#but damn what a surreal experience

[dracolizardlars]

Today on accidental poetry found in a mundane internet thread:

[blazingblorbos]

wtf I just found the gayest Memory Bubble in the Space Station (it’s in the Base Zone’s medbay)

I’m going to transcribe it here (because pasting screenshots would be insane of me):

Your neurons are connected to the bones of Mecha No. 16′s arms – the experience has always been uncomfortable. You turn around, ready to complain to your partner, only to find Leah is also staring at you. No words are necessary.

She smiles, then raises her arm. You sense a reaction in your forearm. Like a marionette, you are controlled by invisible strings. You try to resist it, but it hurts. At last, you lift your arm, and the pain lessens as expected.

“You don’t like being controlled by me in this way?” She snickers at you with her head crooked. Blinking her eyes, she sticks up her index and middle fingers and rests both hands on her head, making them look like a pair of rabbit ears. You are forced to do the same and feel embarrassed about it.

You know she is  making fun of you. "Could you not read my mind?” You deliberately crease your forehead and quickly spin around to avoid meeting her eyes. This is not something you are used to doing.

Leah chuckles before inching her face closer. "No. 16 isn’t capable of that." You can feel her warm breath caressing the back of your neck. "Are you blushing? C’mon, you are a girl too."

You decide to steer the conversation away from the awkward topic. “What’s our mission this time?” You grit your teeth, feeling as though there are burning coals in your mouth and your body is on fire. Your voice is cracked.

"Catch that star". She looks up at the light of the star that glides downward outside the cockpit and falls into the ocean, where it is crushed by the waves. You let out a muffled grunt, unable to figure out why she appears so calm.

"You’re scared." She extends her arm in your direction, but your arm does not move in response. It seems like she has cut off the connection. While you are deep in your thoughts, she beckons you over. "Come on," she invites in a serene tone, "let’s do it like the old days.”

You reach out your hand silently. She gently laces your fingers together and holds your hand in a tight grip as usual. She is strong despite her slender and small body...

The stars are still sparkling on the ocean outside the cockpit. Instinctively, you tighten your hold on Leah’s hand to prevent the starlight from slipping through your fingers.

Y’ALL WHAT DID I JUST TYPE.  WHAT IS HOYOVERSE COOKING IN THAT DAMN KITCHEN??????

[neiptune]

surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly. 

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street  as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

[writing-fanics]

not once

Sebastian Michaelis x F!Reader

Not even once did Sebastian think he’d end up falling in love with a human. Why, would be an immortal being a demon in fact want to fool around with such human emotions.

Toying with them for his own entertainment and manipulating them at their most vulnerable was quite enjoyable. But actually, falling in love developing feelings that made his immortal heart skip a beat?

and yet, here she was his beautiful wife fast asleep on the bed in one of the many rooms in the Phantomhive manor. that the young master so graciously gave her when went into labor only twelve hours ago.

He walked over towards the bassinet, peered over and smiled seeing the tiny half-demon offspring. Tiny whimpers, escaped the babies mouth as it squirmed. He smirked, picking up the child and cradling them in his arms.

“My child, you’re just as beautiful as your mother.” He cooed, over the infant who opened his eyes and had a faint smile on his face.

“My little, Arioch.” He cooed, he looked over towards his wife who was fast asleep. Young master, had already given him a few days off to be with his child and wife.

Arioch babbled, looking up at his father his tiny hands reaching up to touch his raven black hair. Sebastian smiled, “Already, growing up before my very eyes.” He said, and the infant giggled continuing to make nonsenseical babbles.

Arioch has taken the place of the most adorable being, on the entire planet. Step out of the way cats Sebastian’s son has taken your place.

Arioch giggled, and his eyes for a moment flash red and Sebastian smiled planting a kiss on his sons forehead. His son, looked just like his mother. Sebastian found absolutely adorable.

“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” A voice said, and he turned around seeing his wife awake and reaching out her arms to see her child.

Sebastian walked towards her leaning down kissing her on the lips, “He is,” He whispered, into her ear causing her to smile. As she looked at the infant, cooing over how cute he was and how much he looked like the two of them combined.

Arioch sneezed, causing [Y/n] to squeal at how cute their baby is. Sebastian looked between his wife and child, and didn’t know what he would do without them. Yes, he’d continue to serve the young master until their contract was over and he’d devour his soul.

Yet, during that time the demon had fallen in love with a human and made a child. Demons usually takes lives not create them and here he was holding the life he’d created in his arms. And it honestly felt surreal to him, he was a demon and yet was experiencing something so heavenly especially for someone who’s been damned to hell.

He knew that one day his wife would pass, his son he doesn’t know exactly. Arioch might live longer than a human but not be an immortal. “My love,” Sebastian said, his wife turned to look at him.

“Thank you, for sharing this experience with me,” He said, and she smiled planting a kiss on his cheek before placing one hand on his cheek.

“No, thank you. I love you so much Sebastian demon or not that doesn’t change how I feel.” She said, and he just grinned.

“Also, I think Grell found out that we have a child now and she’s not happy.” She said, and Sebastian frowned in annoyance seeing the angry grim reaper outside the window.

‘Bassy! It’s no fair!’

‘How does she get you and I don’t!’

“I’ll be right back my love.” He said, and she nodded before looking back at her baby smiling.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Hi lullabyes, would u mind sharing your take on the flashback with young Silco, Vander, and Felicia? :O

It's adorable. It's touching. It's sweet. It's a serene moment of intimacy and family (or polycule) bonding in an otherwise deeply frenetic season.

It's also so surreal it may as well be a fever dream.

I should note, at this stage I've shut off my cognitive reasoning about Arcane and begun approaching this as if it's a series of exquisitely crafted, animated short films that are all about to collide into a beautiful disaster.

Because that's what it is.

S2 has thrown a lot of the intelligent plotting out the window to embrace the chaos.  Whether due to time constraints, intellectual fatigue, or creative indulgence, I feel like we have a show that's now just hurtling breakneck towards the finish line. Previous story threads that once held weight and were the driving force behind character arcs and subplots, have since been abandoned. Nuanced motivations and character growth are being tossed to the wayside for the sake of action, montages, music videos, and a cavalier, anything-goes approach to world-building.

And yet, it's still such an incredible spectacle to behold.

@ravenkinnie delightfully noted that she is now watching this show with her pussy.

I agree 100%. S2 is a full-body experience, and one I find myself wholly consumed by. It's like a one-night stand you weren't expecting to be so fucking good. And when the sun comes up, you know it's going to hurt to say goodbye, and there'll be no follow-up call.

But damn, you enjoyed the shit out of that experience.

So yeah, the flashback was fucking adorable. I love the genuine emotion and closeness between the three characters. I adore the idea of Felicia, Silco and Vander being childhood friends (or, again, a very messy polycule) and both men sort of falling apart without her Manic Pixie Dream Girl presence in their lives. It's a nice little character arc.

However.

I cannot reconcile this scene with the rest of S1. It feels completely disconnected from the reality of the show and the world around them. The flashback has absolutely no impact on the current events, nor does it have any foreshadowing. The flashback exists solely to provide us with a glimpse into the past, with sweet little parallels to serve as bonbons that make us coo and sigh. It completely glosses over Silco's deeply, blackly visceral hatred of Vi in S1, reduces the class struggle culminating in the Day of Ash to "Oh, Silco. If only you've protested for your basic civil rights in a peaceful manner instead of tossing a molotov cocktail, you'd still have your family, a place in the community, not to mention your eye," does not really explain why Benzo reacted to Silco's appearance by calling him an animal, and, most importantly, gives the lie to the entire dynamic between Silco and Jinx.

We were led to believe that Felicia's death was the catalyst for Silco and Vander's falling out.  That if Silco had found Vander's letter in their little Brokeback bunk, they would've worked out their differences and found peace together. That they'd have raised Felicia's anklebiters side-by-side as the Zaundads of the revolution.

Except Silco is also the man selling Evil Anime PCP (Shimmer) as an economic cheat-code to earn respect for his people, and Vander is basically Captain Centrist and traumatized by war, and there is NO WAY they would've seen eye-to-eye on their respective methods. There's no way they would've come to any sort of accord. And there's no way Silco would've forgiven the man who mutilated and left him possibly sheared of half his lifespan, any more than Felicia's children would forgive the man who killed their mother.

It's such an incongruous narrative beat.

