#but you know what we’re all here for fun

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [9] - Tranquility

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your patience! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Simple days can be calming.

Word Count: 2853

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

Well.

This was very fun.

“I mean to repeat, I do have a hammer at home,” you said, leaning your elbows on the cart as you pushed it slowly and Logan raised his brows.

“Just a hammer?”

“Yeah, I wanted to put up that framed picture of me and Theo so Jamie brought it and then forgot it.”

“Exactly why we’re here.”

Home Depot wasn’t really your favorite place to shop in, you couldn’t even remember when the last time you had been there was. Needless to say, you felt a bit overwhelmed as you looked at the aisles with many tools and construction products, but Logan seemed right at home there, and the simple act of going shopping together -whether it was at a store you were familiar with or not- made you feel all warm inside.

Who knew the aftermath of breaking your bed would be fun as well?

Logan grabbed a pack of what seemed like tiny pieces of metal to put it in the cart, and you looked around, then gasped.

“Let’s get these, they look prettier!”

“Screw anchors?”

You tilted your head.

“Well if you feel that strongly about them…”

“No I mean— that’s what they’re called.”

“They’re yellow, I like yellow!” you said, grabbing the pack off the hook to hold it up and Logan chuckled.

“Sweetheart, if we’re going to use them on your bed, they need to be metal. Your bed frame is metal.”

You looked down at the pack. “Oh, these look plastic.”

“Mm hm, they are plastic.”

“Well, where do people use these?”

“On drywall, mostly,” he said. “When you’re hanging—hold on, did Jamie just put a screw into the wall for those frames you mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

He blinked a couple of times, then cleared his throat and took the pack from you to put it into the cart as well.

“Yay!”

“Anything else you want from here?”

You looked over at the shelf, then shook your head and Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to himself as you both went into another aisle.

“So wait, you need to put stuff into the wall to put stuff into the wall?”

“Mm hm.”

“Why?”

“Well, otherwise the screw can slip out of the wall when you hang something,” he said. “Anchors make sure whatever is on the wall doesn’t fall on anyone. It’s the same logic with anchoring furniture.”

“None of my furniture is anchored.”

“Babe, you have a mirror in your living room.”

“I just leaned it to the wall,” you pointed out and Logan heaved a sigh, then gently guided you into another aisle.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a drill?”

“Good guess—Logan, we’re not buying a drill!”

He went closer to one of the shelves to grab one to check it. “Why not?”

“I’m not gonna use it.”

“I’m gonna use it, I don’t want that mirror to fall on you.”

“It’s on the other side of the room.”

“Accidents happen,” he said. “That thing needs to be anchored along with God knows what. Every home needs a drill.”

You scrunched up your face, leaning back to the shelf.

“Debatable,” you said. “Every home needs a medicine cabinet. A drill is just something people in home makeover shows use.”

“What are makeover shows?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God, you’ve never watched those? We’re so watching those, I need your commentary.”

Logan turned the drill in his hand and you bit inside your cheek, trying to fight the urge to jump on him in the aisle of Home Depot. Clearing your throat, you tried to focus and crossed your arms.

“Not that one,” you said and Logan turned his gaze to you.

“Why not?”

“We should get that one,” you pointed at the other drill on the shelf and Logan bit back a smile.

“Babe, that one is 12 volts. This one is 18.”

“Volt isn’t everything,” you said as if you knew what you were talking about and Logan pulled his brows together.

“It is kind of important in a drill—”

“Yeah but Logan, that’s orange,” you said and grabbed the pack of yellow plastic anchors out of the cart to hold it up. “See? They’ll match if we get this one!”

Logan stared at you as if he was trying to find the right words to disagree with you but you pulled your brows together before putting the pack next to the drill so that he could see it better.

“Same shade!” you insisted as you pressed your finger on the drill, looking up at him and the corners of his lips twitched, that fond light shining in his eyes before he nodded slowly, then put the drill in his hand into the shelf to grab the one you were pointing at.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get the matching drill then.”

                                                 *

At first you had been worried about being too much of a bother when Logan said he’d be fixing your bedframe but now, sitting on the couch eating the snacks you got on your way back home, you couldn’t help but notice Logan looked very comfortable and happy to be helping you out. Right after you got back home, he fixed your bedframe but apparently having a drill and a toolbox within his vicinity had awakened something in him that he was now working on what could be “fixed” in your living room.

You could’ve sworn his face had lit up like a Christmas tree when you mentioned you had shelves somewhere that you had been procrastinating on putting up.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” you asked as you popped a piece of chocolate in your mouth and he shook his head, holding the shelf against the wall to draw on where he’d put it up.

“No need princess.”

“I could help, I have some experience in it,” you pointed out. “Not very pleasant experience but experience nonetheless.”

“How’s that?”

“Um, when I was a child, whenever something broke in our house my dad would want to fix it himself,” you said. “And he’d ask me to hold the flashlight and but then scold me for pointing it at the wrong place.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.”

He looked at you over his shoulder before grabbing the drill and turned it on, making you grimace at the loud noise. He drilled two holes in the wall, then grabbed the plastic anchors and the hammer to nail them in.

