#all of the words or none of the words that's how it goes

[piastrisun]

unexpected confession.

pairings: lando norris + fem reader.

summary: as the elevator stalls, so does your composure. lando’s sudden, earnest words turn the trapped moment into a delicate dance between panic and possibility.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: lando’s birthday!!! a bit short but i hope y’all like it. <3 no use of y/n or any names at all.

you and lando are standing in the elevator, the air uncomfortably still, and the space around you both feels too small. the elevator’s hum seems louder now, echoing in the confined space. the flickering light above does little to calm the rising tension between you two, as your body instinctively shifts to press against the corner.

you’ve never thought much about how close you are to each other—how every small movement feels amplified in this moment. it's as if your very proximity makes the silence heavier. your mind races, trying to distract itself from the fact that you're alone in an elevator, stuck for what feels like forever. it should be mundane, but with lando here, everything suddenly feels too intense.

and then, he breaks the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to shake you out of your thoughts. "i don’t want to die without telling you this."

your heart skips a beat, and a chill runs down your spine. the sudden panic floods you, and you whip your head to face him, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “what?! what are you talking about? are we—are we dying?”

his face goes pale as he stammers, looking more flustered than you've ever seen him. his hands hover over the elevator buttons as though he can fix the situation with the press of a few keys. “no! no, of course not… well, i mean, i don’t think so. but listen, it’s important.” he avoids your gaze, the nervous energy practically crackling between you.

you let out a shaky, almost panicked laugh, trying to control the rapid beat of your heart. “lando, this is not the time for dramatic confessions! you’re freaking me out!”

he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dart around the elevator. you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together, his body stiff with the weight of whatever he's about to say. “i love you. i always have. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

you freeze, your body going rigid. the words land with such weight that you can’t process them fast enough. your jaw falls open, and your mouth feels dry as you blink a few times, as if trying to clear the fog in your brain. "wait, what? you love me? you’ve… always loved me?" you can’t quite wrap your mind around it, your voice coming out in a whisper, disbelief taking over. your hands tremble, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. "are you—are you serious right now? do you think we’re going to die in this elevator?"

“no! no, i don’t think we’re dying! i mean, not right now.” lando sighs dramatically, dropping his shoulders in exasperation as he leans back against the elevator wall, seemingly giving up on fixing anything. “but… look, i just needed to say it, okay? i didn’t want to leave with it unsaid. so, if we do die, well… at least you know.”

his words hang in the air like a strange confession, one that doesn't quite make sense given the circumstances. but even then, a knot of warmth stirs in your chest, a strange mix of emotions you’re not ready to confront.

you step back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if trying to shield yourself from what’s happening. you narrow your eyes at him, your lips curling into a teasing frown. “so, this is your plan? we get stuck in an elevator for five minutes and suddenly you’ve decided to unload your feelings?”

he groans, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. he slumps against the wall, letting out a breath like he's trying to deflate from the awkwardness. “this wasn’t exactly the moment i planned, okay? but i’ve been holding it in for years, and if you do kill me with that glare, at least i’ll go knowing i said it.”

you bite back a smile, your eyes narrowing in mock judgment. you raise an eyebrow as you lean toward him. “glare? i’m just trying to process this. you’ve have fancied me all this time, and you never said anything?”

his shoulders tense, and he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as if searching for some way to escape. “i wasn’t sure if you felt the same. i thought maybe you’d think i was, i don’t know, creepy or something.” his voice cracks slightly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. he looks down at his shoes, his embarrassment clear. “but now here we are. stuck in this tiny box together, one awkward cough away from the end of our lives…”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound light and a little shaky as you step forward, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “well, lucky for you, i don’t think you’re creepy. and maybe… just maybe… i’ve had a few feelings too.”

his eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief written all over his face. his voice falters for a moment, but it’s full of hope. “wait, what?!”

you laugh softly, the playful edge to your voice not masking the sudden warmth in your chest. "you think i’m just going to throw myself at you after you drop that bomb? i’m not that easy, lando."

his eyes light up, his expression shifting from surprise to sheer delight. he takes a step closer, his grin impossibly wide as he leans in, his voice filled with teasing excitement. “oh, really? because if we do get stuck here a little longer, i can think of a few ways to pass the time…” his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, mischievous and full of playful challenge.

you roll your eyes dramatically, trying to maintain some semblance of control over your emotions, but the smile you can’t hide betrays you. "you’re unbelievable."

lando shrugs, his grin growing even wider as he leans back, arms crossing in mock defense. his eyes dance with a mix of humor and genuine affection. "i do try."

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[vampiresbloodx]

Enemy. chapter one.

pairings: Jinx x reader, vi x caitlyn, various characters.

synopsis: when you, a tired full time bartender who gets paid shit and lives in a small one bedroom apartment gets sucked into the world and battles that are happening around you all at once, you just wish you could remain blissfully unaware, you'd prefer not to know others business, as it's never good, then you meet a girl named jinx, and you grow more and more attached, which has always been an issue for you, to make things worse, you not only have to make sure neither of your friends kill each other while being stuck in the middle.

word count: 907.

warnings: fluff angst suggestive themes, adult jinx still canon season 2 but not really I fear idk her confirmed age so just putting it out there, canon typical violence, found family, PTSD, pain, alcohol, reader is a bartender, mutual pinning, hurt/comfort, arcane season 2 spoilers!!!!.

Jinx. 

The name you are starting to hear a lot as of late, you’ve always heard whispers of her, some call her silco’s daughter, you could honestly almost believe the story yourself when you look at them standing by each other. 

But you know the truth more than others know. 

You weren’t even sure of your own part in the story here, in everyone else’s lives, Jinx stuck around you because she wanted to, and she claimed to like you, a lot, so much so that you ended up one day coming home and finding her laying on your bed, like it was nothing, knowing you did not mention where you stayed at all to really anyone. 

“Is this your place? Cool.” 

Jinx murmured, unbothered as there was a curious look in her eyes as she looked everywhere, going through your stuff without asking for permission, as you rolled your eyes in annoyance at her. 

“Do you have to be any more of a creep?” you asked, slightly disappointed but not surprised by this. 

It's not like the two of you sit down and discuss your feelings to each other, how the other makes the other feel, what you really mean to another, nope, none of that. Anytime you even ask Jinx about anything she gets pissed and walks off in a huff, having an attitude towards you, blaming you all of a sudden, you see how her cheeks get red as she stutters her words more than usual, its cute, but you just wish you two would fucking talk. 

“Yup.” 

You watch as Jinx goes through your clothes, pulls out some underwear and your sports bras, holding them up as she winks at you, you stare back dumbfounded. 

“fucking put that back-” 

Then it became more frequent visits to your apartment, well the one shitty bedroom apartment you could afford in this hole, for a while, you worked as a bartender, still do, you were good at your job, making customers happy as you made their drinks and put a smile on their face, you met so many people, that’s how you’d regularly see Jinx. 

She’d come to your bar just to talk shit and complain about everything and everyone, but you always ended up enjoying her presence the more she came, she didn’t even ask when you will be off or when your shift started, she didn’t care about those details, because she knew that already, you called her a stalker and she laughed loudly like it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. 

Some days, Jinx bothered you more than anyone else could, you were so used to the solitied life that now you were longing for the connection of others. You hated it. The feeling that ate away at you, eating at your soul, your body, your flesh, your mind, heavily. And the one face you always saw that was a constant was her. 

And so, you grew attached. 

Unwillingly so.

She knew that, which is why she stayed around on purpose, because she knew how lonely you were deep down, you’d never admit it, but you like having her around, hearing her stupid jokes and her loud ass laughter, her non stop talking and rambling, it made everything less quiet, and it took your mind of a lot of things. That was kind of nice. 

You wondered if you were that to her as well. In a way. You weren’t sure. 

If you could grab her face by your hands and scream everything you wanted to say and more to her, you would. You just didn’t want to lose her. She could easily walk away and leave you behind, you couldn’t handle that. 

For a while, Jinx would randomly leave without a word for a couple of days, weeks even, you got sick of waiting for her, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, wanting to hear her voice again, it never came, until you woke up one night at three am, trying to get a decent sleep in when you felt warmth next to you and arms wrapping around your body, you freaked, almost stabbing the girl with the knife you always hide underneath your pillow for safety reasons, she chuckled, “my girl, so feisty, just the way I like them” she murmured. You stared confused at her, this isn’t the first time she’s invited herself over for the night, but something about tonight felt different, instead of wanting to cuss her out, you watched her fall asleep, she looked so at peace, it was strange. 

The next day you woke up to her trying to cook you breakfast as you threw your pillows at her, still annoyed as she acted like nothing happened, laughing. 

Then she found out you were friends with a certain pink haired girl and her blue haired lover. 

What a small world it is. 

It was hard though, and still you were going to do it regardless, you didn’t care what happened to yourself, you care too much, too little, it was all consuming, overwhelming you, that Jinx hopes even she doesn’t break you. 

Before you even do that to yourself. how much of a mess you were in between choosing your friends, being on their side or Jinx’s side, watching them chase after each other like crazy, as there was you, in the middle, making sure neither of them get too close for your liking. 

[ode-to-melpomene]

The Hand That Feeds

Part 2 of 'Stray' Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader Synopsis: Confrontation rarely goes as planned. Word Count: 2791 Warnings: Stalking, minor gore/injuries, allusions to death, Jason doesn't know how to process his feelings without being mean.

Jason had tried to rationalize why he kept coming back. Really, he had tried. He had to make sure you weren’t hiding something. He didn’t trust the packages you handed out. He was just making sure you got home safe.

But what could you possibly be hiding when you appeared to lay your soul bare on Gotham’s filthy streets? What didn’t he trust about the packages when he had seen their contents with his own eyes? Why did he need to make sure you made it home safe at all?

None of it explained how comfortable he had become on the balcony across from your apartment.

Jason glowered under his helmet as snow fell in thick clumps, whipped about by the harsh breeze. You left your window open sometimes when the wind had died down. Tonight was not one of those nights. He stuck to the shadows, scrunching his shoulders, and crouched on the balcony–you would have to look out of your window and up to see him. That fact did not provide him with any sense of relief.

The lights were off in your apartment save for what he assumed was a lamp out of his view. He could hardly make out the furniture he seemed to know so well from a distance; the second hand couch you had shoved against a wall and the foldable table that was constantly covered in a slathering of random items. One of the three chairs you owned was dragged beneath one of the three large windows that allowed him to view into your apartment. To the right of the three large windows was the fire escape and the small window beside it. The thin curtains were drawn on that window.