Which brings me to the other point:

Silco and Jinx.

imo, while I love the idea of Silco carrying either a secret torch for Felicia, or seeing her as a sister he'll always love, and while I absolutely treasure the idea of Jinx being a daily reminder of what he's fighting for - "I'm doing this for us, Jinx." - it sort of cheapens the key connection between them. In S1, Silco and Jinx's arc is, in my eyes, one of the best things about the series, and so incredibly well-written and executed. Silco is a monster, yes, but his monstrosity is the product of systemic and individual trauma, and the inextricable bleedthrough between the two. Finding this little girl and bringing her up under his wing, he has the chance to be the steadying hand and safe harbor he lost after Vander's betrayal. His monstrousness is not something he inflicts on her; it is something that, rather, grows on JInx like a kudzu vine, as the terrain of her damaged mind is already fertile for his worldview and methods to take root and thrive.

He is, perhaps, the best example of nurture triumphing over nature, even if his nurturing is rather, uh, extreme.

But if their bond is predicated on Felicia, rather than two strangers finding each other in the wilderness of heartbreak and learning to let their black hearts beat, messily entwined, as one family unit, and if Silco's obsession with Jinx is merely a projection of his guilt for killing her mother, and, by extension, a projection of his love for Felicia onto her daughter...

It's just.

Do y'all remember those uncomfortable frames that the showrunners admitted were deliberate, despite the evidence in the written text suggesting a familial bond? The subtext that, all the way into S2, carries the implication of a romantic relationship between a father and his daughter?

Well.

The implications now threaten to melt into explicit text, and the uncomfortable frames have turned into Unfortunate Implications, and I am not sure how I feel about this.

 It's not giving Lily and Snape; it's giving Sansa and Baelish.

It's giving the showrunners a big, fat "YEESH" rating from CPS.

And it's giving us the same, old, tired trope of a monstrous man unable to form an attachment unless it's through the lens of prior attachments, that whole 'You remind me so much of her' and the like.

 (I also admit I am the world's biggest hypocrite as the entire premise of Forward but Never Forget/XOXO is that the core foursome of Vander, Silco, Lika and Sevika knew each other, and that those ghosts haunt the machinery of the present day. But I try my damnedest to make plain there's politics buffeting all these relationships, and despite all their efforts to claw at self-sovereignty, reinvention and a new order, the past is a stubborn bitch that refuses to let go.)

(Also in FnF, Silco is triggered by Lika rather than into her in any affectionate or romantic way, because they're so similar: pragmatic survivors who aren't above rule-bending to get their way, and at their core just want a smoke break, a stiff drink, and a nap. It's a mutual respect rather than an affection, which is why she bestows on him the dubious honor of mercy killing her if she's too wounded on the Day of Ash to continue on.)

(He's the one person who could, and would, do her the service. It's kinship, and Jinx is the bright torch of their shared ambitions and ingenuity given both wing and voice.)

But anyway.

The flashback is a fever-dream. The kind you have when you're high on cold meds and can't think straight, and the world is a blur of sensations and memories that seem vivid in the moment but melt away into madness when you're better. It's a scene meant to be savored rather than interrogated. And I think if the showrunners had the time and inclination, we would've gotten a second episode solely dedicated to the flashback, rather than shoehorning it in. But since they're clearly trying to tie everything up with a neat bow before the finale, I don't blame them for having to skim past it and focus on the vibes/emotional resonance rather than the substance of a meaningfully written scene.

But hey.

Fanfic writers will have a field day with the open-ended dynamic and the fandom will never fucking stop, so that's nice.

Also we got loads of fantastic gifs of Young Silco. Bless.

<3

tl;dr: I've switched my critical brain off and decided to just enjoy the ride. It's so fucking epic. 

Also, Felicia was delightful and I hope her brotherhood/polycule/whatever with Silco and Vander gets its own spinoff, a la Road to El Dorado (or Zaun.)

[pinkchrissysposts]

Helppp I entered void😭,what the heck,and I manifested that in 24 HOURSSS, basically I did the list method and wrote down my desires and affirm for 24 hours I did sleep in between but it wasn't exactly 24 hours you can say atleast 2 days I don't know what I'm say😭imsorry. Anyways I also included your 2 week affirmation routine and I must say I wasn't really expecting much but the way not even 1 hour.it took like 30 minutes and I start believing my affirmation all the fail attempt from past start to feel fake and powerless.

One of the main reason I did this method is because I had hard time believing affirmations when I affirm in english because it's not my mother tongue,and if I affirm in my native language the affirmation become so long for me😭,that's why I tried the list method and just yesterday I saw someone posting 24 hour list method challenge like damn I manifested that too.

Anyways I haven't manifested anything from void YET, because the experience was so surreal plus I forgot to affirm.

I know people might come and dm me about void,so let me hljust tell you here guy's void is pure consciousness you'll feel like floating in it,or anything the experience verise. The void is dark but you can manifest it to be pretty. There is nothing to be afraid about it I will recommend using lucid dream for void because it's way more fun and less scary.

As for now I'm so chilled because I know I'm gonna enter void again and manifest my dream life.

DAMN BRUHHHHH

[hnslchw]

if she wasn't your last - LN4 X Reader

Summary: You haven't felt this uncertain before. Now that doubts about Lando's lingering feelings for his ex have surfaced, you're struggling to move past them. As your insecurities grow, you're finding it harder to trust him, wondering if you'll ever truly have his heart.

Based on "Did you like her in the morning?" by NIKI. (highly recommended to play this while reading)

Warnings/Themes: heavy angst and overthinking insecurities (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word count: 1.2k

Author's note: hello everyone!! This would be my very first story im ever posting on tumblr, pls be kind. For the longest time l've just been appreciating everyone's stories. I hope you guys enjoy (pls tell me if there's anything I should change or look into tumblr settings wise). English isn't my first language and im a tad bit dyslexic please bear with me if there are any errors HAHAH but please comment what you think. Thank you <3

It was never hard loving Lando. It was a whirlwind, an intoxicating rush of emotions you never thought you'd experience. Someone like him, bright and vibrant, taking a chance on someone like you—a girl who had never been in a proper relationship before. It felt surreal, perfect, at least in the beginning.

His past relationships were never something you dwelled on. Everyone has a past, you told yourself. You were confident, secure. Or so you thought. But that was before you both went public with your relationship, before the internet got involved, before every picture of you two sparked comparisons you hadn’t asked for. His ex-girlfriend, the one everyone seemed to prefer, loomed like a shadow over everything.

Suddenly, you were scrolling through endless posts dissecting every detail—her smile, her style, the effortless way she seemed to fit into Lando’s world. You, by comparison, felt like an outsider.

You tried to brush it off at first, laughing along with Lando when he made jokes about the craziness of social media. But when you opened your phone, those comparisons started to chip away at you. Even worse, there were moments with Lando that made it impossible to ignore. Like now.

He was rifling through his drawers, his movements frantic, eyes wild with panic.

“Where is it?” he muttered, slamming another drawer shut before turning to you. “Have you seen it? My bangle, the silver one?”

You felt your stomach drop at the mention of the bangle. The one his ex-girlfriend gave him. He never talked about her, but you always noticed how careful he was with that piece of jewelry, how he wore it every day, like it was some kind of talisman. The fact that it wasn’t on his wrist now sent him into a frenzy.

“No, I haven’t seen it,” you said softly, watching him tear through his things.

“Damn it,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I lost it.”

“Lando…” You hesitated, unsure if you should even say anything, but the words slipped out anyway. “Why does it matter so much? It’s just a bracelet.”

He stopped, looking at you like you’d just said something offensive. “It’s not just a bracelet,” he snapped. “I’ve had it for years.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I know, but…it was from her, wasn’t it?”

He froze, the question hanging in the air between you. His expression softened, and he sighed, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah, but that’s not the point. It’s… it’s sentimental, you know?”

You nodded, even though you didn’t quite understand. It was hard not to feel like you were competing with someone who wasn’t even here anymore, someone who left behind pieces of herself in Lando’s life that you couldn’t match.

“I get that,” you said quietly, “but sometimes… I feel like she’s still here. Like you’re still holding on to her.”

Lando blinked, his panic slowly giving way to confusion. “That’s not true. You know I’m with you.”

“I do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But when you act like this—freaking out over something she gave you—it makes me wonder if part of you still wishes she was here.”

His gaze softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. It’s not about her, I swear. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to believe him. But deep down, the doubt was still there, lingering, just like the bangle that had somehow become a symbol of everything you weren’t sure you could compete with.

That night, after everything settled down and the search for the bangle was abandoned, you lay next to Lando in bed. The room was dark, filled only with the soft hum of the city outside and the faint sound of his breathing. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you closer in his sleep. It was a familiar gesture, one that should’ve comforted you, but instead, your thoughts were miles away.

Did his hand find her waist like this?

