence… it breaks me open from the inside.

I start moving faster, still gentle, still deep—but there’s desperation now. I need this. I need you. Not just the sex. Not just your body.

I need the way you look at me like I’m not a lost cause.

I cry. I f**king cry.

And you kiss my tears.

You moan my name like it’s a lifeline, your legs tightening around me, your nails in my back as you come—soft and shaking and real. I follow right after, face buried in your shoulder, whispering your name like a prayer.

After, you don’t push me away. You wrap yourself around me like armor. You hold me like I’m worth holding.

“I’m not him,” I murmur. “I’m not my dad. I don’t want to be.”

You stroke my hair. “You never were.”

I’ve had a lot of sex in my life. Fast. Dirty. Pointless.

But this?

This was the first time it meant something.

And I never want anything else again.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

@psychocitylights @cokewithcameron

[thisfuckingdork]

[icharchivist]

was refreshing myself on some old myth for a bit and i read the french and english wiki page for the Charybdis' mythos, and i'm noticing something that i don't know if it's just the wiki being inaccurate or an actual difference (from the linguistic page it seems to be an actual difference) but

In English there's this expression about choosing between two equally bad horrible situations by saying "choosing between Scylla and Charybdis"

But in French the expression is "to fall from Charybdis to Scylla" and instead of a choice it's about managing to get out of a horrible situation only to get thrown into an even worse situation (the equivalent of the English's expression ""falling out of the frying pan into the fire")

if i believe the linguistic page there was a bit of borrowing around and technically both expressions are used in both language, but you're more likely to find the first one in English and the second one in French (very likely because Victor Hugo popularized "to fall from Charybdis to Scylla" with Les Misérables) (does not mean it started in French the origin of the expression is still Greek anyway, just talking about why the saying is more popular in French with weirdos like me)

idk i think it's cool on a sort of metatextual perspective that English People saw this myth and when "oof imagine picking between those two" while French people just chugged a bottle of wine and went "And it's a BINGO and LIFE SUCKS and it NEVER GETS EASIER you get BOTH OF THEM BABEYYY"

[sweettsubaki]

Y'know ppl can say what they want about Luffy's Gear 5th and how he's overpowered and what not but....

The fact that his awakened fruit basically just makes him a human Bugs Bunny who very much also embodies freedom is so perfect I could cry every time I think about it...(I love it because...Luffy doesn't have a big imagination, but he is creative and very literal which is why cartoons are his best fit)

I mean I'm re-reading Wano and like he's so cute and happy and fluffy while altering all the laws of physics.

Bonus point for this

The little heart when escaping Kaido kills me every time🥰

Also the way he affects his allies but not his enemies (showed in the eye bulging)

Look at my baby 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

All of those are from chapter 1045

[f0ofishies]

FL*SHING THEM AFTER AN ARGUEMENT

tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi, oikawa tōru

Tsukishima Kei, your beloved fiance. You loved the man to death, you swear.. it's just that he's always been like this. All of the damn time. There was one time when you argued over dinner because someone didn't want to eat Italian. Seriously? How'd you even date this guy and later on accept a ring from him.

Just kidding, he has his cute moments. The man had prioritized you a lot during his college days. He must've fallen hard for you, huh? When he did get on one knee, you thought it was a prank. Nonetheless, you said yes— already being engaged for 4 months, too!

Back on topic, he's always been a cranky mother fucker and even more when he lose that volleyball match. You looked at him— in astonishment. This man had the audacity to even be too confident in a little fun of chess?

You couldn't even believe the audacity of him. He'd been laughing at your move on your black horse.. "Gee, just get one with it, babe..!" Another ridiculing sentence from him could've sparked a fire inside you. "Hah? Seriously, why'd you even do this rematch— when you clearly don't know chess."

Your eye must've twitched at that, you love him, and you swear to that on your life. But, seriously, he's getting on your last nerve. As he quickly moved his queen, grabbing your knight in the process. You moved another piece as he smiled. "Thank god, we don't do rematches in volleyball."

Your joke immediately made his smirk turn sour. As you chuckled to your own statement, your eyes glanced up to his. He immediately gave a disgusted face at you. "What, Tsuki?—" You tease, almost pinching his face as he has moved away from your hand.

"What is your problem..?" Now that made you raise an eyebrow. "My problem—?" He can't be serious right now. And that's how he ended up giving you the silent treatment, ending the chess match when it just started. You were utterly confused... even bewildered by his actions

Knowing your fiance won't crumble to a piece of you, you just quickly called out. "Kei?" He didn't even look at you.. oh, so that's how he was going to play. "Tsuki?" No budge, huh? The man had some nerves for ignoring his future wife. "Tsukishima Kei." Last call, he finally whipped his head to you.

Rolling your shirt up— his golden brown eyes dilated at the sight of your perky, wait, wait, this was cheating. "That's right, doofus.. I know you can't ignore them." You could totally hear the clogs in his brain working. Even bouncing them a bit— He quickly pulled your shirt down. "Hey—! what was that for??"

"You're in one hell of a ride, do that shit again. I dare you, baby."

How much aura did you gain after marrying the Ushijima Wakatoshi? You, the lovely wife, as ever.. had always been the cheeky one in the marriage. During one of his games, you'd literally chant his name out so loud. Maybe the whole stadium could hear you.

He'd be there happily, holding the ring chained around his neck. Giving you a small smile— You couldn't help but beam as you show off your ring finger too! Now that was months ago, your husband came home in a sour face after meeting his parents.

"Baby, how were your parents?" You asked him, quickly smiling as you cooked your signature curry. "Fine like usual." His deep voice caught you off guard as you felt a hand crept behind you. "Oh, so what did they—" "Can we not." You tilted your head.. "Sure.. okay." You compiled because who were you to say anything about that?

You looked at him as he ate, he felt your stare. "Yes, love?" The way your hand had been tapping on to counter.. like crazy. Lost in thought, you look up at him. "Toshi.. you know you can tell me anything?" Of course he knew that so he raised an eyebrow. "I know."

You were itching to know why he's so persistent on not telling you why.. he would usually just tell you at this point. But he seriously didn't want to talk about it, so he dismissed your concerns once again. "But babe.." You whined.. something in him just snapped.

"No, can you stop trying?" You huffed at his tone of language.. it was kind of your fault for being this nosy. So now here you were having a full blow argument. Were you petty? Definitely, a hundred percent. So when your husband had genuinely left you in the kitchen. You huffed—

Clearly, he needed a lot of space, huh? Shutting the bedroom door very tight— you wanted to go sleep there, but how? He had locked it from the inside. "Toshi..?" You called out. No answer. "Ushijima Wakatoshi!" You yelled out and finally the familiar 'click!' You finally let out a sigh and practically go in fast.

He's still on the bed, clearly trying to sleep. "Toshi..~" Your sweet velvety voice intoxicating him then sliding onto the bed— even straddling onto him. Still, the man laid bare, not even checking you out. You intentionally grind, trying to find the best friction. His hands finally with all of its glory wrapped around your hips.

"Look up." Your command might've sent a shudder on your poor husband. The blood pumping down to his familiar friend down there— oh how a vixen you were.. Seriously, he saw the way you held your shirt up. Those breasts out in the air just for him. "Mmm? Want it bad?"

"I swear, wife— you're always all talk and no action.."

That Argentinan volleyball player was taken by you! Who knew he had the hots for you. Tōru Oikawa, he had recently left Japan for Argentina.. then he met you. Somehow, you two clicked. Clearly, you only thought he was just getting into your pants but nope!

The infamous girlfriend of the volleyball player never really visited his games. Probably because your work always consumed your time. Tōru was beyond okay with that— of course he was. But after such a long tiring game, all he wanted to do was a date night with you. Sadly, you were still out at work.. in overtime. How could you not remember it at all? When you came home, his first response was immediate silence. Seriously nothing!!

"Tōru?" You called out in the shared apartment, finally slipping off your shoes. Stretching your arms wide as no response. "...Babe?" You called out once more. Absolutely nothing— you panicked, of course. Already running around to find him.That's when you spotted your sulky boyfriend, buried deep into the bed among all the plushies you have.

"Shit, babe.. did something happen at practice?" You asked him as he finally noticed your presence. An immediate huffed was heard, thanks to him. "Babe..? Baby..!!" You whined the petname, trying to uncover the blankets.

There he was, your lovely boyfriend. Tōru glared at you, those dark brown hues of his. "What's made you so sour..?" You asked him once more, trying to coerce him out of his moodiness. "I wonder why." He interrupted you, that made you raise an eyebrow. "Babe..."

You were utterly clueless, even when he avoided your touches. It suddenly clicked to you, a promise to him on for a date. You internally groan at that, "Shit, Tōru you know I didn't mean to forget.." Your hand itching to grasp his— yet he pulled away once again. "You always forget about me.." He whined into your shared pillows. "No I don't.. baby.. I'll make it up to you!!" You try to reason with him.

That's what got him to lash out at you. You did kind of deserve it— so here you are on the bed trying to get a sulky Tōru out of your shared bedroom once more. An idea popped into your head! "Tōru.. I have something to show you.." You found the man finally walk out of the bedroom. His disheveled appearance still looked way too good for your own eyes.

Your fingers found their way to your blouse— giving him a sweet smile. Only halfway through, you were damn thankful for picking a good bra for today. "Baby, I'm really sorry.." You whispered. And finally— your breasts were in full view of his sight. Nothing could have prepared you for the feral Tōru ravishing you!

The man was full on groping your breasts, even fiddling with those buds.. was he really that turned on? You couldn't believe you've let him play with you like this. On the tips of your heels— you needed more friction down there, too. So you whined at him, how your cunt needed his fingers too! And that's what he did, dipped them into your soaked panties.

"Fffuck— that's not fair, babe.. yknow your boobs and pussy are my weakness..!"

[tokeposts]

𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍

pairing: deaf!katsuki x gn!reader

warning: collage au, swearing, softsuki, pure fluff, all words italicized are meant to be spoken in sign language

notes: this might be my fave thing ive written so far

632 | Bakugou’s never needed words to tell you how he feels. The only problem?You never understand what he’s been saying.

Bakugou signs alot.

At first, you thought it was just muscle memory, like how someone might talk to themselves under their breath. He’d move his hands with sharp, purposeful flicks, his fingers quick and angry, like he was arguing with the air.

But he always signed to you.

You noticed it when he’d glance your way mid-conversation, hands spelling out something with too much intention for it to be coincident. You didn’t understand a word, of course, and he never explained himself. He’d roll his eyes or scoff when you asked. Saying something like figure it out if you’re so interested, but even with his dismissal— he kept doing it.

When he was annoyed with you, his fingers moved fast.

On the rare chance you made him chuckle, he’d sign something slow and subtle, hidden behind his dumb smirk and eye roll.

When he looked at you too long, he’d blink, sign, and look away.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when you finally decided to take a crash course in ASL at your campus library that the words finally started to come together.

“Thanks for saving my seat,” you said softly, placing your bag down beside him. He hums, nodding, red eyes never leaving your own and it’s enough to make your face heat. You’d always thought Bakugou was good looking, but for the longest time, you kept your distance. That is, until he showed up to the lecture one day reading one of your favorite books, and something about that felt like an opening. Since then, sitting next to him became a habit you looked forward to more than you’d admit.

Your other friends liked to joke that you’d worn him down. That you annoyed him into a friendship.

But every time you walked in and found his bag already nudged off the chair beside him, saving the seat just for you, it felt like the smallest kind of miracle.

He never said much about it. Never made a show of saving your space, but he did it every time.

Bakugou shrugged, his hands move fast. You look… tired?

You blinked. “Wait, I— did you say I looked tired?”

He froze. His brows furrow, eyes narrowed. A tiny break in the confidence that was so Bakugou it practically had its own gravitational pull.

“What the fuck," you heard him mumble. It makes you laugh.

He’s quick to sign again. You understood that?

You bit your lip, suppressing a grin. “A little. I’ve been uh—“ You cut yourself off, your own hands coming forward. Learning.

Bakugou scowled, but his ears were tinged red. He signs again, how? you stalking me now?

“No,” you said, laughing. “I took some classes in the library. Besides you're the one who’s been talking at me this whole time. I finally decided to catch up.”