In the two weeks Jason had been observing you he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. You didn’t seem to spend much time at your apartment, using it primarily for sleeping or preparing your deliveries. He could tell from your clothing that you worked some middle management, decent paying job like most Gothamites in this neighborhood. He knew when you left for work, when you got home, what kind of music you liked.

He knew your name. Of course he did, that had been the first thing he had hunted for after lurking outside your apartment the first time. Lurker. Jason had never described himself as that before. It seemed to be a lot of what he did now.

The curtains by the fire escape window drew back and Jason tensed as he always did. He watched with narrowed eyes as you slid the window open, placed something on the ledge, and closed the window again. It had become a ritual by now–you, leaving gifts for him every few days, and him, never accepting them. He never strayed too close to the items you left out, and they were always gone by his next visit.

Jason curled his fingers, the tips of his new gloves pressing into his knee pads. He worked his jaw, grinding his teeth together. The one dim light in the apartment went out, and his bated breath went with it.

He stood with a ragged sigh. So that was it, the end of his nightly routine. The sun would rise in a few hours and he needed to be tucked back into his safehouse before then-

What was that smell?

Jason jerked his helmeted head towards the fire escape. A tray sat outside the window, too big to rest on the ledge, and steam wafted upward as heat met wintery chill. Even through his modulated helmet he could smell the sweet, sugary aroma that stifled his rampant thoughts.

Caramel. It smelled like caramel.

Jason hesitated, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. He knew getting closer was a bad idea he likely wouldn’t be able to come back from. If he moved that mental boundary even an inch forward- give an inch, take a mile. That was all Jason Todd knew how to do anymore, afterall.

Snow crunched under his heavy work boots. The fire escape rattled subtly, the sound muffled by the wind. His mind screamed to stop, turn around, leave, and don’t come back. All of that came to a screeching halt when he saw brownies topped with a caramel drizzle in a glass pan. When was the last time Jason had warm brownies, or anything sweet for that matter? Not since-

Jason shook his head as if the act alone would clear the thoughts that tumbled through his head. Since dragging himself from the Pit, his diet consisted of scraps and canned food. Nothing like this bitter thing that stunk of home and burned itself into his memory.

One couldn’t hurt.

Right?

Jason was becoming too predictable. Shadowing you on your route home, lurking outside your apartment most nights, pursuing you through the tangled mess of streets in Crime Alley. It was all a recipe for disaster when someone finally caught onto the pattern. Jason couldn’t afford patterns, not when it put him in danger. And maybe put you in danger, too… not that he needed to be bothered by that. You weren’t some street urchin who needed his protection.

Yet, still, he hid in your shadow like a sheep dog trailing a lamb.

He sat on a different perch this time, making the fire escape platform that belonged to the apartment above yours his new home. He sat in a crouch, occasionally shifting to stretch his hips and work sore muscles. His elbows were planted on his knees, his eyes cast downward through the grating. The platform below was illuminated by the lights inside your apartment, that familiar golden glow bathing the rusted red metal.

Jason’s stomach lurched when the window slid open, softly clicking into place at the apex. Your hands extended slowly, clasped tightly around a plate wrapped in plastic.

“Stop,” Jason spoke up, breaking the silence.

The plate crashed onto the metal platform. He expected your hands to disappear back inside in fright and slam the window shut behind you. He expected that window to never open again.

Instead, you surged forward with your hands firmly planted on the snowy ledge. In the blink of an eye your entire torso was outside the window, your neck craning to catch a glimpse of him above you in the darkness. Jason’s heart thundered in his chest as your eyes finally met his helmet.

“Stop what?” you asked, and he thought his heart might stop at the sound of your voice.

“Stop that,” he growled with a tip of his helmeted head towards the fallen plate. He leaned forward and planted one gloved palm on the grated platform, glaring daggers at you. “I don’t need your help.”

You shuffled about so that you could sit on the ledge, paying no attention to the thin dusting of snow that no doubt wetted the pajama pants you wore. Jason squinted in the darkness at your shirt, the image of some musical group emblazoned on the front. Was that your favorite-?

That wasn’t important.

You gripped the ledge on either side of your thighs and leaned back as far as you could, holding yourself at an angle so you could stare up at him. He wished you would glare, sneer, pout- hell, if you laughed in his face it would be better than the doe-eyed stare you fixed him with.

“I just thought you might be hungry.”

His thoughts came to a screeching halt. This was Red Hood you were talking to–the new, violent vigilante who used decapitation as a means of sending a message. Jason who, quite frankly, fed himself not because he felt he deserved it but because he needed fuel to continue fighting. And here you were, gazing up at him with a blank expression as if talking to a man in kevlar and armor was the most normal thing in the world.

“I don’t need you to feed me,” he hissed between his teeth.

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

His eyes scoured yours beneath his helmet, memorizing their color, their shape, their emotion. He expected this would be the last time he would see your eyes, after all.

There had to be some reason you were doing this–people don’t just do good things. There had to be a motive. Maybe it was some sort of short-term fame you desired, being the person to finally get a close-up look at the savage animal that roamed Crime Alley at night without first having its fangs sink into you. Maybe this was some cheap attempt at an exciting seduction, one that would leave him angrier than he already was.

Or maybe you were just plain stupid.

Jason thought back to your apartment. Empty and cold and barely lived in, and, given the eagerness with which you presented yourself to him, perhaps you were the same. Lonely and stupid.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he snapped, teeth bared.

You glared. A nasty, pensive, bitter expression that sent a pleasant chill down his spine. Why did you look so sweet like this?

“Fuck you,” you snapped with equal measure. You gripped the bottom of the open window, slipped back inside, and slammed the plastic frame behind you. The glass rattled mockingly at Jason, who jolted at your sudden departure.

Oh.

Maybe he thought you looked sweet because that hateful glare was how Jason expected people to look at him. Hate, he could handle–maybe even revel in it, at this point. It was certainly easier than being loved and inevitably letting someone down.

So why did he feel like, despite your nasty glare, he had let you down?

Jason crouched there for a while after you left, long after the lights had gone out. When he finally stood, his joints ached from the long night and his chest felt heavy with unwanted emotions. His hands gripped the railing of your upstairs neighbor’s fire escape, then he swung himself over the edge.

His boots landed loudly on the metal grate of your fire escape. He stood there for a long moment, glaring at the dark window with its curtains tightly drawn. It was cold and uninviting–not that he deserved anything more. His gaze fell on the forgotten plastic-wrapped plate on the ground, then flicked back to the window.

Jason hated how much he thought about you.

His safe house apartment was, somehow, more barebones than yours. Jason lived stolen paycheck to stolen paycheck–he couldn't exactly get a job when he was legally dead. So, he spent his days preparing for his nighttime excursions, preparing to remold the Gotham criminal underworld.

Or washing dishes, as he was doing now.

Your dishes. That’s the only reason he was thinking of you, of course. Otherwise, the week he had spent far from your apartment meant nothing to him. He had left the glass baking tray and dinner plate sitting on his counter for too long, and, well…

He honestly wasn’t sure why he was washing it. He had no intention of returning the items, not when he was trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Well, except for two days ago when he had followed you through Crime Alley.

Jason just needed something to occupy his mind after his patrol. He scrubbed at the glass harder, as if the grating of the sponge could absolve him of his own sins. Blood on his hands, again. They deserved it. They always did.

Would you say the same?

Jason growled and dropped the dish in the sink, his soapy hands clasping the edge in an iron-tight grip. His knuckles turned white under the pressure, the bones sore and skin torn from endless nights of fighting. Why did his mind have to circle back to you again? Always back to you, what you were doing, if you would approve of what he was doing, what you were thinking or feeling.

It was the damn dishes. Yes, it had to be the fact that he was washing your things that made him think of you. Otherwise, he didn’t care what you thought, or did, or anything.

You were too damn sweet for his taste anyway.

Maybe if he returned the dishes and finally purged you from his life he wouldn’t think about you again. One last trip to your apartment–he wouldn’t even have to see you, he could just leave the items on your fire escape and be done with it. Knowing you, you were asleep by now and would be until mid-morning. He could leave it outside your window and if it was buried in snow before you realized it was there that wouldn’t bother him.

Jason hadn’t realized he had geared back up until he was standing beside his window. He blinked once, twice, staring down at the helmet in his hands. His heart thumped wildly in his chest.

He scoffed. He had forgotten the dishes in his haste.

Carrying the dishes during his traversal across the city wasn’t any easier the second time. He kept the plate and the glass pan tucked under one arm, carefully judging his leaps before launching himself between buildings and scaling walls. This would have been easier with his old equipment-

No. No, that door opened to a world of trouble he didn’t need. He would make do with what he had, and he would do a better job of cleaning up Crime Alley than anyone else ever could. Technology wasn’t important.

The tension in his shoulders eased when he landed on that familiar balcony across from your apartment. It was about four in the morning, and he was certain you would be asleep–the lights were out, the curtains drawn, and that was the only indication he needed to prove himself right. Jason stared for a moment longer, taking in the comforting silhouette of your apartment. He had memorized all the details weeks ago, to the best of his ability at this distance.

His heart drummed in his chest as he swung across the wide alley between the buildings. He landed hard on your fire escape and staggered to regain his footing, unbalanced with one arm immobilized by the damn dishes. His free hand hit the wall beside the small window to hold himself upright. Jason squeezed his other arm tighter against his side, pressing the dishes against his armored chest in an attempt not to drop the fragile items.

The window slid open.

Jason’s heart jumped into his throat as he tipped his helmet down to see you staring up at him, neck craning with your head out the window. Your eyes were wide, lips parted, brows scrunched together in confusion. His cheeks burned, a sharp shiver rolling down his spine.

He straightened and skittered away from the window. Your bewildered expression followed him, tracing up and down his armored figure with intrigue. This was the closest you had ever been to the mysterious vigilante–could anyone blame you for staring?

Then your hungry gaze dropped to the dishes tucked under his arm. Jason swallowed dryly as he watched the corner of your mouth cock up in a subtle grin. The familiar color of your eyes met his, and his chest ached.

This was a horrible idea.

“I waited,” you broke the silence. You shifted until your shoulders were out the window, your hands planted on the windowsill to hold you upright. You tipped your head, nodding in the direction of the building across the street. “I saw you there one of those last nights. I thought… I thought maybe you might come back. I looked for you there.”

Any retort died in his throat the moment you spoke. Part of him wanted to drop the dishes and run. Part of him wanted to scream at you, tear into you until you were nothing but little pieces. That was all he was good for anymore, ripping people apart. It wouldn’t be hard either.

You aren’t worth my time.

I don’t want to owe you.