You’d had a wet dream like this.

“How did you learn how to do all this?�� you asked him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve been around for some time. You pick up hobbies.”

“And that’s your hobby?”

“I like fixing things,” he said. “And building stuff.”

You sat up straighter, your whole attention on him.

“Okay, so I can add it to the list of things I know about you,” you said with a bright smile. “I’m quite proud of myself you know, growing that list isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”

Logan shot you a small grin. “Subtle.”

“Hey I’m just warning you beforehand,” you said, holding your hands up. “You won’t even see me coming and before you know, you’re opening up to me.”

“Oh is that what’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m too stubborn to quit.”

Logan’s smile was calm before he took a deep breath, then started working on the shelf again.

“It’s just…” he murmured. “A long story, you know? Too much to tell.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly. “I’ve got time. And until then, you can listen to me talk about absolute nonsense.”

“I like doing that, in case it escaped your notice.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you took a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“So yeah, I apparently held the flashlight wrong. And there was also that one time—I’m just not the best at fixing things, there was that one time Julie tried to teach me how to change a tire but I ended up convincing her to go get mimosas instead. She’s really good at all that, I swear she and IKEA manuals have something going on that the rest of us human kind cannot understand, she built my wardrobe and I honestly just provided her with cookies—oh my God, Logan!” you said with a gasp. “Do you want cookies?”

A fond smile curled his lips as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“No seriously, I know you liked the chocolate chip ones but I’ve been dying to try this new recipe, it has mint chocolate—do you like mint chocolate? I hope you’re not one of those people who say mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste because I am a ride or die mint chocolate lover, but I think I can also make—”

You were cut off when he strode to you to lean down and kiss you, cutting you off before you let out a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling back to look at you better. “I’d love some.”

You beamed up at him and stole another kiss from him.

“So yes to the mint chocolate cookies then?”

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone, that loving look in his eye making your heart skip a happy beat.

“Sure thing sweetheart,” he said. “Yes to the mint chocolate cookies.”

                                                        *

The more time you spent with Logan, the giddier you felt. You knew that you were supposed to keep yourself in check and play it cool considering everything between you two was very new, but it felt as if since you two had got together, you hadn’t been able to stop smiling.

Or it could’ve been just mind-blowing sex.

Either or.

“I’m not really much of a TV person.”

“And I respect that, but not having seen Titanic is simply just not acceptable,” you said as you poured the popcorn into the bowl and made your way to the couch. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you to his lap, making you let out a squeal as you straddled him with a giggle.

“You’re not distracting me this time,” you told him, pecking him on the lips before getting off his lap to sit beside him, still holding the popcorn bowl tight. You grabbed the remote to start the movie while Logan frowned at the screen as if it had personally offended him.

“I mean I heard about it,” he said. “It’s romance, right?”

“The best romance in the history of humankind.”

Logan pulled his brows together.

“So low expectations, got it,” he said. “The title suggests it’s not gonna end well?”

“Listen, they may have only known each other for four days—”

“Four days?!”

“Yeah but it was true love,” you said in a solemn manner, nodding your head and Logan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, babe.”

“That’s totally how it works,” you said. “It’s like opposites attract wrapped in star-crossed lovers wrapped in a tragic love story. I watched it for like 50 times, it’s my comfort movie. I always cry at the end.”

“Your comfort movie is a movie that makes you cry?”

“Yeah,” you said and grabbed at his arm when turned to look at the screen. “Look, that’s Jack! That’s who Rose falls in love with—wait, Logan, I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“So you were around when Titanic happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember it?”

“I remember the news of it, yeah,” he said. “Everyone was shocked by it.”

You took a deep breath to ask him another question but your doorbell rang. You turned your head and stood up but Logan was faster than you, so he walked to the door to open it and as soon as he did, Julie’s voice reached you.

“Holy shit you’re tall.”

“Julie?” you asked as you approached the door and Logan stepped aside. “Hi!”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t…” she motioned at Logan. “It’s just that I texted you and you didn’t answer, and I was on my way here anyway because who just got out of a terrible argument with her ex dickhead of a boyfriend and needed some distraction?”

“Jesus, that asshole again?” you asked and she nodded.

“Yep.”

“Come in!” you said and Julie shook her head.

“No no, I really don’t wanna interrupt your sexy time.”

Logan tilted his head while you shot her a lighthearted glare.

“Come in,” you insisted, pulling her by the arm before closing the door. “We’re watching Titanic. Logan, this is Julie, my best friend. Jules, this is Logan—” you paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Boyfriend was a big title and you hadn’t really talked about it before, and you actually didn’t know where Logan stood on this whole thing so you decided to play it safe.

“I told you about him,” you ended up saying and Logan extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Julie said, shaking his hand. “You really are a good looking dude, and I was so right about the lumberjack vibes.”

Logan blinked a couple of times as if he didn’t know how to answer. “…Thanks?”

“No problem.”

“I’m pouring you wine,” you said, making your way to the kitchen with Julie following you, and Logan lingered in the hallway for a moment before going back to the living room.

“Are you sure it’s cool I’m crashing your date?”