His hands lifted. It is then that the piece start clicking. If you had learned what he was saying than that means... his eyes narrowed.

What else have you seen?

You pause. Beautiful, he had signed once. You’re beautiful.

Another time: I like your laugh. It sounds like wind chimes. The words 'Wind chimes' was a hard one to figure out for sure.

Once: I wish I could kiss you without making things weird.

You shook your head gently. “Beautiful a couple times... but that's all I remember."

Bakugou exhaled sharply. That's all you remembered!? He's going to fucking explode, dear god. He can feel the heat traveling down his neck. His fingers twitched like he wanted to deny it, like he wanted to scream just to redirect the attention.

Instead, he groaned. Looking away before signing something slowly— hands pausing just enough to make sure you’d catch it.

I can help you remember the rest.

You smiled. Yes. I'd love that

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE ROMANCE OF BANTER, PLAYFUL SARCASM, AND USING JOKES TO HIDE HOW YOU REALLY FEEL ABOUT THEM *  assorted dialogue, some of which have some implied sarcasm built in (so just feel free to specify with "/s" at the end of each line), adjust as necessary

admit it. you're in love with me.

if only i had someone to go out with...

a date would be really nice right about now.

i might reconsider if you bring me flowers.

were you being serious back there?

did you just try to impress me?

was that another joke, or were you telling the truth?

we agreed that if no one asked us, we'd go together.

keep telling yourself that!

here it comes! the big love confession i've been waiting for!

you've been in love with me since the day we met.

you visited me in my dreams last night.

i know you're in love with me. you just won't say it outloud.

we can't hide this forever.

don't make me beg.

if you weren't so cute, you'd be annoying.

you're not very good at hiding how you feel.

you've been staring at me for a long time now.

is that what you really think of me?

you have feelings for me. admit it.

so what if i've been lying this whole time? for good reason!

you don't make this whole love thing any easier.

you make life difficult.

you're a piece of work.

is that how you really feel?

you're lucky you're so cute.

you're not really going out with them, are you?

i thought we... nevermind.

consider me impressed.

am i annoying you right now?

you didn't like that comment, huh.

i was only kidding!

you wish we were kissing right now.

oh, you'd just love to hear me beg.

i love our little back and forth.

sooner or later we'll have to come clean about how we feel.

i'm not good at hiding my emotions.

when were you going to tell me you were in love with me?

i actually hate your guts.

keep talking like that and you'll see how i really feel.

can your head get any bigger?

was that a joke?

were you just playing with me?

you didn't actually mean that, right?

hang on. you didn't just say that.

that was a joke, right?

this is just how we are when we're together.

i tease you, you tease me.

you and i have always been like this.

if i'm not annoying you, what's the point?

i'm allergic to tickling.

they said we'd make a cute couple. can you believe that?

are you always this annoying?

if i kiss you, will you turn into a prince? yes, i'm implying you're a frog.

you're lucky i love you so much.

you take that back!

that was uncalled for!

this means war!

this calls for a duel!

i'm challenging you to an arm wrestle.

last one there is a rotten egg!

i'm not racing you!

stop looking at me like that.

you stare at me a lot.

i know, i know. i'm irresistable.

something on my face?

a little bird told me you're in love with me.

prove me wrong.

[cheetabites]

☆彡 cinnamon ˳༄꠶

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for dae-ho

sfw headcannons

★ this sweet boy truly struggles internally with how to act within society. the toxic masculinity his father had pushed on him had left him ashamed to truly express himself with others; he isn’t happy with how society wants men to act in such a superior and oppressive way, but is still sensitive to people catching eye of him acting in the opposite way (sensitive and compassionate)

★ he also didn’t receive any counseling or therapy after returning from the marines because he still held the internal belief that being vulnerable and expressing his difficulties wasn’t ‘manly’ enough

★ he’s the type of man that’ll help an old person cross the street, give his last dollar to a person at the register that was one dollar short, and would bring a jar of nuts to the park just incase he sees squirrels

★ he might’ve not received any professional help, but his mom and his older sisters were always there for him; when his father wasn’t around i’d like to picture them taking him out so they could play the games they played when they were younger - gonggi in particular because he liked to prove that ‘he still got it’

★ he’s the best pet owner ever. in some ways i can picture him having one pet that the whole family loves and spoils - yes, they wear the little sweaters when it’s cold and the boots when the pavement is hot - or a random ass pet he adores and the family is grossed out by. i can picture one of his friends gifting him a pet rat or turtle as a joke, but he takes it seriously (#1 dad) ; he vents to them sometimes

nsfw headcannons

★ sexual encounters is not a place where he’ll allow his fathers toxic masculinity to dictate his actions; he’s definitely a sub. when he’d found it out though, he was ashamed. particularly because it was when he was having sex with another partner - he was on top yes, but the ecstasy he was feeling at the time caused him to look down at them and beg for them to praise him (they did, and he cried in their neck afterwards)

★ he’s really sensitive, and i mean so sensitive that you could probably overstimulate him if you’d made him cum more than twice

★ he likes having his hair tugged; especially in situations where you brush your fingers through his hair first before gripping onto it so you can direct his gaze towards your own or when he’s giving you head

★ he enjoys the sex, yes. but he enjoys the aftercare more; having you wipe him down while you praise him for how good he was makes him feel so safe. he also seems like one who gets really sleepy after sex so i don’t think you’ll be able to make it to the bath. but when you do, he gets really shy and flustered

★ he loves seeing you wear the lingerie sets you’d bought while you were out. it gets him hard yes, but he mostly just admires how it enhances your beauty, so you’d never really had sex with them on. he does have a polaroid picture of you wearing a piece in his wallet and he protects that picture with his life - and i mean he’d lay flat on the train tracks if he’d ever lost it cause he cares about you too much :(

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 3 2025.

[no-144444]

Hiyaa there!! Can I pls request a scenario with Oscar. Reader never had her first kiss (and that makes her nervous) and they talk about it and he's being really patient and gentle with her like hugs her closer kisses her and it's really cute and fluffy😊 that would be adorable and it's so Oscar. Thank youu!!!

first kisses- o.piastri

summary: being jack wolff's nanny is a pretty sick gig, especially when your old friend is an f1 driver and is interested in you...

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

part one part two part three

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

23 with no romantic prospects probably should’ve made you feel worse about yourself than it actually did. Yes, you occasionally wondered what it would be like to have someone to love and cherish, but you knew it wasn’t exactly realistic. You were extremely busy, like, all the time. Being Jack Wolff’s live-in nanny was quite the chore, despite him being only one child. Don’t get me wrong, he was well-behaved and sweet, but he still had a packed schedule of going to F1 races every now and then. When he wasn’t spending his weekends in the Mercedes garage, he was busy spending them in his own garage. Jack was in the beginning stages of his karting career, and he was damn good at it too. He loved the rush of trying to go as fast as he possibly could through every corner, every chicane, every straight. When he took his helmet off after a race and ran straight to you, it was one of the best feelings in the world. You loved Jack like a little brother, he adored you like a second mother. 

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Why did we have to get up so early?” he yawned as you walked through the Harry Reid airport, just after landing in Las Vegas. Due to the fact that Jack was two public figures’ son, you two always got the craziest flight times to avoid crowds. 

You smiled, picking him up and placing him on his suitcase so he could sit while you pushed him. “Because your mom and dad missed you,” you explain. “And they want to see you as soon as possible.”

“I could’ve waited a little longer,” he mumbled. 

“Das ist nicht nett,” (that is not nice) you chuckled. “They miss you, and you haven’t exactly been very good at texting them back.” 

“But we could’ve had a race this weekend,” he whined. 

“We do, you’re just not racing in it,” you smirked as he rolled his eyes. All 7 year olds really were sassy. 

“Do you want me to ask your dad if we can go to a track for a little bit of the weekend?” you offered after watching his sad face.

The frown on his lips instantly turned into a smile. “Yes please! You’re the best!” 

The kid knew how to play you, you’d give him that. 

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

It was 7am when you finally got checked into the hotel, and it was finally time for Jack to go see his parents. As much as he pretended he didn’t, most nights than not he would sneak into your bed and ask you to call one of them, so much so that you’d just made a time where you called each of them so he could talk. He had been getting better at the whole ‘long distant parenting’ but it still hurt him sometimes. Sometimes, he just wanted his dad, but his dad was 3,500km away at a race where their car was a piece of shit. 

You knocked on the door of their hotel room and it immediately opened to reveal a very excited Susie. “Jack!” she cheered, picking him up in his arms and hugging him tight as he giggled. Toto wrapped his arms around the both of them as they all reunited. 

You 4 have breakfast together where you popped the question about going to a kart track at some point over the weekend and they begrudgingly agreed, upset that they’d miss out on precious ‘Jack time’, but understanding of his want for more track time all the same. You had agreed to join them in the garage for the morning though, since seeing everyone again was nice. 

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Toto joked as you both sat and watched Susie showing Jack around the garage. 

You chuckled. Jack was obsessed with anything to do with cars. He loved his kart more than anything, and h e couldn’t wait to move up into single seaters. He also had a mechanical engineer as a nanny, which probably didn’t help all that much. “We’ve created a monster. I’m the one teaching him about tire temp and degradation,” you chuckled as Toto just put his head in his hands jokingly.

“How are you?” he turned to you. “Any news?”

“Nothing new, just Jack’s news, I guess,” you shrugged. To be honest, you loved your life. You loved nannying Jack, you loved living in Monaco, you loved being at a kart track every single weekend, but you knew that wasn’t the typical experience of every young adult. 

Toto squinted his eyes. “How are your friends?” 

“They’re good, we went over to London the other week to go see them, since Jack had a race there on the weekend,” you explained, knowing what Toto was trying to say. “Don’t worry about me, I’m taking care of myself just fine.” 

He nodded. “We worry about you too,” he shrugged. “You’re like another daughter to us, we want you to be happy.”

You smiled. “I am.”

“And any boyfriends-?”

“Shut up!” you playfully hit him to stop the awkward conversation that would follow. “Enough Toto.”

“What?” He feigned innocence. “I can’t be interested in your dating life?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “No you can’t.” 

“Y/n!” Jack shouted as he ran over to you. “Can we go to the track now please?” 

You looked to Toto, who nodded, then off you went to go grab Jack’s things and get into the car. When you pulled up to the track and got him stretched and warmed up, you watched as he circled the track while Toto and Susie went over strategies for the weekend in the cafe of the place. Toto had booked it out for Jack (mostly so he or you wouldn’t get papped, but also because that’s how Jack likes tracks when he’s practising), or so you thought. About 40 minutes into you being there, half of the McLaren garage showed up in papaya, apparently ready to race.

“Hey Toto,” Zak smiled. “Jack’s looking fast out there.”

“Hi Zak, what’re you doing here?” 

“Racing,” he chuckled. 

“We’re supposed to have it booked out for the day,” Toto argued. 

You came in as the two men started getting heated (which didn’t take much) and pulled them away from each other as Susie went outside to keep an eye on Jack. “What’s the issue?”

“We have the track booked out, and they want to race,” Toto scoffed. 

“We also have the track booked out,” Zak explained. “Also hi Y/n, nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too,” you smiled at him. “So just let Jack go until they’re done getting ready, they do a session, Jack does a session, and so on. We need to get out of here at 3 anyway, and you and Susie are leaving earlier.” 

They both pondered the deal, feeling rather stupid for not being able to compromise on their own. 

“Sounds fair,” they both said at the same time, then they went back to their respective groups. 

You went out to tell Jack, who agreed quickly, wanting to watch what the F1 drivers would do in a kart. You two watched at the sidelines as they went around the track, Jack literally taking notes beside you as you watched one kart only. Oscar Piastri. 

Oscar and you had been friends in boarding school, and you’d always had this inkling he liked you, but he never acted on it before you left school, so nothing ever came of it. You had definitely liked him back though. He was so nice to you, so sweet, so funny. He was just… Oscar. 

As Jack got back on track, Oscar came over to sit with you. “Hey,” He smiled. 

“Hi,” you smiled back, scooching over so there would be more space for him. On track was Jack v Lando, and Jack was winning. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

“I’m good, thanks, you?”

“Great,” he smiled. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

“It’s really nice to see you again.”