You’re making a mistake.

Those were all things he wanted to or should say.

“I didn’t think you would want me to come back,” he answered truthfully.

You beamed. His breath caught raggedly in his throat and his thoughts came to a screeching halt. When was the last time someone had looked at him like that?

“Do you want to come inside?” you offered. You offered the very thing he had been craving for three weeks. A chance to step into your sweet domesticity, to satisfy his curiosity, to experience something warm and comforting. You cocked your head to the side, fixing him with that doe-eyed stare.

No, he knew he should say.

“Yes.”

Masterlist ✴ 'Stray' Series ✴ Next Part

Tag list: @taylorgriffin

[goldenwitherphoenix13]

Throwing in my two pence here. This might get a little extensive and confusing, since I'm not great with words, so bear with me and trust me, ok?

First pence goes to this. Small thing on this being a non scripted series, yes, this is very true. None of the "curses" and stuff are planned, any references are usualy just thrown in for fun because the creators love watching us make our own stories and art, and Martyns lore is mostly his own AU that isn't connected to the main series.

But fandoms love making their own interpretations of stories, like Martyn does. It's why I have no problem with the "blessings and curses" of each participant. It's just the fan interpretations of funny coincidencs. The AUs we make. The fan content, artwork and stories, we make with the sturdy base of the life series. Jimmy and Martyn love reacting to fan made content, angsty or silly. They are loving it for the craft that it is! But they aren't canon, and never will be. Both sides know this. Scott's blessing won't always work, Grians widow curse won't always happen, and Jimmy's canary curse won't always play out quite the same as others expect it to do. Speaking of...

Time for that second penny. My interpretation of the Canary curse.

To me, the canary curse was NEVER about Jimmy being out first. It was NEVER about how he is bad at minecraft. It was NEVER about his permadeath being the the first one every time.

It was always about the chaos that came afterwards.

He wasn't cursed to die first, he was just the catalyst of disaster. When players would start to die left, right and center. It was a moment in every series where the red names would stack up and start to kill more and more, because now that a player had fallen, a sense of desperation falls across everyone. Dying first 4 times was just an unfortunate coincidence.

Jimmy is not awful at the game, he has some good skills. We can talk about that in a bit though.

The Canary in the coalmine might sometimes die to warn the coal miners of the poisons, but their silence without death speaks the exact same message.

Jimmy isn't cursed to die. Jimmy is blessed with a warning to everyone else that the end ic coming and discord wii be upon them soon.

And that warning is just his silence, through life and death.

He does not need to die for the Canary curse to come calling. Not to him. But to everyone.

Chucking in one extra penny, I would like to say that I very much think he can win. Genuinly, not having a laugh, not mocking it, and i'm not listening to anyone else. Session 3 gave me a scare, and i started doubting it, but i told myself (and Jimmy in chat) that i believe, and I was right to. Session 4 was amazing for him.

Jimmy is not bad at the game by any means. He can just be very unlucky. Events don't always line up for him so he ends up looking more incompetent than he is.

But when they do, well, just look at his 1v3 in dodgebolt and how he won the tournament for the crown in empires season 1, and remember how he spent the majority of Last life on YELLOW. And even episode 4 of wild life with how well he did in that session. I'm not saying he's the greatest minecraft player of all time because he does have his moments of lacking braincells like we all get, but he has got some skills. He just likes to mess about a bit to make things a little more entertaining for his viewers, he plays with his viewers in mind, but when he locks in, he very much locks in. And I love it.

I do still think he can win a life series. If not this one, maybe another one in the future. But I think he can do it. And if only one person in this universe believes that, then I am that one person.

Right, sorry if anything came off rude, im not the best at phrasing stuff so i might of misworded somethings here and there by accident. Again sorry if i did. I'm not here to change opinions, just to share my own. I'll leave now.

cries because everybody in this fandom sees the thought of Jimmy winning as a laughable impossibility and even people who say they're rooting for him only mean it as a joke and whenever you mention that he's doing good people have to let you know that it won't last long and inevitably he will die first because of some stupid self-fulfilling prophecy that got turned into my least favorite fanon ever. why can't he just be like a player who has a chance just like everyone else does. have you stopped to consider WHY he dies first so often? it's not a curse. this isn't a scripted series. it's because he's incredibly pacifistic and because people generally don't want to help him because they consider him a weak player. both of these things have been done away with this season, he has a taste for blood and an ally who is both incredibly underrated in his strength and has said he would never betray him. jimmy has as much a chance as anyone else.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | may i have this dance?

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, The Boy, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; none really!!

♡notes; this popped into my brain the other day and i thought we were due for some fluff. i’m writing part two congruently so that’ll be posted soon too!!

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> Micheal Myers does not dance

> He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t want to learn

> But like with a lot of things, you get him to bend his rules

> He has a habit of looming in doorways to watch you

> At first it’s disconcerting, but you learn it’s just how he is

> So you pay him no mind as he’s watching you dance around the kitchen to some song that’s too popular for him to know

> Sweet and silly and carefree…

> He clicks the speaker off with a quiet huff

> “Hey, I was listening to that-“ You pout

> He rolls his eyes and puts on something a bit more to his taste

> And before you can playfully complain any more, he wraps his arms around you from behind and sways softly

> It takes a second for you to process it- he’s not normally so…gentle

> But in his own weird little way, he’s dancing with you

> He tenses a bit when you turn around- he’s embarrassed but would never admit it- but when you kiss his cheek he relaxes and gives a quiet hum

>And he keeps swaying as you lay your head on his chest

>Just for you, as long as you don’t tell anyone…Micheal Myers does dance. Just a little.

Thomas Hewitt

> Thomas doesn’t think about dancing

> He’s seen it on TV, read about it in books…but the Hewitts aren’t really the dancing types

> Nearest thing to dancing that he can think of ever doing is being held by his mama, when she’d sing and rock him when he was hurt or upset

> And it’s been a long time since anyone could hold him like that

> But one day you’re upset- he doesn’t know why but you burst into tears the moment he walked in, and it has him in a tizzy

> He quickly scoops you up, checking for any injuries but…nothing. You’re just crying and he hates seeing you like that

> So he does what used to make him feel better

> He can’t sing- or at least won’t, his words are always few and far between- but he hums, low and rumbling in his chest

> As he holds you and slowly sways you start to calm down

> You sniffle and all of the sudden giggle

> “Thomas Hewitt; are you dancin’ with me right now?”

> He looks confused but slowly nods as he thinks about it

> “Well thank you. I needed this.”

> He nuzzles you and continues until you’re calm- and far after that if you’ll let him

Bubba Sawyer

> As we know, Bubba is a very sheltered fellow, but he does like dancing!

> He’s not particularly coordinated but he doesn’t need much coaxing to twirl you around and around

> He’ll dance without music, humming a nonsense tune to you, maybe even whistling

> And if you sing to him he can’t help grinning and giggling

> It’s not uncommon for him to sway and spin with you in the living room if the radio got left on

> And he gets shy when you’re caught by one of his brothers

> “Bubba you stop wasting time, you little—“

> You cock your hip and give Drayton a cold look

> “Oh, I’m a waste of time now, cook?”

> Like always a smart remark goes a long way with Drayton, the twins immediately “oooh”ing and teasing him as he flusters

> Soon enough he’s chasing them out cursing and wielding a pair of tongs

> Leaving you and Bubba forgotten and free to sneak off and continue your fun in peace

Vincent Sinclair

> You’d have to ask

> Probably more than once, honestly

> Vincent is an artistic man, that’s not a doubt in the slightest- but he’s not even a little interested in anything that involves performance

> But you have a way of getting your way with him

> “Vince baby?”

> “…”

> “Pretty please?”

> “…”

> “If we take pictures then you can paint us.”

> He perks up a bit and you know you’ve got him

> “Cmon silly!” You drag him into the house of Wax, camcorder in hand

> Having gotten that far, you finally realize you don’t particularly know how to dance either, not really

> But you don’t tell him that, instead turning on the music and pulling him against you

> You’re clumsy and awkward and adorable as you spin around with him, not even a bit embarrassed

> He isn’t sure the reference stills are usable, but he’s more than happy the sweet moment on camera

Brahms Heelshire

> Brahms treats you like royalty- whatever you want is yours

> So if you say you’d like to go dancing, he is more than happy to arrange something

> Though of course, he doesn’t like leaving home… no matter. There’s plenty of room in the manor

> He makes a date out of it- he’s prone to making dates out of lots of silly things

> Silly or not, it’s sweet, and as always you fawn over him and praise him for the thoughtfulness

> He even bought you a cute outfit for the occasion - he loves dolling you up (pun slightly intended)

> After setting the music he bows and offers his hand- being a rich brat he knows a bit of ballroom dancing

> He’s more than happy to teach you, humming “1-2-3” with your steps

> But he’s laughing and giggling and just can’t stop gushing over how cute you are

> So if you fall into slow dancing like it’s the prom, he doesn’t mind

> Any dance with you is more than he can ask for

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Chapter 2: Jobless? More like Job-bless

A/N: Link to prev ch + mini epilogue of the chap (where it goes to another character’s pov aside from the reader :DD) :

Preface:

After the mess of a morning, you instantly got roped into the orderly chaos of the bakery. Under a contract (a list of chores really) you are now tied to the place Nonna and Nonno calls home.

Although, you soon come to learn that it is the home of other certain individuals as well.

With a groan, you wonder how many things are left on the chore list posted on the to-do board, pinned with all sorts of menus, post-it notes, old recipes, and photos of people you don’t really care to know or recognize; although, you were curious of who that one handsome man was.

Which you kept at the back of your mind to ask Nonna during your break later.

For now, you had to focus up and sort this damn mountain of trash.

You even got scolded by the trash guy for having mixed the recyclables and non-recyclables! You pouted, mumbling that it wasn’t your fault but the old couple who ran this place— yet all he did was wave you off, saying that he’d make an exception and come by tomorrow, ‘as long as the trash is sorted.’

To be honest, you’d rather sort him to the non-recyclables pile.

Rancid- the whole lot of it was! You couldn’t believe it got stocked up until the second floor of the building… but you kinda have to wonder if they threw it from below with an underhand throw or dropped from the room you were currently in.

The latter seems more plausible.

Until you saw Nonna, spin and accurately place another bag on top- winking at your gaping form, knees bent with your elbows resting on it exhaustion.

“Is that nasty sickness gone?” She asks, arms folded on her chest as she leans by the doorway.

“I think I got another type of nasty sickness,” you raised your arms and showed the dirty yellow rubber gloves and apron covered in grime.