The thought crawled into your mind, uninvited but persistent. You could almost see it—her leaning against him, laughing with that carefree confidence everyone loved, while he pulled her close, their night buzzing with that electric excitement.

Did he kiss her goodnight?

Did he hope the night would never end?

You close your eyes, willing the thoughts to go away, but they don’t. Instead, they morph into another image, one that stings even more.

Did he laugh with her over cold cups of coffee that he hated but still drank anyway?

You’d seen him do it a thousand times with you—pushing a cup of something bitter away with a grimace, teasing you about your questionable taste, but always taking another sip. Was it the same with her? Was she the reason he developed the habit in the first place?

The questions wouldn’t stop. Every memory you shared with him felt tainted now, overshadowed by the possibility that they weren’t really yours at all. Maybe you were just walking through scenes he had already lived, following in someone else’s footsteps, trying to fill a space that was never truly empty.

Beside you, Lando shifted, pulling you even closer in his sleep, but it didn’t feel like enough. You stared at the ceiling, blinking back the burning sensation in your eyes. You wanted to wake him up, to ask him Did you laugh with her like that? Did you hold her like this? Did you want her more than you want me?

But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed silent, letting the questions twist and tangle inside you like a knot you couldn't unravel, the truth too painful to confront. You turned to look at him, his features peaceful in sleep, and wondered if you’d ever know the answers to those questions or if they would haunt you forever.

In the early morning light, his fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, but his eyes seemed distant, lost in a memory that didn’t belong to you. Did he like her in the mornings too? Was his smile brighter then? Did he hold her closer?

The quiet moments between you were filled with unspoken questions, the weight of his past love pressing between every breath. He said your name softly, but it didn’t feel like enough to anchor him here, with you. You're falling, but you wonder—has he ever truly caught you? Or is his heart still wrapped in the warmth of a love that wasn’t yours?

You want to ask him. The question sits on the tip of your tongue, Are you still in love with her? But you don't. You stay silent, afraid that by giving voice to your insecurities, you'll make them real. You cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you're overthinking it, that it's all in your head. After all, he’s with you now, right? That should be enough.

But deep down, you can't shake the feeling that you're sharing him with a memory, a past that he hasn’t fully let go of. And it's hard to compete with a memory. So, you keep your doubts hidden, tucked away in the corners of your mind, even as they threaten to pull you under.

Because in the end, you're afraid of the truth: that he loved her in the mornings, just like this. And maybe, just maybe, a part of him still does.

"I know it would be easier if I just didn't ask, but it'd also be easier if she wasn't your last"

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

can you write something w vessel praising reader like super lovey sex 🥺

❝sweet little bunny❞

➵ “you’re doing so good for me” —❤︎

pairing: vessel x gn!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: ofc i can ♡︎ the vessel stans have really flocked to my page now huh? hope you enjoy !!

cw: penetration. pet names. praise kink. no gendered language for reader’s body.

┅✦┅

oh my god, fluffy sex with vessel??? yes please holy shit??

this man is intimidating as fuck, but goddamn can he be an absolute sweetheart in the sheets

whenever he’s in the mood for something more vanilla, he’s a lot more quiet

short breaths and gasps, letting out long, deep sighs when he cums, whispering your name like a sacred prayer whenever he’s close to climaxing

goddamn this man sounds heavenly when he’s making you feel good

vessel’s voice is also a lot more soothing, with a twinge of poetic flair to his words whenever he’s praising you

always being so gentle with you <33 we love to see it

he always puts your pleasure first too. drilling his cock into you in such a sensual manner that has you seeing stars

and you can still feel the intimacy and affection from him, it’s such a surreal experience

“that’s it, baby. you’re taking me so well…”

you could only softly whine as you felt vessel’s hard shaft move deep inside of you. his movements were slow and sensual, but his rhythm had you on edge, and writhing underneath his grasp, begging for more.

“there… i got you.. fuck you look so good like this, taking my cock like the good little bunny you are.” he hissed out in pure euphoria, his hips pistoning inside of your hole in a way that had you seeing stars.

your wrists were being held tightly to the mattress by vessel, and you could only squirm in a lustrous need as he moved inside you. “vess… vess please..”

“shhh, it’s okay… i’m right here..” vessel whispered in a reassuring manner, dipping his head between the space in your neck to affectionately nip at your soft skin, leaving love marks as he trailed down.

his hands moved from your wrists to your hands, his fingers interlocking with yours, squeezing your hands with a loving grasp.

that simple action was enough to make you whimper in pure ecstasy, it was almost enough to distract you from how his dick was buried deep within your love canal.

vessel lived for this kind of pleasure.

this was the kind of love he loved to give to you.

he wouldn’t be this affectionate and attentive to anyone else but you. if it were anyone else, he couldn’t give less of a damn… but you… oh you were just a different story.

your presence was just so captivating, entrancing vessel in a dreamlike state every time he made love to you. you were his drug, so sweet and addicting.

and he was going to show that to you no matter what.

“shit, baby. you’re so tight around me… fuck.. i love it so much..” he moaned softly into your neck, his hips moving slightly faster. “i love you so much.”

his sweet words had you moaning like crazy. you couldn’t help it, the way he spoke to you like you were some kind of ancient deity was enough to get your legs shaking.

“f-fuck… vessel.. please..”

“please what, honey? tell me… tell me what you want.”

looking through the slits of vessel’s artistic mask, you could see nothing but pure love and lust clouding his eyes, and that just made the arousal in your core grow stronger.

“please.. harder..” you begged breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper.

vessel cursed silently at your words, and his hips rolled into you slowly, hitting a spot that had your legs spasming.

he smiled softly, and bent down to capture your lips in a loving kiss, before whispering. “of course, darling.”

and he moved even faster.

[roseboysstuff]

hehe~ Bunny hybrid reader!

Leon finds him when he’s on a mission and takes him home to keep him safe. And he has to cut holes in the little bunny’s clothes for his long ears and fluffy tail :3

He finds his little bunny whimpering and humping his pillow and he gets so horny just from seeing his cute bunny boy grinding his hips on his pillow. Pulling on his sensitive ears while he pounds into his little bunny cunt ^.^

damn you weren't kidding with sending in requests this and the others are so delicious Also I'm making this where his bunny is in heat coz heats are so hot to me

Leon had brought you home, after finding you when out on a mission. Those bastards had been experimenting on you, and he felt a strange urge to protect you. He wasn't sure quite what had been done to you, if you had been born a bunny hybrid, or if they had turned you into one. But one thing was sure, he wasn't going to let them hurt his little bunny boy again. But duty called and he had to leave you at his house for a few days, promising to come back as soon as he was done. He missed you every moment he was gone. So now as he turned the doorknob, he was so happy to be back. And he was even happier to be back when he heard your moans and whimpers, seeing the bedroom door open, and your body desperately rutting into a pillow. His pillow. Your eyes opened when you heard him shut the door, and you were almost embarrassed, until you saw his smirk, his flushed face, and the very obvious tent in his pants. "Please, Leon. Need you inside me." He was more than happy to oblige your request, bending you over on the bed. Your cunt was wet with need, and having already stained the pillow you were grinding on, he knew that you needed a good pounding. Which was what he gave you. Slipping inside your waiting hole with ease, moaning as he feels you open up for him, yet still clenching tightly down. It was the perfect sensation and he let you know. He wanted to make his bunny boy feel good, while claiming you as his own. "Good boy, feels so good inside your bunny cunt" He pounded away, pulling your ears for support, pulling you back into him with them. He made sure he was gentle enough, but also rough enough to make you really feel it. Admittedly he had wanted to do this since he first brought you home, and now he was doing it. It almost felt surreal, to be pounding into your sensitive cunt while you moaned and writhed beneath him. He continued thrusting into you, pushing you further down into the mattress, while still pulling your head back with your ears. You both climaxed at the same time, him releasing his seed into your cunt with a growl, you clenching around him with a heavy whine. And as he pulled you close afterwards, he relished in the fact that your tails and ears were twitching with joy.

[kpopsexstories]

Hi, can you write a story of taeyong fucking with fan during the nct world tour?

One-shot #18: Backstage Sex with NCT Taeyong

This story is a response to the above request, but also to the following: "We need more Taeyong here, so I want to throw in a few ideas: Taeyong backstage sex (straight, wild)"

Celebrity: NCT Taeyong x Female Reader

Sex Content: Hard sex backstage, Taeyong with female fan, Rough & forceful, Fast sex, Dirty talk, From behind, Missionary, Pregnancy.

Type of Sex: WILD

Word Count: 5.1k

28 shows. 17 cities. 11 countries. Taeyong was weary and the days seemed to flow together, but damn did he have fun.