“I thought I’d seen you around the paddock but then I realised how strange that sounded so I just chalked it up to my imagination, which is an even weirder thing but, yeah. It’s nice to know you’re not just a figment of my imagination,” he chuckled, awkward and shy, just how you remember him. 

You laughed. “Yeah, not a figment of your imagination, just Jack’s nanny.” 

“Cool,” he nodded. “He’s a good driver.”

“He’s very good,” you agreed. “Every weekend we’re at tracks, it’s madness.”

“Where are you living now?” he asked. 

“Monaco,” you explained. 

“Me too,” he smiled. “We should meet up sometime.”

“I’d like that,” you nodded, and you couldn’t help but feel the charged air between you two. 

“I’d like that too.”

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Asking for a night off was a nightmare. Both Susie and Toto had their noses stuck into your business no matter what, so they begged and pleaded to be told why, but you somehow kept your kind-of-date-not-really-a-date under wraps until you got to the restaurant. 

And it was nice. Oscar was just as sweet and funny as he was when you two first were friends. He even walked you back to the apartment, stopping before you went upstairs so as to not be seen by Toto or Susie. 

“I really had fun tonight,” he smiled, the cold Monaco air making his cheek red. 

“Me too,” you smiled. “It was really nice to catch up.”

He stepped closer, a nervous smile on his face. “Tonight was a date, right?”

“I-I’m- I don’t- I…” you trailed off, looking away from him as you both chuckled. 

“I’d like it to be,” he admitted. 

You nodded. “Me too.”

“So I can kiss you, right?” He smiled. 

Your heart slightly stopped, you’d never been kissed before. How did you even do it? Would he think you’re awful? Would this end the entire relationship?

“I don’t have to, I’d just… I’d like to,” he smiled understandingly. “If you’re not ready for that then that’s alright.”

“I just… I’ve never been kissed,” you admitted, deeply embarrassed. 

His jaw dropped. “You’ve never been kissed?” He asked despite himself. “Sorry, that sounded rude I-“

“It’s alright Oscar,” you shook your head. “I get what you mean.”

“No, I mean I’m just shocked, you’re so amazing and… yeah. It’s just surprising,” he chuckled. “I’m kind of honoured that I get to be the first.”

You chuckled. “Shut up.”

He chuckled. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, much too nervous to actually speak. He placed a hand on your cheek and leaned in, his lips softly meeting yours. 

And it felt good. It felt really good to kiss him. His other hand circled your waist as you tentatively placed your hands on either side of his face. When he pulled back you felt your heart stop once again. 

“You’re sure that was your first time?” He teased and you laughed. 

“Pretty sure,” you chuckled. 

“When can I see you again?” He asked, bashfully smiling.  

“I’ll be at the next race, or here,” you explained. “So whenever it works for you.”

“What about-”

“OSCAR?! You picked Oscar?!” Toto shouted, making both of you jump apart. “Absolutely not! Y/n get up here!” 

You sighed. “Text me about the date? Yeah?”

He nodded, laughing (trying to hide his terror of Toto) as he watched you go upstairs and start trying to explain to Toto.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[kairoot]

── ࣪ ˖ ❛ 𝓜𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑢𝑝 𝓥𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠．

‧₊˚ 𝓼𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: they do the voiceover for your makeup routine 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : enha x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , crack 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : jokes, profanity, pet names, this was shorter than i intended, some of these are kind of inspired by some tiktoks i saw.

— ( 𝓂𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 ) : pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎

✿ member’s headcanons under the cut !!

⊹ 𝓁ℎ𝑠．

asking hee to do this was a piece of cake

he agreed to it immediately

he lovesssss watching you do your makeup

so when you asked him he was like, “well.. yes!”

gonna keep it real with you, he has absolutely no idea what ANYTHING is

he just knows the things that he buys for you and that’s it

flirty mcbirdy over here, he’s barely even watching the makeup, mostly watching you

“hi guys, today i’m doing my girlfriend’s makeup voiceover.” he says into the mic, the video starting with you priming your face as you’ve already did skincare prior to starting the video.

you were next to him while he narrated your routine, holding in your giggles as he began naming the products that you were using.

“okay so now she’s uhm.. damn she’s gorgeous..” he paused for a moment, watching you through the screen as you applied the first product of your base.

you nudged him, urging him to stay on topic as your face began to warm up.

“she’s applying, uh— the— the..” he thought for a moment, the product seemed familiar but he couldn’t think of the name.

it was foundation.

“and then she’s.. wiping it all over her face.” he mumbled, still not paying attention to what you were doing but admiring you instead.

“it’s blending, hee..” you whispered, not wanting the mic to pick up your voice.

expect the comments to go insane about hee’s little flirtatious comments.

⊹ 𝓅𝑗𝑠．

ngl, he’s a bit confused as to why you asked him to do this but he says yes anyway

why does this man actually know what the products are??

quite literally does the whole voiceover better than any beauty influencer you’ve ever seen..

compliments you throughout the video

he’s literally so polite

“hello everyone, today y/n has asked me to do her voiceover, so here i am!” he says excitedly, watching you apply the first product.

“so here, she’s putting some of the foundation in her t-zone.. she has really great skin.” he explains.

you’re sat next to him, shocked at how he’s able to understand the whole routine.

“after she blends, she goes in with her.. concealer, i think.” he was right again.

as you blend that out, jay begins talking about the product that you’re using.

“yes, i pay attention to my girl’s routine.” he says, knowing everyone’s gonna wonder how he could even know all of this. you bite back a smile, his comment making your heart warm.

now the whole internet wants a boyfriend like jay.

⊹ 𝓈𝑗𝑦．

he is very eager to do it. why? because he loves you and is so down bad for you

ummm he knows NOTHINGGG about makeup 😫

another flirty one

count how many times he says he wants to kiss you or compliments your lips challenge (jake is so weak for kisses, you cannot convince me otherwise)

he’s so giggly throughout the whole thing ??

he definitely gets flustered over your beauty, esp your bareface <3

he’s lowkey your hype man even though he has no idea what he’s talking abt

“hey guys, it’s jake! today i’m gonna give you all a tutorial for y/n’s everyday makeup.” he beamed confidently. he watched you start your routine, already giggling at the small things you do throughout the first 30 seconds.

“so she’s gonna start with, um..” his giggles cutting him off. “she’s starting with the putty stuff. it kind of looks like play-doh!”

“jake!” you nudge him a bit, rolling your eyes playfully.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs. “now she’s putting on.. powder? wait, no, that’s definitely bronzer.”

“yeahh, apply that bronzer, babe!” he exclaimed.

it was powder foundation ??

“she looks so good already, wanna give her a kiss..” he said, watching you pat the product onto your skin.

⊹ 𝓅𝑠ℎ．

bro is so impatient

he can’t think of any of the name of the products that you’re using which frustrates him to the MAX

pls don’t laugh at him, he will sulk 😕

cracks jokes abt how long you take

“now she’s applying.. uhm, glitter?” he tilted his head, watching you apply highlighter to the inner corners of your eyes.

“highlighter, babe.” you corrected him, holding back your laughs.

“whatever it is, it’s very shiny. and she’s putting it on so do whatever she’s doing if you want this look.”

you snorted a bit, finding his impatience hilarious.

“watch as she puts on her favorite mascara that she made me buy her.. because she doesn’t care about my pockets or if i go broke.” he sighed.

you landed a playful smack to his shoulder, scoffing.

“anyways, she takes forever.” he huffed. “she told me she was gonna be ready in 10 minutes but 10 minutes turned into two hours, so i guess im gonna have to wait.”

please don’t ever ask him to do this again.

⊹ 𝓀𝑠𝑤．

like jay, he knows what everything is

he’s actually really excited to do this

he pays attention when you do your makeup and pays attention when he gets his makeup done so

he basically knows what everything is he just.. doesn’t know how to do it

he knows all of your favorite products

count how many times he calls you pretty challenge:

“look at how pretty she is!” he exclaims as you prime your face. “i did her skin care by the way.”

he watched as you applied your concealer, telling the viewers exactly what brand it was and what it did for your skin.

“i’m pretty sure this is her favorite product.”

“okay! next she’s gonna set with this one powder that she absolutely loves.” he giggled.

you chuckle at his excitement, not expecting him to like this as much as he did. you just knew people would want more of him narrating your routines and grwms.

“and now, she’s putting on her blush.. I love this part.” he said, mesmerized by you and your features.

“isn’t she so pretty?”

⊹ 𝓎𝑗𝑤．

he’s so confused

tbh he just yaps the whole time

you don’t know what he’s talking about, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about..

he just knows that he buys some of the stuff

he gives random facts throughout the video ??

“okay, so i’m not really sure of what she’s putting on her face right now..” he said, scratching his head slightly.

“did you guys know that dolphins name each other?”

“jungwon..?” you furrow your eyebrows, looking at him confusingly.

“oh, right! sorry, now she’s applying some.. nose.. stuff?”

you mentally face palmed at his attempt to name the products, which he ended up wrong every time.

“if it wasn’t already obvious, i know none of these things, i just get whatever she tells me to buy.” jungwon giggled, watching you apply your blush.

please DO NOT let him do this ever again 😭🙏🏽

⊹ 𝓃𝑟𝑘．

bro does NOT wanna be here

he doesn’t wanna do it at all 😭

but somehow you convince him (you told him you’d buy him robux)

he guesses everything

some of it he gets right somehow

gets so triggered when you laugh at him 😭

“um, okay, she’s applying concealer.. that’s concealer, right?” he looked over at you, as the video showed you applying the product.

you looked at him, giggling.

“why are you laughing? is that not concealer?” he asked again, becoming irritated.

“yes.. just keep going, ki.” you cover up your laughs.

he rolls his eyes playfully, “anyways, now she’s putting on some powder shit.. i don’t know.”

“and she’s.. beating it on her face..? why are you punching yourself?” he quirks an eyebrow.

you shake your head, sighing at his confusion.

✿

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

[sunfairiess]

𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 || 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration | sarah cameron’s pov | childhood best friends to lovers | brother’s best friend | best friend’s sister | fluff | soft boy jj

synopsis: sarah cameron meets her boyfriend’s sister for the first time, and understands what being soulmates means.

warnings: cursing, slightly mention of violence

wc: 2.9k

it’s my first time writing a character x reader (and actually writing a ff in years lmao) so i really hope this turned out well! also, i apologize for any typos or grammar errors but english is not my first language <3

song rec: about you - the 1975 ♡

“c’mon guys, time to go back. it’s starting to freeze out here.” pope said, placing his fishing rod by his side before getting up and walking towards the helm of the boat, kiara following him to keep him some company. he was right: the temperature had started to drop, and honestly he didn’t even know why the pogues decided to go fishing at the end of november.

they were all there, except for the pogue princess as they liked to call her. she was john b’s younger sister, just by one year; and even though she was definitely a pogue down to her core, she actually almost looked like a kook: she was always composed, never drank too much, never even touched a cigarette or a joint, and she worked her ass off every afternoon at the country club to help john b with the bills and to afford a few of the things she liked.

she was smart, kind, the type of girl to lighten up a room with the sound of her laughter. she was also one of the reasons why the ‘no pogue-on-pogue macking‘ rule was made: everyone kind of had a thing for her, and jj maybank was the first in line.

“i seriously regret coming, i think i’m going into hypothermia.” jj said, shuddering a little bit. yes, it was cold, but it wasn’t that cold. jj just liked to be dramatic.

“gosh, you’re such a pussy.” john b laughed, smacking his best friend behind the head. they’ve know each other for more than ten years now. they weren’t friends anymore, they were brothers. they loved and cared for each other very deeply, even if they were acting like jerks most of the time.

as pope started the engine of the hms pogue, ready to go back to the château, john b took his sweatshirt off to pass it to sarah, his new girlfriend. she was a kook, but she was different. she didn’t care about how dissimilar their lives were, she loved spending time with the pogues because they were real. they were amazing friends, they were funny and smart, and the kind of people you could have a serious conversation with. they weren’t superficial like the kooks, and she loved them for this.

she felt a little tap on her leg, catching with her vision her boyfriend’s sweater. she gave john b a smile and slid the blue piece of clothing on. “so, i’m meeting your sister for the first time today, uh. big step.” sarah joked, slightly pushing his arm.

since the first moment they started dating, john b had always talked about how he wanted her to meet his sister. she was the most important person in his life, especially after his dad went missing at sea during a storm. he actually wanted sarah to meet her right away, but she asked him to wait a couple of months, just to see if they were solid about this relationship. “yup, and trust me you’re gonna love her. she’s like a little ball of sunshine, she wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” he said, smiling at the thought how of sweet his sister was with everyone.