She laughs and nods, “well better get to finishin’! Else, you wouldn’t make it to the lunchtime rush.”

“Is that part of the list too?” You asked, stunned, you were very sure that was on there until Nonna waved you in. Pointing at the pin board by the doorway.

You slightly let yourself, making sure none of the guck got in the place you just cleaned. Bending and craning your neck upward, you gasp at how the checklist just became double its size from before, a stapler at both ends of the first one connecting to the next.

You quickly turn your head, tone accusatory- “you added onto it!”

“There’s a lot to do,” she shrugs, “didn’t quite give you the full list.”

She points to the first saying how that was Nonno’s list while the next was made by her. You pouted, finding it unfair- knowing how it wouldn’t be completed in a day, actually more than a week no less!

“How am I supposed to help you guys tomorrow if I can’t find my place today?”

She hums, tapping her chin before snapping her fingers and roughly pinching your puffed out cheeks.

“You stay upstairs with us, of course!”

“WHAT?”

You reflexively scream reacted, falling to your dramatically as your hands catch your upper body before it fell into the door way face first.

“Not a bad deal, right dearie?”

“Rightly so, dear wifey!”

You could hear the old couple tease you (with the old man coming in to see what the racket was that disturbed him from his cooking routine, only to see his wife amusing herself once more with the new kid she “adopted” (nonna’s words not his)) making you feel even more depressed, wondering what made you think it was a good idea in the first place to sign up to this deal.

You wanted info- and they needed a helper. The end.

You should have read the Terms and Conditions really. (The non existent one aka, reading between the lines and the vibe of the couple.)

Alas, you accepted your fate, resigning to it really as you stood up, looking at the list before retuning to the trash area, where the old couples kisses and giggles were still echoing by the back door way. A reality slapping reminder of what you needed to get back to immediately.

Kneeling by the pile you left, you spot a cat- a strangely pristine white one with bright blue eyes. It looked a bit fancy to be wandering around this part so you checked its neck for a collar yet there was none.

Humming to yourself, you called to it softly as you removed your stickily sweat gloves.

The cat, as if heeding your call, comes closers to your whispers of encouragement and ultimately sits before you meowing and nudging its head towards you.

“Aww!” You gleamed, immediately petting it with your finger tips, but melt even more as it long and fluffy tail wrapped around your fingers- as if urging you to continue your pampering.

“You’re such a cutie! Aren’t ‘cha?” You continue cooing at it, and with how immediately comfortably attached the cat was with you- you decided to try and carry it by opening your arms.

The cat crawls pause, sensing your pets has stopped and stares at you.

You stare it back.

Like a lightbulb popping up, the cat meows and stand up, crawling closer and…

“Now who the hell is there?”

You and the cat screech, both jumping in the air.

Although the difference between the two of you was one landed on their ass while the other ran away.

Unceremoniously once again.

You heaved, looking at the man intimidatingly making himself known by the entrance of the alleyway to the back door of the bakery, smoke in hand while the other was on his side- a holster you assume as you see something gleam below the morning light.

You noticed that he wore a suit quite similar to the men you met last night. Although this time, it was dark navy blue in color with a heavy coat on top, and brown shoes that seemed quite shinier that the jewels he wore on his fingers.

As you picked apart his outfit, he came in closer, noticing how you shivered at his presence (you weren’t it was just cold and he surprised the beejeebus out of you.)

So he stopped a bit aways away, five feet apart to be safe of the unexpected accusation that might come along by strangers at the street side.

“Got any business with this place?”

“Huh?” You look up at him, finally looking at his- less irritated, more confused than anything- face. His slicked back blonde hair made his eye brow raise and forehead creases even more noticeable as he tossed to you his questionable stare.

“Oh, uh yeah- I do.”

He nods, “right.”

You deadpanned, with you not believing him and him not believing your words— you decided to start the conversation again by standing and introducing yourself.

“I’m Graves,” he does the same, and stuff his hands in his pocket, offering a nod and grin.

“Like…” you paused, “the tombstone?”

He deadpans this time and sighs, shaking his head.

“You... you can put it that way,” he waves his hand, “but what’s your business here anyway, shortstack?”

You grumble to yourself about his nickname but placed in the back burner for later, where you would also burn him- but that’s a plan in the making.

“Why do you need to know?” You reply, a bit apprehensive of his prying. It’s not like he lived here- as far as you know.

…Maybe he was going to hustle you for messing with his favorite smoking spot?!

“Oh!” You turn to him, making his mouth clamp shut. “This might have been your smoking spot right? My bad.”

You bowed your head in a slight bow when apologizing, “its just that the owners of the bakery told me to clean up here,” you pointed to the pile of dump on the trashcan, “but as you can see, its taking me some time.”

He laughs, finally connecting the dots in his head and figuring who you were.

“Those old hags giving you trouble?”

Suddenly his arm was on your shoulder, slinging you forward and into his space which made you slightly flinch away, half uncomfortable and the other half making you hope wouldn't dirty his- clearly expensive- suit then blame it on you and pay for cleaning or worse... replace it.

Yeah, you didn't want to think about that.

So, you shook your but deeply sigh anyways, "it's all good."

You didn't know why but you wanted to reassure the stranger. In hope of getting him off your case? Maybe so- but it was more likely that his suit quite stank from the smell of cigs and alcohol, but with the mix of his- high end- cologne- it was just a smell that spelled disaster for your senses.

"Really now?" Unconvinced he was again but at this point, why did you continue to care?

So you huffed, sliding out of his grasp- surprisingly easily- and went by the back door, arms crossed just like a certain someone had done moments ago.

"Really," you rolled your eyes, "but its up to you to believe it or not."

Graves' eyes sparkled, smirk widening as he sniffs out a challenge- a challenge to his authority.

He scoffs out an amused chuckle as he sees you stomp back into the bakery in a huff, clearly cutting short your interaction with him and the conversation.

A conversation he quite wanted to continue.

So he follows, interest now piqued, wondering if you were a new face in town or simply a fleeting face he'd forget in a momentary notice. Whatever it was, he wanted to know.

His gut feeling says he has to--

it hasn't proven him wrong after all.

Entering the warm bakery as compared the cold breeze the outside gave made you shiver, hoping your body would better quickly adapt to the temperature change.

Quickly hanging your apron, you called out to the two that you came back for the lunch rush, all the while washing your hands in the kitchen's sink.

Whistling a tune, you think back to the words of Nonna earlier, having said that you would have to stay here until you get the end of your bargain. At least, that was what you think she meant until the list is done and dealt with.

Your actions slow as you think of an alternative-- you could text your co-worker and ask them right now, but that was embarrassing to think of doing. They gave simple instructions of how to get at the place, yet you somehow got lost and stumbled upon so much more people than you think you would have before coming into this reputable city.

To be honest to yourself for a moment, you didn't want to admit it to them not because of embarrassment- but because of how you felt ashamed of yourself. You didn't like having yourself in this position, squandering away for any penny you can make, scraping by with each paycheck, and most of all, for being so stupid that you can't even repay the kindness your co-worker has shown you. It felt like a waste, that you weren't using it right now-- staying at their place and slowly making it up to them by paying back every single money they spent to pay for rent, utilities, and food that they provided.

So you resolved yourself, slapping your face with the washed hands to wake yourself up from the quite long (short) introspection of your situation right now.

You did owe Nonna and Nonno for staying here, but for the boss of Soup? No... Suds-? Anyways, you had to repay that guy's boss as well for the lodging last night.

Maybe you can rearrange the agreement with the couple to provide- at least- the minimum of minimum wages so you wouldn't be just free labor for their amusement.

Despite thinking that they really might need some help, looking around at the state of place.

"Seems like you washed your hands extra clean."

You hear a sip behind you, jumping once more as you naturally glared at the person that spooked you.

"Could you like," you waved your hands around trying to find words, "not spook me every time you appear-- are you the boogeyman incarnate or something?"

This man in front of you, as formal as he looks, just breaks into cackles.

Downright fits of laughter that continuously bubble out of him.

Wheezing and all that-- but you wait, staring at him strangely and for him to catch his breath.

After a couple minutes pass and he doesn't, even leaning against the doorway as he covers his face (which was bright red) in attempt to limit his giggles, you sigh and untangle your arms. Pushing yourself off the sink and moving him aside so you could start the lunch shift.

"Wa-wait!"

You hear the man wheeze out and in frustration, you grumble out a- "what?"

"I- I was only ask-asking about you earlier bec-because--"

"because he's la famiglia, cara!"

You turn to the sudden pop of Nonna at your side, looking at her in question, "what do you mean-?"

"He-!" She quickly slaps his back to cough out his remaining laughter, "is one of my sons!"

"Son?" you ask, head tilting as you think back to that photo on the board. You turn to the board, checking if you were right-- and it was as if fate checked mate you as your eyes locked onto the boy at the far right side of the one completed family picture (you assumed) which had a lot of members.

'Blonde and blue eyes...'

The man, who has just been a disaster a couple of minutes ago, had now regain his composure and grinned at you as if it didn't look like he was losing his balls earlier.

"That's why I was concerned shortcake," he wraps his arm around Nonna (who just snuggles into him), "'cause I'm her son."

'Oof. '

Well, now that you know that they were all their (adopted) children in that picture, you find yourself more at ease in Graves' presence as Nonna chats to him about what happened ever since you showed up, with him humming and commenting from time to time.

As they sat at the side, you continued to do your job, managing the register and the back of the house- sending orders in and plates out.

You did it so much that by the time another table came, you were in auto pilot, customer service mode.

"Hello and welcome! What can I get for y'all started with--"

"Well, aren't you worse for wear."

Hearing that out of place comment made you snap out of your stupor, finally taking in the faces before you.

"The guys from last night!" You gasp, "and Suds' boss!" you glanced at the man with a beard and you could see him smile and nod, reaffirming who he was.

"Yes, that's me-"

Yet he gets cut by the rounding laughter of the table, making you confused, muttered a small, "what?"

"Suds--" The kind man from the other night manages out before falling into another fit of wheezing.

"His name ain't Suds, darlin'," the guy with a rough, scratchy voice talks and you now see that he was wearing a skull mask on the upper part of his face, then a black clothe covering his lower half.

"It's not?"

The man in question groans out, "its Soap you nest-head!"

You clicked your tongue, "Now I'm less inclined to call you that, Suds."

Now even Price chuckles at this exchange, making 'Grickky' looking at him in shock.

"Did you sleep well?"

Price redirects the conversation and you turn to him with a smile and nod, "thank to you sir."