Towards the end of it he hardly knew what country he was in or what day of the week it was. His brain was fuzzy, his body was tired, but his heart was happy and full. He was pumped up despite his aching muscles – and how sore his dick had become.

Taeyong had gotten into the terrible habit of hooking up with fans after shows. Strangers, some of whom turned into good friendships, but the majority of whom did not.

Maybe it was a way to relieve stress, maybe he just missed home. It wasn’t that he went looking for them, at least not consciously so. It was more that his numb mind agreed when they made inappropriate advances, where he would normally just thank them and quickly dismiss the idea. It was about his need for release – a quick break while rushing between airports, arenas and hotel rooms – and the willingness of some fans to give him what he needed.

He certainly used his fame to his advantage. That’s how he gained their attention in the first place, even without trying. But he always made sure fame wasn’t the only reason the girls went to bed with him. He kept an eye out for those who were as horny and eager as he was, who were as crazy and wild as himself, but he was never the first to make a move and didn't coerce anyone.

When he found someone like that, however, he didn’t hesitate to tell them and ask for what he wanted too. Once he knew they were on the same page – once he found that match, of which there were always dosens at every show – things inevitably escalated. He had a real knack for singling those fans out.

And once they got to that stage Taeyong could become rather reckless. In a reality that didn't feel real and with consequences that so far had never reached him, he gave his partner for the night quite the experience. Perhaps the sense of surrealism was why he felt like he could continue to do what he did, even though he knew deep down that fame did play a significant role, and that what he was doing was wrong. This wasn’t fan service.

Regardless, the sexual encounters – though by mutual agreement – did sometimes have severe consequences. Even though he didn't know and would never find out about it, two of his exploits on this particular tour had already led to pregnancies.

Yes, that's right, Taeyong had two babies on the way, and their mothers were fans he'd only met once and would never meet again.

And then he met you. Today, after his last show on the tour, he would impregnate a third. And for better or for worse, you totally changed each other’s lives forever.

Being live on stage with his friends in front of a roaring crowd was one of the best things Taeyong knew, second only to the flow he sometimes experienced when he got really into a creative songwriting session. Both were a state of mind that felt incredible and brought him immense joy.

But life on the road took a toll. Despite plenty of rest in between sectioned parts of the year-long tour, Taeyong's body and mind needed short but frequent breaks. He found them in his fans who gave him pleasure and release. You were both a blessing and a curse.

You first met Taeyong near the stage, when he jumped down, shirtless and sweaty, to touch the hands of a few lucky fans. One of those fans happened to be you. You saw him rush toward you, and when his hand touched yours you took a chance: you squeezed it, held on to it, and for a split second pulled the man back.

It probably scared him, but it made him chuckle. Your eyes met and he grinned. Your face etched itself onto his brain.

You're not quite sure how it happen, but when the show was over you suddenly found yourself backstage. Taeyong was showing you around, encouraged by a subtle connection and reassured by your flirty approach. You were easy to talk to but it wasn’t just that. You had said a few inappropriate things already, and he felt there was more to your unapologetic personality. Maybe he also felt that now that the tour was ending, he should go for it one last time before reality came crashing back.

Though he was cautious about it he quickly made it clear what he wanted to happen between you. He stopped in a deserted corridor and glanced around. He approached you, and you leaned against a wall when he came in close. There was definitely something there, a connection which you both felt. But he let you be the one to decide, by not saying a word and just wait to see how you’d react.

You put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. He didn’t pull back. You leaned in closer, suddenly filled with ideas of your own. He didn’t flinch. Then you took another chance and kissed him, just as you had when you grabbed his hand and yanked his arm.

“Not here,” Taeyong said and took a step away from you, just in time when a member of staff walked by.

“Not here what?” you asked, confused because his words didn’t condemn the kiss. All he did was smirk at you, then he started walking.

You smirked back, suddenly thinking naughty things, but Taeyong just continued to show you around, casually giving you a VIP tour as you walked around backstage. This only confused you further.

You didn’t know what the expectation was at all when he first snatched you from the audience, but it didn’t feel like it was just fan service. With the kiss out of the way and the flirty and borderline sexual conversation between you so far, you looked forward to spending some time alone with the man.

Instead he kept showing you places, introducing you to people, pointing things out and telling little anecdotes and trivia about the tour. What's that all about? Maybe you had totally misunderstood his intentions.

In reality you had misunderstood nothing. You were on the exact same wavelength, having the exact same forbidden thoughts. Only neither of you had spoken them out loud yet. Like I said, Taeyong had a knack for knowing these things.

The backstage tour was just a facade. Taeyong had a reason for taking you on a long walk. Other than the fact that he needed to be sure, by continuing the conversation and see if you’d say or do something else that might confirm that you did, indeed, want to have sex with him, he had a destination.

Eventually you did find yourselves alone again, away from the stage hands and people carrying props and talking in walkie talkies. Some of the audience still hadn't even left the arena yet when Taeyong led you into a room and closed the door behind you.

It was a dressing room, or some sort of storage room, fairly large for just one person. You quickly recognized some of the stage clothes in it, which had been worn by Johnny, Yuta, Taeyong and the others. You quickly came to the conclusion that the boys probably all got changed in the same place, or perhaps this was just where the clothes went after they had been used.

None of the other members were around though. You figured they must still be somewhere in the vicinity. It didn't matter, because once you got to this point Taeyong didn't waste any time and neither did you.

You came there for sex and deep down you both knew it. The moment he closed the door behind you he took your mind off everyone else and gave you what you came there for.

It started with a make-out session, brutal and sloppy. Taeyong pushed you against a wall and your mouths smacked together with an audible passion. That first kiss was just an appetizer. His tongue played around inside you and his hands were all over your front and sides.

You felt his hot embrace and soft skin for the first time. He abruptly took off his shirt and pushed his full body against yours. You’d seen it before, when you grabbed his hand. Now you briefly got to study his tattoos up close, when he leaned away from you to lock the door. You heard it click before he abruptly returned to you, still sweaty, travel weary and horny as hell.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Still nothing had been said about the purpose of your time together. But you both knew.

“Yeah,” you said softly, suddenly eager to feel more of the man. Within a minute you were both down to your underwear, passionately making out and getting ready to fuck.

Taeyong's bulge pressed against your hip. You were wet, so wet, and the fact that you were in a place where you could get caught turned you on.

For a moment you actually forgot that Taeyong was famous. The fact that he was who he was thrilled you, and there's no denying that it was part of the reason you had come on to him so strongly, and so readily agreed to what you had quickly understood would be a quickie backstage. It was sort of a dream come true, and the moment felt as unreal to you as the muddled touring with days that flowed together felt surreal to Taeyong.

But now, as he got naked in front of you and you in front of him, you were completely in the moment.

Your bra and panties were on the floor by your feet. Taeyong's lips violently played on yours. He had one hand on your boob and pulled down his underwear with the other.

You stopped kissing when he bent over and kicked them off his feet, but you never saw his dick in this moment as he quickly pushed and rubbed against your body again.

“Mm, babe, you're so hot,” he said. Now that he had you naked there was no reason to hold back.

The words turned you on and he could tell. You spread your legs for him when the kissing resumed and wrapped a foot around his thighs. You felt his ass before the palm of your hand slid up his back and grabbed on to his shoulder. He briefly froze and pulled back, when he reached in and the shaft found your vagina.

You closed your eyes and held your breath. Taeyong's mouth breathing on your face felt nice and hot. And when the head got in position and stretched your folds, you let out a soft moan.

He felt amazing. He was rock hard and you were dripping. His cock slid in with ease, expanded you and filled you up.

“Mm, Taeyong,” you blurted out. He kissed your face and grinned.

Is this really happening? you thought. This isn’t real, I’m dreaming.

Taeyong was triggered, in the best possible way, by the way you moaned his name. Once there was no doubt left in his mind that you were onboard – and there really wasn't as his dick was already inside you – he felt comfortable and confident to the point that he could reveal his true self.

“Mm, fuck, you're so slutty,” he said when he penetrated you.

There was a risk that his words would shock you. They did not.

He pushed all the way in and you exhaled deeply. His words were meant as a compliment and that's exactly how you took them. Taeyong had definitely found a match.

“Mm, fuck yeah, you're so wet baby,” he continued while he started rocking his hips back and forth. “You wanna have sex with me, don't you?”

“Yeah,” you moaned and held on tighter around the man.

“Go on, tell me how badly you want it,” Taeyong requested. His lips moved down the side of your face and onto your neck. “Say my name,” he whispered near your ear.

Oh, that’s how we’re gonna play this? Okay.