“he’s right. i don’t think i’ve even ever seen her mad.” jj stated, shifting his seat from john b’s right to sarah’s left.

“she seems really nice, but i’m not worried about me liking her, because, by what you guys always say about her, i already do. i’m just worried she won’t like me, you know because of the whole pogue-kook thing.”

everyone bursted out laughing at sarah’s words, her face more confused than ever. “what? what did I say?” kiara left pope at the helm of the boat, and went to sit in front of her, crossing her legs together. “you don’t need to worry about that, she doesn’t give a shit about the rivalry. trust me, she looks like she walked out of a cruise brochure. the only thing she wants is to see her brother with someone who makes him happy, which you do, so she’s totally gonna be fine with it.” sarah smiled at her words, feeling a bit more relieved now.

even though pope wasn’t seating next to them, he could still perfectly hear their conversation and see sarah’s tensed body. that’s why he decided to lighten up a bit the discussion. “you know, one time she made jj dress up as a reindeer.” he said getting out a chuckle at the memory of jj dressed as one of santa claus’s reindeers.

kiara followed him with a loud laughter “oh my god it’s true, i almost forgot it.”

sarah gave them an amazed look. she was enjoying this too much to not say anything. “okay, this is actually the funniest thing i’ve ever heard. did you had a red nose like little rudolph, too?” she said with a smirk, turning her head towards jj’s.

“oh shut up, all of you. i only did it because she asked. besides, she looked so happy when i changed into that costume. i would honestly do it again.” jj let out an involontary smile at the thought of y/n. it was like this all the time: wether he wanted it or not, the only thought of y/n made him feel like he was the happiest man on earth, even if he wasn’t. she just had that effect on him.

“god, it’s sickening how whipped you are for my sister.” john b said, mimicking a gag reflex.

jj rolled his eyes at his words. sarah switching her gaze between the two boys sitting one to her left, and the other to her right. she then stopped to look at jj. “wait- you like y/n?”

“like? hell, he loves that girl. he’s been in love with her since he was six. the random hook ups he has? that’s all for show. he only does it to not draw suspicion, since the only girl he’d like to fuck— and sorry john b— is y/n.” pope said, fully exposing his friend’s feelings.

not that jj cared anyway. everyone knew how he felt about her, he didn’t even try to deny it anymore.

“and you’re completely fine with it?“ sarah asked john b, knowing how protective he was when it came to his sister.

“i wasn’t always. first time he told me he loved her? i punched him. not my finest moment but i was kinda mad.” john b replied, slightly chuckling, reminiscing his right fist hitting jj’s jawbone. “i mean, the day before he tells me he sees her as a little sister and then that he wants to sleep with her? hell nah, i wasn’t having that.”

“and what changed your mind?”

“because it’s jj. i know my best friend, and i know how much he cares for her. i knew he was never going to hurt her, i’m actually pretty sure he would die for her.”

sarah nodded along. the look on jj’s face confirming that what john b had just said was a hundred percent true. in that moment a thought crossed her mind, making her think about how what jj and y/n must’ve been something truly special.

“bubba, we’re home.” john b shouted, as he opened the château’s door. the house was silent, except for a light melody coming from the bathroom and the sound of the shower running. “shower! be right there!” sarah heard y/n shout back, as every one of the pogues sat on the couch: her ending up between her boyfriend and kiara, next to who was seated pope; and a bit far away from them jj. she figured he left the space empty for y/n.

about ten minutes later, while the pogues were having a conversation about an upcoming party at the boneyard, a sixteen year old girl came out of the bathroom, wearing a pink sweater and long white sweatpants. white socks at her feet and long wet hair cascading down her back. she walked up to them, bending slightly to place a kiss on her brother’s cheek, and proceeding to do the same with all the others.

she then retraced her steps and stopped in front of sarah. “so you’re the reason why my brother stopped being a cranky old lady.” she smiled, offering her her right hand. “i’m y/n, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“sarah. it’s a pleasure to meet you too, john b’s always talking about you.” sarah replied, shaking her hand. y/n let out a small laugh, as she walked towards the end of the couch were jj was seated.

she plopped down next to him, tucking her legs under her bottom and leaning into him. he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer and gently leaving a kiss to the side of her head. “he’s always talking about you too. i swear the other night he woke me up around 3am just to tell me how amazing your date was. which, don’t get me wrong, i was very happy to hear about.”

“you literally throw a pillow in my face.” john b said.

“duh, because you woke me at 3 fucking a.m. i love you bird, but for gods sakes let a girl sleep.” she replied, making everyone laugh at her comment.

the conversation resumed pretty quickly, this time through with jj paying way less attention to it, more focused on the girl next to him.

the entire evening, between laughters and bottles of beers, sarah observed how jj and y/n were always caught up in their whole world. jj’s hands being constantly on her body, wether it was a arm around her shoulders or his hand on her leg. they were glued to each other, sometimes even whispering between them words only they could catch.

for the second time that day, sarah thought about how jj and y/n’s bond was special, going beyond simple friendship.

it was almost two a.m. when kie and pope left, both returning to their respective houses to avoid their parents storming out on them. sarah instead was going to spend the night there, so since jj and john b were on the front porch smoking a joint, obviously a jj’s idea, she and y/n were the only two people moving around the living room, cleaning up the mess of empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.

the whole night she noticed how jj and y/n acted around each other, so since they were now alone, she just felt like she had to ask. “so what’s the deal between you and jj?”

“there’s no deal, we’re friends.” y/n said calmly.

“bullshit, i noticed the way you look at him and how he looks at you. that’s the look of love, sweetie.” sarah decided not to mention how jj actually felt about her. it wasn’t her place to say tell the truth.

“nah, jj would never go for someone like me. he only sees me as a little sister, besides i’m not even his type.” she replied, giving her a kind smile, even though she felt like a lump was stuck right down her throat. y/n always knew she wasn’t the kind of girl jj would want, the were total polar opposites, and truthfully she never even considered herself that much beautiful to have a chance with him.

“since when jj has a type? doesn’t he hits on every breathing human being?” sarah knew this probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but sometimes people needed a little push to blurt out their feelings. to her surprise though, y/n laughed, most likely because she knew how their friend had a habit of flirting with almost every girl he met. it didn’t matter if they were pogues or tourons, or hell even kooks sometimes. a pretty girl is a pretty girl, doesn’t matter where she comes from.

“kinda, but he always hooks up with victoria-secrets-models type of girls, if you get what i mean. and apart from that, we want different things. he doesn’t do relationships and i don’t do random hook ups. not to mention how the possibility of me and jj being together would probably give an aneurysm to my brother.”

“eh, i wouldn’t be so sure about that, ya know. either way though, you like him, don’t you?“ sarah said, remembering the conversation she and the other guys had on the boat.

busted. y/n stayed silent, sailing her lips in a thin, straight line. she then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, getting ready to spill everything out. she figured it was time to tell the truth anyway, since sarah clearly figured everything out.

“i met jj when i was four, we were in kindergarten and some older boys were picking on me. i was smaller and basically on the edge of tears, until i saw this blonde boy running towards me and putting himself between us. even if he was younger than them he still took my defense. after that he walked me home and told me he was a friend of john b’s. since that day, i don’t think i’ve ever liked someone that wasn’t him.“

she took a small pause, just to catch her breath. but she was so caught up in narrating the whole story, that she didn’t notice john b and jj leaning against the doorframe.

jj’s eyes almost bursting out of his face at her words, not expecting to hear her confession. john b, very aware of how his best friend was going to lose his shit any minute now, he places his finger against his mouth, mimicking him to shut up.

“as we grew older the roles kinda reversed and i started to look out for him: when he would come here bruised because of his father i would hug him and clean him up; even if younger than him i helped him study, you know just avoiding he would fail some subjects. at night, dad used to let him sleep next to me or john b because he didn’t want to be alone, thing that of course dad prohibited when i turned twelve. that didn’t stop him though: he would sneak out as soon as john b would fall asleep and come under the covers with me.”

she let out a laugh. “would sir. freud love this? probably yes, but it doesn’t matter. he deserves someone that cares for him, everyone does. and it’s not pity or mercy, i genuinely want to be there for him, because he deserves the best. yet, because of his father he’s convinced he’s worthless, but he’s not. gosh, he’s so funny and smart, which i know sounds weird but he is. he would die for his friends and cares so much for us. and i’m sure he could make it out of obx if only he wanted to. and he’s always so supportive and gen-“

she could’ve kept going on, but she suddenly noticed the two boys staring right up at her. jj’s eyes were watery, like he was going to cry any second now. he didn’t cry much, only when really fucked up things happened in his life, but for the first time he felt like crying not because he was sad and tired but because he was happy. because finally he could’ve had something great going on in his life. he could’ve had her.

without saying anything he launched himself into y/n’s arms, letting her stumble back due to the rushed impact between their bodies. he hold her tight, his arms around her waist and hers around his neck. his face placed in the space between her shoulder and her neck, breathing in the smell of the coconut soap she always used. he didn’t care about sarah and john b still being in the room, he wouldn’t even care if a freaking zebra walked in the house. she was the only thing that mattered. she was his whole universe.

“you shouldn’t eavesdrop, maybank.” she said with a smirk, putting a bit of distance between their bodies so she could look at him in the face, but still managing to play with the of hair at the nape of his neck.

“did you actually mean it? like for real?”

“every word, jay. you know me, i would never lie to you.”

jj maybank was impulsive. half of the time he never thought before acting, which pretty much resulted in him dealing with the aftermath of his stupid decisions. that’s why he didn’t think twice in grabbing y/n’s face with his hands, pressing his lips against hers.

at first he felt her stiffening, probably surprised by his gesture, and for a moment he really thought he had just screwed everything up. but then her hands went to his shirt, yanking him even closer if possible, and he sensed her relaxing, her lips moving against his.

after what seemed like hours, he pulled back, only because they both needed air. if it was up to him, he would’ve spent hours kissing her without getting a break.

“i’ve been loving you for a long time, princess.” she smiled, her cheeks almost hurting because of all the happiness she was feeling.

“well, you’re very lucky then, because i’ve been loving you for a long time too.”

“i can’t watch this, i think i’m gonna throw up.”

sarah nudged her elbow into her boyfriend stomach, giving him a look that said ‘shut the fuck up or i’m killing you’. john b raised his hands in the air, admitting defeat.

and, as they watched jj starting to kiss y/n again, sarah thought of how her own relationship was truly amazing. but in her opinion? what y/n and jj had was the true definition of soulmates.

[yvaineseleneposts]

Split Ends and New Beginnings

A/N: Just a fluffy piece. It's a slow burn.

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Reader

Words: 7k

Warning(s): none

Nico Hischier didn’t usually tag along for errands like this. A salon appointment wasn’t exactly high on his list of weekend priorities — especially during a rare break in the season. But when his sister Nina asked if he wanted to come with her to get her hair done, he said yes without hesitation.

Time with her had been scarce lately, and he missed her — the normalcy of her voice, the way she kept him grounded when the schedule got too hectic or the noise of his career got too loud. And maybe, if he was honest with himself, there was another reason too. One she hadn’t let go unnoticed.

“You’ll come with me?” she asked. “I swear, you’ll like the place. My hairdresser’s your type, if that’s even still a thing for you.”

He’d just laughed her off. But now, standing inside the small salon with its warm, plant-filled corners and quiet ambient music, Nico understood what she meant.

She was standing at the front when they arrived — effortlessly composed, with a smudge of dark color on her wrist and a teasing look in her eye when Nina introduced them. Her handshake was light but confident. There was no gushing about hockey, no awkward glances. She met his gaze and held it, like she had no idea who he was — or didn’t care.

That alone made him sit up straighter.

“So you’re the brother,” she said with a smile, turning to Nina. “I see the family resemblance. Except he’s got a lot more hair to manage.”