You politely bowed your head and told him how you were gonna pay him back for it, but he just shakes his head- telling that you "shouldn't worry your pretty lil' head over a lil' cash."

"But its not a little amount!" You protested and they looked at you in shock. Thinking that you would just accept it and be done with it.

"I know better than anyone how both kindness and money is precious, so I'll work to pay you back sir."

The determination flaming in your eyes makes them quite stunned at the moment before Price just chuckles, "do as you wish." He says in contentment of the moment, and he was quite satisfied from how you reacted- bubbling and smiling as if you weren't laying sick mere hours ago when they last saw you.

"Cara!"

You hear Nonna call for you and you pause, asking for the four to wait a moment while you walk to see what Nonna needed until you see her approaching in excitement.

"Nonna-?"

"Oh my gosh!" She squeals into your arms, "I can't believe you're meeting all my boys today!"

"Your...boys?"

You stare at her for a moment before redirecting it to the sheepish four who sat there.

Welp... now your proclamations sounds a little awkward...

There was no way she would let her own son pay for lodging at his parent's place.

Even though you've only known Nonna for a couple hours, you were quite sure. A conclusion which made you throw your head back in embarrassment once again.

"just how many sons do you have?!"

A/N: Long chapter for the 2nd one because I got inspired! And also for the warm reception and the attention my silly lil AU for Tf 141 is getting hehe so thank yall <33 Cheers to more chapters to come !!

[mbbmz]

Long time no see, Ms. VP

꩜ Chapter 1.

꩜ Synopsis. The life of the party wasn’t really for you. An unexpected encounter happens, for the better or for the worse.

꩜ Paring. Bonten!Ran x Fem!Reader

꩜ Chapter warnings. None

꩜ WC. 2.1k

꩜ a/n. Not particularly proud of this one but it’s mostly an introduction chapter, so no smut, sorry! But wait for next chapter ;)

The sound of multiple voices echoed through the hallways, where students were waiting for class time. Some were mindlessly chatting between themselves while others were reading or studying, or whatever.

Ran, however, was attending his favorite activity of the day. The only thing that was worth him leaving his bed so early in the morning.

- "Haitani! Stop playing around and put it on!"

A feminine voice echoed in the hallway. Her uniform was neatly worn, her shirt ironed and her skirt covering her knees. The scowl on her face was the reason he still came here in the first place. Well, that and the fact he wanted to graduate from highschool.

- "Chill out, what’s the big deal? It’s just a tie…"

He almost couldn’t stop an amused smile to form on his face. It was just so funny to him, how dedicated she was for something so small.

- "It’s a dress code violation!"

She corrected, her face scrunching up even more. It was always the same with him. He’d always find a way to piss her off for God knows what reason.

A loud sigh escaped his lips, his fingers circling the edge of the glass. There were days like this. His sleep schedule was off, work was shit, traffic was bad and the bartender somehow managed to fuck up his drink the first time.

He was bored out of his mind. It wasn’t in his habits to stay on the side, but he didn’t seem to find anyone interesting.

His gaze trailed down on the first floor where a mass of people was dancing, bumping into each others. He couldn’t distinguish any any faces, not like he really cared. For some reason, his eyes landed on a girl, chatting with what seemed like her friend. She had a beautiful smile.

- "You should smile more often, suits you."

- "Stop being so stuck up for once, smile and have a good time."

- "There’s that beautiful smile~"

Those memories seemed almost foreign to him. He wasn’t expecting those particular memories to flood through his mind. What was her name?.. He didn’t remember.

- "Chill, VP. You’re gonna get all wrinkled."

He almost chuckled. It’s been a long time since the last time he thought about her. The recollection of her signature scowl felt bittersweet.

- "Huh? You didn’t hear? She moved…"

He still remembers the churning of his stomach at those words. The confusion, the disbelief, the anger.

Why didn’t she tell me?

Ah, who cares anyways.

It was years ago, he didn’t remember her face, let alone her name… No need to dwell over this.

So why did he find himself walking down the stairs of the club, his eyes fixated in her direction?

He needed another drink.

He got closer to the bar, ignoring the lingering thought to just go and see that woman, just to get the confirmation she wasn’t who he thought she was. Suddenly, he felt something, someone bump into his back.

The woman apologized, but it was all white noise to him. He shrugged it off with a gesture of his hand, before walking away.

- "Haitani ? Is that you ?"

He heard a voice, realization hitting him. Ah, he remembered her name now.

- "Haitani ! You’re late again !"

- "Why do you keep getting yourself in trouble, Haitani ?!"

- "Haitani… You again…"

He turned around, a small smile on his face. The first one of the night.

It really was her. How amusing.

- "Well, well… Isn’t it our dear student council vice president ?"

You looked around the place, a hint of nervousness in your eyes. You never really enjoyed the atmosphere in clubs. It was packed, loud and hot. But tonight wasn't about you. Tonight was your best friend bachelorette party, and what she says goes, even if it meant keeping her company in this ridiculously fancy club.

- "(Y/N) ! Why aren't you having fun ?"

You heard her crisp voice directed at you. She was a bit pouty, something you wouldn’t expect from a grown woman like her, but you were used to it by now.

- "I am having fun !"

You lied. After all, you weren’t going to tell her the truth about being bored and annoyed out of your mind at her big night. You didn’t want to ruin it.

She rolled her eyes, getting closer to you. She leaned in closer in a slight wobbly demeanor, probably to whisper something. Yeah, she was definitely tipsy.

- "Do you know why I chose this club ?"

She asked, her voice teasing and playful. It was your turn to roll your eyes.

- "Because you would take any occasion to spend your money in luxurious establishments ?"

You arched a brow, even though your tone was a bit playful as well. She scoffed, light-heartedly nudging your shoulder.

- "Because… I was thinking… if there is a chance a man took interest in you… let him at least be rich !"

She said humorously, making you roll your eyes again. You swore you’d end up cross eyed by the end of the night.

- "But seriously though, you’re thirty and still single !"

Her words made you wince slightly. You were aware that the more you waited, the harder it will get to find someone. It wasn’t your fault, you were just… not really good at flirting. You sighed, on your way to get another drink.

As you made your way to the bar through the mass of dancing people, you bumped into someone. You immediately apologized, not yet looking at the face of the lanky man you bothered. As you looked up, trying to get a better look at the stranger, you were met with a familiar pair of violet eyes.

- "S-Stop looking at me like that, Haitani!.."

- "Like what ?"

- "Like you’re coming up with an evil plan or something…"

But before you could say anything, the man turned his back at you, making his way to the bar. Panic filled you, not wanting to let him go, for some reason.

- "Haitani ? Is that you ?"

You found yourself saying, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth. You needed to know if it was him. It probably wasn’t, but the worst that can happen was an embarrassing moment. However, you saw the man stop, he had that smile on his face.

- "You know you’re creepy, Haitani…"

- "Damn, you really have no filter, do you ?"

- "It’s the way you’re smiling… like you have something on your mind."

You never wanted to admit how much you loved that smile.

- "Well, well… Isn’t it our dear student council vice president ?"

His words made your eyes widen. It was him. The troublemaker that managed to lighten up your high school years. You were faced with a mixture of clashing feelings. Of course, you were surprised, pleasantly so. So why didn’t you find the strength to smile at him ? Was it because it has been such a long time ? Or was it because of the gnawing guilt that crushed you ?

You left without saying goodbye.

You managed to give him an awkward smile. You didn’t really know what to do. Part of you wanted to talk to him, but the other part was calling you stupid. You knew what you were doing when you moved. You knew you wouldn’t tell him anything, you knew you wouldn’t tell him goodbye. You knew you would hurt him.

But… past was past, right?..

- "It’s been a while since the last time I’ve been called that…"

You laughed awkwardly, still trying to get your head around the fact that Ran Haitani was standing in front of you. He was… well, how could you even describe your relationship?..

You were polar opposite. You were part of the student council, and he was your worst nightmare. At first, at least.

You only saw him smile, but somehow, it didn’t hit the same as it did in high school. Maybe because it wasn’t the smile you remembered.

This wasn’t his teasing, shit eating grin. It was more like a cold, calculating smirk. Scrutinizing you, sizing you up. Almost hypocritical. It was an unpleasant feeling.

He had changed. A lot. Of course, it has been more than ten years but… you wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for those lazy violet eyes of his. You remembered the way you would lecture him on his long hair, and how it wasn’t “appropriate for school” or bullshit like that. His short hair made him look more… mature, in a way. You almost found yourself wanting to run your hand in the lilac strands. You cleared your throat, trying to find something to say. But it was hard with his studying gaze fixated on you. But before you could say anything, you saw him taking out a pack of cigarettes.

- "Care to join me for a smoke ?"

The chilly wind made you shiver slightly, but it was still better than the suffocating atmosphere inside the club. Maybe you should’ve worn a longer dress to accommodate the cold weather of November. You looked at the tall man beside you, who didn’t seem bothered by the cold. You sighed, feeling the wind blow the smoke of his cigarette in your direction. He had a somewhat distant look, one you don’t think you’ve ever seen before.

- "So, you came back, after all."

You heard him saying, still looking into the distance. You glanced at him inquisitively, not quite understanding his statement.

- "In Tokyo, I mean."

He clarified, making you hum in acknowledgment. You moved out of Tokyo when you were seventeen, in the middle of the school year. Well, it was about that time too, in November. You still remember your class already thinking about Christmas, planning winter outings with their friends, Christmas dates… You even remember planning to get a gift for him. But that was before you got the news that you would go live with your mother. This sudden change didn’t enchant you, but you didn’t really have your say on the matter.

- "Yeah… I came back to go to college."

You finally answered, not really looking at him. You didn’t want to talk about how you left without saying anything, even though you knew you would have to, eventually. What were you thinking, back then ? Maybe you just didn’t want to say goodbye, so you didn’t. If only you could remember.

You looked back at him, only to find out he was staring right at you. You felt almost small under his piercing gaze. You wish you could find that easiness and that tranquility from back then. But you couldn’t. Now the air was heavy and it felt like there was a wall between the two of you. You wish you had the strength, the right to break that wall, but you couldn’t. Nothing was like before, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Was it wrong to want it to be like back then ? You were both adults now. You couldn’t afford that nonchalance you both had years ago. Those days, so far away yet so vivid in your memory. You remember now.

You were in love with him. Maybe that’s why you were so scared to say goodbye.

The silence felt heavy on your shoulders, and none of you were saying anything. You were just standing there while he was smoking his cigarette. Back then, he would’ve already tried to piss you off at least 3 times. But he didn’t.

- "What ?"

