#but it is what it is and it’ll end when it ends

[coolwyous]

┈─★ 𝘩𝘪𝘫𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘪 (𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺'𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.)

  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ you and daniela have been divorced for years, keeping cordial for the sake of co-parenting your perfect angel of a daughter. but when a snowstorm traps you in a cabin with your ex-wife, you realize there might be more unfinished business than you care to explore.

   ˎˊ˗  ❄️  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  🔓୭˚.  ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

   ➴ pairing: hockey daddy!daniela avanzini x f!reader

   ➴ genre + wc: 7k, pining, bickering, parenting!au, daniela is our fuckass baby daddy/ex-wife, we hate her but she wants us back lowkey <3

┈─★ a/n: more daddy!kats! i highly encourage reading the college hockey!au verse this is based in! <3

sometimes, you wish you could be extremely fucked up for custody swaps. ideally, so blackout drunk that you can tune out any of daniela’s annoying comments or innuendos she so relentlessly throws at you, as if you haven’t been broken up for years at this point.

but you have a teenage daughter you need to be a role model for, and you sure as hell know your ex-wife is severely lacking in that department, so the responsibility falls to you. you bite your tongue and bear it: every friday, after school, one week on and one week off as per the custody agreement written in your divorce.

you see the stupid cherry-red mustang pull up along the curb of your house. the house, now yours, but once hers too, the house that she used to share with you and esme, before she had moved out following the divorce. 

you wish you could say she was a terrible parent, or that your daughter hated her time with her other parent, but esme is beaming from ear to ear as the two of them roll to a stop. the car is blasting with a classic reggaeton song that they’re both head-banging to. seeing the two of them laughing, swinging their heads around, curls flying in sync, even down to the stupid dimple your daughter inherited might actually warm your heart.

(at least it would, if daniela wasn’t 15 minutes late to the swap, as she always is.)

“you could have at least tried to be on time today. the twins’ birthday trip is this weekend,” you remind her, gritting your teeth as dani steps out of the car to give esme a hug. “we have to leave before the road gets bad. if you can’t reach esme, text lara. service might be spotty on the mountain. i’ll go get her sunday morning.”

esme gives you a quick hug and a kiss on your cheek before running inside to grab her things for the trip.

“i remember, i remember. see you next week, hermosa,” daniela waves esme off. she reaches out to you with open arms, peering at you over her sunglasses with that infuriating smirk. “what, no hug for daddy?”

you roll your eyes, ignoring her. you focus instead on esme, who runs out of the door with her suitcase. you focus on helping your daughter pull her suitcase down the curb and towards the sidewalk, hoping it’ll help you ignore your aggravating ex. 

“i’ll order the uber in a few minutes, esme. are your hearing aids charged, baby? i’ll ask auntie megan to bring her spare batteries if they haven’t left yet,” you offer, pulling out your phone.

“uber?” daniela arches a brow. her arms cross over her chest. “isn’t the cabin like an hour and a half away?”

you glare at her. “my car is in the shop and the rental isn’t ready until tomorrow.”

“sorry again, mami,” esme grimaces.

“baby, don’t apologize. i’m so glad you’re going on this trip,” you reassure her, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

for as head-strong as you are and as hot-headed as daniela is, you two were lucky to end up with the most considerate, mild-mannered child you could have possibly imagined. esme is shy, thoughtful, and had never gone through a phase of terrible twos or moody pre-teen years. she’s always been the most insanely sweet kid, never causing any trouble, and you couldn’t be more grateful for her. for all the chaos in your relationship with daniela, your daughter was never something you’d regret, not for a second.

“an hour and a half uber? i have today off,” daniela interjects, looking down at her watch. “i can drop you guys there.”

the offer is generous, sure, but the idea of being stuck in the car with daniela sends a shiver of horror down your spine. the last time you two had been together for longer than 10 minutes was for esme’s parent teacher conferences, and even the hour of those felt like torture, always ending in you two bickering.

“that’s almost three hours,” you point out.

“i don’t want to throw off your plans,” esme shakes her head.

dani reaches out to grab your daughter by the chin, squeezing her cheeks playfully. 

“hey, no. i’d do anything for this face.”

the girl lights up at the offer. 

you freeze, but the way esme seems genuinely excited is enough to make you swallow your pride. it’s not about you, you remind yourself, it’s about your daughter. you can play nice with your ex-wife if it means making your daughter this happy to have both parents for a little longer.

“fine,” you say simply, reaching for the suitcase to help throw it into the trunk.

esme wraps daniela up in a giant hug, burying her face in your ex-wife’s chest. “no way! thank you, papi.”

you pause. maybe you can give her the benefit of the doubt. could dani be turning a new leaf?

“your turn to thank papi,” daniela smirks at you, reaching out once more.

your face drops. nope. same old stupid daniela avanzini. 

“not a chance in hell,” you roll your eyes. “just get in the damn car.”

-

daniela’s eyes, still hidden behind her sunglasses, are focused on the road, the white of the snow painting the road up the mountainside towards the resort where the cabins await. 

“thank you again,” esme pipes up from the backseat.

“no hay de qué, mi amor.” daniela shakes her head, peeking at the girl through the rearview mirror. “my wife and kid alone in a car with a stranger? stuck on the side of the mountain? in a snowstorm or something? the thought alone would have kept me up like a freakin’ nightmare.”

“ex-wife,” you remind her sharply. 

daniela grins, shrugging. “meh. potato, potah-to.”

“tomato, divorce settlement, totally the same,” you snip back.

“mami’s coaching zuri’s cheer team this year,” esme randomly interjects. you try to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“yeah?” daniela grins, peering at you. “you got bit by the coaching bug all of a sudden, mami?”

“don’t piss me off, daniela,” you hiss back, hating when she uses the nickname.

“auntie megan convinced her,” esme explains. “she says she has a lot of fun coaching our hockey team. it’s less pressure than college level.”

“i’ve tried to get meiyok to come coach for us so many times. she always refuses. but a fucking high school hockey team she’s got all the time in the world for? insane,” daniela rolls her eyes. but as she sits on esme’s words, something seems to stick with her. 

“pause. megan convinced you?”

you arch a brow back at her challengingly, seeing the way she bristles.

“and if she did?”

“did she?” daniela presses, her gaze unwavering.

“she’s always been my favorite between all of you,” you say simply. “her and yunjin.”

you see daniela’s jaw clench. maybe it’s immature, but you can’t help but grin to yourself at how the mere mention finally gets her to shut the hell up.

“auntie yunjin and auntie chaewon pitched in for me to go see a pro game,” esme offers gently. you realize she’s trying to salvage the conversation, knowing daniela’s longstanding beef with yunjin. 

and it works. daniela instantly softens, esme’s gentle voice enough to disarm her and distract her from your guys’s standoff.

“they paid for you to get a ticket? mi amor, why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go to that game? i could have gotten you tickets,” daniela asks.

“um, i don’t know.” esme rubs the back of her neck nervously, her eyes screwing shut. “i’m gonna take my hearing aids out. my head hurts.”

“take a nap, baby,” you reassure her, reaching backwards to stroke her knee.

she nods, resting her head against the window. “love you guys.”

you quickly sign back an “i love you” and watch her as she closes her eyes. as soon as she takes her hearing aids out, you let out a groan.

“daniela,” you say sternly.

“y/n,” she responds. “love hearing you say my name like that. again, please.”

you have half a mind to punch her there and then, but knowing your ex, she’d probably somehow like it. 

“she didn’t ask you because the huh-kim kids are going too and she knew you’d throw a fit.”

daniela blinks in surprise. “how do you know that?”

“because she told me,” you grit irritatedly. “our daughter actually talks to me.”

“she talks to me too. about lots. things going on inside my own house.” daniela pivots quickly, almost disarmingly fast. “are you still seeing that dude from your old job?”

“daniela,” you warn her. you empathize with esme in that moment. how difficult does dani make it to talk to her? you think back to your relationship, and the way it ended. 

daniela has always been impossible to talk to. as much as you’d love to be a united front, you can’t blame your daughter for wanting to keep some things from her dad.

“what?” the brunette questions.

“i’m not talking about this with you.”

daniela squares her shoulders and focuses on the road. 

“fine.”

-

the two of you manage to keep the peace for the rest of the drive, not wanting to disturb your sleeping daughter. by the time daniela pulls the mustang into the parking lot, the snow is coming down decently hard. esme runs excitedly to go join her friends who wave to her from the window of the main cabin, having been watching her arrival.

“y/n, hi!” lara beams, greeting you as you emerge from the car. “wifey’s inside setting ground rules for the girls. no exploring the woods after midnight type shit, you know.”

“who all came?” daniela asks, eyeing the area curiously.

“josie, esme, the twins obviously, arin, and kj.”

“no boys?” daniela asks.

lara shakes her head. “girls trip only.”

“that’s sweet,” you smile. 

if there is anything good that came out of your marriage to daniela, it was also the community of her friends and their families. the tiny village that surrounded esme made it that much easier to trust that she was in good hands. she’s kept the same best friends since she was a baby, and being the youngest of the group, you feel reassured that she’s got good people keeping their eyes on her, both the kids and their parents.

“no,” lara wrinkles her nose in irritation. “it was the only way we could keep zuri from begging to bring her little boyfriend.”

“oh god,” dani says, running a hand through her hair. “i’m not ready for the whole dating thing.”

“esme’s cabin is down this way,” lara says “but they’ll honestly all probably spend the whole trip in the twin’s cabin.”

daniela wrinkles her nose. “waste of money, bro. if you knew they’d sleep over why’d you get them individual cabins?”

“honestly? zuri and priya have been fighting a lot recently. sometimes over literally nothing, bro. i wanted everyone to have somewhere to run away to if they have one of their little twin spats on this trip,” lara breathes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “the beauty of teenagers, right?”

you laugh, giving lara one last hug before you and daniela turn to head back to the car. but before you can warn her to behave, a man is placing bright yellow cones by the parking lot exit, roping it off from the main road.

“the road’s closed!” he calls out to you all. you and daniela exchange looks of disbelief.

“what!?”

“ice too thick,” he says simply, motioning up to the snowbanks blocking up parts of the road. “it’ll take the snowplow until the morning to get up here.”

“oh hell no,” you groan, throwing your head back in irritation. just your fucking luck, stuck on a mountain with your aggravating ex-wife.

“you can stay with us, dani,” lara immediately offers, realizing what this means for you both.

“no, you guys have your hands full chaperoning,” she waves lara off. “we can stay at esme’s cabin.”

“together?” you question, nearly in disbelief at how calmly she’s taking this.

she shrugs, letting out a sharp breath. 

“do you have a better option?”

you bite your tongue, and pray it’s a short night. knowing daniela, however, it probably won’t be.

-

esme chews anxiously on her lower lip. outside, the snow falls, mounting up on the windowsill. the three of you are crammed into the queen sized bed, esme in the middle, but you don’t mind. anything to spend more time with your daughter is a win in your book.

“i’m sorry you’re stuck here,” the girl apologizes, her eyes darting between the two of you on either side of her.

“if i have to be stuck anywhere, i’m grateful it’s with you,” you reassure her.

“i love you,” she beams, resting her head on your shoulder. the three of you lay side by side, backs propped up against the headboard.

“well, we’ve got all night, so let’s start killing some time,” daniela grins, poking your daughter in the stomach. “esme. any crushes?”

the question catches the both of you off guard. you feel your eyes go wide.

“um…” esme’s eyes dart to you.

“what, something you’re not telling me?” daniela prods, still playful. she tilts her head. “you’re keeping secrets from your bestie?”

“n-no,” esme quickly scrambles.

daniela arches a brow suspiciously. “is it a he?” 

“no,” esme blinks.

“oh thank god.”

“daniela,” you warn.

“what? i have two criteria— no huhs and no teen pregnancy.”

esme blinks between the two of you, squinting as she gets up and heads towards the bathroom. “i’m gonna go wash my face.” 

once the door closes behind her, you glare at your ex-wife.

“have you ever actually talked to her about any of this?” you question.

“what?”

“dani, you and your daughter have a great relationship, but you need to stop acting like she’s going to be 4 years old forever.” you shake your head. “the more you try to shelter her, the more she’s going to act out and keep things from you.”

“she’s…” daniela’s argument trails off, and you continue.

“and we need to suck it up, for her sake. she was probably excited to go have a weekend away from us, and now she’s stuck feeling like she has to babysit because we can’t be cordial with each other for more than 5 minutes without fighting,” you sigh, realizing how anxious she must be with the change in plans.

“she looks like she’s having fun,” dani pushes back.

“she’s 16,” you remind dani. “we’re ruining her trip. she was probably excited to sneak a bottle of alcohol and get tipsy with her little friends.”

daniela instantly bristles. “no fucking way. she’s too young for that.”

“daniela, you’re forgetting that you were almost an alcoholic your freshman year of college. that didn’t happen overnight.” you remind her. “better safe and in a controlled environment than going buckwild rebelling against parents.”

dani runs a hand through her dark hair, her nose flaring. “this parenting shit is so stressful. maybe i do owe your pops an apology. i might actually be the reason he’s bald.”

“i did enough of that on my own, before you,” you can’t help but laugh.

you see something mischievous flash in her eyes.

“bad girl.”

“don’t fucking start,” you roll your eyes. “that shit has to stop, for 24 hours, for our daughter.”

“what do you mean?” dani feigns ignorance.

“we spend all our time together arguing instead of focusing on her.”

“i’m not arguing with you. i’m flirting with you.”

“no, you’re intentionally trying to push my buttons. enough. get your head out of your ass. esme deserves our best. she is the perfect child,” you remind your ex.

“you’re right. parent mode activated.” dani lets out a deep breath. “fuck.”

“thank you,” you nod, grateful your pleas got through to her.

she looks at you, something softening in her gaze. “thanks for believing i could be better.”

you pause, realizing the sincerity in her voice. old dani, coming back in familiar flashes. “then i should tell you something.”

“oh.” she grins. “you’re still in love with me.”

“you lasted a whole 10 seconds. you’re so annoying.” you groan, throwing your head back, but you persist, knowing this piece of information is pretty significant for your co-parent to know about. “she has a crush on arin.”

“huh’s kid?” you see dani’s eyes widen. “the captain?”

“yes,” you nod. “but arin’s not very nice to her. that kid is built different. she’s not nice to anyone.”

dani lets out a low whistle. “she’s damn fucking good on the ice, is the worst part.”

“esme likes arin, but i think one of the other girls has a crush on esme.”

“which one?”

you laugh, realizing how silly you two must look. “christ, we sound ridiculous. gossiping like we’re the teenagers.”

“fuck.” dani wrinkles her nose, but she smiles back at you. “yeah we sound nosy as hell. but don’t leave me hanging. esme likes arin, arin’s a shit-head but i could have told you that with the parent she’s got, and some other kid likes esme?”

“one of her teammates,” you whisper. “you’ll pick up on it if you pay attention.”

“god, i’m not ready for this.” daniela buries her face into the pillow. “i can’t fucking do this.”

the door swings back open, and you and dani share a look to agree to put this conversation on pause.

“i’m back,” esme waves.

“hi baby,” you greet her.

her eyes dart between the two of you suspiciously. “you guys okay?”

“great, actually,” daniela jumps in. “we were talking about your friends.”

“oh god.” esme drops back in between you and daniela, covering her face with her hands.

“no, all good,” dani reassures her. “max is applying to the university this year.”

esme nods. “so is seongwook.”

you lean towards dani, filling her in on the tea between their little friend group. “wookie. zuri’s boyfriend. arin’s brother.”

“huh’s kid.” you see dani’s eye twitch, but you’re proud as she quickly pivots away. “if you applied, i bet you’d get in on hockey. three generations there, you, me, and your grandpa. it’d be pretty cool, no?”

“i’m not that good, papi,” esme shakes her head.

“esme, your team is second in the conference,” daniela reminds your daughter. “you’re the strongest left wing in the state. anywhere would kill to have you play for them.”

your heart warms at dani’s affirmations. when esme had first started playing, and megan recommended her at left wing, daniela’s first response was apprehension. that was her position, and daniela reminded megan of all the injuries she had sustained. but megan had been quick to remind her that esme was tiny, but she was fast and she was smart, and when she hits the ice with josie at center, they two kids are just as good as she and megan were at their age. 

“thanks,” esme drops her gaze shyly, and dani reaches out once more to play with her hair.

“i watch all your games,” she tells your daughter. “and if i can’t make it, i watch those tapes like my life depends on it.”

“really?”

dani smiles. “hell yes, mi amor.”

“but you’re so busy.”

“never too busy for you,” dani insists.

“i didn’t know that,” esme admits. 

“got your back, kiddo.”

before you can realize that you’re staring, esme’s phone goes off in between all of you. she holds it up apologetically.

“um, priya is calling me. i think her and zuri are fighting again. can i take it?”

“of course, mi amor,” dani nods, and esme bolts off to take the phone call.

daniela watches her rush to the twin’s aid and sighs. “she’s such a good kid. got so lucky with her.”