“I wanna have sex with you Taeyong,” you said. “Mm, I want you to fuck me so hard.”

The wall was starting to hurt you as your shoulder blades scratched against it, and your raised thigh felt painful the way Taeyong stretched your body to expose your hole and push deeper inside.

He dug his fingers into your skin. You jumped into his arms while he pushed you harder against the wall. He was freaky and so were you, a perfect match indeed. You understood the assignment, and he was happy and a little proud that you were as loose as he had hoped.

From this point on his dirty words just kept coming. He repeatedly told you how badly he wanted to be inside you, how good you felt, the crazy things he wanted to do to you, and how slutty and hot he thought you were.

“You want me to fuck you hard, don't you?” he asked while nibbling on your ear, squeezing your boob, and thrusting his dick in and out of your body.

“Yeah,” you moaned with your legs fully wrapped around his hips. His tattooed chest and stomach were nice and soft, and his ass cheeks flexed and became firm as he thrust into you at an ever faster pace.

It surprised you how strong he was for his tiny figure and slim arms. He pinned you to the wall and while his motions were small at first, his hips soon jolted while his body weight pressed against you.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, with your arms around his neck. “Do you always fuck fans backstage?” you asked and smirked.

Taeyong kept jolting and thrusting. “No,” he grinned.

“I- ahh, fuck! - I don’t believe it.”

Taeyong grinned and massaged your breast. “We usually go to my hotel room.”

You chuckled at the response. Then Taeyong temporarily shut you up, as he slammed you harder against the wall and you grimaced.

“Mm. Yeah. Fuck!” he said with each violent thrust. The way you rode his cock felt incredible to you both.

“Mm, fuck Taeyong!”

Taeyong asked pulled his head back slightly. “Yeah, you like that?” he asked. He kissed you on the lips and your noses clashed together, but then he stared straight into your eyes with a grin on his face. “Does my dick feel good? Is this freaky enough for you baby or do you want more?”

“Yeah, yeah, so good!”

He slammed you against the wall again and again, in wild and rough jolts. “I have a name, baby. Use it.”

“Yes, yes, your cock feels so good Taeyong.”

“Keep going,” he ordered and rested his forehead against your shoulder while pulling your hips onto his shaft.

“Mm, you're so strong Taeyong. So wild and freaky. Your cock feels amazing. Yes, yes, I'm so wet baby. Yes, fuck me Taeyong, ahh, Ahh, harder Taeyong!”

Taeyong was going hard. With each sentence your voice got higher and his thrusts more abrupt. He was really going at it, pounding you like a wild animal, fucking you so hard your skin turned red where his fingers dug in and his pelvis clasped against yours. The sounds you produced got louder and louder, as he pulled you harder and your lower body was brought further away from the wall, until he yanked your hips so far that he lost his grip and your thighs and ass fell down.

You instinctively, to save yourself, let go of the man's body with your legs. Your feet slid down his sides and onto the floor before you collapsed on it. The wall scratched your upper back so hard it left a mark, a long reddish bruise.

Taeyong's dick immediately slipped out of your pussy. But neither of you let any of this bother you. The second you regained your footing your mouth was on the man's face again.

You made out with passion. Your lust was wild and erotic. Taeyong put his hands on your waist and spun you around, then pushed you toward the center of the room.

There was a couch and a table. He held your hip and pushed your shoulder forward, forcing your upper body onto the armrest. You leaned on it with your ass sticking out behind you, and spread your legs when Taeyong's crotch hit your cheeks.

“Mm, take me Taeyong!” you ordered. He was quick to comply.

He hunched down slightly and guided the dick. When he stood up straight it slid deep into your wet hole. He took a firm grip around your hips and pulled, instantly thrusting so hard it made you groan.

The pained noise quickly turned into moans of pleasure. Taeyong hit his crotch against your ass repeatedly. He pushed and pulled on your body, his dick going fast in and out of you, as he roughed you up and fucked you senseless against the couch.

“Mm, Mmm, yeah, Taeyong,” you whimpered.

“Say my name baby.”

“Yes, yes, yes, Taeyong!”

The clapping of your bodies got so loud there was no way it couldn’t be heard in the corridor outside, but your words and Taeyong’s grunts behind you drowned it out.

“Huuh, huuh, huuh,” he panted from deep down his throat. The sweat he had on stage returned. “Huuh, Huuh, Huuh!”

He leaned in over you. His hand went along your side and to your front. He found your boob again and played with it, stopping it from shaking violently while the other kept jumping out of control below your chest.

You felt his lips touch your shoulder blade. His stomach was moist and slippery. He pulled you closer with his forearm covering both your breasts, and held you tighter when the arm was fully wrapped around you.

You straightened your spine, raised your upper body, and twisted your neck. Taeyong's wet lips and tongue touched the side of your face. You reached behind your head with your arm and ran your fingers through his hair, opened your mouth wide but kept your eyes closed.

This is incredible, you thought and you genuinely meant it. The sensation of his dick rubbing your insides was amazing, and the way he fucked you so hard and in such a thrilling place was fun.

Taeyong suddenly pulled on your leg. You raised it and he stretched it long by his side. He opened your hole wide, one of your feet still firmly planted on the floor, and looked down at his cock as he pushed and pulled.

The man needed a shower after the sweaty show on stage but you didn't care. The way he bent you and fucked you, the way his hard cock stretched and rubbed you, his lustful and horny embrace, his hand still on your boob, and his loud and lustful grunts – it all felt so good you wanted to scream his name from the top of your lungs.

“Ahh, ahh, fuck yeah!” Taeyong suddenly exclaimed and let the leg go. He hunched forward and pushed you down on the armrest while slamming hard and fast against your ass. ”Yeah, fuck, I love that you're so slutty.”

You tilted your head back and pressed his face against yours with your arm around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me all night Taeyong, pleease!”

“Mmm, it’s so hot when you say my name,” he said through clutched teeth.

Sweat was dripping down his front between your bodies. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It felt absolutely incredible.

You suddenly twisted your body to turn around. “Take me on the couch,” you said. “I wanna see you.”

Taeyong grinned and suddenly pulled out. Your hips fell down as his firm grip loosened around you. He pushed on your shoulder motioning for you to spin, and you did a little leap to sit up on the armrest.

He put a hand on your shoulder and pushed again. You giggled when you fell backwards onto the couch. And for the first time, as you crawled back to lie down and stretch out for him and he put his knees on the armrest to come after you, you saw his tattooed and naked body on full display.

His knees fell onto the couch between your legs. The dick pointed straight out, ready to attack you again. You spread your sore thighs wide and he crawled closer, and you briefly reached out to touch the pulsing shaft before he came to lie on top of you.

You quickly retracted the hand, while his slid up your leg and side. He found your chest again, but this time freaky wasn’t the word you’d use to describe him. He kissed your lips with a soft passion and gently massaged your boob, while moving his ass and hips in slow, wide motions.

His dick slid back and forth against your folds and lower stomach. You dared to reach in again to feel it. You held his shaft loosely and it jolted between your fingers. You pointed it down and felt the head push your lips apart, and he let out a horny groan when they gradually opened up and the dick slipped back inside.

The shaft stretching your hole was so arousing. It felt hot and good. And when it rubbed you in just the right place, and the full length of the man's body was on you and in your arms, you felt a new kind of pleasure shoot through your body.

“AHH, TAEYONG!” you screamed while your pussy clung hard to the shaft. For the first time Taeyong chuckled and moved his hand from your breast to your mouth.

“Shhh,” he said and grinned wide. He briefly slowed the rolling of his hips, almost to a complete stop.

“Sorry,” you giggled. His hand eased up on your face and you looked into each other's eyes.

You maintained eye contact while Taeyong kept the slow pace. He pushed into you only to pull half way out again, while you smiled lovingly at each other.

“Are you this wild with all the others?” you asked, referring to his admittance that you weren’t the first fan Taeyong had sex with.

“No,” Taeyong said. His breath was heavy as a relaxed to regain his strength. “Only with freaks like you.”

Your smiles soon faded as your racing hearts settled, and lust and desire took over again. You closed your eyes and made out. Taeyong's lips eventually went down the side of your face and he buried his head in your hair and shoulder.

The deep and heavy heaving from before returned, slower this time but still lustful and coarse. “Huuh, Huuh, Huuh,” he groaned by your ear. Faster and faster as he rolled his hips and used his arms to push and pull.

You stroke his back and felt his warm spine and ass, which moved up and down in rapid motions. His cheeks were soft this time, and his lower back was still wet and slippery which felt hot. You raised your knees and spread your legs as wide as the couch would allow it, and the dick slipped deeper and deeper inside you with each erotic push.