You asked, wanting to know why he was staring at you so much. In fact, you dreaded the question you knew was on the tip of his tongue. After the few seconds, he spoke.

- "Nothing. This dress looks nice on you."

You didn’t know how to react. Maybe it just… didn’t matter to him. You wished it did, though. You gripped the guardrail, looking at one of Tokyo’s tall buildings. The old you would’ve stammered over her words at a compliment from him. But it wasn’t the Ran you knew, you realized that. It was no use reminiscing the good ol’ time, it was all gone.

- "Thank you."

Then the silence again. You wondered why you even followed him in the first place. Perhaps you were looking for an occasion to justify yourself. It was crazy, because none of it would even matter if you hadn't landed on him tonight. All of those memories would’ve stayed locked up deep into the abyss of your mind if his eyes hadn’t met yours. Suddenly, a small vibration cut through the heavy silence. You took out your phone, looking at the text you just received.

|Bitch where r u 12:47am

|Im worried 12:49am

You sighed, knowing it was time to part ways. You would probably not see him again, maybe it was for the best.

- "I should go, my friend’s looking for me."

He didn’t say anything for a moment, silently bringing the stick to his lips.

- "Yeah."

He simply answered. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or glad he was letting you go this easily. You finally decided you shouldn’t care.

You turned away, walking back inside the building, not sparing him a last glance, the air filled with unspoken words.

Hi guys! I hope you are all doing okay. Im back with my first long fic, and i hope you'll like it! Dont hesitate to point out mistakes i might have made, english isnt my first language. If you have any questions about it, my inbox is open! Tell me if you want to be tagged.

I unfortunately didn’t manage to tag everyone, sorry about that.

Taglist. @honeygonebads-blog @thesadvampire @nahoyaandsouya @onyankaponsbae @shadowstar123

[water-to-drink]

How They Became Attracted to You pt2

(Characters): Sethos, Ayato, Itto, & Thoma

(Synopsis): First meetings with the most popular or influential students at the academy and how their love for you blossomed

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, school au, stalking, Kaeya is called a whore and a harlot in this, reader gets tackled, reader is an artist, (if I missed anything lmk)

(Word Count): 1.7k

(A/n): Sorry there’s none of the female characters in this one, tell me which characters you want to see in the next one

Part one

Sethos

🏜️ Like Ayaka, he saw you in the hallway with your sketchbook in hand or you drawing in it but instead of leaving you be, Sethos walked up to you and began to introduce himself. He goes on about how he rarely sees you talking with anyone and he wants to change that

🏜️ Just like that you were adopted by an extrovert. Sethos would find you and immediately talk to you, at first you went along with it because you didn’t have the guts to tell him to leave you alone and you wanted to be more social. After a couple of days you soon warmed up to his presence around you all the time

🏜️ You and Sethos would talk to each other and laugh at each other’s jokes, to him your humor came natural and often times caught him off guard making him double over in laughter. Sethos would introduce you to one of his friends and you got along great with him, Sethos’ heart swelled with joy seeing you spread your wings

🏜️ That was until he saw you with Kaeya, laughing and acting all buddy-buddy with him. A twinge of jealousy bubbled in his chest, sure he wanted you to be more social but not with him of all people! He’ll only break your heart after he got what he wanted

🏜️ Though Sethos doesn’t encourage stalking, but in this instance it’s warranted. Following you and that whore, he saw something that he feared the most. The look in his eye, it’s love!

🏜️ Sethos vowed to himself that he would protect you from that harlot and totally not to potentially have a relationship with you. No sir, Sethos doesn’t want to hold your hand nor kiss you on your soft lips. Obviously not! He’s just looking out for a friend

Ayato

🧋Isn’t stupid, as part of the student council and eldest son to the Kamisato family Ayato is more than familiar to picking up on whether people are hiding something from him, especially his dearest sister. He noticed that Ayaka seemed different, more happy and she won’t tell him what’s going on in her life (so mean (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`) )

🧋 So as any loving brother Ayato sent members of the Shuumatsuban to follow his sister and to his surprise they followed her to a rinky dink cafe. The more interesting fact is that they found her talking to a waiter, you in fact, and both of you seemed very close. With his interest peaked Ayato had the Shuumatsuban follow you now

🧋 They pulled up the most basic information on you, coming from a low income family gave the blue haired student pause. Are you trying to warm up to his sister in attempt to get money from her? He can’t have someone trying to take advantage of his family, so time to delve in deeper. Having his spies enter the cafe and watch while you chat with Ayaka, an interesting thing came up during the investigation. Ayaka didn’t give much details about the family, only the fact that she has a brother who goes to the same school as her. Well at least that quells one of his concerns that you aren’t after their money

🧋 Maybe finally his dear sister has a friend that she can talk to like a normal girl and maybe he can check out your family’s cafe when Ayaka isn’t there and talk to you. But he has to be sure of that and so he investigated you even more

🧋 The more info they got, i.e. photos and videos, the more he finds you interesting. You’re so quick and witty with your responses with the few friends you have, even though he has the Shuumatsuban following your every move and sending Ayato the reports he feels that he’s right there with you. This goes on for a couple of weeks and soon it isn’t enough for him to just watch you on his phone, he has to talk to you in person. “Be natural” is what he told himself as he walked into your family’s cafe and took a seat in one of the booths

“Hello sir, what can I start you with?”

“Just black coffee.”

“Okay.” You said before you went to get the coffee pot and return to pour some in a white mug. “Would that be all sir?”

“Yes, and please call me Ayato.” The blue haired man spoke

🧋 Ayato made small talk and quickly found out that you were a shy little thing, cute. You nervously answered his questions and asked some yourself, obviously trying to be more social. It was clear that you weren’t fully out of your shell but he’ll take what can get. However as the hours rolled past you slowly showed that witty nature you had. Ayato never had so much fun talking to someone before, he was sad that once closing time arrived and thus had to leave. No matter there’s always next time, for your time the young man gave you a 100 dollar note. He loved the look of shock on your face

“Sir I can’t expect this!” You put the 100 back in his hands. “I had a good time but, I can’t take it in good conscience!”

🧋 Ohh he’s going to have fun spoiling you

Itto

🪲 Your first time meeting wasn’t too romantic or special, it was more chaotic to say the least. One day after school Itto was looking for the onikabuto he found earlier today, he had a feeling that bug would be his champion! While scouring the hallways the one heard a scream. So as any unreasonable person would do he ran into the classroom to see you about to slam your sketchbook on his meal ticket!

🪲 The obvious thing to do is to tackle you to the ground, don’t worry he used his hand to shield your head from hitting the floor. When he first got a good look at you, the larger student thought that you were cute. The look of shock was what snapped him out of it and made him get off of you

“I’m so sorry, but you were about to step on my onikabuto!”

🪲 You were still shaken up as you watched the oni pick up the bug and put it in the breast pocket of his blazer, feeling your hands empty you look around and don’t see what you’re looking for, until your eyes lands on the open window and your heart instantly drops

“Ack! My sketchbook!” You yelled out upon seeing your precious work in the school pond

“Don’t worry I’ll go get it!” The oni said

🪲 You watched as the white haired oni run out the room and out the building, he picked it up and threw you a thumbs up. Finally coming back to the classroom, Itto handed you the sopping sketchbook

“Thanks…” you said

“Uhhh, I’ll make it up to you! I swear on my oni pride!”

“You don’t have to. It’s fine.”

🪲 It wasn’t fine to Itto, he thrashed your book and so he has to make it up to you. The day after that little event Itto would find you at lunch and buy you milk cream bread from the canteen, he would sit with you on the roof and watch you draw much to your dismay

🪲 Itto would excitedly ask you about the characters and came to learn you like a lot of the manga that he likes! The more time Itto spends talking with you he sees you as one of the guys in the gang, no definitely more than that. Maybe a best friend, or a super friend? Whatever he just likes spending time with you

Thoma

🧹 Someone who met you at your family’s cafe, he knew you before you entered the academy. He comes in whenever he can to get away from the hectic schedule being one of the many secretaries of the student council and right hand of Kamisato Ayato. Not to mention he has to run all around campus either dropping stuff off or getting items, but here it’s still and quiet. A time to himself

🧹 Since the cafe isn’t well known and often times empty except for a few elderly customers drinking coffee, you know Thoma on a first name basis. He’s a bit of a regular and you know his order by heart. A croissant sandwich with a latte. You would sit and talk about stuff with the blond, you actually have a lot of stuff in common

🧹 You two relate to each other, not coming from well off backgrounds but against all odds both of you got accepted into a prestigious school. He knows the feeling of being looked down upon and having to keep your head up the whole time. Hell, the reason he joined the student council was to be respected like everyone else, but now he’s seen as the student council’s errand boy, here he can be him and not Ayato’s secretary

🧹 Sure he works hard, but seeing you work whenever the cafe gets a little spike in customers just inspires him to work even harder. The sight still stays with him as he is running some errands back on campus. He vows to get good grades, go to a good college, get a good job and hopefully support you

🧹 In his little fantasy of you two being married Thoma didn’t see where he was going and bumped into someone in the hallway. The papers in his hands scattered across the hallway, the poor boy profusely apologized to you as he picked up all of the papers and ran off to wherever he was originally going. Once back at the student council room, Thoma sorted through the papers and find a drawing of him sitting at the cafe. A piece of art in the blond’s eyes, he wonder how it got there

“Uhh excuse me?”

🧹 Thoma turns around to see you at the door looking down at your feet, he instantly thought that you looked cute in the school uniform

“I think you got something of mines.”

🧹 The blond hands you the drawing of him and a sudden look of realization and then horror appears on your face. You apologize profusely

“Thoma! I just was trying to do a still life to expand my portfolio!” You nervously explained

“It’s nothing, it’s actually pretty good. I can be your model if you want.” Thoma scratched the side of his face

“Ehhh?”

[arcane-ish]

What do we call this? Headcanons? Plotbunnies? Wishful thinkings?

Since I full expect Arcane to not give me the timebomb I want, I'm just gonna write how it would pan out in my perfect world.