“she’s always there for her friends.” you breathe out quietly. “gets that from you.”

daniela’s eyes light up, turning immediately to narrow her eyes at you. “did you just compliment me?”

“you were shit at being consistent for me, but every time megan was in crisis, there you were, taking her to the ice, calming her down.” you recall all those late nights where dani would drop everything just to support whoever needed it. “whenever lara had some grand scheme she got up to, you never questioned it. you’d go along with it.”

“you were also a great friend. loyal. it’s what drew me to you,” daniela tells you, her voice softening. “it was cool to hear that you cared that much about the people in your life. honestly, i just thought you just had a bad attitude.”

“and i thought you only cared about yourself,” you smile.

daniela’s voice does something bizarre, hardening and softening all at once. you can tell you’ve hit a nerve.

“i tried caring about other things too, you know.”

you feel your chest tighten, and before you can stop yourself, you’re already saying it.

“you stopped trying.”

“i did.” she nods solemnly, and the accountability makes your heart ache. “i’m sorry.”

before you can say anything else, esme pops back inside, her big brown eyes looking between you hesitantly. 

“they’re asking if i can come over to their cabin, and spend the night,” she starts, slowly, pausing as if to choose her words, before holding up her hands. “but i don’t have to if you guys aren’t okay with that.”

“we’ll be okay here, mi amor,” dani nods.

“um… i know you guys don’t hang out alone any more,” esme admits quietly, looking to you specifically. “i feel bad.”

“we’ll be fine,” you nod reaching to her to press a kiss to her head. “we’ll catch up.”

“promise?” she breathes. 

“you can trust me, baby,” dani nods. 

esme lights up as she reaches for her backpack, giving you both a tight hug before escaping out to join her friends, leaving you and dani alone in the cabin. 

you figure it won’t kill you to be cordial, so you try to start with small talk. 

“how’s coaching going?”

“i don’t think you wanna hear it,” dani laughs, rubbing her nose. 

“since when do you censor yourself?” you question, narrowing your eyes at her. 

there’s distance between you, but that doesn’t stop you from taking her in. her eyes are heavier, darker, and granted you’re both older now, but she still has that dangerous dimple and that mischievous smile that makes you remember exactly what you fell in love with. her dark brown curls, now back to her natural hair color, pulled up and out of her face. you take in the lines, the creases, the face you had once said yes to no matter what. the face you had picked, over and over, time and time again. the face you pictured being alongside for forever. 

“your dad hates me as head coach. he’s taking that promotion super personally,” she confesses. 

you scrunch your nose. your father and your ex-wife working together was never ideal, but it’s your reality, and you know how difficult your dad can be. “i’ll talk to him.”

“that’s the last thing i need,” dani laughs, waving you off. “i can talk to him myself.”

you take a second, thinking about dani’s relationship with your dad. you had seen it first hand for yourself all those years ago— how badly you knew he would have preferred lara as captain, how hard he was on dani, how much pressure he put on her and how little he believed in her capabilities. he was always intense as a coach, and you know that, but he had been extremely hard on dani as a player.

and unfortunately, things only got worse when you started dating. whereas your mom had always welcomed dani with open arms, and your brothers loved having another hockey buff in the family, your dad had never shifted in his stance, treating dani like she couldn’t be trusted despite all the things she had done to give you the most perfect, beautiful romance possible. you’ve made peace with the fact that you and daniela are over, but there’s no doubt in your mind that she was absolutely the love of your life, and realizing that that’s over is admittedly a tough pill to swallow.

“is he part of it?” you finally ask, feeling your stomach flip into a knot. “part of why you gave up?”

you see dani’s temples tighten, her brows tensing. she could make a joke, lighten the conversation, avoid the topic altogether, but she doesn’t. she addresses it head-on, unafraid, ready to be vulnerable. 

“he told me i was gonna ruin esme’s life. i already ruined yours.” you hear the rasp in her voice. she can’t manage to look at you. “you called him that night, when i left.”

“i was scared you would do something stupid,” you admit, remembering the night you had first given dani the divorce papers after months of trying to save her from herself. “i was scared you weren’t coming home in one piece that night. i didn’t know what to do. esme was so little, you were in such a bad headspace, i didn’t know what else to do.”

her face is stony as she stares down at the foot of the bed. “you could have called megan. you could have called lara.”

your throat tightens and dries as you blink back memories of that night. just how angry daniela was as she stormed out, not knowing where she was going, how scared you were for her.

“i panicked. i made the wrong choice, and i’m sorry.”

“i put you in a horrible position.” she shakes her head, and you appreciate that she acknowledges the severity of the situation you were forced to face. “but i think when your dad got involved, that was it. that was the beginning of the end. like you stopped believing in us.”

“dani, that’s not fair. you know i pushed him out whenever he was bad to you. i didn’t even tell him when we eloped. that was just between us for months,” you push back. yes, he was a strain on your relationship, but you had always chosen dani over him, no matter what. “this wasn’t all on me, or on him.”

daniela chews on her bottom lip, her only real anxious habit for an otherwise confident facade.

“i cared too much about what he thought. kept thinking about his voice, in my head, that i would never be good enough for you.”

“all you needed to do was try,” you tell her, watching the way her face tenses in clear distress. “dani, that would have been good enough.”

“i didn’t trust myself to get it right,” she admits. “when esme heard us screaming that night…”

you grimace thinking about it. esme was so, so little, coming out in the middle of the night to ask if everything was okay, seeing your face streaked in tears and daniela on the verge of a breakdown. your yelling must have been strong enough to vibrate through the walls to wake her up.

“that was it,” she finishes. “confirmation. your dad was right. i wasn’t good enough to get through this without hurting anyone.”

you and your ex have had a few conversations here and there about how things ended, but never before has dani given you this level of reflection. your conversations were always limited to your daughter, given that daniela has the emotional intelligence of a literal child, but you catch glimpses of the old her here and there, a version of her who faced challenges head on and confronts everything with a mindset of getting through it, no matter what.

“you’re so hard on yourself, dani,” you sigh, knowing who daniela is at her core, beneath all her bravado. she’s passionate, she’s intense, and worst of all, she wants to be someone who might never be obtainable. “i never wanted you to be anyone else, i never needed you to be perfect. i just needed you to show up.”

“i had everything, and i fucked it up,” she breathes, before finally looking up at you. “i haven’t dated since that.”

“don’t tell me that,” you roll your eyes. leave it to her to ruin the moment.

she shakes her head, almost earnestly. “i’m serious, y/n. and you can do so, so much better than the guy from your old HR department.”

“daniela, he gave me a ride home once and that was it,” you groan, realizing she’ll never drop this topic. “we were never dating.”

“esme told me about how you let him inside.”

“yes, to offer him a coffee,” you emphasize. it was one time, and it was an act of kindness, but daniela continues to treat it like you agreed to marry him. “i’m allowed to offer people coffee inside my own home. he left immediately after.”

“that’s my home, and my family.” she sits up, her gaze intensifying. you thought at first that she was joking, but you quickly realize she’s dead serious. “and that was my bed, once upon a time.”

“the whole territorial thing is so not fucking cute, daniela.” you roll your eyes and push her away, scooting further from her. “it’s gross, if anything, you possessive weirdo.”

but daniela isn’t letting up. 

“y/n, if i ever find out someone else has been in that bed, in my bed, i’ll fucking kill them.” 

“shut up, daniela,” you groan.

“listen to me,” she drops her gaze. “i will kill them.”

“we are not together, and that’s not your bed.” you’ve had enough of her constant whiplashing you, switching so quickly between someone who makes it easy to remember why you once were so obsessed with her, then transforming into someone you wish you had never met. “i can’t fucking stand you, dani. so arrogant.”

“you’re always going to be the mom of my kid,” she reminds you, unphased by you moving away as she simply scoots closer. her eyes are sharp, intense, like she’s on a mission to prove a point. “that makes you mine in some way.”

ooh. if there’s anything about your ex wife, it’s that she knows how to make your fucking blood boil, and she has since day 1.

“i don’t belong to you,” you spit back harshly.

“you know that’s a damn lie,” daniela snaps back with lightning fast speed.

“you’re so fucking irritating,” you seethe.

“you miss me pissing you off all the time,” she grits back. “miss me being under your skin.”

“i most definitely do not,” you tell her. “my life got so much easier when you left.”

“i don’t believe you,” she bites back.

“you don’t have to,” you snap, realizing this is what she wants. she wants to get into the back and forth with you, wants to get a rise out of you. “believe whatever you want. i don’t have to prove anything to you.”

and then, something in her face changes, like a dam breaking. her face tenses.

daniela cracks. 

“there’s no way you don’t think about me, ‘cause i think about you, all the damn time,” she finally confesses.

the absolute ache in her words makes your stomach drop. it disarms you. “dani.”

“i miss you when your dad calls me a shit-head, and i remember how much love you used to say it to me with,“ she laughs, but there’s something painful in her voice. “or when i drive and the air is up too high, and it reminds me of when i used to drive you home in lara’s car from our place.”

you want to ask her to stop, not because you can’t handle hearing it, but because you can’t handle seeing her like this. since your divorce, you had worked through all the feelings involved with letting daniela go, hardest of all being the expectation that you had to fix her. but here she is, looking so small, so vulnerable, all of a sudden you’re back to when you first met and you realized the hockey team captain with a terrible reputation wasn’t bad at all. just painfully, dangerously misunderstood.

“sometimes it’s hard sharing a daughter with you, ‘cause she’s perfect, but she’s perfect because she’s got all the best parts of you, and i look at her, and it makes me miss you,” she goes on. “and i miss you the most when esmeralda laughs, ‘cause she laughs like you do, and it’s like we’re 21 and i’m hitting backflips in your front yard just to make you smile at me even for just a second.”

you absolutely hate how easy it is for you to fold for her in that exact moment. what, all it takes is some vulnerability, some nostalgia, and now you’re imagining letting her back into your arms? she can put you through absolute hell, but all you need is a quick sob story from her to feel your heart tug in her direction again?

the fact is that you loved her, and she loved you. you try to make peace with that and hope you can keep yourself from doing anything stupid. 

“i think we should go to sleep,” you finally manage, peeking out the window to see that the sun has dropped out of sight. you’re not sure how long you and your ex-wife have been talking, but clearly it was enough to keep you focused.

she blinks a few times, nodding as she looks away. “yeah, guess you’re right. i’ll take the couch.”

but before she can get out of the bed (or perhaps before you can think about it) the words rush out of your mouth.

“don’t.”

you see her brows furrow in confusion. “don’t?”

it’s one word, so simple, but it carries the weight of everything left unsaid between you two. you nod, curling up underneath the covers, before letting your voice soften.

“don’t.”

you half-expect her to say something stupid, but without further fanfare, she’s slipping into the bed behind you, the weight of the mattress shifting. it’s foreign and familiar all at once, but once her arm wraps gently around your waist and you feel the warmth of her body pressed against yours, all you can think of is just how undeniably, head-over-heels in love you two were, once upon a time.

you let out a soft breath as her familiar touch causes all the stress in your body to melt away. her hand rests innocently on your waist, but you want to make it abundantly clear that your intentions are pure. 

“don’t get any stupid ideas.” 

you can practically hear her grin. 

“i’m nothing but stupid ideas.”

you roll your eyes, but all she does is pull you closer, and you’re not protesting.

“i will kill you, avanzini.”

“do you ever miss being mrs. avanzini?” she asks curiously.

“god, i should have divorced you sooner,” you groan. 

“so you could remarry me again sooner?” she teases, shuffling to cuddle up behind you more comfortably. “true love finds a way.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but feel yourself dozing off, daniela’s comforting familiarity sending a sense of peace throughout your body. “can’t stand your annoying ass.”

“esme’s so perfect. tell me another baby doesn’t sound exciting…”

if you rolled your eyes any harder, they might just pop out of your head. 

“good night, daniela.”

but instead of insisting on another stupid joke, she simply presses a tender kiss into the back of your neck. it’s not aggressive, or possessive, not meant to stir anything. it’s gentle, familiar, as if she’s wishing you a restful sleep. you remember it now— her old habit of a good night kiss whenever you guys would go to bed.

“good night, mami,” she whispers gently, holding you just a little tighter, before you both drift off.

-

you wake to the first sunbeams shining in through the window, striking you just across the eyes. daniela’s arms are still wrapped around you, anchoring you in place, and it almost breaks your heart to have to peel her off of you. you turn slightly to see her, eyes screwed shut, lips just barely parted, her chest rising and falling rhythmically against your back. it stirs something in you, but before you can explore it any further, you hear the rustle of the doorhandle.

daniela stirs, and the two of you quickly part as you realize your daughter is back, racing inside, her eyes lighting up as she spots the two of you still there in one piece, neither parent having killed the other overnight.

“good morning!” she greets excitedly, throwing herself in between the two of you. you laugh and think about how she’s never outgrown this habit, even squeezing between you two from when she was a little girl.

“hi mi amor,” daniela greets, her voice raspy from having just woken up. she presses a loving kiss into esme’s head and looks out the window. “snow looks like it’s clearing up. i’ll head down with your mom soon.”

esme’s eyes go wide in eager curiosity. “can we maybe get breakfast together? nobody else is awake. i just haven’t had you both in one place for so long.”

you and esme look between each other, before you exchange looks with daniela. you smile at your daughter. “of course my love.”

“thank you guys for being nice to each other,” she beams.

the three of you get ready and make your way to the main lodge for breakfast. you sit by a window, admiring the mountainside view, the snow melting under the warmth of the emerging sun.

“hey,” dani says gently, poking esme’s snow boot with her foot from under the table as you all enjoy your breakfast. “hope you had fun.”

“i did,” the girl nods happily.

“you’ll tell me about it another time?” dainela offers. “i’d love to hear. at your age, i was setting off fireworks in lara’s backyard and aiming them at her window.”

esme laughs. “auntie lara was telling us about that. said you’ve always been a menace.”

you’re half expecting for daniela to say something stupid, as she always does, but suddenly, she catches you off guard with an unexpected confession. 

“esme, did you know auntie lara was my first kiss?”

“what?” you balk. this is news even to you. before you can question her further, you realize what she’s doing— she’s trying to give your daughter a safe space to open up.

“no way,” esme gapes in shock. 

“gross to think about, right?” daniela laughs, wrinkling her nose. “we were just kids. a few of us on the team stole a bottle from her dad’s liquor cabinet one day, over the summer. we both threw up immediately afterwards.”

esme bursts out laughing. “that’s insane!”

daniela grins, shoveling another spoonful of eggs into her mouth. “i was a naughty kid, believe it or not.”

you shake your head, laughing. “trust me, she believes it.”

daniela smiles at you, before reaching you to hold esme’s hand from on top of the table.

“cariño, i don’t want you feeling like you have to keep things from me,” dani tells her gently. 

the gesture is obviously enough to soothe esme, and whether it’s a parent’s instinct or blind intuition, daniela manages to say the exact perfect thing to get your daughter to clear her throat and look between the two of you nervously.

“i um… can i tell you something?”

“you okay?” you ask, looking at her in concern. “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

esme shakes her head, playing with a piece of fruit on her plate. you can tell something is bothering her as she musters up the courage to open up.

“arin and i kissed last night, during spin the bottle,” she finally confesses. “it was my first one.”

you see your ex twitch, her body tensing. “arin huh-kim?”

“daniela,” you warn, hoping to remind her of your guy’s expectations to be supportive and not difficult.

“i kind of regret it,” esme breathes, her gaze glued to the strawberry on her plate that she keeps poking about. “i thought it’d be more special, but she was so fast about it. like she was over it.” 

“i’m sorry, mi amor,” daniela sighs. 

“you’ll have a million chances to get a good first kiss,” you try to reassure her, sensing her disappointment. “one worth remembering.”

“you only get one first kiss,” esme frowns. “you didn’t forget yours, papi.”

“i forgot a lot about it. but i remember my favorite kiss,” daniela says. “i remember everything about it.”

esme’s eyes light up, but you can tell she’s hesitant about asking dani to open up and dive in. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“are you a romantic, esme?” daniela asks, taking a sip from her orange juice.

“yeah, i think so,” the girl smiles.

“where’d you think you got it from?” daniela puffs up her chest. “definitely not your hard-ass mom’s side. she’s one of the least sentimental women i’ve ever met.”

“watch it, avanzini,” you laugh.

“my favorite first kiss was right after a party,” daniela goes on, reminiscing, esme’s eyes going shiny as she clings to every word of dani’s story. “i had been wanting to kiss this girl so many times before. kept stopping myself. didn’t want to get it wrong. she was dancing with one of my teammates and i just butted in and stole her away. there were so many people there, but it felt like we were the only people left in the room.”

“you still remember it?” esme asks.

daniela smiles. “you don’t forget the good ones.”

“thank you,” esme breathes appreciatively. “i was scared, and kinda sad. but that made me feel better. i’ll have more chances or whatever.”