Taeyong stopped rolling his hips and soon just rocked his ass. It jumped up and down as he held his arms tighter and tighter around you. You tilted your head back for fresh air, and panted repeatedly as the man filled you up and fucked you good.

“You're so hot,” he moaned, but he no longer had the energy to call you slutty. His mind became fully focused on the tight and slippery sensation of your vagina licking his erect dick, of the pleasure it produced, and on the orgasm which was suddenly imminent.

That it was imminent became clear to you when Taeyong pushed himself up on his elbows. You saw his grimacing face and strained expression before you too closed your eyes hard and squirmed.

Your legs and feet were pointing straight in the air by now. Your boobs were shaking and jolting back and forth on your chest. The couch started moving across the floor, that's how brutal Taeyong was when he reached his peak.

You moaned and nearly screamed again but managed to restrain yourself. You suddenly became fixated on making your idol come, and the last thing you wanted was to get caught and end the act prematurely.

You were certain the man would pull out at any moment. He would sit on his knees between your thighs, furiously jerk his boner with his hand, and deliver his load onto your stomach. You started imagining his cum and tried hard to remember exactly what his amazing dick looked like.

Except he didn't do what you expected. He only pushed his upper body higher, and pressed his lower body harder between your legs, until he was hovering above you on long arms.

He kept thrusting violently into you, burying your body in the cushions and forcing the couch to inch closer to the wall with each wild thrust.

The finale came when you lowered your legs and wrapped them around Taeyong's waist and hips. You used your feet to push and pull, aiding him in his sensational movements. His twisted face curled up so hard it couldn't get any tighter.

“Uggh, fuck, I'm coming, ahh, I'm coming!”

“Yes, YES, come for me baby, fuck me harder Taeyong, oh yeah, yeah, TAEYONG!”

“AHHH, BABY, fuck you're such a hot slut. AHHHH, AHHHHH, HHHUUUMMN!”

Taeyong's whole body jolted. He jerked forward and slid backwards only to do it again. A couple of hard, abrupt thrusts, several times while his pace slowed with each one.

His eyes and mouth opened wide. His face loosened up and became droopy. His skin quickly became flushed and his pale skin red. His lower back was more moist than ever, and perspiration spread to every surface of his body.

“Mmm, fuck Taeyong,” you moaned and suddenly felt exhausted. Only then did your mind catch up and you realized that the man never did what you thought he would do.

He didn't come on your stomach. He never sprayed your front with his sperm. He never smeared his cum-covered dick around your folds to edge you on.

Instead he had come inside you. He had released his load deep into your pussy. He had planted his seeds in your womb, and the realization made you smile and giggle.

And – though of course neither of you knew it at the time – the seeds took root. Taeyong's third child was on the way.

At the time the thought did cross your mind. Seconds after he came in you the risk actually worried you, and your initial giggle was short-lived. But you quickly forgot about it. As Taeyong collapsed in your arms and started heaving by your ear, you lowered your legs, smiled at the ceiling and caressed him like he was your long-term lover.

You just had sex with an idol. Only half an hour ago he hadn't said a word to you, and the odds that he ever would were unimaginably slim. The man you watched on stage, cheered and screamed for from the audience, was currently laying naked on top of you with his still hard dick throbbing inside you as he emptied itself. You would have laughed if someone said this would happen.

Yet it certainly didn’t feel like you’d only just met. In this moment you felt as though you'd known the man forever. It would be days after the fact that it fully sank in that all of this did happen, but that you didn’t actually know him at all. And if it wasn't for two things the memory would have faded into a surreal dream.

The first thing that assured you that it wasn’t just a dream was the fact that Taeyong gave you his number. No fewer than 48 girls before you had been in similar situations on this tour, and not once had he given them any way to contact him after. Sex with them had been good but not this great.

With you, however, Taeyong felt as though he'd taken ecstasy. He could be rough and you took it. The way he felt you clicked with each other in bed – no, on the couch – was exceptional. Maybe he was also sad that the world tour was ending.

The others never heard from him again. But when you texted him, several days after the backstage sex, he replied in less than a minute.

The second thing that kept things real was not by intention or design. When you eventually found out that you were pregnant there were only so many guys who could be the father. You did the math and came to an inevitable conclusion.

It felt like a nightmare, like your world came crashing down. But compared to the two other mothers-to-be whom Taeyong had unknowingly and recklessly impregnated, you were the lucky one.

Taeyong was indeed reckless and thoughtless. He should have pulled out, or never done what he got into the habit of doing on this tour in the first place.

But he also wasn't one to leave a young mother and his child to fend for themselves. He would be a fixed figure in your son's life, and consequently in yours.

Of course, as you lay there on the couch and his body felt heavier by the minute, you didn't know any of this. You were oblivious to the baby soon growing inside you. And when Taeyong slowly pulled out and stood up, and you watched as he nurtured his slack but beaten dick, you smiled at him and felt an enormous joy.

“That was great,” you said.

Taeyong smiled back before he turned around and went to pick up his clothes. He looked at you while he pulled his underwear back up, then found your panties and bra and tossed them to you.

“Great? You were fucking incredible!” he said.

It made you chuckle.

“You don't mind the things I called you, right?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you confirmed. “I love how freaky you are.”

“Good. Because babe, I wanna see you again. You have a phone?”

“Sure,” you said and sat up straight.

Was it the last time you had sex, and was this as "freaky" as you ever got? Well no, certainly not. It was only just the beginning of your relationship as parents as well as sexual partners.

[rosedoesstories]

MEDIC AND ENGI TEAMING UP TO FLUSTER READER.. (Maybe some smut too. I love insane smart men.)

Your wish is my command! I enjoyed writing this one, as I too love me some insane smart men...

"Love From Afar"

Word Count: 659

Medic/Engineer x GN!Reader

◇◇◇◇◇

Medic and Engineer were smart.

Insane, but smart.

And by God, you loved it. The way you would swoon the moment you saw them what they do best: Engineer with inventing, and Medic with experimenting. Oh, you'd wish they would just....take you already.

But see, here's the thing: they planned on taking you. The two, while always wrapped up in what they were doing, always noticed you from a distance, like a scientist studying their test subject, and in a way, that's what you were, their cute little test subject.

The boys were equally as infatuated with you as you were with them, you were just so adorable....the way you talked, the way you smiled, your little quirks that just made them fall for you.

So when Engineer came up to Medic about a way to....show them their adoration for you to you, Medic was more than willing to comply.

♡♡♡♡♡

It was one afternoon after a long mission, and you were plump tuckered out, ready to simply crash into your bed and nap the rest of the day away, when Medic approached you.

"Hallo, Y/N! Zhat was a lovely dizplay of action out zhere, hm? Vell, zat least I vought it vas...but zenough chit chat, me and zhe Engineer want you to....test somezing for us!" He said as he took your arm and made his way to the medical room, where Engineer was currently. The instant contact made you blush greatly, your face becoming as red as a brick house.

As you two made your way to the room, you notice Engineer leaning against the doorframe, the smile that we always wore on his face.

"About time ya two made it...didn't pressure poor Y/N into anythin' now, right?" The Texan questioned. "Vell, I mean, I did....drag zhem across zhe battlefield to get here, zo..." Medic sheepishly replied with a nervous smile. Engineer simply sighed and brought you two inside, locking the door along the way.

Once inside, the two men glanced at each other, smiling. They had finally got you where they wanted you. Their presence alone made you blush, but as Engineer made his way towards you, your face became a lot more red.

"Ah apologize if doc made ya feel rushed, sweetheart....but he simply couldn't take it much longer....ah dunno if you noticed, but we've been keepin' a real close eye on ya, doll...and from afar, you already looked so damn adorable, but up close..." He quietly said to you as he got closer, placing his gloved hand on your face as he began to gently rub your cheek with his thumb. "....yer perfect. Perfect for us."

Medic soon followed, walking behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist, enjoying your scent as Engineer placed his other hand on your face gently. This was surreal for you, you grew more and more flustered with each touch. You were quickly becoming putty in their hands, and the cherry on top came when Engineer gave you a warm, gentle and tender kiss, and as if that wasn't enough, Medic began to kiss the back of your neck, slipping in a few love bites here and there as he began to dry hump against your rear.

Good God, you were mush in their hands at this point, and as Engineer began to taste to inside of your mouth with his tongue, you couldn't help but moan inside the kiss, your knees beginning to buckle in. After a good moment or so, the men pulled away, their arms still wrapped around you as they looked at the mess they made of you.