Ekko gets spit out by HexCore and the Jinx worship is already in full swing. He's fucking pissed. He's so pissed he puts his mask on (to contain his emotions) and she sort of snarkily tells him who is he kidding with that mask, to just take it off. He takes it off and she can see how emotional he is and then they have an angry heart to heart (with like Jinx saying it's not her fault, the whole revolutionizing sort of came to her). Ekko is upset, because he worries about his people, but he also maybe senses that it's too late to put the genie back into the bottle and he isn't sure how to feel about it. *

In my head there is a dream/fanfiction scene where Ekko's tree gets burned down and he basically runs into the fire/destruction. Jinx is there sort of staring at it. It's not her place to intervene because they don't have that kind of relationship. But right before he can seriousy injure himself she pulls off her gun and shoots at his feet. He stops, turns around, goes "wtf", runs for her and they tussle/fight again, but the aim is achieved to get his attention elsewhere. There is arguging and snarling involved in the fight. *

Maybe after they pull apart again he's all "that's it, I'm gonna kill Caitlyn". And Jinx stops him. Because while she's all in favor of killing Caitlyn, she kind of likes him being the moral one. (plus hating Caitlyn is her job). Ekko relents once he realizes that that's what she is doing and switches to "okay, we'll get her and bring her down a peg" and they team up. *

I kind of want a scene where Ekko is helping people who have been injured in an attack and Jinx maybe dons her cape to do the same and do it anonymously. Like in the past she would have had to hide herself because people hate and fear her and maybe now it's because she's too much of a celebrity and now people always want something from her. They share a quiet look of understanding/temporary ceasefire from arguing about it. ***

Yes, I realize that exactly none of that will happen because the writers refuse to give Ekko the sceentime, character arc and point of view he deserves. (for example, I so wanna see Ekko seek out pitfighter Vi and just enjoying being the younger one again: of course in my perfect word both Jinx and Ekko show up to one of Vi's fights, stare at her and just marvel together at how fucked up she is) But I can at least write it down.

[rootedinrevisions]

Perfectly Imperfect Proposal

SUMMARY: Damian has the perfect plan to ask his girlfriend to marry him. But what happens when nothing goes right and the universe throws a wrench in his plans? A perfectly imperfect proposal.

A/N: Thank you to @eringobragh420 for sending in this request! Hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS/TAGS: None. Just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

TAG LIST: @caramara3 @missbmc94 @terrortwinunicorn

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

Damian took a deep breath, standing back to admire the setup one last time. The restaurant was transformed; warm string lights hung across the ceiling, and the tables were set with fresh flowers—your favorites. He’d flown in your family and closest friends to be here, and they’d been his silent co-conspirators for weeks, working from behind the scenes to help pull this off. Everything was in place for tonight, and it was time to go get you.

“You’ve done an incredible job,” your mom said, stepping up beside him with a warm smile. “She’s going to be absolutely thrilled, Damian.”

He gave her a grateful nod, a rare hint of nerves showing in his smile. “I just want everything to be perfect,” he admitted, glancing around one last time. “She deserves that.”

Your sister came over and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “It’s perfect, trust me. She’ll love every bit of it.”

Damian chuckled, though he felt the butterflies starting to stir. It wasn’t the big matches, the huge crowds, or the intense stunts that got to him—it was this, something so much more personal. He was about to ask the person he loved most in the world to spend her life with him, and despite all his careful planning, he felt the weight of it in his chest. But this was the good kind of nerves.

“Good luck!” one of your friends called out, snapping a quick photo of him and flashing him a thumbs-up. “Go sweep her off her feet!”

He grinned, feeling his confidence return. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the one he’d been planning from the very start. He exchanged a quick round of hugs with everyone, their encouragement following him out of the restaurant and into the cool evening air. As he made his way to the car, he could already picture the look on your face when you found out that everyone you loved was here, celebrating with you. All he had to do was get you to say “yes.”

Smiling to himself, Damian climbed into the car, running through the plan in his mind as he drove to meet you. He could almost hear the cheers, and feel the excitement in the air. 

After leaving the restaurant where the party preparations were well underway, Damian made one quick stop on the way to your place—a small flower shop he’d spotted on the corner. He’d already been envisioning you with a vibrant bouquet in your hands, and he wanted tonight to start with something beautiful, a small token of how much he cherished you.

Stepping into the cozy shop, he picked out a mix of roses, lilies, and a few sprigs of eucalyptus, the arrangement coming together perfectly. The florist wrapped the bouquet in delicate paper, and Damian smiled, imagining the look on your face when he handed them to you.

But as he exited the shop, distracted by his own thoughts and the weight of the ring box in his pocket, someone brushed past him, jostling him. His heart sank as he watched, almost in slow motion, as the bouquet slipped from his hands and fell to the ground. Before he could scoop it up, a few bustling passersby accidentally stepped on the flowers, crushing the delicate petals.

He crouched down, surveying the damage. Most of the bouquet was a lost cause, the bright petals bruised and torn. Only one rose, red and mostly intact, remained in decent shape. He plucked it from the mess with a sigh, then gave a small, resigned chuckle. So much for the picture-perfect start.

When Damian arrived at your place, you opened the door with a smile, dressed and ready for what you thought was just a fun night out together. Damian’s gaze softened as he looked at you, all the nerves he’d been holding onto momentarily melting away.

“Heat, beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze intense as he took you in.

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks at his words. You looked down, smiling, and thanked him, feeling a flutter of excitement you hadn’t expected on what you thought was just a simple date night.

“For you,” he said, holding out the rose with a slight grin. You laughed, accepting it and bringing it up to your nose to breathe in the soft, floral scent.

“I know it’s not much,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “but… it was supposed to be a whole bouquet. Someone bumped into me, and the rest of them didn’t make it.”

You laughed softly, touched by the gesture all the same. “It’s perfect,” you replied, taking the rose from him and breathing in its faint, sweet scent. “Besides, you know I’m not a huge bouquet girl. One rose feels a lot more… us.”

Damian let out a relieved chuckle and reached out, brushing his hand along your cheek. 

“You really are too good to me,” he murmured, his eyes filled with warmth. He took a step back, admiring you fully as he added with a grin, “And you look sexy as hell tonight.”

Blushing, you slid your arm through his, leaning into his side as he led you toward the car. The single rose resting in your hand felt like the perfect start to the evening, a small hint of the wonderfully imperfect surprises that awaited you both.

He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close as he led you to the car. You fit perfectly against him, his warmth and easy confidence somehow soothing the butterflies in your stomach. “So, dinner and maybe drinks after?” you asked, teasing him with a small smile.

“That’s the plan,” he replied with a glint in his eye that hinted at something more, something just under the surface. But he kept his tone casual, not giving anything away.

Damian opened the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on yours as he helped you settle into the seat. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed both a little nervous and utterly enchanted, his gaze soft as he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

Sliding into his seat, Damian turned to you with a smile, a glint of excitement sparking in his eyes as he placed a hand on the back of your seat and backed out of the driveway. As you eased into the rhythm of the drive, the single rose resting on your lap, the soft hum of the car and the quiet city lights streaming by outside felt both intimate and comforting.

The conversation was light, and playful—shared jokes, stories from the week, small moments that felt like their own kind of magic. There was something different in Damian’s energy tonight, a charged anticipation he couldn’t quite hide, and it made your heart flutter in response. Every so often, he’d steal a glance your way, his fingers drumming lightly on the wheel to a rhythm only he seemed to hear.

“You’re being extra mysterious tonight, you know that?” you teased, studying his profile with a raised eyebrow.

He chuckled, casting you a sideways smile. “Maybe I just want to surprise you for once,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Besides, I think you’re going to like where we’re headed.”

You smiled, leaning back into the seat as you looked out the window. The night felt full of possibility like something big was just on the horizon. And with Damian by your side, you knew it would be something unforgettable.

But just as you were about to ask for a hint about the night’s plans, a strange, rhythmic thump-thump-thump broke the comfortable silence, sending a jolt through the car. 

You felt Damian’s grip on the wheel tightened as he glanced at the dashboard, his expression shifting in a heartbeat.

The low tire pressure light blinked on, and with a low sigh, Damian slowed the car, pulling over to the side of the road. 

“Stay here,” he murmured, his brow furrowing as he stepped out to assess the damage.

You watched as he stepped out, his tall frame silhouetted against the faint glow of the headlights as he rounded to the back of the car. He crouched down, running his hand along the rubber tread. Sure enough, the back tire was completely deflated, a jagged piece of glass embedded in the sidewall. It wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, grimacing as he realized just how bad the situation was. He’d barely make it a mile down the road, much less the distance to the spot he’d planned for the proposal. And there was no spare in the trunk—the realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

He straightened up, exhaling slowly as he weighed his options, before heading back to the driver’s seat. Sliding in, he reached for his phone, dialing AAA with a clenched jaw and an air of frustration that was rare for him.

You looked at him, concerned. “How bad is it?”

He hesitated, glancing up at you with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Pretty bad. No spare, and I don’t think we’re getting this thing to a gas station.” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as the AAA line continued to ring. “They’ll get here, it’s just…gonna take a while.”

As the minutes ticked by with AAA’s hold music crackling over the phone, a light drizzle started to fall, pattering softly against the windshield. You could see Damian’s frustration starting to build, his usual calm composure slipping

Damian ended the call with AAA, his expression dark with frustration as he stepped out of the car, pacing under the steady drizzle that had quickly turned into a downpour. You could see the tension radiating off him, his shoulders tight and his brows furrowed, and you knew that his mind was racing with everything that had gone off course tonight.

You slipped out of the car, bracing yourself against the cold rain as you approached him.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching for his arm. “It’s okay, Damian. We’ll get there when we get there.”

He stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of disappointment and frustration.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I had this whole thing planned, and now…” He ran a hand through his soaked hair, his eyes drifting to the ring box in his pocket. “Now it’s all ruined.”

You shook your head, stepping closer as the rain streamed down between you.

“Nothing’s ruined,” you whispered, trying to meet his gaze. “I’m here with you, and that’s all that matters.”

He looked at you, truly looked at you, and in that moment, the rain, the broken-down car, the hours of planning he’d poured into tonight—none of it seemed to matter. Taking a steadying breath, he reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the small box. This wasn’t the candlelit scene he’d imagined, but something about the imperfect reality of it made his heart pound even harder.

Damian dropped down on one knee, the rain splashing around him as he looked up at you with a gaze so full of love it took your breath away.

“This… this wasn’t the plan,” he admitted, his voice low and vulnerable. “I wanted everything to be perfect, to give you the proposal you deserve. But honestly, I don’t care how it happens anymore.” He held up the ring, his eyes never leaving yours. “All I know is that I want you by my side, no matter what. Will you marry me?”

Your heart skipped, and you felt a wave of joy so powerful it brought tears to your eyes. With a smile that held all the love you felt for him, you nodded. “Yes. A million times, yes.”

Damian slid the ring onto your finger, his hands steady despite the rain pouring down between you. You leaned in, pulling him up from his kneeling position as your lips met in a kiss that was both soft and electrifying, the rain wrapping around you like a private, cinematic backdrop.