“you’re a perfect kid, and anyone who knows you is lucky,” you reassure her.

“i’m gonna go back with the girls,” esme says, cleaning up her plate, before she looks between the two of you. “thank you both for coming.”

daniela reaches out to wrap her up in a hug. “always gonna show up for you, mi amor.”

“thanks for reminding me.” esme reaches out to scoop you up too, the three of you crushing into a warm group hug. “i love you guys.”

you both admire your perfect angel of a daughter as she bounds out in search of her friends. you clean up your own plate in silence, meeting daniela outside as she gets the car started to head back down into town. you’re both sitting in silence, in her red mustang, waiting for the engine to warm up before you start the drive back down the mountain.

but something is gnawing at you. you need answers.

“that kiss at the party. when yunjin and i were dancing together. you kissed me that night. you were talking about me,” you finally say, watching as she adjusts the rear-view mirror. “that was our first kiss.”

daniela simply smiles back at you. 

“i know.”

you let out a quiet breath. 

“still your favorite?”

she blinks a few times, staring out at the road, and you half-expect her to make a joke, but she disarms you with one simple word.

“yeah.”

you pause. there’s no use in lying.

“mine too.”

you’re not sure who reaches out first, you or her, but your fingers are intertwining, holding hands on top of the gear shift.

she offers you a gentle, tender smile, looking you over once more. you see it in those warm dark eyes, the eyes of someone it seems you’ll always know.

“let’s go home.”

you know things will be different when you’re back to the real world. but for the next few hours, as your daughter hangs out with her best friends on a mountainside resort, and the snow glistens around you on the icy road, you can let yourself pretend with daniela just one more time.

[goonforgeto]

push to pass

f1 driver!nanami x perfumer!reader

SYNOPSIS — It’s your big break: a private commission from a high-profile client brings you and your small-town French perfumery to gorgeous Monaco in the middle of July, where you’ve just begun setting up your first standalone boutique. But between construction delays, holiday crowds, and the chaos of Grand Prix weekend, peace is hard to come by. And when a handsome stranger stumbles into your unfinished shop—seeking shelter from the paparazzi and asking for a chance to see you again—your careful plans start to unravel in ways you never expected.

CONTENT — mdni, age gap (nanami is 31, reader is 23), takes place in the 1950s, inaccurate f1 history/general history inaccuracies, i cannot stop talking about f1 im sorry, hotel lobby reference wink wink, loss of virginity, nanami has a HUGE dick, semi public sex, public making out, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f! receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected piv sex, floor sex, biting/licking, strangers to lovers, mentions of a character death, fast paced romance, angst, happy ending

a/n: this fic is for @lily-bisque’s summer bash collab! thank you sooo much guys for like over 800 notes on part 1, ive never gotten that much on something that isnt an smau and im soooo grateful for every tiny like or reblog ily guys!

push to pass | masterlist | divider | part 1

July, 1956

“Welcome, madame,” your boutique manager greets, her accent prominent, eyes bright as you drop your travel-worn bags into the back of the perfumery.

You exhale as the cool, familiar scent of rose oil and bergamot washes over you, soothing the ache of the early train ride from Grasse. 

“Thank you, Colette,” you murmur, undoing the buttons of your linen coat. “How’s the stock looking?”

“Ready. Nervous,” she adds with a little smile, “but ready.”

It’s been almost a year since you opened the Monaco boutique. Though you still spend most of your time in Grasse, where your creations come to life, the boutique on the Riviera has become something of a symbol.

And timing, especially this weekend, is everything.

Outside, the city is already humming with Grand Prix tension. You can feel it in the air, thick with heat and engine smoke, the streets narrowing with barricades and velvet ropes. It’s not even noon and there are already men in suits drinking champagne on balconies and women in silks parading down the promenade like it’s a runway. The kind of crowd that lives for spectacle. The kind of crowd that will wander into your boutique curious, and leave with something expensive in their purse.

If you play it right.

The little bell above the door jingles as Colette unlocks it for the day, the gold-painted letters on the window catching the light.

What once was a dream is now pressed into reality: scent cards, silk ribbons, etched bottles, and the signature line—the very one that started it all. The perfume you made that week last year. The one that still clings to a memory you never quite shook.

You run your fingers over the familiar bottle, the lavender still present, faint and steady.

“Do you think it’ll be as crowded as last year?” Colette asks.

You nod, distracted. “Probably more.”

“I know it’ll be busy,” Colette says as she lines up the scent blotters near the cash desk, glancing sideways at you, “but do you think I could have a little time off this Sunday?”

You lift your head from the inventory sheet. “Sunday? What for?”

She hesitates—just long enough to seem guilty. “I was hoping to get an autograph.”

You arch a brow. “From?”

“Kento Nanami,” she says quickly, like she’s been holding it in all morning. “He’s doing a signing. Just a short one near the paddock entrance. Can you believe it? He never talks to the press, never does fan events—but this weekend, he’s actually showing up.”

You blink, caught off guard, the name punching through you with more force than you’d like to admit.

“He is?” you manage, keeping your tone even.

She nods, warming to her excitement now. “It’s all over the radio. Apparently his team asked him to do more public appearances this season. And now that he’s top of the standings again, people are calling it his golden year. Everyone’s dying to see him. Especially if the rumors about him retiring are true.”

Your eyes drop back to the sheet in front of you, though the numbers have already blurred into nonsense.

“I don’t mind if it’s just a few hours,” Colette continues gently. “I’ve never seen him in person.”

A beat passes. You nod. “Go ahead. Just coordinate with Léon so someone’s on the floor.”

She smiles, grateful and a little giddy. “Thank you, madame.”

But you barely hear her.

You slip out the back door just after noon, the boutique humming with low conversation and the occasional jingle of the entry bell. Colette’s handling the front just fine, and the deliveries are all accounted for.

You figure you’ve earned ten minutes and a cigarette.

The alley behind the boutique is shaded and narrow, still damp from last night’s wash of summer rain. You lean against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, and strike a match with the easy rhythm of someone who’s done this a thousand times before.

The first drag hits slow and warm.

You’re halfway through when a sharp crash—glass on tile—rings out from inside.

Then a muffled scream.

Your heart skips. You toss the cigarette, crush it underfoot, and shove open the back door in one quick motion.

The scent hits you first—something floral and heady, familiar—mixed with the sharp, unmistakable note of spilled perfume.

Colette stands behind the counter, eyes wide, hand over her chest like she’s trying to calm a racing heart. A shattered bottle lies on the floor near the display tray.

She doesn’t look hurt. Just stunned.

“I—” she starts, breathless. “I guess I can work Sunday after all.”

You follow her gaze.

And then you see him.

Nanami stands just inside the boutique, tall frame slightly hunched like he’s aware of the space he’s taking up, one hand tucked into his coat pocket, the other holding a bouquet.

Roses, white this time, with sprigs of lilac tucked between the blooms.

Your breath catches, somewhere between disbelief and something you can’t name.

He looks the same. A little older, maybe. A little more tired around the eyes. But still—him.

Colette clears her throat and turns to busy herself in the back, clearly trying not to stare.

Nanami steps forward, expression unreadable.

“Sorry about the bottle,” he says softly, voice like gravel warmed in the sun. “I didn’t mean to startle her.”

You’re still staring.

“Can I help you?” Colette asks, her tone polite but far too curious, already sauntering over like she’s hosting a royal guest.

You step in quickly, intercepting her with a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I got it,” you say lightly. “Go to the back and sort the new shipment.”

Colette blinks, just once, and then a slow grin creeps across her lips. She leans in close enough to whisper, “You know him!”

You lift an eyebrow. “You’ll still get your autograph, don’t worry.”

She exhales a dreamy little sigh, and disappears into the back room without further protest—though you know she’s going to eavesdrop shamelessly through the door.

The moment it clicks shut behind her, the boutique feels quieter. 

Nanami still hasn’t moved. His fingers are tight around the bouquet, knuckles paling just a little.

“I didn’t mean to drop in unannounced,” he says, eyes flicking over your face, as if checking to see whether he’s crossed a line.

You step closer, slow. “No appointment?” you tease. “You must be important.”

His smile is faint, but real. “I was hoping you’d still be here.”

You glance down at the flowers, then back at him. “It’s been a year, Kento.”

“I know.” A pause. “But I never stopped thinking about you.”

“Are you here to buy perfume?” you ask, folding your arms gently across your chest. It’s meant to sound teasing, detached—but your voice betrays you just a little.

“No,” he says simply.

Then, after a beat, “But if that’s what it takes for you to talk to me, I’ll get something.”

Your mouth twitches—almost a smile. The same steady, self-deprecating calm he’d had back then, folded neatly between his words.

“You don’t need to bribe me, Nanami.”

“I wasn’t sure,” he says, eyes earnest. “I didn’t know if I’d be welcome.”

You ignore him, ensuring he doesn’t feel too welcome. 

“We don’t really sell cologne,” you say, stepping around the counter, your fingertips grazing the edge as you move. “But we have some unisex fragrances in our signature collection. Toward the back.”

Nanami follows you, quiet as ever, the low sound of his footsteps syncing with the soft hum of the boutique. You stop at the display case—hand-cut glass, brass detailing still warm from the morning sun—and lift the lid.

He leans slightly forward, scanning the row of crystal bottles, each labeled with delicate script.

His hand hesitates over one, then closes around it gently.

You glance at the name etched in gold: Final Lap.

Your heart gives a small, almost imperceptible lurch.

He turns the bottle in his hand, brows slightly furrowed. “This one.”

It’s not a question.

You swallow. “That’s… our bestseller.”

He uncaps it, bringing it to his wrist, and breathes it in—slow and quiet, eyes closing just for a second.

“I didn’t know you kept it,” he says.

You try to laugh, but it comes out soft. “I renamed it. It didn’t feel finished until after you left.”

He meets your gaze. “You made it after that night.”

You nod. “You picked the last note, remember?”

A flicker of warmth passes through his expression, something just shy of wonder.

“It smells like you,” you add, gently. 

His smile is slow—small, but certain.

“Then I’ll take it,” he says.

“Then I’ll take it,” he says, setting the bottle down with a kind of finality that makes your heart stir.

You begin to ring him up, fingers moving automatically over the till, though your thoughts are elsewhere—on him, on the weight of a year spent wondering, on the ache that never quite settled.

“Why’re you here, Kento,” you ask quietly, not looking up.

He doesn’t hesitate. “You,” he says.

Your hands still.

“I tried to respect your wishes and leave,” he continues, voice low and even. “I thought maybe the space would help. That time would dull it. That you’d forget me, and I’d forget you.”

You glance up, meeting his eyes.

“But I didn’t,” he says. “Not for a second. There’s just something about you. About that week. About how I felt when I was near you, like maybe the rest of it didn’t matter.”

You swallow, the click of the register drawer the only sound between you.

“Do you really think this could work?” you ask, softly.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I know I want to try.”

You hand him the bottle, fingers brushing his. He holds your gaze like he’s anchoring himself to it.

“My contract expires after next season,” he says, voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I’m not planning on renewing it… and I know I’ll be lonely once this is all over.”

His eyes flick away, like he can’t bear to look at you when he says the next part.

“So, please. Just give this one chance.”

You don’t answer right away. The silence stretches. The boutique feels still, suspended between past and present, between memory and something that might still be possible.

He exhales. “This is embarrassing,” he says, shaking his head faintly. “I’m sorry. You must have found someone by now. I apologize—”

“Stop,” you interrupt, your voice catching. “There’s no one else.”

He looks at you.

“There never has been,” you say, more softly now. “It’s only been you.”

The words hang in the air, bare and unguarded, like they’ve been waiting a year to be spoken.

His shoulders drop with quiet relief, the kind that feels almost like surrender.

You step around the counter slowly, like you’re not entirely sure if the moment will hold—but it does. He doesn’t move as you reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You cave all at once—like something inside you finally gives way.

Your arms wrap around his neck, the movement sudden, a little desperate. The bouquet tumbles from his hands to the floor, forgotten, petals scattering across the tile as he pulls you in by the waist, his grip firm, grounding.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your face buried against the curve of his neck. “I was so rude to you last year. You must have felt so… used.”

“No, sweetheart,” he says, low and soft against your ear. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” you breathe, pulling back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding down to rest against his chest. “I was just scared. I didn’t know you that well, and I push people away because I’m scared they’ll treat me like my father did.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his arms tighten—just a fraction.

“I spent every day over the past year regretting not saying yes to you,” you whisper. “Every single day, Kento.”

He studies you for a moment—eyes steady, jaw tight with the ache of something he’s been carrying just as long.

Then, gently, like he’s afraid you might disappear again, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Then let’s stop wasting time,” he says. “Let me try. Just let me love you the way I’ve wanted to from the beginning.”

You take a small step back, not in retreat, not in fear, but in the kind of pause that comes when something is too big, too important, to meet without breath.

Nanami doesn’t move forward. He lets you have the space. His gaze stays steady on yours, open and unflinching.

“It’ll be hard, I know,” he says. “But I don’t want to regret this—the way I regretted not being there for Yu.”

The mention of his name lands with a quiet weight. You’ve heard it before, once, whispered over dinner when he thought you weren’t really asking. Now it sits between you, a truth he no longer hides.

“I have no intentions of hurting you,” he says, voice firmer now. “Not ever.”

You blink, the lump in your throat pressing up against your silence.

“I know I can’t promise we won’t fight. Or that it won’t be messy, or lonely sometimes,” he adds. “But I can promise I’ll show up. I’ll call. I’ll write. I’ll make the effort, even when it’s hard. You deserve that.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, overwhelmed—not by doubt, but by how simple he makes it sound. Like the love you’ve always been afraid to ask for isn’t impossible after all.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you say quietly.

“Then don’t be,” he answers, stepping forward now, slow, deliberate. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

And when you let him gather you into his arms again, it feels different this time.

“Okay,” you say, the word soft but certain.

His brows lift, just slightly. “Okay?”

You nod, a faint smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. “Okay, we can give this a shot.”

For a second, he just looks at you—as if he’s making sure he heard you right, that he hasn’t imagined it. Then something unspools in his shoulders, something long-held and heavy, and his hand finds yours again like it always belonged there.

He leans in and kisses you—slowly, respectfully, like he’s savoring the moment as much as he’s asking permission all over again.

You kiss him back with no hesitation.

AUGUST 12, 1956

“NANAMI SPOTTED WITH LIPSTICK SMEARS AND A SMILE — WHO’S THE MYSTERY WOMAN?”Crowd-favorite keeps quiet after being photographed post-GP in Germany. Fans speculate romance.

OCTOBER 21, 1956

“NANAMI TAKES THE TITLE — REDEEMS LAST YEAR’S LOSS IN STUNNING FINAL LAP.” Victory at the Italian Grand Prix secured his fourth world championship title.

MARCH 5, 1957

“KENTO NANAMI BREAKS SILENCE ON BEST FRIEND’S DEATH — ‘THIS CAREER WAS NEVER JUST MINE.’” In a rare interview, the four-time champion reveals the truth behind his racing origins.

JULY 14, 1957

“THE MYSTERY WOMAN RETURNS — NANAMI’S COMPANION SPOTTED AT BRITISH GP.” Identity remains unknown, but sources confirm she traveled with the team to Silverstone.

OCTOBER 6, 1957

“‘IT’S TIME.’ — KENTO NANAMI ANNOUNCES RETIREMENT FROM FORMULA ONE.” Four-time world champion says goodbye to racing, announces plans to move to southern France.

MAY 18, 1958

“FORMER MASERATI DRIVER KENTO NANAMI MARRIED IN MONACO.” Weds longtime partner in private ceremony. Sources confirm he will join her perfumery business in Grasse.

taglist: @bluukive @callme-naomi @seellove @southrasiansandas @roresgf @bxnfire @seokjinfairy @araveticazx @mylilsodapop @nanasrambelingsons @dilfkentolover @papoiyu @hannibuttered @cherryredkissez @tqrxi @angelkiyo @caffine-exe @meikstv @crustyaintdusty @thegriffinbird @blueemochii @xombied @salmonroebonitoflakes @casssiesthings @homeslices

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗢𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗦 lando norris x ! fem! reader ( fluff/suggestive ) fic summary . . . Lando takes you somewhere quiet and magical for your second date, where the butterflies aren’t the only things making your heart flutter. (0.7k words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

The butterflies are everywhere—fluttering like suspended magic, weightless and glowing in the golden conservatory light.

You try to focus on them, really you do. But the real distraction is standing beside you, hand brushing yours with quiet purpose every time you drift even slightly apart. Lando.

He’d reserved the whole place. Just for you.

You’d laughed when he told you, tried to play it cool, saying something flippant like, “That’s a bit dramatic for a second date, don’t you think?”

And he’d just grinned, eyes warm and unbothered. “You like dramatic.”

You do. At least when it comes from him.