"Oh mein Gott…was für ein schöner anblick…“ Medic moaned in his language, a grin now appearing on his face as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"Oooh, doc, I think they liked it....hehe, somethin' tells me Y/N is gonna enjoy bein' our willing test subject..."

"I agree, Herr Engineer...we'll have plenty of fun, us three..."

[olderthannetfic]

Oh, are we talking about autism in fandom/original stories?

Another "fun" thing is when you write an autistic character based on your own, lived experiences, and then get comments like:

Um, that's not what autism is. (Character) can't be autistic because they can talk/they have empathy for others/they understand sarcasm/they smile. Don't you know that autistic people are basically unfeeling psychopaths? :/

That's not what autism is like, that's a harmful stereotype, you have no idea what you're talking about!

I'm autistic and that's not how I think/feel/act, you clearly don't actually have autism!

Your character is so harmful to the autistic community, you can't show them being angry/mean to others/violent/etc. You're just demonizing autistic people and saying we're monsters!

They're autistic and they're having sex!? Autistic people can't consent, why are you glorifying disabled people being groomed/raped, this is so disgusting!

How dare you show the character being disabled by their disability! You have internalized ableism, stop hating yourself!

It's so surreal. People always say, "We need more #OwnVoices stories about minority experiences! We need to support authors/artists/etc. with autism and other neurodivergences!"

So you're like, "Oh! Well, okay, here's my character with autism, their autism and life experiences are literally based on mine. :)"

And then once they realize it's a real lived experience and not just a cutesy, sanitized, happy story they go, "Oh nvm we don't want that shit. Wtf is that?"

Like damn what the fuck do you people want from us lmao

--

[ackerprettyy]

Rich Boy Min 🩵

warnings: uh…dicksucking

minors do not interact 🔞

•

•

Yea but i think sucking off rich boy! Armin would be a surreal experience. He’s obsessed with you and your plump brown lips that stay having gloss on them, which is why he liter ally can’t go a day without having your lips wrapped around his dick. “Just a little more, please baby” He places his hand on your head and gently pushes you down on cock, making your throat clench and eyes flutter. rich boy! Armin might low key be an exhibitionist because he didn’t give a flying fuck when the house maid was in the hallway cleaning or if she could her the activities that were being done inches away from her. “No, gagg on my dick, I want them to hear it” spit dribbles down your chin as Armin’s tip reaches the back of your throat for what it felt like the 50th time. “Min my throat hurts” you resort to jerking him off, but he quickly swatted your hand away. “wanna feel your lips only princess” He grabs his dick and runs his pink tip over your lips, smudging his pre-cum all over your mouth. Yeah rich boy! Armin definitely bribes you with his money, knowing damn well he’d give you anything regardless of what you do. “if you let me cum down your throat again i’ll buy you that pretty purse you wanted just pleasseee let me cum” he’s almost begging at this point and you loved seeing him turn into a little begging bitch. You opened your mouth and took all of his length down your throat until there was nothing left. His body twitched when he felt your lips against his pelvis. His dick convulsed in your throat until you felt his cum slowly fill up your mouth. When Armin pulled out your mouth, he watched his cum slide down your shiny lips, as you gasped for air. “you have the best lips baby” he says patting your head while you rest your head on his chest, still catch your breath. Rich boy! Armin now can’t even imagine what your other set of lips feel like.

•••••••••

oh we are so back

[crescent--crow]

Finally drew OG Wally art

I eventually wanna draw him accurately but I still struggle unfortunately

Changed a few things last minute on the finished piece cuz it didn't sit right .

I've had Dr Sunshine is dead stuck in my head all day and I went you know that song hits just right for Wally lmao. At least to me it gives the equivalent of The Tornado by Owl City. Just me?

I'll never not be able to get this man out of my head it seems. After drawing him every month since last year I wanted to give myself a break. Why? Why ? Why? Tbh I'm not sure , I adore his design and I love all the efforts Clown puts into Welcome Home. Tis why I've supported as much as I could. (And still do)

I don't really follow everything that happens in the fandom cuz I don't have the time to dwell on dramas that happen in every place it seems. I'm too old for that stuff.

This is as close as I'll ever get to drawing Wally lmao. I don't think I'll ever stop. And funny enough I've never really been a fanart kinda artist. But with all the beautiful AU's and dedications everyone put forth on this lil dude.

I also want to thank this lil dude in particular because he's helped me develop my painting style since day one of drawing him. You can see my development and new experiment ideas that didn't always turn out good. But I'm so damn proud of myself which is hard to say even for me. Why? Self doubt bears my arms despite spending countless hours on pieces that I try to make better the more I settle on it. He wears his heart on his feet and is a silly lil dude. But we know the cool aspect of Welcome Home is the spooky factor. I wanted to give it a try. I'm not quite sure what kind of artist I am because I want to do everything. Horror has always been my one thing I wanted to give a try. But I'm always scared it might be portrayed the wrong way. So maybe surrealism is the way to go? I dunno I'm ramblin

Anyway 🐦‍⬛💕 have a great weekend I have a con to get ready for. I'm utterly tired 😭

[hotcat37]

Gig report for Brussels 🇧🇪🔥

-just.....wow

-okay so first, the queue really wasn't as stressful as I thought it'd be. I arrived like an hour before the doors opened but it wasn't busy enough to be overwhelming!! At some point there were armed policemen walking around so that was a bit scary lol but it went smoothly so :P

-what also made the queuing so amazing was actually meeting people this time. Last year I was completely by myself both in the queue and during the concert but tonight I didn't just accidentally meet random people that I stumbled upon (who were absolutely lovely and who I vibed with so much) but also people from within the fandom <33 It was surreal to actually put a face to the usernames and to hear my own username be used lmao but it was such an amazing experience and I loooved trading gifts it was so satisfying!!

-also random but I just loved how diverse the crowd was. Older, younger, male, female, neither.....I just loved how many different kinds of people were present!!

-a bit frustrating but something I weirdly enough predicted beforehand was the show starting about 45 minutes late. The excitement was rapidly dwindling with every new song that kept playing without sight of Kä anywhere 🥲🥲 But he did apologize and as it turned out there was some kind of communication issue regarding the performing time

-that being said I completely forgot about the waiting as soon as the gig started wtf it was just so damn good!! I want to give a special thanks to everyone who was here tonight because the atmosphere was simply amazing and so comfortable!! And at least from where I was standing people were respecting personal space and going crazy during songs without constantly elbowing others haha

-Jere seemed so happy and energetic tonight :] There wasn't a lot of banter but when he did talk he said a lot of cute and funny things <3

-WE GOT URHEILUJÄTKÄ 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥 I wasn't expecting that at all and it seemed spontaneous (?) but I'm so happy I got to hear the song live <33

-Dalton and Häärijä shenanigans were very endearing as always (Jaakko in particular looked majestic btw)

-WE GOT YHTÄ VAILLA MY FAVORITE SONG I WAS TWEAKINGGGGG 🗣🗣🗣☺☺☺☺💥💥💥

-the TRAFIK moshpit was kind of scary for me cuz I got kinda dragged into it but even though it was horrifying to have people jumping around so close to me I thankfully didn't get elbowed and everything seemed pretty safe :)

-it was boiling hot in there btw ugh I was fucking melting and sweating my metaphorical nuts off 😩

-shout-out to the person in front of me with the sign "I'm Tommy Cash" lmao I wish Kä would've noticed it was very cute 😂❤

Yeah, I dunno, it was just such a fantastic night. I didn't think it'd be that great queuing since it was in Brussels (no offense to folks that live in Brussels lmao but I find it a deeply unpleasant city) but this concert to me was honestly even better than the one in Antwerpen last year :"D And that one was already excellent too. Also shout out to everyone that brought party poppers and glowsticks and stickers and balloons to play with ❤❤ It really helped contribute to the great atmosphere 🥰💚

[theaawalker]

The Time Travelers ⌚ [Marty Mcfly x Y/N]

Pairing: Marty McFly x Fem!Y/N Song Inspo: Marty McFly by Luke Christopher Word Count: 1,728 Summary: You, Marty, and Doc Brown formed a formidable team. You were always by Marty's side, assisting with Doc's eccentric experiments. Unbeknownst to you, Marty shared your feelings but hadn't yet found the right moment to express them. He had planned to ask you out after Doc's latest experiment, but things took a dangerous turn when adversaries of Doc attacked, forcing you both to flee for your lives. Warnings: sexual harassment, some violence (non-graphic) Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

"Marty! They're catching up!"

"I know, (Y/N)! Damn it, I know!"

Marty pressed harder on the gas pedal, accelerating rapidly. "Marty, wait! 88 miles per hour—" Too late. The next moment, you crashed into a barn.