As you finally pulled away, you kept close, smiling against his lips. He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he murmured, “I’m so sorry… I wanted this to be perfect. You deserve so much more.”

You laughed, looking up at the rain-soaked scene around you. “I don’t know,” you replied with a grin. “This is actually pretty romantic. Kind of like something out of The Notebook.”

He laughed, his tension easing as he pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. The two of you stood there, soaked to the bone, yet utterly content, wrapped up in a moment that, despite all odds, had turned out to be just as perfect as he’d hoped.

With a grateful nod to the AAA driver, Damian gave the newly fixed tire one last look before guiding you back into the car. The two of you shared a quick glance, both completely soaked, but the energy between you was electric. The rain hadn’t dampened your spirits one bit; if anything, it had made the night even more memorable. Damian gave your hand a squeeze before starting the car, the ring on your finger glinting in the glow of the dashboard.

The drive to the restaurant wasn’t long, and before you knew it, Damian was pulling into the parking lot. The anticipation built as you approached the entrance, and he placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside. Despite being soaked through, neither of you could stop smiling.

As you stepped into the restaurant, the warmth hit you, along with the quiet murmur of conversation that suddenly fell silent as friends and family noticed you standing there, dripping wet. Confusion flashed across a few faces as everyone took in your appearance. Damian’s friends exchanged glances, and your mom’s mouth fell open in surprise.

But before anyone could ask, you lifted your left hand with a wide grin, flashing the sparkling ring on your finger.

“He did it!” you announced, barely able to contain your excitement.

Damian wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his eyes bright as he added, “And she said yes!”

The room erupted in cheers, laughter, and applause, and within seconds, you were surrounded by friends and family, all eager to hug, congratulate, and hear every detail of what had clearly been an unforgettable proposal. Damian’s mom reached up to touch his damp hair, shaking her head with a chuckle as she took in your soaked outfits.

“We definitely didn’t plan on the flat tire or the downpour,” you admitted with a laugh, “but honestly… it was perfect.”

“Oh my gosh, what happened?” one of your friends asked, eyes wide as she looked between the two of you.

You recounted the whole story, from the unexpected flat tire to Damian pacing in the rain, to the beautiful, rain-soaked proposal on the side of the road. As you spoke, Damian’s hand stayed on your back, his warmth and presence grounding you as the group listened, hanging on every word. You could already tell this story was going to become a beloved memory, shared at family gatherings for years to come.

Your mom hugged you, beaming. “I can’t think of a more romantic proposal. Damian, you did good!”

Damian grinned, meeting your gaze with that familiar sparkle. “I couldn’t have planned it any better myself.”

The two of you exchanged a glance, sharing a moment of silent understanding. Despite the flat tire and the rain, the night had been more perfect than either of you could have imagined, and now, surrounded by friends and family, you knew this was only the beginning of a lifetime of perfectly imperfect memories together.

[mydearestbeloved]

okay chapter 5 review here bc word limit.

amazing how your very first and latest draft can change how I feel about your story as a whole lmao. ngl the jinwoo in your first draft reminds me of those daydream yandere!jinwoo fics lolololol so imagine my whipslash when i read the revised and expanded draft of this.

i love those to death i will be honest here but sl reader fics that depicts jinwoo more closely to his canon counterpart always hit different fr. i love how jinwoo isn't trusting of reader and constantly trying to figure her out. he's so inquisitive and smart when trying to piece everything he can find about reader (that makes a lot of sense since he becomes a detective in the revised timeline).

i really appreciate you writing him like this and it's a shame canon kinda stop writing the strategic and observant jinwoo after over the half of the story. of course if you wanted to be more canon compliant (and an excuse to keep reader involved), jinwoo would have to be more suspicious and distrustful of her and monitor her (such a jinwoo move) bc yk his deep trust issue (that has been forgotten or somehow resolved on its own in the canon story just bc. no im not bitter about it nope). therefore, it's so intriguing to read fics where his issues being addressed and his worldview being challenged. i know solo leveling is a power fantasy but it's frustrating to see our protagonist keep proving right about his very flawed and detrimental outlook, carrying the world on his shoulders alone and all that and the story acts like none of that affects him negatively or has any long lasting consequences. again it's a power fantasy but i think i can overlook this very real potential issue only if the story isn't set in a modern and semi-realistic urban setting.

anyway i skimmed through all the drafts you have and i love how they are mostly about him slowly opening up to reader. my god i cannot wait until jinwoo becomes absolutely whipped for our fae queen like in the old drafts. i know it will be absolutely satistfying and worthwhile. (can't believe all the chapters are still drafts???)

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Now onto your review:

Original vs Now

Funny story, this Trial Player AU's original idea was just supposed to be a single, one-shot thing. So, you're not wrong to think that it feels like a daydream yandere!Jinwoo fic, because IT IS.

I even format it like so because I didn't want to get overboard, and that I was afraid of losing interest if I held onto it for too long just because I don't have enough time to write it as long and detailed as I would've liked.

But as it turns out, I just fooled myself, because here we are with a full blown series. And me with too little time still.

The original concept of a trial player isn't even mine. I was inspired by one of @circeyoru's fics, where I just wanted to write a similar story but with a Reader that have different powers and personality.

I ended up having too many interesting ideas to expand this after posting Imagine #1, which now became the summary of this series instead of its original purpose as a one-shot, one-time thing.

To simplify: I hyperfixate. Drafts started piling up. I wanted to work out the details little by little but they were too messy for me to find the time to sit down and edit them. New method: try posting it. I can edit them as I go as long as I gave warnings beforehand to Readers that my writings can change. If this goes well, there's a chance I can receive feedbacks to improve further. Two birds with one stone. A win-win scenario for me.

I mostly write when I'm stressed out from studying and needed a temporary escape. So, it brings me extra joy when people actually enjoy my stress-induced vomit of words. 🥰

How I write canon characters

I LOVE Reader Inserts/x Reader stories, and one of the things that most of the time ruined them for me personally is if the canon intended act too OOC.

Like, I get it, we Readers aren't in the canon story, of course the canon characters will act out of script since they literally are. But if they act like a different person all together with little to no explanation, no reason that can tie them back to the essence that make them just them, then what's the point of canon x reader when it's just the same as oc x reader?

At least add a warning/note/anything else to inform readers if you're going to do that, or if you're not too sure you can write them to stay true to their canon counterparts (like me 😓).

In real life, we already proven that we are fickle beings. We kept changing for one reason or another, but we can still stay true to ourselves or be recognize as just us.

And that is what I tried to do in writing the canon characters, especially the MCs since we readers follow their story the closest, which resulted in us knowing about them more then the side/supporting characters.

We don't truly know them, we never will, but we can predict them when we put those characters in different scenes/scenarios/settings because they already have a pattern that we know.

That is what we readers of Readers Inserts ultimately sought after, to be able to imagine interacting with those same characters that we know through the pages.

At least, this is what I want. Different people, different views and opinions. This is mine.

How I write Sung Jinwoo in this alternate scenario

I only know of Solo Leveling through its webtoon/manhwa and anime adaptations. I know little no none how they are in the original webnovel/novel and game, and the little that I know are form spoilers, tidbits of them.

With this in mind, I do feel that the manhwa are missing some things, and as it turns out (from the spoilers I read), it does skip many scenes from the novel.

No hate for the artist though, if it were not for him, I wouldn't have known Solo Leveling. And I could only imagine how hard it would be to draw everything from the original.

As for Jinwoo, I'll try my best to stay true to his character from the manhwa. But note that I also added the 'Yandere' element. So, to make him not too OOC, I'll explore his thought process from the start to then falling in love to the point of madness with someone like Trial Player!Reader.

Back to the topic, this Trial Player AU of mine will mostly follow the manhwa, and I'll be using the manhwa-specific plot-holes/gaps to further integrate Trial Player!Reader into the story.

That said, I won't write/in detail all scenes there are in the manhwa. I'll only detailed scenes where I can show Trial Player!Reader's impact, while the rest are either skipped or summarized for the purpose of smooth transition between one scene and another.

I don't want this to be a slowburn, but I also needed to work out the details to Jinwoo's feelings if I want to execute this as smooth as I can get.

Hence, I apologize for the later instances of Jinwoo acting not himself, I'm still figuring out the details for those scenes, that is why I still labeled them as drafts.

Extra related topics

There is two points I shared that can be tied back to Player!Reader's personality:

One, she is a casual fan of Solo Leveling. To make this easier to write, what she knows about the original story is what I know. Reader reads the manhwa, watches the anime, and knows little of the game and original novel from spoilers only.

Second, her view of the Yandere trope. I already I wrote it somewhere in the (for now) unknown chapter 0.1, the only writing that I managed to finish.

I explained there how Reader views this particular fiction trope. It is in many ways similar to mine too. It's just so interesting to see how different people with different personalities spiral down to the far end of the emotion called love, more often associated with warmth and healing.

Emphasis on 'how', I want to see the process. Tying back to how I write Jinwoo.

It is just such an fascinating concept to imagine. And fiction have less restrictions to express that ideas than in reality, as long as we can (and should) differentiate which is true or not, which is good and bad, even if the line that separated them often blurred.

I DON'T condone yandere, toxic and extreme behaviors and actions in real life. All of my works are purely FICTION.

---

I think that's all I can say for now. Thank you once again for reading my stories and for sharing your reviews. I really means a lot! 💞

Also, a piece of advice:

Perhaps you should hold off reading the last two chapter for now (9 and 10) until I updated them. Because they are of the newer drafts, there are certain 'too-fast-of-a-development'/OOC instances there that you might find a bit weird if I assumed through this review of yours.

I just feel responsible to point this out.

You're still free to read them, of course. After, you can just keep watch if I updated them, though by then you might want reread them. Hopefully, this is not too much. This is the downside of posting drafts. I apologize for the inconveniences.

I'll always inform a major draft update in my Masterlist. So there is no need to check each draft individually everytime.

[mxtxfanatic]

The final Nie bros convo is really just this:

Nie Mingjue: You're gonna be a Nie Clan leader whether you like it or not!

Nie Huaisang: Over my dead body!

Nie Mingjue: No, over my dead body! *qi deviates*

[deoidesign]

Someone killed my boss last night and he sent me this I'm so fired

god I can't wait to make this comic.

[bidokja]

posts about kim dokja kinnie antics are always funny as hell but they never really stick with me because i simply cannot picture anyone in orv knowing the word "kinnie" other than lee jihye and uriel.

[wizardnuke]

thought about professor caleb a little too hard. laying on the floor

[caimitos]

saw a post about projecting your ethnicity onto a character and started missing vespa ilkay. so so bad