The warmth in your chest hasn’t gone away since you stepped inside. Neither has the unrelenting awareness of him beside you. You’ve known him for years—always at a distance, always flirting with the edge of something more—but now you’re here, in this surreal little glass world of color and hush, and he’s looking at you like he already knows how the story ends.

You don’t know what to do with that.

He catches you staring at the glass dome ceiling, maybe trying a little too hard not to look at him.

“You keep dodging,” Lando says, voice quiet and amused, like he’s commenting on the weather.

You raise an eyebrow. “Dodging what?”

“Me.”

Your breath stutters.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he says, gently but firmly, like he’s stating fact. “Every time I try to talk about this,” he gestures between you, “you change the subject. Or make a joke. Or tell me you don’t want anything serious.”

“I don’t,” you lie, eyes darting away again. “I mean—” you swallow hard, shrug, “I’m not looking for something serious right now.”

“Mmm,” Lando hums thoughtfully. “Then what are you looking for?”

You glance at him, and his eyes are already waiting for you—steady, burning, kind.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, suddenly shy.

A slow smirk curls his lips, but there’s no mockery in it. Just that playful softness he saves just for you.

“Do you…” he tilts his head slightly, voice dropping into something silkier, slower, “want me on my knees?”

Your eyes widen. Heat floods your cheeks so fast it makes you dizzy.

You look away—of course you do—but not before you see the glint in his eyes, the way he bites back a chuckle. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The bastard.

“Lando,” you whisper, flustered, blinking at a butterfly perched on a nearby fern like it’ll save you.

But he’s already moving.

He chuckles softly, warm and low, then hooks his forefinger under your chin—light, coaxing, gentle—and turns your face back to his. “Don’t hide,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And you don’t.

You meet his eyes.

Big mistake. Or maybe the best one you’ve ever made.

He holds your gaze, and suddenly everything else falls away. The flowers. The butterflies. The whole damn conservatory. All you can see is him. The warmth in his eyes. The mischief. The hunger. And beneath it all, something real. Something that makes your heart pound loud enough for you to hear it in your ears.

Lando lowers to his knees in front of you.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Still holding eye contact.

His hands slide up the back of your thighs—warm, firm, reverent—as he settles between your legs. You can feel the way your breath catches, the way your knees try to hold steady when all you want to do is melt.

He lifts the hem of your tank top, just enough.

Never breaking eye contact.

Then he leans in—and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your belly button.

You gasp, barely audible, but he hears it.

He feels it.

He smirks against your skin, the curve of his lips both wicked and impossibly tender. “You feel that?” he whispers, mouth brushing over your skin. “That little shiver?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your pulse is pounding. Your legs are trembling slightly where his hands hold them steady. And he’s still looking at you—up from the floor, like you’re the only thing in the world worth kneeling for.

“I’m not playing games with you,” he says, his voice low, steady. “You say you don’t want anything serious, but I know you. I’ve known you for years.”

His thumb strokes gently along your leg. “And I think you’re just scared.”

You blink down at him, frozen.

“And that’s okay,” he says, smiling up at you, soft and slow and knowing. “I’ll wait. I’ll give you everything you want. Just say the word.”

You swallow hard, lips parted. “Lando…”

“I’m already yours,” he says simply.

[killerblueeyesxprettybluedude]

in which stiles hits burnout mid-research bender and goes unreachable. scott’s seen this happen to stiles enough times not to take it personally, but derek is another story. he’s not the most successful person socially in general, and he thought he was finally getting something right. but stiles just suddenly goes silent on him, and he can’t figure out what he did to cause it. and stiles is just, like, in bed, dissociating in front of a soap-cutting compilation video. feeling like shit, because he’s out of juice, and the monster of the week is going to kill them. and even playing and replaying their future deaths in his head, he can’t make himself care enough to do anything. 

Did you stop taking your meds? scott sends, and stiles sees it but doesn’t respond. doesn’t make food, or go outside, or do anything. he’s a zombie now, he’s lifeless. sapped of motivation. 

and derek isn’t texting. and stiles can just imagine what he’s thinking, how he’s gonna be. when he finds out stiles isn’t the reliable obsessive little nerd he thinks he is. the three AM research guy.

he is. he is that. a lot of the time. even when there’s no threat of dying. 

but he’s also this. 

low-grade dread. he’s a little bit used to it. it can motivate him, sometimes.

right now? no, nope. 

he would text derek, like one line. but then he’d have to have a conversation with him. derek would be like, What? and have a million questions. and stiles would feel like shit for ignoring him. 

or he wouldn’t ignore him, and he’d burn out worse. end up on the phone with him for four hours, end up scaring his dad with how much of a zombie he can be. zombie stiles, the real monster of the week. every week. every other one. 

the low-grade dread switches to high-grade dread, high grade anxiety. his body just does not care. 

“stiles,” derek says, four days later. “i’m outside.”

four days, and he can kind of almost fake human again. open the door, say, “derek. you look... miserable as always.”

banter. he’s almost got the banter back. wow, good job. good job on bare minimum. 

“stiles,” derek says. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” stiles says. “i mean, something’s trying to kill us, generally, but i’m kinda used to that by now. you... are bleeding.”

“it’s not mine,” derek says, and stiles nods, nods.

“well that’s... reassuring. is it reassuring? did you kill someone?”

almost, he almost has his mojo back. derek, and his weird miserable face, and chaos, it’s refueling him. 

“i didn’t kill someone,” derek says, and stiles says, “i don’t know, it looks like there was bloodshed.”

derek shrugs. “it’s an old shirt.”

“it’s an old...” stiles nods, nods. “it’s an old shirt. of course it is. laundry day?”

leaning closer, feeling at it.

“you liar, you are bleeding.” lifting it now, and look at that: derek’s got a new giant mortal wound. a less insane supernatural being would be hyperventilating. stiles is slightly hyperventilating. 

“dude, are you serious?” dropping the edge of his shirt, grabbing his shoulder. “get in here! you weren’t gonna tell me?”

“you’re busy,” derek says. 

“i’m busy?!” stiles says. “you’re bleeding out. i think i can pencil you in somewhere.” 

dragging him into the bathroom, pushing a towel against his chest. “shut up and hold that.”

“it’s white,” derek says. 

“well, it’ll be pink now. a nice rusty maroon.” stiles presses it a little harder against him, and derek shudder-gasps. “oh my god. hold that.” that’s like, the scariest sound in the world, him breathing so sharply for a second. “you can, it’ll be your dedicated bleeding towel. ‘til the color’s consistent. who’s trying to kill you?”

“this time?” derek says.

“yeah, try to be specific. narrow it down to the last, like, two or three attempts on your life.״

“i don’t know,” derek says. “it was dark.”

“‘it was dark,’” stiles says. “do you not have super-senses? what’d it feel like?” it didn’t look like claws. no, it was weirdly rounded. “what, so something just stabbed you out of the blue? you weren’t, like, talking—or chasing—”

“no,” derek says, and stiles is like—rage. he’s just rage, for a second. 

taking over him. 

“right,” he says. “where—where were you? you can stay here,” he says, and derek looks at him, and stares.

“to be safe,” stiles says. “what? so you don’t get stabbed to death sometimes.”

derek says, “why’d you stop texting me?”

“that,” stiles says. “that, right. so... the thing is, about that...”

“don’t worry,” derek says, but there’s something wrong with his face, and stiles feels—and this is why he didn’t wanna do this. 

“i just thought i’d—that you were alright,” derek says, and then, “and you are. so—”

not quite looking at him, still holding the towel too loosely. heading for the door.

“hold on,” stiles says. “you got stabbed to death, and you came here to make sure that i—”

that he’s okay. because he stopped responding, and derek started, derek thought—

“i’ll be fine,” derek says, and stiles says, “yeah you will, you’re not leaving.” grabbing his shoulder again. easing his grip, when derek lets out a shaky little shudder. looking down at the towel, how derek’s barely even holding it anymore. “you understand the concept, right? keeping the blood inside of you.”

somehow, now, his blood pumping, he has all the energy in the world. which is great, because he needs to kill someone. 

or something. whatever did this, whatever just went ahead and stabbed him. even if it’s healing by now. 

he feels a little stupid, once the bleeding stops, once it’s just derek in an incredibly bloodstained shirt, holding an incredibly bloodstained towel, back to being hale and whole and healthy as normal. 

his hands can’t exactly believe it. they keep going back, checking. patting the spot where there’s nothing, where the blood’s already starting to dry. 

“sorry,” he says, when he does it again, reaches and kind of grazes the place where it was. before derek looks at him, and he realizes. “um, sorry. nervous habit.”

he shouldn’t feel so stupid about it. in the real world, or what you’d think was the real world, massive blood loss doesn’t just heal and vanish in three minutes. so if anything, he’d be weird for not checking on it. he’d be, that whole bloodline would like, die of darwin’s law. of like, a total lack of inquisitiveness. 

and maybe he’s still touching derek’s shirt, maybe. there’s still something wrong with his breathing. 

he’s looking at stiles like he can’t understand anything anymore.

[goaskangel]

perv!toji fucks his virgin gf !!

cw :: deflowering, daddy kink

perv!toji’s kisses are different tonight. not because he’s missed you, though he always does in ways he doesn’t name. not because of your perfume, sweet and heavy, not even because of the way your hands cling timidly to his chest, as if you fear he’ll vanish the moment you loosen your grip, but because he’s been thinking of the phone call earlier this day, the one where you told him you were ready to take his cock, fear and excitement in your voice.

his rhythm tonight isn’t lazy—it’s calculated. not because he’s bored, but because he knows tonight he can have his way with you, 

“i know i always rush, baby,” kisses the soft spot of your cheek, “but now, i’m not in a hurry. i already know where we’ll end up.” running a big hand over your lower stomach. you just writhe in response. your legs spreading, unsure if it’s because you want it or you’re afraid. euphoric and scared for this new part of him, this new part that’s going deep inside tonight.

you look up at him with big eyes, a little pout, before hooking your fingers under your pink panties. he doesn’t speak at first—not with words. just lets his gaze linger, heavy and unapologetic, trailing slow from your collarbone to the soft sheen of sheer pink that clings to you in all the right places. 

“you give in so easy, doll, just one look and you’re coming undone.” 

you pant, just from the feeling of having him hover of you, taking in everything about you. you keep your legs spread with your raw and uncovered pussy throbbing. “wanna take it, toji, please, wan—”

“here, it’s okay, gotta prep you first, alright? such an impatient girl, where’re y’er manners?” he chuckles and spits a wad on his fingers before rubbing your sheeny folds. he keeps you distracted as he lets his fingers slip in to stretch your virgin cunt out a little, “so, doll, what was with the sudden change of heart?”

“jus’ felt bad, you do so much—oh—for me and–and–” your back arches carefully as he finds your sweet spot,

“yeah, and what?” his fingertips concentrated to keep your body writhing, your face all dumb on him as you blank out on an answer. “you just want some cock in your tight pussy, didn’t you? poor girl, aren’t you? say ‘yes, toji.’” so mean—he fastens his pace as you whine before mumbling out a yes toji. he smiles, taking his fingers out, his thumb pressing a hard kiss against your clit, and peeling his shirt off. your empty cunt clenching around nothing at the sight of his chubbed up body, your eyes immediately trailing down to his boxers. your mouth waters at the sight of his bulge through his boxers, they look tight around his length, you can’t help but imagine the spring of his heavy cock when he takes them off.

“can’t let you come so quick, needa feel you fucking shake when i’m inside you.” he presses his fingers up to your lower lip, “say ahh.” you tug your mouth open as he collects the drool pooling off your tongue, swiping it over his revealed cockhead. he tosses his boxers aside. 

his cock is beyond anything your imagination could come up with, he’s so fucking hung. a nice trim around the base, his tip weighs down because of the heaviness, his balls are heavy, probably due to the lack of emptying his pent up sperm. he holds his cock up, just to tease your twitchy cit before letting the weight rest on your naked pelvis. his balls press up against your wet folds as he coos at the size of himself atop your stomach. the tip passes your belly button and he’s just so thick. you squeeze at his hand,

“it’ll be okay, doll. you worried about it fitting? toji’s gonna make it fit.” he lines it up to your twitching, virgin hole, whispers about how wet you are for him, “letting me in is the hardest part, alright? you trust me, right, baby? just relax—and let me in—” his leaky tip nudges past your slicked folds, and all of sudden, you feel this burning sensation. in your arms, your thighs, your head and heart, a beautiful and hurting burning feeling. the feeling of your man breaking into you, moving his hips gently but firmly to meet yours. your pussy lips take him in, your sweet walls stretch around his firm cock as he just forces himself through.

“toji—oh, daddy—fuckme–” you gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders, he doesn’t stop, chasing that feeling of surrender across your skin and face. It’s not just about control—it’s about the way you unravel under, the way you give your body to him. your nails sink deeper and he welcomes the sting like proof, still reacting just the way he loves—primal. his breath hitches, but his pace doesn’t falter—in fact, it steadies. purposeful, like he’s savoring every shift in your body. 

you calling him daddy with tears swelling in your eyes, your sweet voice mumbling and moaning like this is the answer you’ve been waiting for just hits him harder like no fight ever could. almost couldn’t believe he had waited so long to feel and hear and see this satisfaction come from you. he presses up against you and lets a groan, “fucking god—there you go, sweetheart. that’s all of me, fuck, you’re just so fucking perfect, aren’t you? you want me to fuck you real good now, huh? make you feel me for fucking days, can’t believe i waited so long to fuck this virgin pussy.” your face is wet as you squeeze his hands, he kisses your tears away and gently pulls away only to push all the way back in. admiring the way you take him, just swallowing him like it’s the most natural thing to do. your cunts dribbling slick and pre as he pumps you perfectly, promising you’ll feel full for quite a while! ^o^

THIS WAS SO FUN thankq for reading!

taglist : @tojisfourthbiatchoftheweek@booboobear-12@anthy-jay-ander@euhphoq@duooy@imnotlurkingherepls@satorusprites@kaypinkess@hisarmsaremycocoon@idkk9@channnee@chjinua@thatbitch4u@samisfunky@viluvs-u@doeeyestoji@sxwgal0

you can read previous parts here ! masterlist

[mainstreamangel]

Could you write a smut fic where a is about to go on a date with someone else but p stops her due to her feelings towards a :)

treat you better, date you better, love you better.

summary: your friend convinces you to go on a blind date, but paige—your roommate is tired of loving you while you’re blind.

warning(s): uconn!paige x fem!reader, smut—minors dni.

masterlist / dallas locker room

“no, i’m not going.” you shook your head as you pack up your belongings.

“why not?” your friend whines. “it’ll be good for you, you know have a life outside of basketball and introvertness… and paige.” they hesitated.

they knew you had a crush on your roommate, paige bueckers; though you complained about not having a shot with her with your “status”. you always thought she was this star athlete who was just out of reach.

you had become good friends with her through the close proximity and learned a lot about basketball from her. even though she tries not talking about it too much off the court, it still lingers for a bit in every conversation.

“come on you said it yourself, paige isn’t gonna go for a commoner.” your friend states.

“why would you say that? thanks for believing in me.” you scoff.

“one date.”

“no.”

“please? i promise if it doesn’t work out you can go back to moping about paige.”

“i’m not moping and i’m NOT going on that date.”

“i’ll give you 100 dollars if it doesn’t work out.”

“what day?”

your friend smiles and shoves their hands in their pockets. “friday, 7 pm.”

you shake your head and feel your phone buzz.

lil paigey

hi u still up 4 movie on fri

you

ya tot what time

lil paigey

practice ends at 6 so i was thinking 7

you sigh, you would rather spend your friday with paige, cracking jokes and talking about everything under the sun.

but you wanted to look more into the future. i mean this could be the one. someone you can focus more than rotting with paige when she gets home from her busy life.

but what if paige is the one? i mean, who knows how long you have with paige before her career really takes off professionally.

you

oh shoot sorry cant do fri

what abt sat

lil paigey

oh? but we always watch movies on fridays

you

ya sry smth came up can u do sat or ill b home real late too and if ur still up we can watch it then

lil paigey

what u got going on

you

going on a date

you were hesitant on being honest but, you thought it wouldn’t matter because your feelings were unreciprocated.

paige was kind to everybody and surely if she was into girls she would be flirting with someone of her status. one of her teammate for example. you weren't jealous of her teammates, no. you had something special with paige, whether she realised it or not.

paige stopped responding after that. you just assumed she was busy doing something since she didn't have practice that day.

"look i gotta go." you said, pocketing your phone.

your friend nodded their head. "yeah same. catch you later? i'll text you the details of the date." they smiled.

you bid your farewells and walked off towards your place.

once you got to your place, you toss your belongings by the door and place your keys in the little dish on the ledge. you and paige had found that dish while casually shopping for your new wardrobe.

you brought her along because you admired her style, but also because you just wanted to spend time with her. at first you were too shy to ask her, but when paige asked where you were headed, you told her—asked if she wanted to come along, and that was that.

you saw paige's keys in the dish, now alongside yours. you furrowed your brows and looked out to the main area. it was empty.