You groaned and checked yourself for injuries, noticing Marty struggling with a hazmat helmet.

"I'll be quick," he mumbled through the mask. You waited anxiously until Marty returned to the car, gunfire echoing in the distance.

"What's happening?!" you shouted. "Hold on!" he replied, speeding away again with shots trailing behind you.

[ TIME SKIP AKA TIME TRAVEL ]

Marty drove to your neighborhood, but something was off. The area hadn't been developed yet.

"What should we do?" You asked nervously.

"I don't kn—Wait. Doc! We need to find Doc! It's his machine, he must know what's going on!"

"Marty," you interrupted.

"Come on, (Y/N)! We have to locate his place and—"

"Marty!"

"What?!"

You sighed deeply. "How about you take a moment to calm down. Clearly, we're not at home. Let's think this through. My 'uncle' Lou is at the café. Well, he's not really my uncle. Whatever. Let's check if we can use the phone there. We'll call Doc and see what he suggests. Sound good?"

Marty's expression softened, and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Okay. Let's head to the cafe." He held out his hand to you, and you took it with a shy smile. Since you couldn't drive, you began walking together.

[ TIME SKIP ]

"What the heck?" Marty muttered under his breath. You shared his disbelief. This was surreal. It looked like... the 1950s.

"Marty...?"

He nervously ran his hand through his hair and scanned the town until his eyes fell on a trash can. He rushed over, picking up a newspaper. His eyes widened as he read, mumbling something you couldn't quite catch.

"What? What is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, nerves and excitement mingling in your tone.

"1955, (Y/N)! We're—We're in 1955... Doc's machine worked."

Your mind raced as you tried to comprehend the enormity of the situation. "Oh my God. I—I haven't even been born yet! Well... that might not be such a bad thing."

"Ouch." Marty furrowed his brows at your self-deprecation.

"No, no, no. I meant for the space-time continuum. Two of us existing in the same time period. That's be catastrophic." Marty blinked at you, clearly speechless and impressed. "What? I listen to Doc."

The two of you chuckled a bit, cut short as the memory of Doc being murdered returning. Doc was dead, or he would be... in 1985. Meanwhile, the two of you were stuck in 1955.

Marty's expression shifted to a mix of determination and concern. "Come on. We've still gotta use that phone."

With that, Marty grabbed your hand and hurried across the quiet street towards Lou's Cafe, the familiar setting from countless retellings of his adventures. As you stepped inside, the nostalgic atmosphere enveloped you—the checkerboard floor, the red vinyl booths, and the jukebox playing tunes of an era long gone.

"Did you kids jump ship or something?" the man behind the counter asked, his voice a blend of curiosity and amusement.

"Sorry?" you replied, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected question.

"Well, what's with the life preserver?" he continued, gesturing towards Marty with a quizzical expression.

You glanced at Marty, realization dawning upon you. "Oh," you chuckled softly, "I just... he likes his vests."

"I just—uh... I need to use your phone," Marty stammered, eager to distract from any further questions about his unconventional attire.

"Sure. Right over there," the man said, pointing to a booth in the back of the cafe.

Before Marty left, he turned to you with a hint of urgency in his eyes. "Stay here for me. Okay?"

"Okay," you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. "I swear, Marty, if it's the last thing I do, I'll get us home. I'll get you home," you added, trying to muster the courage you knew he needed.

Marty returned your smile gratefully before rushing towards the booth, leaving you to take a seat at the counter. You settled onto the stool, trying to blend in with the patrons who seemed oblivious to the temporal chaos unfolding around them.

A familiar figure caught your eye—a young man sitting just a seat away, devouring a sundae with gusto. "Hey, ice cream sounds pretty good," you mused to yourself, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in this surreal situation.

"Um, could I have a sundae?" you asked Lou, the man behind the counter, your voice wavering slightly with nerves.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Lou replied warmly, reaching under the counter to retrieve a bowl and prepare your order.

Meanwhile, Marty trudged back from the phone booth, a sheet of phone book paper clutched tightly in his hand. "Hey, do you know where—" he began, only to be interrupted by the sudden swing of the cafe's front doors.

Your breath caught in your throat as you glanced towards Marty for confirmation. "Marty. I—Is that...?"

"Biff," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched with apprehension.

The cafe seemed to freeze in time as a familiar, imposing figure entered—the swaggering bully, Biff Tannen. Minions behind him, his presence filled the room with a palpable tension, drawing the gaze of everyone present, including yours and Marty's.

"Hey, McFly! McFly, I'm talkin' to you!" Biff bellowed, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

The young man at the counter turned around, and it hit you like a lightning bolt. It was George McFly, Marty's father, a timid and awkward figure caught in Biff's shadow.

"Oh. Hi, Biff," George stammered, his voice barely audible over the din of the café.

Marty's expression mirrored your own shock as you watched the scene unfold before you, the pieces of the past falling into place with eerie precision.

"That's George McFly," Marty whispered to you, his voice tinged with disbelief. "My dad." You nodded silently, your eyes locked on George's vulnerable form as Biff continued his relentless taunting. "M-My dad was a total wimp," Marty muttered, his shoulders slumped with defeat.

"Poor guy," you whispered sympathetically, unable to tear your gaze away from the heartbreaking sight.

"Hello! McFly! Anybody home?" Biff mocked, knocking on George's head with a cruel smirk.

"I see Biff's always been an asshole," you murmured to Marty, your voice tinged with anger and empathy as you witnessed the brutal bullying unfold before your eyes. Marty remained transfixed, his expression a mix of sorrow and frustration as he watched his father endure Biff's torment.

"What're you lookin' at, butthead?!" Biff sneered, closing in on Marty with malicious intent.

Enough was enough. You couldn't stand idly by while Biff continued his reign of terror, especially not aimed at Marty.

"Hey! Why don't you back the hell off, asshole!" You snapped, your voice ringing out in defiance.

Biff's gaze snapped towards you, his expression shifting from rage to something altogether more unsettling—a predatory glint in his eyes. He licked his lips slowly, a sinister smile spreading across his face as he moved towards you, his towering frame blocking your escape.

Fear gripped your heart, but you stood your ground, refusing to let Biff intimidate you any further. Marty got up to fight but Biff's gang held him back.

"Don't you touch her, you sick son of a bitch!" Marty yelled.

"Oh shut up, dip-stick. A pretty girl like this ain't gonna like a squirt like you. She needs a real man." Biff turned his attention back to you. "Ain't that right, doll face?" He smirked.

"That's actually insulting." You spat. "I'd rather lick the mud off my shoe then be anywhere NEAR you!" The fucking nerve this guy had. You tried to push him away, escape from his grasp, anything. But his grip on you was iron.

"You better watch your mouth! Just you wait, honey. You're gonna be beggin' for a taste of me." He said, sending sickly chills down your spine. "Stop it! Leave me alone!" You protested as you squirmed with all your might. That must've set something off inside of Marty because he lost it and let loose on Biff's gang. Fists were flying and bodies were falling. Biff's head whipped to witness, loosening his grip, and you took the opportunity. The next fist you saw was yours meeting Biff's jaw and knocking him on his ass.

Before you could breath again, Marty grabbed your hand and RAN. He ran until the two of you were safe in a little shop Biff would never look. As soon as he was sure you were safe, he began checking you for any harm.

"Are you okay? Of course you aren't. I'm so sorry, (Y/N). Damn it. That just made me so mad to see him touch you like that. No one should be so damn disrespectful and- and touch you like that! I swear, (Y/N)."

"Marty."

"When I see him again I'll- I'll... I'll beat the shit out of him!"

"Marty!"

"(Y/N)! He's a total ass! He deserves to-"

You cut him off by grabbing his face and crashing your lips to his. He was a bit surprised at first but quickly returned the kiss. He rested his hands on your hips and carefully pulled you closer.

By the time you pulled apart, you were both flushed in the face. You leaned closer and nuzzled your foreheads sweetly, running your fingers through his soft hair.

"W-What was that for?" Marty stuttered.

You pursed your lips as you gently ran your fingers through his soft hair again. You wanted to confess, tell him you liked him, Like, really liked him. You started it a stutter, a huge smile spreading across his face. You could sense he knew what you were going to say...

Until you heard someone clear their throat.

It was the store owner. She stood there with her hands on her hips and a small smirk on her face. Both yours and Marty's faces were red with embarrassment.

"S-Sorry, ma'am." You stuttered.

"Yeah. Sorry." Marty seconded.

With that, you two quickly shuffled out of the shop, holding hands, and running down the block. Meanwhile, the store owner watched from the shop window, a growing smile on her face.

"What weird kids. Sweet, but weird."

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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