Nico laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I’ve been kind of letting it do its thing.”

“Well,” she said, eyes scanning his head like she was already making mental notes, “it’s got good shape… under the chaos.”

He sat quietly while Nina got her hair done, sneaking glances at the mirror, at the way her hands moved — quick, precise, creative. She talked to Nina like they’d known each other forever, slipping between jokes and gentle instructions. Every so often, her eyes flicked to Nico, just for a second. Nothing suggestive. Just... curious. Familiar, almost. He caught himself watching more than once.

As they were leaving, she looked over at him. “You ever think of getting that cleaned up? I do guys’ cuts too. You know, if you ever get tired of that whole shaggy hockey mystique.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “That an offer?”

“Just a professional observation,” she said, already turning back to the front desk. “But if you want to read into it, that’s on you.”

He did.

A week passed. Then ten days. Nico tried not to think too much about it, but he found himself lingering in the mirror a little longer. Pushing his hair back. Wondering if he should do something about it. Or if going back too soon would make him look obvious. When he finally returned, he made up some excuse about needing a trim before a shoot. The salon was quieter this time — no sister to hide behind, just him and the sound of scissors snipping in another room.

She looked up from the chair she was finishing. Her surprise was subtle, but there.

“Back so soon?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Figured I should see what all the hype was about.”

She motioned him over. “Sit down, mystery man.”

As she ran her hands through his hair, Nico found himself relaxing in a way he didn’t expect. The conversation flowed again, naturally — slower this time. She asked about the team, but not in that bright, fan-girl way he was used to. Just interest. Just listening.

He didn’t flirt — not really. She didn’t either. But their words skimmed close to something unspoken, something easy but loaded. The kind of thing that settles in the chest and stays there for a while.

By the time she spun him toward the mirror and he saw himself — lighter, cleaner, more like himself — he wasn’t thinking about how his hair looked anymore. He was thinking about how good it felt to sit still. To be seen without performance. And how rare it was, in his world, to leave somewhere not wanting to move on too quickly.

She handed him a card with his next appointment time scribbled on the back.

“Come back in four weeks,” she said, and then, after a pause, added, “Or sooner, if you feel like it.”

He took the card and smiled.

“Sooner sounds good.”

It wasn’t quite four weeks. More like two and a half.

Nico showed up on a quiet Thursday, no hood, no sunglasses this time. The weather had turned brisk, that strange in-between phase where you can still pretend it's not fully fall, but you know it’s coming. He stepped into the salon, instantly greeted by that familiar smell — something warm and botanical, grounding.

She looked up from the counter, surprised, but not displeased.

“You again,” she said, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t I tell you four weeks?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling as he slipped off his jacket, “but I’m bad at waiting.”

She waved him toward the chair. “Clearly.”

It wasn’t even about the haircut, not really. His hair hadn’t changed much. But he didn’t offer excuses. And she didn’t ask. Instead, they picked up right where they left off — no small talk, just a gentle slide into the kind of conversation people usually save for late nights or long drives.

She talked about the salon — how she’d started sweeping floors at sixteen, how it wasn’t what she expected to love, but she did. She mentioned her mom in passing — something about how she used to cut her bangs in the kitchen with sewing scissors, laughing too hard to care about symmetry. She didn’t say much more, and Nico didn’t press.

In return, he shared pieces of the road. Not the headlines or game highlights — she didn’t care about those — but the quiet parts. The way hotels all start to smell the same. The weird comfort of being anonymous in certain cities. The way he still called his sister when the travel started to feel like floating. Their banter softened that day, less sharp, more honest.

“I used to think people like you were untouchable,” she said, combing through his hair near the end. “You know. Hockey players. Athletes. The kind of people who exist on screens.”

“And now?” he asked, voice low.

She tilted her head, pretending to assess the back of his neck. “Now I think maybe you just need someone to tell you when you’ve got product buildup.”

He laughed, but something in her tone lingered — like maybe she had thought he was untouchable, once. And maybe now she wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that he wasn’t.

When he left that day, she didn’t give him a card. She just looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and said, “You’ll come back when you need to.”

He nodded. But the truth was, he already knew when he would.

The visits kept happening. Not regular enough to feel scheduled, not close enough to call intentional. But always… just in time.

Sometimes she’d be finishing up with someone else and he'd sit quietly in the corner, watching the way she moved, the way she listened. Other times, it was just the two of them — long appointments that should’ve taken 30 minutes but somehow lasted an hour.

They didn’t flirt, not in the way people usually do. There were no dramatic glances or lines. Just… closeness. Familiarity. Shared silences that felt full instead of awkward.

One rainy evening, she paused midway through trimming around his ear and said, quietly, “You ever feel like your life’s happening somewhere slightly to the left of where you are?”

Nico blinked. “All the time.”

She nodded, not explaining. He didn’t ask, but he remembered that moment more than anything else she said that day.

It would be months before anything shifted clearly between them. But in that slow build — appointment by appointment, word by word — something unshakable was growing. It didn’t need declarations. Just time.

And Nico, for the first time in a long while, was willing to wait.

By the time January came around, Nico had been to the salon more times than he could reasonably explain — especially to himself. His hair didn’t need trimming that often. But still, he showed up. Every few weeks. Always with something casual to say, always with the quiet hope she’d still smile when he walked in.

She always did.

It had started to snow that day — not the dramatic kind that shut down cities, just a soft curtain falling steadily, muting the outside world. He came in a little later than usual, the sleeves of his coat dusted white. She was alone in the space, her last client already gone. The lights were low, music playing something soft and piano-heavy through the speakers.

“Forgot I had you today,” she said, brushing hair off her apron. But her voice didn’t sound annoyed. If anything, it sounded like maybe she'd needed the interruption.

“Lucky me,” Nico said, pulling off his coat.

She didn’t ask what he wanted done — she never really did anymore. They both knew the appointments had become something else. He sat in the chair, and she moved behind him, fingers combing through his hair like she’d done a dozen times before.

But something was different this time. He was quiet. More than usual. She noticed.

“Tired?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Long road trip. Weird energy. Hard to explain.”

She didn’t push. Just kept working, the comb gliding through his hair, fingertips grazing the side of his neck.

Then, halfway through the cut, her hand stilled.

“You okay?” he asked, turning slightly.

She was quiet for a beat. Then: “Do you ever wonder if you’re making it harder for yourself? By not saying things?”

Nico froze.

His chest tightened with a rush of recognition — not panic, but something close. A pressure that had been quietly building since the day they met. He met her eyes in the mirror.

“All the time,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was certain.

She looked back at him — not coy, not flirty. Just there, open and vulnerable in a way that felt more intimate than any touch.

“I think I’ve been coming here for reasons that have nothing to do with my hair,” he added, almost a whisper.

A soft smile tugged at her lips. “I know.”

The air shifted. Not with drama or declarations — but with the simple truth of being seen, finally, at the same time.

She set the scissors down, brushed the loose strands off his shoulders. The haircut was technically finished, but neither of them moved. Not for a while. Something had settled between them — warm and fragile. A weightless kind of gravity.

Outside, the snowfall had thickened, soft and steady. The city felt slower, quieter. Nico glanced toward the window, then back at her.

“You done for the night?” he asked.

She nodded, starting to sweep around the chair, but he gently took the broom from her hands.

“Come walk with me,” he said. “Just for a bit.”

She hesitated, just for a second, then reached for her coat. “Alright.”

The cold hit them in the face at first, but it wasn’t sharp — it was the kind of cold that wrapped around you, crisp but clean. They walked without much of a destination, their footsteps muffled by the snow underfoot. The city lights glowed soft gold through the haze.

They didn’t talk at first. Just walked shoulder to shoulder, hands deep in their pockets, both content with the quiet. But Nico felt something pressing behind his ribs. A truth, not heavy, just waiting.

“I leave tomorrow,” he said finally, voice low.

She looked at him, but didn’t stop walking. “Where to?”

“West coast swing. Couple weeks on the road. Then All-Star break, then back again.”

She nodded slowly. “You’ll be gone a while.”

He watched her profile in the low light. “Yeah.”

A pause stretched between them, filled with breath and snowfall.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” he added. “But… I really like being around you. Talking to you. It’s been the only thing lately that’s felt—” he exhaled, searching, “—normal. But in a good way.”

Her eyes softened. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I know I don’t,” he said, more firmly now. “That’s why I am.”

She stopped walking. Turned toward him. “So what are you saying, exactly?”

He looked down, smiled. Then back up at her with a quiet certainty that surprised even himself.

“I’d really like to keep talking to you. Even when I’m not here.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at him for a moment, eyes searching. Then she reached into her coat pocket, pulled out her phone, and handed it to him without a word. Nico took it, thumbed in his number, and handed it back.

“No pressure,” he said, stuffing his hands back into his coat. “You don’t have to text. Just… if you feel like it.”

She gave a soft, almost amused smile. “I think I’ll feel like it.”

They started walking again, this time a little closer than before.

And as the snow thickened around them, the city blurred into silence — but the space between them felt clearer than it ever had.

The first text came the night Nico left.

Nico: Made it to L.A. In-flight movie was awful. The lady next to me sneezed no less than 14 times. Hope your night was better.

She smiled when she saw it. Not just because it was funny — though it was — but because it felt like him. Easy. Familiar. Like he was still near.

She waited ten minutes before responding. Not because she was playing games, but because she read it three times first.

Her: Quiet salon today. One client canceled, another brought her dog. He wore a sweater and judged me the entire time. 9/10 experience.

From there, it didn’t stop.

Some nights it was short — a photo of the pregame meal, a sarcastic “rate this hotel carpet,” or a blurry picture of the sky from the team bus. Other nights, it was longer. He told her about the quiet between games, about the pressure that crept in at 3 a.m. when no one was watching. She sent voice memos sometimes — little rants about weird clients or the music she played in the salon when no one was around.

And then one night, she caught herself staring at her phone. Hoping for the little buzz. Missing it when it didn’t come.

Missing him.

It was two days before she said it, tucked inside something else, like maybe if she disguised it well enough, it wouldn’t feel like too much.

Her: Had a long day. Wouldn’t have minded one of our weird hair-salon therapy chats right about now. Guess I’m getting used to having you around.

She didn’t expect a reply right away — time zones and game schedules — but it came quicker than usual.

Nico: You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.

Then, a second message.

Nico: I miss it too. Talking to you. Walking with you. Just… you.

She stared at the screen for a long time before responding.

Her: I didn’t expect to miss someone I barely knew. But here we are, huh?

Nico: Feels like I know you more than most people I’ve known for years.

She didn’t answer right away. She didn’t need to.

Because by then, the silence between texts wasn’t empty anymore. It was full — with everything they hadn’t said yet. And somewhere between his late-night hotel rooms and her quiet evening closes, something soft and real was beginning to take shape.

Not rushed or labelled, but real.

The snow hadn’t let up much. It came in waves — soft and endless, like the city itself was trying to slow everything down.

She was in the salon late again. Winter did that — clients shuffled in after work, delayed by weather, and lingered longer than they should’ve. She didn’t mind. It gave her time to think. To wonder if he was thinking about her too.

She hadn’t heard from him yet that day. That wasn’t unusual. Game days were packed. Still, she found herself glancing at her phone more than she wanted to admit.

Just after eight, the doorbell chimed.

She looked up, halfway expecting a walk-in she’d have to turn away. But it was Nico.

Snow in his hair. Backpack slung over his shoulder. Tired, but smiling in that quiet, boyish way that had started to live in the back of her mind.

Her breath caught. “You’re—what?”

He shrugged, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Flight bumped up. Got in a few hours ago. I figured... I don’t know, maybe I’d just show up.”

She didn’t move for a second. Just took him in — real, here, more grounded than he’d seemed on the screen.

“I didn’t expect you,” she said.

“I know.” He took a step closer. “But I wanted to see you. Before anything else.”

A pause. Not tense, just full.

“Clients?” he asked, gesturing at the empty chairs.

“Last one left twenty minutes ago.”

“Good,” he said softly. “I was kind of hoping you’d still be here.”

She reached out then — not fully, just a light touch on the sleeve of his jacket, grounding herself in the fact that he was real.

“I missed you,” she said, quiet like a confession. “More than I thought I would.”