"paige?" you called.

nothing.

you start to walk towards her door, it's creeked slightly open. you push it gently and reveal paige laying in bed... on that damn ipad.

"hey, you okay?" you ask, cautiously.

"yeah." she responds dryly. she flips on her side like a rotisserie chicken, her back facing towards you. you furrow your brows and walk over, you sit on the edge of her small bed and lay a hand gently on her side.

"rough day?" you try and strike up small talk. you never had to start small talk with paige, it just came naturally. so you knew something was up. she just hums and continues roughly tapping on her ipad.

"paige." you call softly.

"what?" she snaps, letting her ipad fall onto her bed, turning to look at you.

you remove your hand and distance yourself a bit. "what's going on with you? you're so…off."

"god nothing, just go have fun on your little date." she turns again and lays her head on her hands.

you quirk a brow and place your hand back on her hip. "my date? the one for friday? is that why you're upset? because i'm missing ONE friday movie night? grow up paige." you snap.

"grow up? sorry i'm not holding you hostage on movie nights. you're free to go." she sits up to face you.

"why do you care if i go on a date? it's not like you like me or anything."

"but i do." she yells. the room goes silent.

"what..?" you mumble.

"i'm in love with you. i have since we started rooming together. ok? i was just too pussy about it to confess." she pouts, crossing her arms like a child throwing a tantrum.

you let out a breath and push back a strand of hair behind her ear, admiring her face. before you can stop yourself, you lean in and capture her lips. you give her a chance to back out but she only presses further.

"i've been waiting for this moment, i always dreamed of it... i didn't think it would come true." you confess, unlatching your lips from hers.

"please don't go on that date." she begs.

you push her back down against her pillow. "i won't." you straddle her waist and lean in to capture her lips again. you deepen the kiss as paige's hands start to get handsy.

“i always thought i wasn’t good enough for you. that my status wasn’t good enough.” you confess, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck.

she sits up and lays against the wall, shifting you to straddle her core.

“fuck, it’s always been you—i’ve always just wanted you and nobody else.” paige lets out a shaky breath.

you tug at her shirt—silently asking for permission in which paige removed her shirt, leaving her in a sports bra.

you smile and take in the sight. “thinking about all the times i dreamt of having you like this and it’s actually happening.” you laugh nervously, looking down.

paige gently lifts your chin with two fingers, the sight of you looking up at her for mercy causing her arousal.

“it’ll only happen if you want to. i need your consent.” paige says, just above a whisper.

you swallow hard and nod. “i do.”

paige lets go of your face and brings you back up for a couple more sloppy kisses. she helps you remove your clothes and she removes the rest of hers.

you take a moment before kissing paige again. “god you look so perfect.” she moans against your lips.

“you were carved by God.” you mumble, squeezinf her bicep for a moment.

“oh these?” paige smirks she takes her arms and flexes.

you roll your eyes with a smile. “you’re killing the mood.”

“oh yeah? let me show what kind of mood i can be in.” paige says, flipping you.

she lays you down and starts kissing down your bare skin. she stops—paying extra attention to your breasts. “let me show you what loving someone in secret does to one.”

she wraps her lips around one your left nipple—sucking gently.

you let out a soft moan, letting your head gently stroke her hair. paige lets go for a moment before taking the hair tie on her wrist and tying her hair up in her signature messy bun.

she return to your hot skin, going lower and lower until she gently spreads your legs wider. she looks at you with a loving look. “is this okay?” she asks.

you nod and paige wastes no time in kissing your clit before gently sucking on it. she shifts her hand so she can spread your slick around your folds.

you feel her actions starting to cloud your mind as you let out soft sounds. her name falling upon your lips and praises sounding like music to paige’s ears.

paige licks a stripe, basking in your taste before going head on and flicking and flattening her tongue against your cunt.

your pleas and moans getting louder.

at some point you started whimpering, begging her to push you over the edge.

after a while you grip her hair. “fuck i’m close. paige don’t stop. fuck don’t.” you try and close your legs around her head but she roughly pushes them back open.

you let out harsh breathes as paige shifts her actions to bring you the best and fastest pleasure. with a soft moan you let go, waves of pleasure jerking through your body.

paige helps you ride out your high and when you feel finished, she doesn’t stop.

“paige stop-“ you try flinching away but she holds you down.

“hold on baby, it’ll be alright.” she coos.

before you know it you’re riding another high, a knot snapped in your core as you shout out paige’s name once again.

paige climbs back up towards you and watches as you watch her lick your cum from her fingers. she leans i. and gives you a long kiss as you taste yourself on her lips.

“still going on that date?” she asks.

“not a chance.”

@spideygoop @numberonepartyanth3m @phoenix32711 @we2222 @sevikasleftbicep @em-nems @addymmt @swiftie4evr @fandoms-bythedozen @pathecat14 @victoria149796 @fiction67 @ctkvi @toad-stool

[diorchids]

*TOUCHY!

⊹ warnings: manipulation, pervfriend!lukecastellan, unconsensual touching, best friend dynamic, breeding kink, fem!reader, complete smut! (from this.)

syn.: your best friend loves touchin’ you. it’s normal. well… sorta.

⊹ a/n: so lazily written. not proofread. ignore any mistakes plsplstyty.

people always say it’s weird how luke touches you.

the way he’d graze your hard nipples that poke against the fabric of your tank top, the more-than-friendly kisses he peppers onto your face and neck when he’s missed you. or was it the spooning and cuddling? any time you both sit down near one another, it ends with luke softly rubbing against you.

but that’s just how friends are, right? you don’t mind it. he’s your best friend, after all.

you both planned to hang at his place for a few hours before you had to get home. but he doesn’t want you to. “gotta go, luke,” you whine. “sorry!” you bend over to grab your shoes and luke softly presses the palm against his cock, watching the way your shorts hug your ass so well. luke grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.

“c’mon, stay,” and he looks at you with those eyes. he pulls you closer to him, your breasts pressing against him. his cock twitches as you wrap your arm around his waist. “please?” he whispers. he knows you’ll stay. so desperate to please your best friend and keep him happy.

“fine,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and go back to his room with him.

you sat on his lap as he lies flat on his back. “luke? can we watch a movie?” you ask. he massages your hips from behind, cock softly pushing up against your pussy. “mhm, doll, find somethin’ to watch,” as he begins to buck his hips up. you feel warm down there, but this is normal.

you bend more to see his tv better, and he just gets an even better view of you. “can i give you a massage? it’ll help your legs feel better, promise,” you nod subconsciously, barely paying attention to him.

a few weeks ago, you told him your legs had a stinging pain anytime you walked for too long. but that was so long ago. how would he remember? he really does care about you.

you don’t notice that he’s holding your hips down as he grinds his hard cock onto your cunt. god, those shorts on you. do you know what you do to him? he gets more desperate with his soft humping. faster, more animal-like.

“what’re you doin’?” you say with a breathy moan. so cute.

so dumb. "nothin’, doll," he says innocently, but his hips don't stop moving. he continues to grind against you slowly, his cock pressing firmly against your covered pussy. "s’trying to help your legs relax."

you don’t think this is helpful, though? “i don’t think…” you thought about it. for once. why isn’t he massaging your legs? why is he making you feel this good down there? why are you throbbing?

"shhh, trust me, you're tense," he interrupts softly. one hand moves to gently massage your thigh while the other stays firmly on your hip, keeping you in place. "just let me..." he trails off, grinding a little harder. “gotta help your legs, yeah?”

you nod and drop your head. just let it happen. he’s helping.

luke glides his tongue over his teeth and smiles, so pleased that you're letting him continue. his movements become more deliberate, his cock pressing harder against your pussy through the fabric of your shorts. he can feel how warm and soft it is there. “this feel good?” he asks quietly, watching your reaction closely. “mhm…” you manage to squeak out.

the head of his cock hits just right against your clit through the fabric with each thrust. “spread your legs a little wider, doll,” he murmurs. you listen.

“mmm... that's it," he whispers, moving one hand up to your stomach. he pulls you closer, pressing his cock more firmly against your pussy. each movement becomes even more disgusting, deliberate. he lets out a low groan, hoping you'll think it's just from "massaging" your legs.

you’re not dumb. maybe a little, but you know now. you just softly rub your clothed cunt along his cock as he humps. “get up.” he says. you’re confused but stand. you finally get a good look at him. his sweats have a wet spot right where you see a tent in them. poor guy. he’s probably painfully hard.

he stands and towers over you like always, but he grabs your waist and pulls you against him. you feel his thick cock against your tummy. “look at what you’re doin’ to me. feel that?” he takes your hand and forces you to grab his length. he smashes his lips against yours as you rub his cock through his pants.

he lies you down on the bed as he kisses you disgustingly. he kisses down your neck and all over your face, all sloppy and wet. “gotta get these off,” he tugs on your shorts and shirt. he pulls your shirt over your head and takes off your shorts. “luke, no…” you push against his chest weakly.

he ignores your weak protest, his kisses becoming more aggressive as he grinds his hard cock against your hand still gripping it through his pants. "shut up," he murmurs into your mouth, pushing your legs apart with his knee. his hands roughen up grabbing at your breasts over your bra. “shut up n’ let me.”

fine.

he smiles mischievously, taking your singular word as acceptance. he grinds his hard-on against your stomach again, capturing your mouth deeply. his hands slide down to your hips possessively. he spreads your legs without warning and thumbs your clit through your panties. “so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you?” he groans.

you nod. at least you can admit it.

"mhm, you always got so wet when i touched you like this," he whispers against your lips before biting down on them roughly. he fingers hook into your panties, pulling them aside to expose your soaking pussy. "spread wider," he demands abruptly.

"fuck... look at that pretty pussy, baby," he groans, pressing his thumb against your clit and rolling it in circles. he pushes a thick finger inside you without warning, curling it up to hit that spot that makes your back arch. "jesus christ, you're fucking dripping."

he’d been waiting for this for months. letting you sit on his lap, sleep at his house, wear his clothes. he was sort of… pre-gaming you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, looking up at your best friend pump his finger in and out of you like this. luke groans, shoving another finger inside you roughly. he starts fucking you with his fingers mercilessly, his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. "s-shit, gotta feel this around my dick..."

he abandons your cunt, pulling his fingers out as he takes his cock out. he jerks it a few times, the only lubricant being the juice you left on his fingers. he pushes his cock into your warm, gummy hole. a gasp leaves your mouth.

"fuck, yeah," he grunts, sliding deeper into you with one smooth thrust. he grabs your thighs and pushes them back towards your chest, opening you up even more for him. he starts pounding into you hard and fast, each thrust making your tits bounce and your moans grow louder. “can’t take it! f-fuck!” you cry out.

"you’ll take it," he growls, watching your breasts bounce as he hammers into you. "take this dick," he mutters, slapping your thigh possessively. your cunt tightens around him making him lose his mind. "love you so fucking so much." as he slams into you.

you can barely function. mind all blurry and fucked-out. "tell me you love me too," he grunts, wrapping his hand around your throat gently as he kisses you deeply. he continues to fuck you hard and fast, his hips snapping against yours. “love you so fuckin’ much, luke!”

"again," he demands, his voice hoarse. he kisses you sloppily, his tongue invading your mouth as he continues to pound into you. "love you, baby. only you,” you say, legs trembling and pussy squeezing his cock like a vice. he feels himself getting close, his balls tightening. "gonna fill this pussy up good.”

the knot you hadn’t notice you’d had in your stomach tightens even more, clit getting all puffy and warm. you gush around his cock, pussy choking his cock while he keeps fucking into you. you thrashed and trembled, not even functioning as luke fucked your shaking body.

tears roll down your face even more each time luke slammed into you.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groans, burying himself deep inside you as he cums. he shoots his hot load inside your pussy, the knot at the base of his dick swelling up to lock the two of you together. "take that shit." he fucks his cum into you. he manages to draw every juice out of your cunt, leaving you both soaked in your own arousal.

"shit, fuck," he pants, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he's locked inside you. the knot keeps his cum deep inside you, stretching your pussy around it. he leans down to kiss you sloppily, his tongue lapping at yours as he holds himself still inside you. “so good,” you whisper.

"knew it would feel so good fucking you," he groans, nuzzling against your neck. "so fuckin’ pretty taking my dick like that," he starts to slowly thrust the knot inside you, making you whimper.

"gonna stay like this for a while, baby. keep my cum inside you."

he properly massages your legs after. like a good friend.

[kdh-tally]

HII! I'm your biggest fan! And thank you for hard working i love your miromabby headcanons! I was wondering if you could make about Romance and Abby snapping at Mira. Like a challenge that they will snap at Mira only and both of them saying stupid stuff about her that aren't even true i would love to see that!! Tysm if you read this💗💗💗 ily!!

Mira In Her Crashout Era

Prompt : Romance and Abby just don't know when to shut up.

Author's Note : The beginning might seem boring cause I really just wanted to write the ending part :P There will be a part two though!!!!!! And ily2 😚

They were going to die for this. 

“What makes you think this is a good idea?” Abby sighed, rubbing at his temple as Romance replayed a video on his phone.

It was a new trend that had taken over social media. It seemed quite insensitive at first but it was funny. The trend really just was one person snapping and going off on their partner at random times with their poor partner not knowing any better. 

Romance found it hilarious and who better to try it on than their wonderful girlfriend Mira?

“Come on it’s funny”

“You know she’s gonna kill us for this right?” 

“It’ll be worth it. She’s so hot when she’s mad~” Romance smiled wistfully. Abby had to agree with that.

–

The little prank had started. Unfortunately, Abby, as unwilling as he was to participate, was the first to fall victim. He had been making a protein shake in the kitchen for breakfast when Mira walked in. 

His jaw almost went slack as she walked in front of him to grab her purse. She was in this gorgeous black dress that complimented her figure and her hair was left flowing down her back. He remembered her mentioning that she’d be going out with the girls later that day. 

He was about to compliment her when he caught a glimpse of Romance glaring pointedly at him. He sighed, there was no way this was fair. How was he supposed to be rude when she looked like that????

Summoning all the courage he had, because Mira would surely kill him after this, he spoke in the most disregarding voice he could muster, “Is that what you’re going to wear?” He felt the mood in the room shift immediately. He wouldn’t turn to face her, looking right at his drink. He was expecting her to summon her weapon and murder him right there.

But she didn’t. 

“I’ll go change” 

Abby turned quick but she was already gone. He clutched his heart, he could feel it racing, while Romance moved to stand next to him. 

“You’re still alive,” he smirked in disbelief, watching where the pink haired girl had disappeared off to. 

“I’m still alive.”

And just like that, what was supposed to be a small prank turned into their game.

First it was just light jabs, playful insults that made them seem annoying. 

“You always take so long to get ready. This isn’t the red carpet Mira,” Romance would sigh, seemingly disappointed when watching her get dolled up for an award show.

“Don’t get mad but I swapped your playlist with mine,” Abby said nonchalantly as the two were driving back to their home. “Yours is kinda dry”

“You should smile more. You’re kinda scary when you don’t.” What normally would've been a playful joke turned into a jab at her looks. But she didn’t budge. Every time she remained calm would only encourage the two to see how far they could push her. 

On the third day, the comments became more direct.

“You don’t always need to be correcting people. It’s not that deep.”

“Sometime’s I wonder wether we’re your boyfriends or your backup dancers”

“You always have to think you’re right don't you?”

The two felt like geniuses. They truly believed they would've gotten to her by now. Two more days, is what they agreed on. They would drag this out for two more days, and if Mira didn’t react by then, then the game would be over.

–

The fifth and final day came soon enough. It started the same way the others did, quiet digs slipped into casual conversation.

“You don’t have to be so intense all the time,” Romance muttered as Mira flipped through pages of a magazine. “Like... Not everything’s a war.”

She didn’t look up.

“You’re not even fun to be around when you’re like this,” Abby added as he scrolled aimlessly on his phone beside her on the couch. “You’re always on edge now. You used to be so chill.”

She was mid-highlight in her song book when that one landed.

Neither of them noticed the way her grip tightened around the pen. Or how her jaw clenched.

“You probably rehearse your comebacks in the mirror, huh?” Romance said with a small chuckle. “You love hearing yourself talk.”

“Yeah,” Abby nodded. “You act like you’ve changed so much, but honestly you’re just boring now.”

That was it.

The pen in her hand snapped in two.

The air dropped a full five degrees.

Mira stood slowly, so silently that even the couch didn’t creak. She didn’t say a word. She just turned around and jumped at them.

Romance barely had time to react before her polearm materialized, shimmering and crackling with angry, red streaks of cursed light. It slashed down with a force that split the coffee table in half.

“WOAH— MIRA?!” Abby dove back, the blade missing him by mere inches as Mira spun again, hair flying, eyes glowing with fury. She wasn’t holding back. She truly planned on sending them back to the underworld.

“MIRA STOP IT WAS A TREND!”

“YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!” she shrieked, her voice filled with fury.

Another swing missed Romance’s head and hit the wall, embedding the blade deep in plaster and wood.

“CALL FOR BACKUP!” Abby screamed, ducking behind the couch.

Romance fumbled with his phone just as Mira yanked her weapon free from the wall with a scream.

“You mock me, mock everything I’ve worked on, and for what?! For a trend?! You think it’s funny to watch me suffer?!”

Before either of them could answer, the door to their apartment busted open. “MIRA STOP!” Rumi’s voice was the first to break through as she grabbed Mira’s wrist mid-swing.

Zoey appeared a second later, already rushing to help hold her back. The weapon clattered to the floor beside her, dissolving into sparks.

Mira didn’t collapse physically. Her eyes were almost jittery with the way they flickered between both boys.

She was shaking and breathing hard. 

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

Rumi held her wrist firmly, jaw tight and Zoey had stepped between them all with her hand still slightly raised, just in case.

Romance was breathing hard, his back to the wall.

Abby hadn’t moved from where he hid behind the couch.

No one said anything. Not until Mira slowly turned her head, eyes locked on the two idiots who thought this was a good idea.

And then she spoke.

“You’re both actual morons.” She didn’t yell and that might have made it worse. She simply spoke with absolute anger and disgust in her voice.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to knock your heads together this week? How many times I bit my tongue while you two clowned your way around thinking you were being funny?”

Romance blinked. “Wait, you–”

“Shut up.” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to talk right now.”

She pointed at Abby. “You. First of all, congratulations. You’re the worst actor on this planet. ‘Is that what you’re gonna wear?’ I should have knocked you out that morning.”

Abby’s mouth opened slightly to speak, but she cut him off.

“‘Dry playlist?’ ‘Smile more?’ Do you guys even hear yourselves? Or are you just that full of your own voices?”

She turned on Romance next. “And you. ‘You always think you’re right.’ ‘It’s not that deep.’ You have never been right a single day in your life and suddenly I’m the problem?”

“I thought that maybe just maybe you two had grown out of being little pests with death wishes, but I guess not. And Abby, you really sat there and backed him up like this was some cute bonding activity?”

Rumi didn’t even try to stop her anymore. She let go of Mira’s wrist and crossed her arms, nodding along.

“You’re both so dumb,” Mira continued, pacing now, angry hands gesturing, words flying like daggers. “Not just for doing the trend, but for being surprised that I didn’t explode sooner.”

“What, you thought I wasn’t going to snap? That it’s just normal to insult your girlfriend for four days straight!?” Her voice got louder with each word.

Romance finally raised both hands, sheepish. “We didn’t think you were trying so hard to hold back.”

Mira whipped around and stared him down like she was deciding whether to summon the polearm again.

“No shit you didn’t think,” she snapped. “Because if either of you had actually paid attention for once, maybe you would’ve noticed I’ve been working my ass off to not react to every little thing like I used to. But I guess that version of me was funnier, huh?”

Abby lowered his eyes, swallowing thickly. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quietly.

Mira let out a humorless laugh. “Then what was it like, Abby? Because it sure looked like you two were enjoying yourselves watching me turn into your little science experiment.”

Zoey looked over at them, arms crossed now, clearly unimpressed.

Silence fell again.

The air still felt heavy. Mira looked like she had one last breath of rage she hadn’t used up yet, but she turned and headed for the hallway instead.

“I’m going to take a nap,” she said flatly. “If either of you say one word to me in the next hour, I’m stabbing you. And this time I won’t let Zoey or Rumi stop me.”

She disappeared around the corner, her door slamming loudly behind her.

Romance finally let out a long breath. “Well.”

Abby nodded slowly. “We deserved all of that.”

“Yep.”

Zoey smirked. “I think she went easy on you.”

Rumi tossed the splintered wood onto the couch with a shrug. “You should get her a new table.”

“And a new mirror,” Zoey added. “She did throw a hairbrush through it yesterday.”

Romance’s face paled. “Wait what?”

“Yea she said she was trying not to take out her anger on you so she took it out on her mirror instead.”

Abby pulled at his hair. 

Rumi grinned darkly. “You’re lucky that’s all she broke.”

[invaderzia1]

SKIPS SHADLEY HEADCANONS

Mainly before he’s realized

I think Skips got into most of his favorite bands because of the previous homeowners. They had a son who listened to 2010’s emo and metalcore, Skips always hung out in his room to hear more. Took a lot of notes on his clothes and the friends he kept around, which is why he looks like a 2010’s emo kid. Felt really comfortable in that style, so he made sure to perfect that look. Was so sad when that family did end up leaving.

Skips has been alive for a long time and has been alone for most of it. He had his online friends in the 2000’s, but they slowly stopped using DOL and he was back to being alone again. So he’s extra clingy with you. Like super touchy to remind himself you are here and with him. Probably needs a lot of reassurance too, but wont ask.

Comes up behind you and will poke you without saying anything. Scares the absolute fuck out of you, but he just wants you to know he’s here.

Messages you a lot on thiscord. Sometimes he’s just writing as if it’s his diary. “Today I saw a butterfly, Penumbra.” Other times, he wants your attention when you’ve used up the dateviators for the day. Asks Mac to message you often, which they find both annoying and cute of him.

9 times out of 10, he is watching you in whatever room you are in. Even if you don’t have the dateviators on, you can tell because there is always one shadow that doesn’t move.

Any time you play video games with him that lets him make his own character, he’s making a back story for them. Will shyly ask you if your characters are friends or not, and how they relate into the lore of his character. Wants to here in depth about your own characters lore.

If he sees you bleed, he freaks out. But he gets quiet and stares at you with wide eyes while almost hyperventilating. After seeing what happened to Zoey, he’s so cautious about things going wrong for you.

DO! NOT! SHOW! HIM! FINAL!DESTINATION!!! It will freak him the fuck out, even if you explain it’s not real. Like this will become his nightmare (same with the rest of the house if you romance them, but we aren’t talking about them right now.) He can handle most horror movies, but that series is his nightmare. God forbid when he is realized you try to drive behind a log truck or take him to an amusement park, he’ll be so paranoid.

When you get sick, he gets anxious. Makes sure Curt and Rod close the curtains so there’s more shadow in the room so he can take care of you. Tells Betty and Dorian to make sure you don’t get up from bed if he’s not there to stop you. Though he doesn’t fully understand what humans need to make them feel better, tries his best to make sure you are rested. It’s the most he’s ever interacted with the rest of the house.

Forgets you have to eat sometimes. Upsets him for like a fraction of a second that you’re leaving him, until he realizes you’ve been hanging out for 6 hours without interruption and your stomach is growling.

Also forgets how cold he is compared to humans. He’ll come up and try to hug you, then get confused why you jumped ten feet away. If you buy one of those giant heating pads and put it between y’all, it’ll almost feel like you are cuddling another human.

Authors note: I have more to share about him AND Curt & Rod

[neeeooon]

can…. Can…. Can we get reader who works at mcdonalds and they meet Nagi there and its just a crack fic basically i would gigfle GIFGLE FGIGGLE KILL ME??!!! giggle oh my god

- rin anon

HELP I LOVE THIS. YES.

fries in the bag

nagi seishiro x gn!reader. crack. platonic?? with a little smth at the end?? cussing!

“alright, gang! this is nagi. he’ll be on drive-thru with you, y/n.”

you groaned. the last three people they hired were shit, and you’d just gotten a scolding for “training them so poorly” when it was never your job to train in the first place.

rather than talk back to your boss (again. you were on thin ice, apparently), you forced a tight smile and said, “great. welcome to the team.”

the boy with white hair didn’t smile back. “thanks.”

rude, you thought to yourself, and after sharing a look with a few of your more reliable co-workers, you knew they were thinking the same.

you almost laughed when one mouthed, “okay, but why is he actually fine as fuck?”

though it wasn’t your job, you took pity on the new guy when you found him fumbling while adjusting his headset. “here,” you began, silently holding your hand out for the headset. nagi gave it to you with a defeated sigh, and you smirked before adjusting it and placing it over his hat. “it’s gotta click, otherwise the notches aren’t in place, and it’ll come loose.”

“thanks,” nagi said when you took a step back, and it sounded more genuine this time.

as you walked him through opening duties and showed him where everything was, you decided to strike up some casual conversation. “so, what do you do? besides this, i mean.”

nagi shrugged. “soccer.”

“soccer. cool.” you pursed your lips, giving him three seconds to elaborate before moving on. “the others and i in our age group are only here to make money for tuition. it’s not easy, and the customers can be complete assholes, but the pay is surprisingly good. you get a lot of tips and overtime, too.”

nagi nodded as he brushed some crumbs off the counter and onto the floor. your brow twitched. you’d have to sweep them up later.

“what’re the hours again?”

you blew out an irritated breath and waved nagi over as you walked to the weekly schedule. he followed your finger as you dragged it across the calendar. “tsukino makes the schedule. here, give me your number so i can add you to the group chat if you ever need to drop or pick up a shift.”

nagi handed his phone over. you ignored how boring it looked as you typed your number in and sent a text from his phone.

you: shared a new contact!

you: nagi’s number. say hi

a flurry of texts came in, which seemed to slightly startle the white-haired boy. you dropped his phone back into his hand, fingertips slightly grazing his palm. it surprised you how warm he was. “there. you’re set.”

"thanks," nagi replied boredly, shoulders hunched as he followed your boss when he was called over. you watched them leave, intrigued by your new co-worker.

☆ 🍟

nagi wasn't half bad at the job.

he was a little slow and zoned out at times, but he didn’t complain. he listened when you explained something to him, and most importantly, he was good with customers and racked up an insane amount of tips.

“hi. welcome to mcdonald’s. can i take your order?”

“no worries. take your time.”

“nah, it’s cool. sauce is free if you ask.”

"you want the fries in the bag?"

since you were both on drive-thru duty, your headsets were connected. hearing him converse with customers was… oddly sweet. you hated to admit it, but he was the best addition to the team you'd had in a long time.

you were on your break one evening when you found him slumped against the back wall of the storage room, scrolling lazily through his phone. his fingers moved slowly, so you guessed he wasn’t doing anything too important. brushing any nerves aside, you plopped down beside him and held out your packet of fries. nagi looked at you, turned to the fries, and took one without question.

“you’re not the worst new hire we’ve had,” you said after a moment, raising your voice just slightly to be heard over the ice cream machine.

nagi took another one of your fries and chewed. “thanks.”

his reaction made your brows scrunch. is that the only word he knows how to say to me? so much for complimenting him. “the bar was pretty low, just so you know.”

“still. thanks,” he said with a shrug.

you didn't realize until later, while you were both leaning over the fryer basket watching nuggets sizzle, that you kind of liked him. he was quiet, sure, but easy to be around. funny without trying. best of all, nagi made those long, tiring shifts pass by quicker than when you worked with anyone else.

when your shift ended, nagi waited for you to grab your things and held the door open for you. his lip lifted, but just slightly. “see you tomorrow.”

your chest fluttered in a way you did not appreciate. “yeah,” you said, brushing past him lightly. “see you, fry boy.”

nagi blinked. “huh. cute.”

you almost tripped.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Fan translation only. 100% accuracy can't be guaranteed. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere, claim them as your own, or use them without my permission. Thank you for your support! ☾.

[Neu. Limited POV]

Right after leaving Kate behind, Jude went to….

Jude: Place’s still as depressin’ as ever.

The home he used to live in back when he was envious even of stray dogs.

The drafty, dirty home likely never found a buyer long after Jude had left, and it remains abandoned, as if the resentment from those days had not yet faded.

Jude: ………

Sitting by the window illumined only by moonlight, he lights a cigarette.

With the cigarette in his mouth, he pulls out the contract that Kate risked her life to filch.

Having this means having an advantage.

Which means the people who were robbed of it would be desperately searching for it—

Jude: …..Got no choice but to buy time.

Drawing in a breath, he fills his lungs with smoke.

The red ember burning from his mouth reminded him of the fireworks he saw that day….

As he exhaled the white smoke to erase the images that blipped into his head, he heard a faint noise.

Jude: ……Who’s there?

Ellis: It’s me.

Ellis: Long time no see, Jude.

When a face he’s grown weary from seeing so much peeked out, Jude scowled.

Jude: Huh?

Jude: Now that’scary. The hell ya doin’ here?

Here, Jude uses the kanji for “frightening or scary” before asking Ellis what he was doing there. That’s it, it doesn’t state he was scared himself, so I opted to translate it like this.

He had never told anyone about this place, let alone Ellis.

Ellis: Looking for you, Jude.

Ellis: Victor was able to narrow down the places for me to search.

Picturing Victor’s cryptic smile made Jude’s scowl only grow deeper.

Jude: That’s right petrifyin’. Just how much intel does that weirdo got on folks.

Ellis: While you were still captive, I discussed things with Kate, and then went back to Crown by myself.

Jude: ……So, what’s goin’ down?

Ellis: There’s a bit of an uproar over a Privy Councillor being murdered.

Ellis: So, everyone’s been looking for you and Kate since your escape.

Jude: That right.

Ellis: Kate was looking for evidence to prove your innocence.

He holds out his hand before Jude.

Ellis: Do you have the proof? If so, I’ll take it to Crown for you.

Ellis: I think it’ll be a while before you can move around freely anyway.

Jude: Tch, ya may be a nut, but yer damn good at yer job.

When he handed over the contract that Kate had stolen, Ellis looked down at it with a question.

Ellis: …..Hey, Jude.

Ellis: Were you happy with her?

His expression suggested that he had guessed all that Jude had done to Kate…..

Jude: Fer better or worse, she’s always been a civilian. Doesn’t matter anymore.

Ellis: Then what’s your next move?

Jude: Geez, ain’tcha a bucketful o’ questions today.

Jude sighed tediously and pulls the cigarette from his lips.

Jude: Let’s say I do prove my innocence usin’ that contract ‘bout the missile development. Fact remains that I murdered a Privy Councillor.

Jude: Ain’t like I killed a thug. Doubt I’ll be able to live comfortably in this country after killin’ some bigwig.

Jude: Maybe I’ll skip town ‘n go to another country.

Jude uses 飛 here which means “fly”, but it can also mean “skip”. Instead of saying “fly to” I opted  to tl the line this way since flying wasn’t an option back then.

As he grumbled to himself, Ellis put his fingers to his chin and tilted his head.

Ellis: …..What about your promise to me?

Jude: Yer gonna keep harpin’ on that till the end, huh.

Ellis: Just give the word when you’re going to skip town, and I’ll follow you to another country.

Ellis replied as if it weren’t a big deal and then tucked the contract into his shirt.

Ellis: I’ll get the contract to Victor.

Ellis: See ya, Jude.

After he disappeared, a grumble escaped the cigarette between Jude’s lips.

Jude: ……Just how looney’s that guy.

Before he knew it, the cigarette had grown shorter and the ember was close to his fingertips.

Dropping it to the floor and crushing it underfoot, a silence followed, one so loud it made his ears ring……

Jude: …..Tch.

The harsh sound dragged up distant memories of a hellish and horrible environment.

One where verbal abuses were spewed daily, and violent beatings happened as natural as breathing.

The insane hunger, constant coughing, and his sister’s labored respirations.

The only solace in this place — was the moon that hung capriciously in the sky.

Jude: ……….

Leaning against the windowsill, he looks up at the moon through the grimy window.

[Flashback]

Jude’s sister: Hey, bwudda. Pwomise, when ya get wich, take me to da moon.

[Flashback Ends]

Looking back now, she may have just wanted to go somewhere other than here.

Maybe it was a glimmer of hope that the lustrous moon might hold joyful things ahead.

But — her life was quickly snuffed out. Leaving only a childish, innocent promise behind.

And the one who tried to fulfill the absurd promise that remained…...it was because it’s all he had left.

A dream so crazy that he even mocked himself for it.

A lingering obsession.

And yet…..

[Flashback]

Kate: Don't take it for granted that people will laugh at what’s precious to you.

Jude: …..Don’t start lecturin’ me all o’ sudden like some ol’ man.

Kate: I’m still just barely a lady, right?

Jude: Pff- Yer hopeless.

[Flashback Ends]

Kate’s admonishments and annoying smile beamed through the darkest parts of hell, just like the moon that adorns the world steeped in darkness.

Jude: ……Shit.

Jude: …..From now on, my happiest moment won’t come till I die.

[Transitions to Beach side town - MC POV]

After Jude put me to sleep and abandoned me, all I had was the suitcase he left behind.

I won’t forgive him for saying whatever he wants and then running away.

—I was hellbent on it.

Innkeeper: Oh, Lady Kate where are you off to?

(….!!)

Just as I stealthily put my hand on the door knob, I was startled by a voice calling to me from behind.

Kate: Oh, um….there’s a book I want to read.

Innkeeper: In that case, I have some shopping to do, so let's go together.

Kate: Oh, there’s no need to concern yourself about it.

Innkeeper: Nonsense! Besides, if you pass out on the road then your older brother will give me a right scolding.