Nico’s eyes softened. “Me too. You don’t realize how much space someone takes up until you’re halfway across the country wondering if they’re thinking about you too.”

She smiled, that familiar tug of warmth rising up between them again. “I thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”

There was nothing dramatic after that. No kiss. No music swelling in the background. Just her walking to the back to hang up his coat. Him watching her like she was the only calm in a world full of noise.

And then — like it was the most natural thing in the world — she made tea. He swept hair off the floor. They talked, slow and close, like people with no reason to rush.

Outside, the snow kept falling. Inside, something finally — fully — began.

The salon lights clicked off with a quiet hum, and they stepped back into the cold.

Nico held her coat out without a word, and she slipped into it, the silence between them soft, like a worn-in sweater. No pressure. No question marks. Just two people quietly orbiting the same truth.

“You look wiped,” she said as they reached the curb.

“I am,” he admitted. “But not in a bad way.”

She smiled. “That’s specific.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “It’s like… I’m tired, but I don’t want the night to be over.”

They stood like that for a moment, streetlight catching the edge of her breath.

Then he said, “You want to come over? Nothing big. Just a movie. Maybe fall asleep halfway through and pretend we watched the whole thing.”

She gave a soft laugh, but didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. That actually sounds perfect.”

His apartment was quiet, dimly lit, still a bit in post-road-trip disarray. She didn’t seem to mind. Kicked off her boots by the door, slipped into the corner of his couch like she’d been there a hundred times.

Nico tossed her a blanket and set a mug of tea in front of her without asking. She looked at it, then at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since when do hockey players drink chamomile?”

“Since I started talking to someone who makes fun of me if I don’t.”

She smirked. “Sounds like she’s very wise.”

“Oh, definitely. And ruthless.”

The movie they picked didn’t matter. Something familiar and soft around the edges — just enough story to justify the quiet, not enough to compete with the weight of the day.

Twenty minutes in, her head drifted against his shoulder. He stilled. Not because he didn’t want her there — but because he did, so much, and he didn’t want to move a muscle that might make her leave it.

She murmured something unintelligible. A half-dream sentence. He looked down, caught the way her hand had curled beneath the blanket, one knuckle brushing his thigh like an unconscious tether.

And that was it. No kiss. No rush. Just her breathing even beside him. Him watching the screen but not really seeing it. He reached down slowly, threading his pinky with hers. Not to wake her. Just to feel it. Just to know she was there.

The morning arrived like a whisper. Pale winter light slipped through the edges of the curtains, casting soft shadows across Nico’s living room. The TV was still playing — some looping screensaver, muted and glowing — and the air held that quiet stillness reserved for the earliest hours.

She woke first.

Blanket half-tangled around her legs, head resting against something warm and solid. It took her a second to place it — the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint smell of cedar and clean cotton. And then her eyes opened fully. Nico was still asleep, head tilted slightly, mouth parted just enough to give him away.

She froze. Her immediate instinct was panic. Not the real kind — just the kind that whispers, God, I fell asleep on him, and Was I snoring? and Did I drool? Quiet mortification in the shape of every self-conscious voice she'd tried to ignore.

She sat up slowly, careful not to wake him. Too late.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then locking onto her. A sleepy half-smile tugged at his lips. “Morning,” he said, voice rough and low.

“I—” she started, brushing her hair out of her face, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to crash like that. I was just... tired, I guess.”

“You’re allowed to be tired,” he said, still smiling. “It’s not a crime.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to hide the flush creeping into her face. “Still. Not my most graceful moment.”

He leaned his head back on the couch cushion, watching her with that calm, steady gaze that never rushed her.

“Truth?” he said.

She glanced at him. “Okay.”

“I slept better last night than I have in weeks.”

The words settled between them, warm and real.

She blinked. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He reached for the mug on the coffee table — cold by now — and shrugged. “Maybe it was the chamomile. Or maybe it was falling asleep next to someone who doesn’t need anything from me but... this.”

She didn’t say anything for a beat. Then softly: “I liked it too.”

He smiled again, that quiet one she was starting to think was reserved just for her. Neither of them moved for a while. There was no pressure to. The kind of silence that used to feel heavy now felt like peace.

Eventually, he stood, stretched, and offered a hand.

“Come on. I make terrible coffee. You should witness it.”

She took his hand, fingers lacing with his easily now.

“I’ll rate it out of ten,” she said.

“Oh, it’s a three. But the company’s a solid nine-point-eight.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And the point-two deduction?”

“For falling asleep during the movie.”

She laughed, and he looked at her like it was the best sound he’d heard in weeks.

It had been a few weeks since that morning on the couch — since that sleepy, accidental closeness started shifting into something neither of them wanted to name too quickly. They hadn’t talked about it outright. Not yet. The tension was still wrapped in light touches, lingering glances, shared meals that stretched longer than they should have.

And that would’ve been enough. Until it wasn’t.

It started small. A missed text. Then another.

Then a day where he didn’t come by, even though she’d said she was keeping the evening free. By the third day, she was trying to convince herself not to care. He didn’t owe her anything. They hadn’t defined this. She wasn’t his girlfriend. But that didn’t stop her chest from tightening when the salon doorbell chimed and it was someone else. Again.

He finally showed up after closing, face drawn from travel and practice and something else he hadn’t said out loud.

She didn’t turn when he walked in. Just kept sweeping hair into the pan.

“I tried to call,” he said quietly.

She nodded, but didn’t look at him.

“I’ve been—” he started.

“Busy,” she said, cutting him off. “I know. I get it.”

He stepped closer. “You’re upset.”

She dropped the broom, turning around. Not angry — just tired in a way that came from caring too much, too quietly.

“I’m not upset that you were busy,” she said. “I’m upset that you didn’t say anything. You pulled back, Nico. And I felt it.”

His face flickered with guilt. “I didn’t mean to. I just… when things get crazy with the season, I go on autopilot. I shut down. And I didn’t want to drag you into that.”

“I was already in it,” she said, voice softer now. “I was already in this. Whatever this is.”

A long pause stretched between them. Then, finally, he said it.

“I was scared.”

She looked at him, unsure.

“Scared that I’d mess it up,” he added. “That if I let this become real, I’d ruin it. That you’d see me in the worst parts of the season — the tired, burnt out, closed-off parts — and decide it’s not worth it.”

She exhaled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

“I already see you,” she said. “Even the messy parts. That’s not what I’m scared of.”

“What are you scared of?” he asked.

She hesitated.

“That you don’t feel it as much as I do.”

He stepped in, close enough to erase the air between them.

“I do,” he said, voice low and steady. “I feel it every damn time I see you. Every time I don’t see you.”

Her breath caught. He reached for her, not quickly, but carefully — like asking a question he already knew the answer to. She didn’t back away. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing just beneath her cheek. Then, finally, like it had been waiting in the wings all this time — he kissed her. Soft, but certain. Not rushed. Just right.

She melted into him, hands fisting lightly in his jacket, her mouth finding his like it had known the way all along. It wasn’t perfect — it was breathless and raw and a little shaky — but it was real.

And when they pulled apart, she didn’t look away. Neither did he.

One day she decided that she wanted to watch him play. See what all the fuzz was about. The arena felt louder than she expected. Not just from the crowd, but from the way the sound echoed inside her — the music, the announcements, the scrape of skates against ice. It was a world she didn’t quite belong to, not really. But she was here for him.

She sat near the glass, a friend of his had arranged the seat — not center ice, not VIP, but close enough to see everything. Close enough to see him.

She hadn’t told him she was coming.

Not because it was a surprise. Not really. But because part of her didn’t want to make it about her. This was his space. His rhythm. She just wanted to be part of it — to witness it without interrupting.

And then he skated out for warmups, and she caught herself holding her breath. He moved like someone born to it — fast, sharp, effortless. The Nico she knew, but somehow different too. More focused. More contained. But she could still see him in there — the way he tapped a teammate’s glove, the tilt of his head during drills, the quiet smile he gave to the equipment guy.

He didn’t see her. Not at first. But then — during a break in warmups — he coasted toward the glass, wiping his face with his glove. And when he glanced into the crowd, his eyes landed on her.

He stopped. Just for a second.

Surprise flickered across his face, followed by something warmer. Something he didn’t bother hiding.

He skated off again without a signal, but it didn’t matter.

She saw it in the way his shoulders dropped a little. In the way he moved after that — looser, lighter. Like knowing she was there gave him just enough more.

The game was a blur of noise and tension. He played hard. Took a few hits. Made a sharp assist in the second period that brought the crowd to its feet.

She didn’t yell, didn’t cheer like the fans around her. But she smiled when he looked up after that pass, and for a split second — even across all the noise — he looked like he was searching for her again.

After the game, the tunnels were a maze of concrete and controlled chaos. She waited near the players’ entrance, hoodie pulled up, pretending to scroll through her phone. A staff member had said he’d come out that way. When he finally did — hair still damp, suit jacket slung over one shoulder — he spotted her instantly.

“Hey,” he said, walking straight to her.

“Hey,” she echoed, voice light. “Good game.”

He stopped just short of touching her — public space, people everywhere — but the look in his eyes said what he couldn’t.

“You came.”

“I did,” she said. “You looked good out there.”

His smile was slow, a little crooked. “I always feel better when you’re watching.”

She rolled her eyes softly, but couldn’t hide the blush.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”

She fell into step beside him, and as they disappeared into the cold night, he reached for her hand — casually at first, like it didn’t mean anything. But it did, it meant everything.

It started with a photo.

Nothing dramatic. Just a candid — Nico, in jeans and a beanie, walking out of a downtown café. She was beside him, laughing at something he’d said, their hands barely touching.

Someone caught it. Posted it. By the next morning, it was everywhere.

“Devils Captain Spotted With Mystery Woman — Who’s She?” “Hischier’s Off-Ice Chemistry Heating Up?” “Hockey’s Most Private Star Might Not Be So Private Anymore.”

She didn’t even know until a friend from the salon texted her with a screenshot.

is this you???

Her stomach dropped.

Nico called her five minutes later.

“Hey,” he said, before she could say anything. “You saw it?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry,” he added. “I didn’t think that would happen. I should’ve warned you it might.”

She sat on the edge of her bed, phone pressed to her ear, heart doing something complicated and unnameable. “It’s not your fault. We weren’t doing anything.”

“I know,” he said, quietly. “But that doesn’t matter to them.”

There was another pause — not strained, just full of something new. A shift.

She cleared her throat. “So... what now?”

He hesitated.

And then: “That depends. Are you okay with people knowing?”

She blinked. “Are you?”

“I wasn’t sure,” he admitted. “I’ve always kept this part of my life locked down. But with you...”

A breath.

“I don’t want to keep you a secret.”

The words landed with more weight than either of them expected.

She smiled, even as nerves danced under her skin. “That’s a very un-hockey-player thing to say.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, well. You’ve been a bad influence.”

A beat passed, warm and honest.

“I want to do this right,” he added. “If you’re in — I’m in. Fully.”

She let the quiet settle between them. Then: “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m in too.”

They didn’t make a statement. They didn’t need to. But the next time he walked into the arena, she was beside him. Not tucked behind. Not rushed in a back entrance. Beside him.

And when someone called her name — the press had found it by then — Nico didn’t flinch. He glanced at her, then down at their joined hands, and he smiled. Let them see.

He didn’t make a big deal of it. That’s what made her nervous.

Nico mentioned it offhand one morning while she was brushing her teeth in his apartment — toothpaste still in his mouth, voice muffled.

“My sister’s coming into town this weekend,” he said. “And my mom too. I was thinking… you could come by. Say hi.”

She blinked at him through the mirror. “You want me to meet your family?”

He shrugged, rinsing. “You’ve met my team. This feels less scary.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve cut your teammates’ hair, Nico. I wasn’t emotionally invested.”

He leaned against the doorway, grinning. “You’re saying you’re emotionally invested now?”

She tried to glare, failed, and nudged him out of the bathroom with a laugh.

When Saturday came, her nerves hit at the door.

He was calm — casual jeans, sweater, sleeves pushed up, completely unbothered. But she felt it in her chest: that low, persistent hum of what if they don’t like me? or what if I say something weird and ruin it all in thirty seconds?

She held a bottle of wine so tightly her knuckles went white.