(That’s right. I’m currently a noblewoman who’s convalescing, and Jude’s posing as my brother.)

Jude paid a large sum of money to the innkeeper and her husband to take care of me.

Hence, due to that sense of responsibility, I had almost no time alone…..

Over the past few days, several attempts to escape have ended in failure.

(Haaah, Jude….)

(Ugh, Jude’s so damn thorough.)

It’s annoying how flawlessly it was all thought out.

Kate: ….If only he could’ve been a little careless.

This beach town is so small that nothing goes unnoticed by anyone.

Coupled with the fact that I've been staged as a noblewoman whose recuperating, it's nearly impossible to leave.

(Jude must’ve predicted as much before deserting me here.)

Kate: I’m no match for Jude……

The sea breeze carries away my sigh.

All of my escape plans fell through and I couldn’t think up anything else.

Stuffed with frustration, it had recently become my routine to look at the ocean all alone at the end of the day.

In order to change the situation, I attempted to escape on a daily basis, and I still feel like returning to London at this very moment.

(But thinking about it rationally, I shouldn’t act impulsively….)

My identity is known by the British Army and the Privy Council.

(The worst case scenario is that I’m a wanted fugitive all over London.)

If so, then each move I make could be fatal to both Crown and Jude.

So in the end—

(All I can do now is sit and wait for time to pass…..)

Letting a second sigh melt into the salty wind, I hugged my knees, and then-

Innkeeper: Lady Kate!

Kate: It's the inkeeper…..

Kate simply says "Inkeeper" here, so I opted to translate it this way.

While the innkeeper and her husband come rushing towards me, I stand up, holding my hair back against the sea wind blowing in.

Kate: What’s wrong?

Innkeeper: Go on, you.

The innkeeper winked at her husband and nudged him with her elbow.

Innkeeper’s Husband: …….Mm.

Her husband is a man of few words, but he’s a superb cook and treats me to tasty dishes every day.

He’s very kind.

With a slightly bashful smile, he handed me a ticket to a play.

Kate: What’s this…..

Innkeeper: This one here said he felt like you’d been feeling down recently, my lady.

Innkeeper: “Eats all me cookin', but she seems to be broodin’ during the meal.”

Innkeeper: Is what he said.

Her husband nods with a smile by her side.

Innkeeper: I thought seeing somethin’ fun might help ya feel a bit better.

Innkeeper: Well, even though it's called a play, it's actually a performance by children from the only primary school in town.

Innkeeper: But they’re a lively, cheerful bunch, and watchin’ ‘em makes me feel whole.

Innkeeper: So, let’s go together, Lady Kate.

I glance down at the ticket that was given to me.

It looked handmade by the children and next to the largely written word “Ticket,” was an adorable message that said, “Come see it.”

Feeling my heart warm up, I smiled at the innkeeper and her husband.

Kate: Yes, let’s all go together.

[Transitions from the beach to town]

It was dark all around —

A tiny stage stood alone in the town square with blackout curtains handmade from bedsheets.

Regardless, theater is theater. The buzz of the audience just before the curtain opens and the sense of excitement are all the same.

I was also thrilled as I waited for the curtain to lift.

(….Actually, I haven’t heard what kind of performance is being done.)

At that moment, the bell rang signaling the start.

—Once upon a time, in a kingdom, there lived a king and queen….

My eyes widened when I recognized the familiar opening.

(…….It’s The Sleeping Beauty.)

HIS SIDE STORY: "The Woman who Taught me Happiness"

Jude: —Good night, Princess.

After putting Kate to sleep and leaving her behind, I went to……

Jude: Place’s still as depressin’ as ever.

That house, where I spent every day wishing I would die.

(If no one lives here ‘n no buyers are comin’ for it, it’ll stay like this forever.)

It would be nice if this place would just vanish, but instead it sits deserted as if it were a curse.

It’s like the bitterness and resentment from those days still remained.

Jude: ………

Sitting by the window illumined only by moonlight, I light a cigarette.

With the cigarette in my mouth, I pull out the contract that Kate risked her life to filch.

(Havin’ this means havin’ an advantage —Which means)

The people who were robbed of it would be desperately searching for it.

Jude: …..Got no choice but to buy time.

Drawing in a breath, I fill my lungs with smoke.

The red ember burning from my mouth reminded me of the fireworks I saw that day….

[Flashback]

Kate: I’m going to grow even more - !

Jude: What kinda stupid resolution’s that?

Ellis: I want to grow even more too -

Jude: Don’t get any bigger than that, yer gonna be in the way.

Kate: Jude, you’re not going shout a resolution?

Jude: Are ya stupid?

[Flashback Ends]

(…Tch, the hell am I rememberin’.)

As I exhaled the white smoke to erase the images that blipped into my head….I heard faint a noise.

Jude: ……Who’s there?

Ellis: It’s me.

Ellis: Long time no see, Jude.

When a face I’ve grown weary from seeing so much peeked out, I scowled.

Jude: Huh?

Jude: Now that’s scary. The hell ya doin’ here?

After listening to the details of how everything reached this point, my movement was limited, so I passed the contract off to Ellis.

Ellis: …..Hey, Jude.

Ellis: Were you happy with her?

(Haven’t even told him nothin’ about what happened ‘tween me ‘n Kate. …..This guy’s awful perceptive.)

Jude: Fer better or worse, she’s always been a civilian. Doesn’t matter anymore.

Ellis: Then what’s your next move?

Jude: Geez, ain’tcha a bucketful o’ questions today.

Jude: Let’s say I do prove my innocence usin’ that contract ‘bout the missile development. Fact remains that I murdered a Privy Councillor.

Jude: Ain’t like I killed a thug. Doubt I’ll be able to live comfortably in this country after killin’ some bigwig.

Jude: Maybe I’ll skip town ‘n go to another country.

As I grumbled about this, Ellis tilted his head in dissatisfaction.

Ellis: …..What about your promise to me?

Jude: Yer gonna keep harpin’ on that till the end, huh.

Ellis: Just give the word when you’re going to skip town, and I’ll follow you to another country.

Ellis replied as if it weren’t a big deal and then tucked the contract into his shirt.

Ellis: I’ll get the contract to Victor.

Ellis: See ya, Jude.

Jude: ……Just how looney’s that guy.

Before I knew it, the cigarette had grown shorter and the ember was close to my fingertips.

Dropping it to the floor and crushing it underfoot, a silence followed, one so loud it made my ears ring……

Jude: …..Tch.

The harsh sound dragged up distant memories.

(Ever since I was born, I lived wishin’ I would die.)

(No matter how much I screamed ‘n cried, no one would help me. I didn’t even have a glimmer o’ hope.)

The only solace in this place — was the moon that hung capriciously in the sky.

Jude: ………

Leaning against the windowsill, I look up at the moon through the grimy window, just like I did that night.

[Flashback]

Jude’s sister: Hey, bwudda. Pwomise, when ya get wich, take me to da moon.

Perhaps, in that moment spent with my little sister, I did sense a glimpse of happiness.

Still, even though I smiled with my sister, sorrow still won over.

[Flashback Ends]

And then — her life was quickly snuffed out. Leaving only a childish, innocent promise behind.

In a place far removed from the happiness I had already taken for granted, I tried to fulfill that ridiculous promise alone.

That’s all I had left.

A dream so crazy that I even mocked myself for it.

A lingering obsession.

(But still.)

[Flashback]

Kate: Don't take it for granted that people will laugh at what’s precious to you.

Jude: …..Don’t start lecturin’ me all o’ sudden like some ol’ man.

Kate: I’m still just barely a lady, right?

Jude: Pff- Yer hopeless.

[Flashback Ends]

(She, and she alone….didn’t laugh at my dream. ‘Stead she just accepted it like an idiot.)

I think it was at that moment that I experienced pure happiness for the first time.

I closed my eyes.

Then I pictured her carefree smile from the depths of hell.

Her daft, positive words come back to me.

One after the other, filled with strange warmth.

Slowly I lift my eyelids and a sigh escapes.

(I wondered what happiness was like.)

(……I know now ‘cause of you.)

Jude: ……Shit.

Jude: …..From now on, my happiest moment won’t come till I die.

[Main Story Master List] [Blind Love Chapter 22]

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[manifestingitgurlll]

i just saw a post saying that you can think about the how and when, like when it comes to your manifestations unfolding. and i 100% agree bcs nothing stops you except you. so you can easily decide it happens a specific way.

the only reason why i think i, and a lot of other bloggers say dont worry abt it, is bcs USUALLY ppl tend to start focusing on it and looking for it. but if it already happened, what are you looking for? so its easier to just not think abt how it’ll happen, you just know it did.

for example: if i manifest being a millionaire by winning the lottery. instead of me just simply KNOWING i won the lottery and am now a millionaire, i might end up physically trying to win the lottery, buying tickets. getting disappointed and giving up if i don’t see a win. or maybe id be looking for a lottery ticket to appear. just always looking looking looking. when i SHOULD be knowing knowing knowing!

so there’s nothing wrong with you deciding the how and when if you want. just truly know it happened the way you decided, and stop looking for it TO happen.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!

Thank you for the response! Now that I have an identity on here, lol, can I request a tasm!peter x fem!reader fic if you’re comfortable doing so ?

can I request it based on this prompt, with reader saying it to Peter?: “I can’t tell if you’re really charming or if I’m just easily charmed.” Relationship and context can be whatever you decide :)

Thanks! <3

- 🪻

Thanks for your request <3

tasm!Peter x fem!reader ♡ 780 words

“You’re getting predictable." 

“You’re getting better,” Spiderman replies, dropping down onto the sidewalk beside you. He keeps pace with your unbreaking stride. “Don’t you feel safer when you can hear me coming? Or anyone?”

You scoff a little. Spiderman bumps his shoulder into yours chidingly, like you’re old friends. Yes, like every old person you’ve ever come across, he had some opinions on you wearing your earbuds while walking the streets by yourself. Vigilance, awareness, blah, blah, blah. It was only the touch of caring in your unlikely tagalong’s voice that had pressed on something tender in your chest and ultimately persuaded you. 

“Don’t act like you don’t wear earbuds too when you’re off the clock,” you say, though you know how it’ll go. You like to quip at Spiderman about his maskless identity, but that topic is where your strangely effortless camaraderie ends. It’s the rock against which the waves of levity break. 

He changes the topic instantly. “You’re pretty hypocritical to call me predictable, you know that? Who needs to go to the grocery store every night?” 

You fish in your bag, pulling out the sole item, a pint of ice cream. “The cravings hit like clockwork.” You shrug. 

Spiderman takes the pint from you. It’s strange that you know him well enough to read reactions into his silences, but you swear you can feel his eyebrows rising behind the mask. “Half baked?” 

“What about it?” 

“Nothing. Just, the tonight dough’s obviously better.” 

“Wrong.” You take it back from him, dropping it into your bag. “That one doesn’t have brownies.” 

“It has peanut butter cookies.” 

“If that’s what you’re prioritizing, you’re hopeless.” You turn a corner, trying not to smile when Spiderman has to backtrack a bit to follow you. This is another game you enjoy playing with him. You know he knows where your apartment is by now, and obviously there’s more than one way to get there, but sometimes you like to take routes which lead you away just to see if he’ll correct you. The consequence of getting to spend longer walking with him is a secondary effect. “I bet you haven’t even tried half baked.” 

“I don’t need to.” 

“I’d give you some if you came over.” 

Spiderman turns his head to look at you. Again, you feel like you know the energy of it even without seeing his face. You laugh. 

“Come on, you’d only have to take the mask off a little bit.” 

“The obvious solution here is for you to go back for a pint of tonight dough,” he says, following you through a random crosswalk. You’ve passed your apartment three blocks down on a parallel street. “And that way you can tell me I’m right after you compare.” 

You stop. Spiderman pulls you to the side, out of the flow of traffic, and you let him. His touch is warm on the inside of your elbow. “I’ll go back right now if you try both with me,” you say. 

Spiderman’s eyes are white and unblinking. He stares you down (or does he? You feel like he does) for a few moments before asking, “You’re really curious, aren’t you?” 

The corners of your mouth lift helplessly. “You have to know you make people curious.” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s my mysterious aura. You think I’d have gotten half as far walking pretty girls home without it?” 

“Girls?” 

“Girl.” His voice softens. A touch of caring, just where you left it. It disarms you the same every time. “Well, sometimes girls, but only when they need it.” 

“I get why it’s a secret,” you tell him, sincere now. “I’m mostly just messing with you.” You turn around, back the way you came. “But it is weird that you know when I go to ShopRite every night and I don’t know what you look like.” 

“It’s less weird than you think.” Spiderman begins ambling alongside you again. He makes no comment on your directionlessness. “The mysterious aura is half the fun.” 

“Eh. I’d like you the same with or without it.” 

“Yeah?” There’s a smile if you’ve ever heard one. Oh, you’d love to see his smile. It sounds like it dimples. 

“Yup,” you affirm, popping the p. 

“What makes you so sure?” 

You shrug. “I can’t tell if you’re really charming or if I’m just easily charmed, but,” you give him a sideways look, “I like you. I’d like you no matter what, I know it.” 

You like to imagine you’re making Spiderman blush under all that spandex. “You think I’m charming, huh?” 

“Don’t go getting a big head about it.” 

“Me? Nah. I’m your humble neighborhood hero, why would you even say that?”

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part IX

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: an uneventful backyard wedding!

Content: mommy issues and absolute disaster

18+

[chapter eight]

Word Count: 2.2K

White wedding dresses only became common in Kansas some years ago. You were told that ever since some Queen in England decided on it, all the ladies wanted in on it. Eventually the craze reached Kansas and it became the new normal for women to wear white.

But frankly you didn’t care, and your nanny’s yellow sun dress was what she wore to her wedding. Why not wear it to yours? Admittedly, despite your granny’s care for it over the years, it had started to look quite worn down. Your mother had given you a look when you pulled it out of the closet instead of the nice white one she had picked out for you long ago.

“I don’t see why ya wanna wear that ratty old thing,” your mother scoffed from her spot across the room. The two of you were in your bedroom, getting you all fixed up to go outside. If you turned your ear to the window you could hear the sounds of wedding guests hooting and hollering— likely trying to encourage Clark to down another beer.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with it,” you replied cooly. You took a twirl, and watched the ends flutter around you. You paused to admire your backside in your vanity mirror. “If I’m gonna get married, I wanna do it by my own terms at least.”

Your mother only scoffed in return.

“Always so stubborn,” she said. You furrowed your brows and noted her solemn tone. You turned to face her and saw that she sat with her head down as she fiddled with the bouquet of flowers you were meant to be holding.

“No way you think you can have a sour face on my wedding day,” you scoffed. “Ain’t this what you wanted anyway? It’s finally happening! You can be rid of me now just like ya wanted.” Your words were bitter and quite hostile, but you didn’t care. Your mother was the most confusing person you’d ever met— which was saying a lot considering the man standing outside waiting to marry you was an alien.

“Oh hush,” she said softly. “Get rid of ya? Is that wha’ you think this was? I was protecting ya.” She turned her gaze up and looked you in the eye now. Your mother didn’t flinch despite the visible anger on your face. “Careful, ya don’t wanna make a face like that, it’ll freeze.”

“Don’t give me that,” you replied. “Protect me? Y’all were just tryna save the farm, and so were the Kents and that’s why you came up with this whole idea anyway.” It had practically been drilled into your brain since you were old enough to reason. The whole point of the marriage was to merge the properties eventually. Heck, the new house they’d built you and Clark was dead in between both family’s houses.

“Clark’s a good boy,” your mother replied earnestly. “I’ve been able to see that just his whole life. Why can’t you?” She stood up and walked toward you, only for you to flinch at the contact her hands made with your bare shoulders. If she noticed the tension, she didn’t acknowledge it whatsoever. That was like her; she could ignore anything, discomfort, awkwardness, hurt feelings, so long as it didn’t impact her personally she could ignore it all.

“Can we just go outside now?” You said it as less of a question and more so of a demand. You were sick of the arguments and the stress of it all, and just wanted to get the day over with.

Your mother seemingly had more to say, but held her tongue. She turned to your bedroom door, and escorted you out. You followed her down the stairs, carefully, as you were wearing uncomfortable heels that you were convinced weren’t designed for walking.

“Martha!” Your mother called her from the middle of the staircase. “Let the folks outside know we’re coming out.”

“Got it,” Martha replied from the kitchen. You paused and listened. You heard her steps quiet after having had reached the door. The sound of laughter and cheers grew before they suddenly stilled as though disturbed.

“This is it,” your mother said from the bottom of the staircase. You’d hardly noticed she’d moved to the bottom until she spoke. You shook your head, hoping to disperse some of your anxieties before you walked down and joined her.

“This is it,” you replied bitterly. You followed her through the kitchen, and tried your best not to note all the various decor that signified your growth over the years. The items in the house would stay, but most of your possessions in your room had already been tucked and boxed away.