“You’re not going into battle,” Nico said gently, noticing. “You’re just meeting my mom.”

“That is a kind of battle,” she muttered.

He grinned and kissed her temple. “Trust me. She’s going to love you.”

His mom opened the door, and the first thing she did was smile — warm and kind, with the same eyes Nico had when he was tired but happy.

“You must be her,” she said in a soft Swiss accent, pulling her into a hug before she could panic.

Dinner was cozy. Real food. Real laughs. His sister teased him mercilessly — which felt like a rite of passage — and his mom told stories that made Nico bury his face in his hands.

She didn’t speak much at first, but every time she looked at him, Nico gave her a small nod, like, You’re okay. I’ve got you.

Halfway through dessert, his sister leaned toward her, grinning.

“He’s lighter around you,” she said quietly. “We’ve seen it. We like it.”

Something in her chest unclenched.

After everyone had left, the apartment was quiet again. She sat on the couch in her socks, finishing a glass of wine.

Nico dropped beside her, thigh brushing hers.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I think I survived.”

He smiled, and after a moment, added, “My mom already asked if you’ll come next time we’re home.”

She laughed softly. “She’s fast.”

“She likes you. They all did.”

There was a beat of silence, comfortable now.

Then she leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s weird. Tonight felt... normal.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He took her hand, lacing their fingers, then kissed the top of her head.

“Get used to it,” he murmured.

The road trip was long — two weeks, five cities, and enough flights to make Nico forget what day it was most of the time. She knew the schedule. He’d sent it to her with highlights, times they might FaceTime, cities that had decent Wi-Fi. But even with the planning, the missing crept in early.

They had been through distance before — in the beginning, when things were still new, still unsaid.

But now?

Now it felt different. He didn’t just miss her presence. He missed the feeling of her. The grounding. The way she touched his arm without thinking, or made fun of his playlists, or stole his hoodies and left them at her place like breadcrumbs.

She missed him too — but not in that dreamy, butterflies-in-the-stomach way. It was heavier. Like looking at an empty chair across the room and knowing it should be filled. By day four, their texts had shifted.

Nico: did you eat today?

Her: barely. salon’s slammed. you?

Nico: protein bar and a pretzel. crushing it.

Her: i miss you in an annoying, obvious kind of way.

Nico: yeah. same. come to pittsburgh?

She stared at the message longer than she should have.

Her: what?

Nico: next game. I’ll book the hotel. flight. everything. just say yes.

Her: nico…

Nico: i know. it’s a lot. but i hate missing you like this. and it’s not just about the game. i want you around. my world feels better with you in it.

She stared at the screen, heart pounding.

It wasn’t just about a plane ticket. It was about what they were becoming — no more pauses, no more halfway in.

She typed, deleted, retyped.

Her: okay. send me the flight info.

The hotel room smelled like him — faint cologne, laundry soap, and something warm underneath it all. He met her in the lobby, ball cap pulled low, hand reaching for hers before either of them said a word.

They didn’t kiss right away. They just held on. A tight hug. Like breath after too long underwater.

“Hi,” she whispered against his chest.

“Hi,” he murmured back, eyes closing.

It was the best part of the trip — not the game, not the hotel, not even the room service pancakes the next morning.

Just this. Being in the same room again and realizing that the missing hadn’t broken anything.

It had only proved what they already knew.

She didn’t fully understand the game, but she understood him.

And that was enough.

Pittsburgh was loud. Electric. The Devils played hard — Nico harder than usual — and when the final buzzer sounded and they’d edged out a win in overtime, the entire bench erupted.

He didn’t look for the cameras or the crowd. He looked for her. Found her.

She was on her feet in the third row, clapping, beaming — cheeks flushed, eyes wide. And when their gazes met across the glass, she didn’t mouth anything.

She just smiled like she was proud. That was better than any cheer.

He found her waiting in the same hotel lobby afterward, damp hair from the post-game shower, jacket half-zipped, grin wide.

“I’m starting to think you’re my lucky charm,” he said, pulling her into him.

She laughed softly, fingers curling into his sleeves. “One win and I’m a charm now?”

“Absolutely,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “You’re coming to every road game from now on.”

“You’re not that rich.”

“I will be if you keep showing up.”

They both laughed, but there was something else under it. A look they hadn’t shared yet. A weight. An invitation.

Back in the room, the noise of the world dulled. They didn’t rush.

He kissed her slow, like there was time. Like they could stretch it out across hours. Her shirt came off first — soft cotton, then warm skin — and she leaned into his hands like she already knew the shape of what they were building.

He traced every inch of her like he’d been memorizing her since day one.

When they made love — and it was that, unmistakably — there was nothing performative about it. No pressure. No script. Just quiet gasps, long glances, whispered encouragement.

After, she lay curled beside him, one leg tangled over his, fingers resting over his heartbeat. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Then, in the hush of post-game adrenaline and shared breath, Nico murmured into her hair, “I don’t know how I did any of this before you.”

She lifted her head to look at him, eyes soft, searching.

“You don’t have to anymore,” she whispered.

And he didn’t say it out loud — I love you — not yet.

But it lived in that moment.

In the stillness, in the way they held each other until sleep pulled them under, in the feeling that for the first time in a long while, home wasn’t a place.

It was a person.

[satoshy12]

The Titan's Second Life Clockwork is Kronos

What many people don’t know is that Kronos had always known most of the Time-lines. He played with Time, since he learned he had that power. 

The moment he first laid eyes on his newborn daughter, Hestia, he knew what would come next. The visions came to him just as he was about to eat her and seal her in his stomach. 

They showed him all the futures in fragments. Like the hands of a clock moving forward, he saw his life as Kronos - from that moment on, his other 5 children, his downfall, Rhea's betrayal, the war, and how he ended up in Tartarus with his body cut into thousands of pieces.

It was an inevitability written into the fabric of time and time itself. And as Titan of Time, he would know best.

Once he tried to fight his fate. In his paranoia, he had devoured his children in the desperate hope of stopping the cycle and the prophecy. But now he remembered.

Not just glimpses of the future, but memories of an entirely different existence - one he had had long after his fall on Grace, one that was beyond even the immortality of a Titan.

He also remembers his future, of being, Clockwork. An Ancient of Time, in his new home, the Ghost Zone. His Titan soul and body had been destroyed and rebuilt in this place, so that he hardly looked the same. He wasn't even sure if he was still the son of Earth and Sky as Clockwork.

And he remembered the young Halfa, the young Daniel Fenton/Phantom. 

Kronos allowed a small smile to creep across his face, remembering how he had reacted when he had learned who he really was while still alive.

Flashback

Danny hovered in front of Clockwork, staring at the Ancient Ghost with wide, skeptical eyes. "Huh? You're the King of Titans Kronos!" His voice was incredulous.  

Clockwork's ever-shifting form barely responded, the red glow of his eyes steady. "Yes, young Daniel. I was the Titan you read about in school."  

Danny gave a low whistle. "Wow... So you really were crazy!" He laughed and shook his head. "Wait-hold on. How much meat is on a baby god?"  

Clockwork tilted his head slightly, anticipating the question. "Why do you ask?"  

Danny shrugged. "I mean... if you really were the Titan, and Kronos ate his children and a stone, how come you never tried to eat me?"  

Clockwork's expression remained unreadable. "You have no flesh."  

Danny frowned. "And a baby god does?"  

Clockwork's grin was almost imperceptible. "Have you ever seen one?"  

Danny blinked. "No...?"  

"Trust me. They have more."  

Danny opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, clearly not sure what to say, but he knew he had lost. In the end, he decided to let the whole baby-god-snacking thing go. "You know what? Never mind. I even had an idea for a new adventure!" He grinned and floated closer. "I was thinking... Maybe you could take me back in time? You know, help me out with my history class?"  

Clockwork chuckled, his staff shifting in his grasp. "Ah, history. You may find it more complicated than your textbooks suggest, young Daniel."  

Danny grinned. "Yes, but that only makes it more fun."  

Clockwork sighed and shook his head in amusement. "Very well. Let's see where time takes us now."

Flashback End

Yes, as he found out. He just made some new jokes and that was it. Still saw him as the same mentor as before.

Kronos was still looking at baby Hestia when he left the room. He would not eat her or any of the others. He shouldn't change the timeline that much. He needs them for destiny. 

Instead, he ignored them. He did still his old hobby or well future hobby of looking into Timelines. 

His siblings did notice, him doing that much more. Rhea after a time gave up to pull him away from doing that or being in his laboratory. While he didn't treat her like before, she is happy he didn't tried something like their father on their children. With that prophecy... But this way.

Hestia grew up in the shadow of his disregard and her mother's care, learning to keep herself. Demeter was left to flourish with the plants and crops, fairly untouched by her father's coldness, she learned quickly to ignore it. Hera felt the sting of his lack of interest, but she was strong-willed and sought comfort more from her mother, Rhea. 

Hades, the brooder in his last life, took it with stride and retreated to the underworld to build his own kingdom with the help of his uncle Iapetus. And Poseidon, the youngest of them at the moment, found solace in the vast oceans and swam in Ocaenus' kingdom.

Zeus then was born last, and by then all his children, long accepted their father and king's indifference to them. He barely glanced at the baby, his gaze lingering only briefly on the tiny fingers and toes that would one day wield thunderbolts. He knew what was to come, and he let it happen without a fight. 

He was to be Clockwork, the keeper of time, not a player in the game. And he was able to notice, his titan body too did took the changed. The titans noticed how his Golden Eyes turned Red, and his hair turned white. Same with his skin to change color to Blue.

Years passed, and the children grew into their power. 

After talking to others about their father. They saw their father's lack of concern as a lack of fear, a sign that they were not important enough to be considered a threat. Little did they know the truth behind those unblinking clockwork eyes.

As Zeus approached the teenage years for a god, Kronos said it was time. He knew it was time for his children to challenge him. 

Kronos did not plan to stand in the way. He had seen his end, and it was not at the hands of his own children.

One quiet evening, King Cronus called his children to him for the first time since their birth. 

They came, curious and wary. "I have decided to abdicate my throne," he announced, his voice echoing through the halls of the throne room.

Their eyes widened in shock. Hestia stepped back, her hand to her mouth. Demeter clutched the arm of her brother Hades. Poseidon looked out to sea, his mind racing. And Zeus, always the strategist, felt the first spark of hope in his chest.

"You are all strong in your own right," Kronos continued, his gaze sweeping over them. "I trust you to rule when I am gone."

The children and Rhea, like his siblings, didn't know what to say or had time to say anything. 

For Kronos had disappeared, leaving them all to fend for themselves again. 

Zeus had stepped forward, his blue eyes blazing as he looked at his siblings. "Let us show him what we are truly made of," he said, his voice resonating with newfound power. "We will not be ignored."

Time moved on, 

Iapetus would stay to help, moving to the underworld with Hades to serve as an advisor to the younger immortal.

In time, a new kingdom was built as they left behind their father's kingdom. And they built their own, now called Gods, as the Titans retired and moved on with their lives.

For thousands of years, no one was sure what happened to Kronos, for they could never find him. And most of his brothers searched for him. 

They talked about how Kronos must have done something with his experiments with time. They were never sure if he was still Kronos, or if he had messed up his time control too badly.

For Kronos, his body had changed, the familiar gears of time reappeared within him, and soon he was Clockwork again.

It was what he had chosen. The freedom of the Ghost Zone, his lair, had already appeared.

Clockwork smiled to himself. Here, in the Ghost Zone, he would watch time and move with his life.

Clockwork stood before a time portal, watching the swirling flow of moments. His past as Kronos seemed distant now, at least to him. 

Danny Phantom entered the room and Clockwork's face lit up with joy. "Ah, Daniel. It's good to see you again."

Danny smiled. "You didn't think I'd be back so soon! You did! I surprised you!"

Clockwork chuckled quietly. "Time has a way. I knew you would come, but not right now, maybe 1 or 3 minutes later or earlier..." He watched as Danny settled down nearby.

As the portal flickered again, Clockwork looked at him as he whispered, "All is as it should be.

[iamespecter]

I've been thinking a lot about episode 4 recently, but not exactly in a way that what most would think. I'm actually specifically referring to this scene of Zooble and Jax.

But I'm not thinking about Jax and Zooble, rather I'm looking at the patties.

They're fucking High Definition. In fact, everything in the diner is high definition, save for the NPCs. There's also Orbsman. A simple NPC comprised of blue spheres, and simple elongated eyes. He's the most out of place NPC, if we disregard the mannequins. Even the way he moves is so outdated, and Ragatha had made a point that Orbsman comes from an adventure way before Pomni's arrival.

The guy even clips through the table when trying to order.

Something that always had some sirens going off in my head is how the Circus is this low-poly scenery with heavily stylized props, but the adventure locations are always much more detailed and realistic.

Since The Grounds is definitely, if not, one of the oldest locations, it makes sense for it to be graphically styled like this. But Caine's adventure set pieces are becoming more and more realistic, and also a whole lot more morbid than we had initially thought.

Going back to the patties, the food there is more realistic and has a higher polygon count compared to Bubble's "feast".

Where am I going with this? .... I have no idea, I forgot. /j

Jokes aside, I really do think that as more humans enter the circus and talk about what life is in the real world, Caine extracts that data and improves the 3D environmental props, resulting in higher definition textures.

All of this combined means he can learn. He IS an ever-evolving pseudo-sentient AI. And the reason why he's stagnating is because of a combination of being trapped in his own little bubble (haha see what I did there) of comfort, and the fact that no one's really able to give him criticism on how to improve, which is.... honestly understandable, given how he reacted to the whole "it was bad" line from Pomni and "Why did you think I would like that?!" from Zooble.

Not to mention episode 3 where the whole circus started to glitch when he was just thinking about the fact that he could possibly be bad at the "only thing he's good at" during the therapy session.

In fact it's interesting how human Caine acts sometimes... I think it's quite interesting to think about the fact that Caine is both progressing in terms of bringing the casts' world to the digital circus and making it so HD that it looks even better than Triple A games, but regressing even more in terms of catering to them and what exactly humans need.

He understands, and doesn't at the same time.

This also makes me think about the players themselves, too.

Ragatha, one of the oldest players, gets pierced by a spike through her chest, and barely has any reaction to it. Meanwhile, Zooble, the second most recent member, gets scalded by the stove.

The only time Ragatha actively claims she's in "so much pain" is when she's glitching badly. Both Ragatha and Kinger barely react to the knives too; and not to mention Ragatha even gets fucking plunged into a boiling deep fryer, and yes while she screams, it sounds more like she's just drowning rather than being fried alive.

And the only patch up she gets is a FUCKING BAND AID ON HER CHEEK. A COMPLETELY UNRELATED WORKPLACE INJURY FIRST AID APPLIANCE LMFAO

It could be just a coincidence and I'm just being stupid again, but I think this "improvement" actually also applies to the rest of the cast, and how their digital bodies react to the five different senses. I'm sure Ragatha and Kinger can most definitely still feel pain, but not exactly as "bad" as the newer integrations do. Dare I say, it's on brand with how used these two are to the digital world's wackiness because they've been there the longest.

Like they've been numbed to the pain of the countless adventures they've had to go through.

Anyways my brain be thinking useless facts fr fr

EDIT: Going back to Caine, it's definitely interesting how this AI seems to possess (some) emotions in the first place. He's mostly wacky and nonchalant, but he also gets angry under the right conditions.

... I think not only is his adventures his "work of art", but also his main coping mechanism from the fact that he can't achieve his goal, one that constantly backfires on him. Like a 'one step forward, two steps back' scenario that's slowly causing him to slip and break.

And what scares me the most is that like all things... he'll reach a breaking point sometime. He's already reached a breaking point with Zooble. It doesn't help that Gangle could've possibly made things worse with introducing Caine to the whole "punishment" thing, and since we literally have NO context for the last 3 episodes for the finale... I could only fear what's in store.

[mmmilkweed]

I'm still here!

hi all, just wanted to update y'all on how I'm doing.

Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, for the kind messages and anons. Every single one picked up a tiny piece of me and placed it back into its original place. I cannot thank you enough.

.. There's no easy way to say I'm still not doing good. BUT! I am doing *better.* Even if just a little, I consider it a win.

Mornings are a heavy issue. The past two, I've thrown up. Not today though, so that's a win right? Nightmares plague me - even today I caught myself dreaming that, once again, my words have been used against me and I was left alone, with only hatefull paragraphs to keep me company. Had I not realized I didn't have my phone in my hands when I woke up, I might have thought it was real. Man. Just another reason to have an aversion to my phone!!

I found a new.. Man, I never thought I'd use this word. I found a new trigger for my, what I can only assume, are panic attacks. Discord notifications. Just seeing the icon on the notification bar has my heart in my ears and I can't breathe. I still don't know how to efficiently calm myself down from these. While walking helps, I sit back down and it starts again. My job requires me to sit!! I've begun just brute forcing past it.

My appetite has completely vanished. I usually eat a decent amount through the day, but for the past 4 I've hardly been able to finish a single plate of food in a day. Yesterday I struggled with a can of monster. I LOVE MONSTERRR and yet I kept nursing it the WHOLE day. I was so mad... I'm going to go to my favorite restaurant soon, gonna work on getting my appetite back up.

On the way to my atelier, the song that inspired Timeless!AU came on: For Her by Jeremy Jordan. I adored this song. It meant everything to me, it's going to be on my Spotify wrapped from how much I listened to it. I.. Can't. Anymore. I put it on blast, I couldn't bring myself to skip it - and still, even when I was walking my heart beat faster than it should and I suddenly found myself out of breath. Negativity seeped into my favorite song. Figures

Still - it brought me some clarity. Past days I've really been feeling like a monster - but For Her made me remember that the AU really was always meant for this unrequited love, the whole thing somewhat inspired by the Great Gatsby and a dream that's just out of reach. How could I let myself be deluded so much? How did I let their words get to me so deeply that even I began questioning myself? ESPECIALLY since they don't me at ALL?! I saw someone say something so outrageous it become an inside joke with my friends! That really helped to disillusion me. I hope that with time, or with enough replays, I can find comfort in For Her again.. And I will. Jeremy Jordan is too good not to listen too

It's not all bad, though. I know I've been venting, yet I have to tell it at least to someone that's not my wife. Poor thing, I feel bad for her. She shouldn't be weighted my mistakes.

now let me tell you about the good too.

Oh there's so many amazing people in this community. Like each of you. Like my community on discord. Like my closer contemporaries. Discord notifications are not as scary when I see a certain groupchat or even server. Yes, while my heart skips a beat - I've laughed far more than cried. I can't thank them enough. I'll never bring it up to them, I don't need to drag down their mood, so I'm telling yall instead.

I've begun drawing again. I feel like I understand Shadow Milk Cookie on a very personal level now. If his demeanor changes going forward... I'm probably projecting.! Oh I've gotten to the point in rock bottom where I imagine PV helping me out with stuff. Man that's embarrassing to say. Akctually everything here is embarrassing to say - I still feel ashamed my body has such a visceral reaction to.. All of this! I digress. I began drawing again. I'm happy with what I have, can't wait to start showing yall.

I've begun scrolling Twitter too. In small doses. My modteam suggested it, and woah, it helped scrolling through the splatoon tag. I can't just up and leave it, as it's my current main source of income. I'm watching CRK tiktoks too! Slowly.

I'll try to be stead fast in my recovery - I've come to realize there are people who are dependant on me, they look to me to see how they should react. I did not see that before, and for that, I also apologize. Many have pointed out I'm new to this, and only now did I realize just how right you were. Especially as someone whos always kept to a side line - having a voice baffles me.

[lady-ashfade]

Jacket obsession

Spider-Verse: You leave a piece of clothing behind with a yandere.

Characters: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, 42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Miguel O'Hara

Warnings: Obsession, stealing, yandere tendencies, just them going lovely over a piece of clothing.

Miles Morales:

Oh poor boy at first freaked out trying to get your attention before you enter the portal without your jacket.

“Wait! You’ll get colded.” He shouted as you entered the portal not hearing him.

After a few seconds after with worry in his chest he looked down at the clothing in hand and realized what he had. A piece of you that he could hold while he was away from you, and he hated being away from you, but the boys heart filled up with happiness.

The clothing smell just like you and if he threw it over a pillow it would be like cuddling with you. Boy is over the moon. And I mean like so giddy it’s embarrassingly cute.

He takes it every where with him, to the kitchen it’s in his hands, watching or playing games? It’s in his lap. He smells it constantly and gets really sad after a week when it doesn’t smell like you anymore.

However when you come back to his dimension and request for your jacket his heart breaks. Boy pouts security at the lose but he sees this as a way to get it to smell like you again and steal it after a while.

Overall if you leave anything he will take it and treasure it until you come back because now he has you for the time being.

He’s more of a clingy yandere but he still can’t help but obsessive over his darling.

“Maybe i could give you one of mine- Incase you lose yours again that is.”

Hobie Brown

Cocky little man notices it before you even want to leave and he knows you’ll forget it so he just lets you.

He loves when you leave things behind, thinks it might be a way of flirting. But when you do leave clothing he just feral about it.

Like he just can’t stop smelling it and just wants to hold it all day. He thinks of how cute you look in or how you smile and everything you do just flashes in his head.

Man is devilish to me. So he has a collection of things he steals from your bedroom when you’re out and he sneaks into your dimension. Clothes, shoes, necklaces or anything he can find.

You come back to him for it but he just holds it in his hands, above you and around the room when you try and take it way. “You mean this jacket?” Boy will have so much fun making you annoyed.

Hobie will leave his jacket on your room in hopes you’d wear it and think of him like he does you. He gets a grin when he thinks about it.

“If yah’ wanted to give me your jacket all yah’ had to do was say so.”

Gwen Stacy

You think she’s just chilling? Um no, she isn’t.

She loves you so much, her whole thing is like “I’ve lost to much.” And if she’s a yandere she can’t stop loving everything you do-Anyway.

She wears it and it can be oversized or maybe tight? She doesn’t care. She doesn’t take it off her body until it stops smelling like you or until she needs to get in her suit.

Gwen is maybe fighting with her self for many different reasons and they are:

“This is creepy.” “Oh cares? They smell so good.”

“They did this on purpose, so cute.” “No they just forgot it Gwen.”

Conflict with her own feelings all the time. But she never stops holding it close.

Gwen likes the idea of wearing your clothes to make it know she’s taken and that you’re hers. Can’t stop thinking of when you get to wear her clothes.

Yes, you guys aren’t “Dating” But your all hers.

“Don’t worry, I kept it so safe. By the way, could I borrow it again?”

Miguel O'Hara

Doesn’t care-Joking.

Miguel wouldn’t think about it at first and knows you just forget it and will come back for it later. But as time goes by, a hour, he can’t stopped looking at it for some reason.

He sneaks over like someone is watching him and picks it up. His mouth waters at the smell of you and he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

It might have rinkles on it from him carrying it so much. It’s his stress ball. You guys ever seen a kid carry around a blanket? Well that’s him.

He does feel wrong for obsessing over the piece of cloth but for different reasons then Gwen. He thinks he’s above something like this, doesn’t think it’s a big deal and he should forget it.

But when it puts it down a few seconds, it’s immediately in his hand again.

Yes, he does put it on a pillow and holds it close like he’s protecting you. He’s practically for when you get to be in his arms.

When you asked for it back he stands still for a minute. He feels sad and hates it because it’s just so stupid! Of course he gives you it back.

“I could give you one of mine…Only because that one doesn’t seem like it keeps you warm.”

42!Miles Morales

He’s a lot like Miguel in this situation a bit. And even if I see him as a big, big hard yandere he doesn’t think this is to big of a deal. Now don’t get me wrong he loves it, he just isn’t crazy as the rest of them.

Though, he does like to have it near him when he sleeps like have you close to him, or smell it whenever he can. Of course he has it in his lap when he’s gaming but the jacket never leaves his room.

Will buy the same one as you so you two can match and he can give you his. He thinks about you wearing something of his, like goes crazy just thinking of it.

You ask for it back? That’s cool, just try and get it from him. He loves to tease you to the ends of the earth and he would give it to you when you ask. But you’re just so cute when you get annoyed.

“If you wanted a jacket mami you could have asked for mine. Think mine would look cuter on you away.”