When you reached the door leading to the backyard, you paused and shut your eyes before you hesitantly walked through. The brightness outside caused you to squint, but you quickly adjusted especially as you felt your father’s arm loop around your own.

You turned to face him, and noted his clean flannel shirt— it was a rarity for him not to be covered in grass and dirt stains. You wondered where your mother had disappeared to until you realized she had quickly moved to sit amongst the other guests.

The backyard, which was more like a large open field that led to the various vegetables your family kept, was decorated with some banners and streamers. Chairs were stacked on either side of a large white tarp that acted as a carpet for you to walk on. You could feel the material scrunch under your heels. You kept your eyes on your feet before you dared to look up and made eye contact with Clark.

Unlike all the other men at the wedding, he was dressed fancy. It reminded you a bit of a penguin with how stiff the black suit and white dress shirt fit against his tall figure. You were glad that you weren’t the only one who had to be semi uncomfortable today at least.

Next to him stood his father, and an officiator who worked for the Smallville local government to make sure you said the vows and wrote all the paperwork out after.

Weddings were a hassle; too many legalities. Smallville didn’t care for it, and frankly neither did you. You bit your lip, feeling the creamy texture of your mother’s favourite rouge lipstick on your tongue. You needed to focus on Clark, that would help cool your nerves. You tried to imagine what he was thinking as you walked forward slowly. The sound of the breeze being the only thing to reach your ears as your mother wanted the musicians to hush during this part.

You reached Clark and shifted your posture to face him directly. Your bouquet was tucked close to your chest as though to shield you somehow. The insecurity was ridiculous, but somehow you felt more naked in front of him than you had when the two of you made love all those weeks ago.

You decided to meet his eyes, and felt your own widen. There was a deep intensity hidden in his dark blues even with his glasses on, and it overwhelmed you. If you had asked yourself months ago how you’d describe Clark, you would have never used that term: intense. But it seemed that things changed,— people changed, or perhaps you hadn’t truly seen the real Clark until recently.

A stranger; a boy you loved, a man you felt you knew, and a hero to everyone. Which was he to you? Which title took over? You stared back into his eyes firmly, and without fear. That was all you could do, really.

The officiator cleared his throat, and you turned to face him. He was an older gentlemen with dark skin, and a sagging face. You had never met the man before but heard that he’d been at your parents’ wedding, and even at the Kents’ too. They were glad the old man was still strong enough to do this one as well, and his ailing health might have been a small factor as to why they wanted to rush this whole thing.

“We are gathered here today…“ he began. You lost focus unfortunately as he drowned on, instead you looked at Clark. Your eyes never left his, even when you felt his fingers brush against your cheek softly. However, you had flinched at his touch, and you noticed him freeze for a second. You furrowed your brows as you watched him contemplate for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.

His words did not come out unfortunately due to the chaos that came next.

Frankly, you didn’t know what happened, it was as though the world outside of you and Clark was still whilst the officiator recited his words. Then suddenly, you had fallen into Clark’s arms, screams had erupted from the crowd of friends and family. You felt yourself shift,— or perhaps Clark had moved you out of the way because you felt his warmth then it disappeared, leaving you alone to stand next to the officiator.

Your brain scrambled to put the pieces together, as you stumbled toward your parents who had also been making their way toward you. You collapsed into your father’s arms, a tremor going through your entire body as you held onto him and finally assessed your surroundings.

The party had long dispersed and people fled in various directions as some sort of giant reptile sparred against Superman— Clark! You scrambled out of your father’s arms and gasped at the sight of a flying Clark, somehow already in costume, pounding his fists against the rubbery stomach of the beast. It shrieked in pain, its jaw unhinging to reveal large fangs. You stumbled at the horrid sight, and watched in terror as Clark reeled another fist and smashed it into the head of the beast. Its steps wavered for a moment before the reptile creature fell to the ground face first. The Superman lingered in the sky for a few moments, watching along with the small left over crowd as what you now identified as a giant turtle man shrank down into a regular sized man.

Cautiously, you stepped forward and ignored your mother’s scolding as you walked toward the naked man who laid on the field. You furrowed your brows at the familiar dark coily hair, before you shouted in surprise.

“It’s Jimmy Olsen!”

“What?” Your mother replied in shock. “Little Jimmy from the publishing house?” You heard muttering across the crowd before you turned around once you felt a sudden presence behind you. It was Jimmy’s mother, who looked at the sight of her boy in shock before she rushed forward and took him into her arms.

“Someone please get him some spare clothes or something,” she cried. You faced the crowd, but looked away once you realized some of the men had started to remove their own shirts to assist Jimmy.

What the hell was going on?

You flinched at the feeling of a firm hand pressed against your lower back, only to relax at the sight of Clark. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and feigned as though you were frightened.

“What’s going on? Why did Jimmy… Turn into that?” You whispered your words against his ear, hoping anybody who was paying the two of you any mind would just assume you were frightened love birds.

“No clue,” he replied. He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you securely, and you felt your feet lift from the floor as he did. You sighed in reply, and turned to look into his eyes.

“You were about to say something, weren’t you?” You said softly. “Before he—“ you tilted your head toward the crater where Jimmy was knocked out. “— came in. What was it?”

He pursed his lips for a moment before he replied. “It wasn’t cold feet if that was what you were thinking. I— I just saw the look in your eye, and felt like you were terrified. I don’t want you to feel f—forced to be with me, I’ve stayed silent so long, wrapped in my own head. I should’ve fought for what you wanted instead of just letting our parents push us around because I was okay with it.”

”A bit too late for that, don’t ya think?” You said with a bitter chuckle.

“Please,” he said. “I— It… It hurts me a lot to think about it, but if you decide right now y—you don’t want to carry on with this… I’ll… I’ll support you.” He squeezed your waist a bit tighter as he spoke. You felt you couldn’t breathe, but not because of his arms but because of something else entirely.

“Just what are ya tryna’ say?”

”You can say no, you can have a choice. Even… Even if it kills me, I’ll back you up.”

“Clark,” you said quietly. Your head was spinning, and you suddenly wished he would let your feet touch the ground. “We both know I don’t have a choice, don’t forget about what we did.” His eyes softened at your words, and he held your cheek in his hand.

“I know, but—“

”Boy,” you heard your father bark. You turned, still in Clark’s arms, and faced his angry expression. “Ya think you can sweep my daughter into yer arms after having abandoned her. Where were you?” He spoke with such venom, you nearly didn’t recognize him.

It looked like you had another parent to worry about for once.

[faestunna]

I love your little spoon head canons they’re so cute! What do you think its take to get the Jack characters jealous? Including Roy Goode I can’t find almost any fics on him 😭😔

CHARACTERS: oliver mellors, remmick, roy goode, patrick sumner, lion kaminski, james cook

WARNINGS: very slight angst, self-doubt/insecurities, jealousy

A/N: sorry this took long i ended up scrapping it and starting over to add patrick!! i’m really loving these headcanons so pls keep em coming! i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

likes, reblogs, and comments are always and greatly appreciated!

oliver mellors

he wouldn’t have a single jealous bone in his body if it weren’t for martha’s affair. and it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. oliver trusts you with his life. for him, jealous arises not when other men look, but when they think they can take what’s his.

it’s one night when you two decide to wander into the pub. he notices the men in the corner who smirk at you when you walk by. oliver doesn’t confront them simply because he doesn’t need to. “i think those men are looking at me,” you say eventually with his arm slung over your shoulders.

“you think?” he plays dumb. rubs the side of your arm. but he stays aware. and since he isn’t forced to hide his love for you, he puts on a show of it. he’ll run a hand through your hair at the back of your head and push your mouth towards his. lips instantly locking onto yours. it takes you by surprise, but he kisses you with such fervor, you melt into his touch.

his other hand even graces your thigh. he likes the way the men shift in their seats, their eyes now glancing in any other direction. “let ‘em look at a pretty lass for once,” he says when he pulls away. “poor fucks wouldn’t know what to do with you anyway.”

remmick

we talk about jealous!remmick but this idea has been on my mind lately: he knows that it gets a little lonely with him being away so often. he doesn’t exactly want to share you, just let you have a little fun while he’s away. for your own pleasure.

it’s on his own terms, too. he can’t just have some random guy who isn’t worthy enough of you. it’ll be boy your age from your town who thinks you’re pretty. who doesn’t stop by the market you work at just to see the seasonal pick…and he flat out turns the kid. drains him nearly bone dry. he wants any and every memory he can get of you. sees how much this boy adores you—he’d do anything for you, but remmick can still have that control over him so he doesn’t step out of line.

remmick, convinced he’s being romantic, brings him to you like a surprise puppy. “what the hell did you do?” you say, hands on your hips. “well, look, sugar, i got you your own lil’ toy,” he tries to level. “he’ll just do absolutely anythin’ for you. get you anythin' you like when i can’t be there. hell, he can do just about everythin’ i can.”

“wh- remmick…” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose to soothe the headache this would give you. “what?” he shrugs unfairly. “he’ll be real nice, darlin’, i promise. and if he ain’t good enough, we’ll just get you a new one.”

patrick sumner

when patrick is jealous, it’s deeply repressed and restrained. it doesn’t hit all at once and explode like most of the others—it ferments.

he’ll spot you talking to someone else, maybe at a gala or dinner party, and initially won’t think anything of it. but then you laugh a little at the other man’s joke, or maybe his hand brushes your arm. patrick just observes and asks about it alone. “is he a friend of yours? you seemed…close.” he isn’t really accusing you—his jealousy is.

he won’t admit that it’s jealousy though, not even to himself. nevertheless, the feeling brews and he lets himself sit in it rather than talking to you about it. he’ll make connections between the way you look at him and how you look at the other man. but pushing it down only makes it worse. maybe even creates a distance between you two to let the feeling simmer even more.

and then he confronts you. drinks a little bit before he does it since the alcohol lets him really feel emotions. and it’ll be a version of patrick you’ve never seen before. he pulls you toward him, “i’m yours. and you’re mine. all i have for you is this—” he puts your hand over his heart. love. “so just stay with me tonight? alright, love?”

roy goode

this may be a shocker and a let down but roy goode doesn't get jealous. he doesn't have to. you've never given him a reason not to trust you. but it’s natural for him to get protective, and never in a possessive way. he knows you can handle yourself.

he’ll usually let the situation simmer. most times, you’ll shine your pistol at a lingering man, and that’ll do the trick. other times, it takes a little intervention. “you heard the lady. she ain’t lookin’ for any trouble, so don’t go make some.” he never stands in front of you, either. always beside. equal.

he gives them a specific look—always with his head just slightly tilted down so his eyes are hooded through his lids. he curls his lip a little in disgust so the man knows just how much roy disapproves of him. and if that, with your repeated ‘no’s, still aren’t enough….

i imagine a duel. a real proper gunfight between them set in the middle of the street like an old western film. “all this for a woman?” the other man usually says. roy will look over at you for just a moment before smiling. “you ain’t ever gonna know a woman as good as her. worth the damn world.”

lion kaminski

oh, lion. lion, lion, lion. lion listens to you with an admiration and deep love for the person you are. he’s a lover boy deep down that would do anything you asked. it’s not often that he ever feels threatened. but he still isn’t completely secure in himself; every once and a while, he’ll have a reaction.

again, lion isn’t threatened by stan. he knows you absolutely loathe him. but sometimes, older brothers liked to make jokes. ‘little lion’s whipped for his girl” in a mocking voice or a joking “how’d you even get a girlfriend?” and though you always reassure him—“there isn’t anybody else for me, walter. just you”—his mind still wanders at times.

but while he’s good with his fists, he’s better at restraint. something his brother doesn’t have. he prides himself for being to control himself. “he’s straight up disrespecting ya, baby.” he says as his knuckles flex and crack.

“he’s just looking,” you try to reason. it’s still too much for your own comfort, but you don’t want him to cause a scene. lion isn’t gonna do anything you don’t want to. “i’ll beat his ass, honey, just tell me the word.”

james cook

i mean...we're kidding, right? cook get jealous when another guy simply speaks your name. but it depends on if we’re talking about toxic!cook or not

toxic!cook is possessive. everyday, he makes sure you know it and that and everybody else knows it too. “ain’t i got a pretty one?” he’ll tell people while rubbing your cheek or running a hand through your hair. it’s at the point now where everyone pretty much knows not to touch you. but when someone does: “go enjoy his company tonight.” and then, closer to you with his lips inches away, “you think he’ll still want you if he knew what you were like with me?”

cook in general will initially try to play it off. "oi--that your new boyfriend or what?" he half-jokes, but it's because he wants to hear you reassure him. he has to hear it. cook's jealousy will eventually turn into a clinginess. if he notices a guy loitering a little too close or laughing too hard at your jokes: "this one's taken, yeah? just makin' sure we're all clear."

eventually, it'll become a vulnerability that he can't hide, even from you. it's only once in a blue moon when cook really opens up to you. "you could do better, you know that. have more. dunno why you hang about with me, sometimes." but he doesn't stay like that for long. not when you press a kiss to his forehead and hold him long enough till he feel your love in his bones.

© faestunna 2025.

[rosygames]

LINK TO THE GAME. Prologue. 2200 words on average playthrough. Ko-Fi

Welcome to Kitin City, the historic Rose City, where changes take place! We hope you enjoy you stay. WARNING! Deaths have occurred due to civilians falling off the edges of the cloud, please make sure to stay within city bounds.

Two millennia ago, The Rose Revolution took down the barriers between the Three Nations. Today, the historic Kitin City is the bustling city center of magic and technology, and you are the heir to the biggest and oldest Magical Technology company in the All Realms—Betta Corporation.

With dizzying gaps in your memory, a dead mother and a dead roommate each with their deadly secrets, and a threat of black roses, you must navigate the golden politics of the city, uncover the secrets to your past, and deal with the never-ending chase with Death. Will you be Rosy, or will you be Golden?

Customizable play character with gender, sexuality, and pronouns choice amongst others.

Romance any (or many) of the romantic options. Go for a romantic route, a strictly sexual route, or simply manipulate them all into doing your bidding. Careful, you won’t be the only dishonest one here.

Find the secrets to your past and the catalytic Rose War.

Develop a set of magical and nonmagical skills.

Choose your own personality. Be as dramatic, stoic, or awkward as you want to be.

Interact with a large cast of characters. Choose to either be friendly, antagonistic, or deceitful.

Choose which side of the approaching storm you prefer to be on… or perhaps you want to only serve yourself.

AURELIUS/AURELIA “AURI” SANGUINE (M/F). A reckless vampire with a throne of thorns.

Sanguine is one of the only two familiar faces on this odd floating city you are forced to inhabit. Charming and reckless, Sanguine is the very definition of wildfire. They are a paradox—a blood-drinker who wants to save people, royalty that likes to walk amongst the degenerates, and a reckless being with fear coursing through their veins. There is no telling what it’ll take to wake the cold-blooded killer in them. Tag | Pinterest | Route Pinterest Section | Playlist (soon)

JOAQUIN SANCHEZ (M). A timid gunsmith human with unwavering faith.

Sanchez spends most of his time in his lab creating weapons than using his magic. Friendly and awkward, with an easy-going dimpled smile that makes others adore him, his gentle and meek nature makes him seem like a pushover. A devout follower of The Last God, he believes that all will be well in time. Behind his nervous grins and timid shrugs, however, lies a desperation that dictates his every move. Tag | Pinterest | Route Pinterest Section | Playlist (soon)

LIGHT HAFEEZ (M/F). A stern Cursegiver whose hands are stained black.

Hafeez is a Cursegiver, a Dead Agent that can travel the space between the living and the dead. As a Cursegiver, they are tasked to harm the living on behalf of the dead. They are irritable and unwilling to trust new people, but loyal to a fault when their loyalties are won over. Cold and intimidating, Hafeez can be a powerful ally but a deadly enemy. There is no forgiving bone in their body for those who hurt the people they love. Tag | Pinterest | Route Pinterest Section | Playlist (soon)

OLIVER/OLIVIA “OLI” DESCOTEAUX (M/F). A dignified Selkie noble with a bruised heart.

Descoteaux is a stranger on this realm, but takes the customs and cultures in stride with a perfectly placed smile and willing and curious personality. Diplomatic, calm, and firm are three words often used to describe them—a mediator through and through. But there is a strong and quiet magic humming under their white skin, begging to be let out. Their quiet, slightly intimidating nature makes it hard for others to understand what they truly think and feel. Tag | Pinterest | Route Pinterest Section | Playlist (soon)

RAQUEL ATAWID (F). An elusive Fae who never tells the full truth.

Atawid is mysterious and calculating, and not much is known about her history and her background even though she is popular amongst the people on this cloud. With sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, she skillfully leads conversations and uses what she learns to earn any advantage she can… and when push comes to shove, she has magic that is unrivalled amongst the Rosy-Folk of this realm. No one knows where her loyalties truly lie. Tag | Pinterest | Route Pinterest Section | Playlist (soon)

Pinterest Board. Playlists (soon). Other links to be updated once available.