You took out a wine glass before pouring some wine in it.

“I’ll be offended if you ask me that again,” you told her and she hugged you, making you smile and press a kiss on her cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to like, buy a baseball bat and threaten him?”

“Nah I’m fine,” she said as she pulled back to take the glass from you. “It’s just fucking frustrating.”

“Screw him, he’s an idiot,” you told her as you held her other hand and you both went into the living room.

“Hey man, sorry about the interruption,” Julie told him, flinging herself on the armchair and Logan shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. No interruption other than me trying to figure out how these two people will have the ‘greatest love story’ in four days.”

“It is true love!” you said, smacking the back of your hand into your palm to emphasize each word and Logan chuckled.

“Yeah alright, sorry. True love.”

“Weren’t you around when this happened?” Julie asked, motioning at the screen and you grinned.

“We share one braincell,” you told her and Julie crossed her arms, looking at Logan.

“Did you meet Thomas Edison?”

Logan looked almost confused. “Uh, no?”

“Good, he was an asshole. Did you meet Victor Hugo?”

Logan paused for a moment, then turned to look at you. “Are you guys all secretly French?”

“No, we just watched Les Miserables one hundred times,” you answered while Julie sighed.

“A masterpiece, if you will.”

“Better than this whole true love in four days thing?” Logan asked, motioning at the screen and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Careful there buddy, you’re on thin ice.”

Logan shot you a grin, making you smile back before you turned to Julie.

“Seriously, what happened with that jerk?”

“Oh you know, the usual drill. He called me drunk, started with begging and then that whole thing turned into him listing every single bad thing about me.”

“He was the one who cheated on you.”

“Yeah and you’d think he’d remember that.”

Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him.

“I can beat him up if you want,” he said in such a matter-of-fact tone that it made you look up at him in confusion. Julie let out a small laugh.

“You, I like you,” she said, pointing at him before she looked at you. “I approve.”

“Aw thank you.”

“That being said,” she said. “Logan, you seem like a really nice guy but make no mistake, if you upset her in any way, I’ll get the biggest magnet I can find and point it at you so that I can pull that metal skeleton of yours out of your body.”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening and Logan’s smile widened as if he was merely amused. “Don’t listen to her. She’s nice to me and terrible to everyone else.”

Julie blew you a kiss and Logan nodded his head.

“Noted,” he told Julie and Julie grinned at him.

“See? You and I are gonna get along just fine.”

You heaved a sigh, then grabbed the bowl to hold it out for Julie to take some popcorn. She grabbed a handful, then leaned back to watch the movie while you leaned your head on Logan’s chest, trying to pay attention to the movie. Logan nuzzled into your hair and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your stomach do a happy flip and you felt a smile warm your face before you bit on your lip, then turned your gaze to the screen again.

[delulustateofmind]

Yan!JJK x Reader: How you met!

Fun Fact: It's wholesome! What could possibly go wrong in the future? :)

Characters: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso and Shoko!

TW: Mentions of partying (it's brief), pet names, maid cafe (Suguru gets a little pervy thoughts), Mostly Fluff. Oh but it's yandere fluff :)

WC: 5.1K

A/n: So anytime I do a Yan!JJK this is the lore for those headcannons. I might make it, its own masterlist? idk still debating. Also, I rotated through so many ideas. My drafts for this are insane (Literally). I tried different variations for each one. Feel free to give me feedback if there are certain yan tendencies you want to see.

The dark content for this week: How they kidnapped you :)

Satoru: Are you an angel?  

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the century, was running a high fever.

Swaying slightly as he walked down a quiet neighborhood street, his head spinning, he tried to focus. He just needed to get to the pick-up location. That was it. He could handle it.

But it was getting harder to concentrate. The heat of the summer sun seemed to beat down on him relentlessly, his body too weak to handle the intensity. His normally steady steps faltered, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse.

Then, he heard it. A soft, sweet voice, like the melody of an angel.

“You alright?”

Gojo turned his head toward the sound. An angel?

There you were, standing in front of your apartment, your hands gently watering the flowers that lined your balcony. You were older than him—maybe five years, judging by the way you carried yourself, the maturity in your voice, the way you looked at the world like you had it all figured out. There was something about you that made his pulse quicken. Why was he feeling this way?

He blinked, his feverish thoughts clouding his focus. You were so gentle, so sweet. His head throbbed, but your soft gaze was like a balm.

“Come have a seat here,” you continued, your voice soothing. “And is that a blindfold? Honey, that’s probably why you’re running a fever. We’re going through a heat wave, you know?”

You chuckled lightly, but it wasn’t condescending. No, it was sweet, nurturing. You carefully led him to the small outdoor patio that was adorned with delicate chairs and a charming little table, a tiny vase of flowers sitting in the center.

Gojo followed, his head still dizzy. How could an angel like you ever trick him?

You weren’t just sweet, you were… perfect. He couldn't remember the last time he’d been so caught up in someone like this. His usual cocky, overconfident demeanor felt like it was slipping away, replaced by something softer, more desperate. Something he’d never let anyone see—until now.

You guided him into one of the chairs with gentle hands, taking the blindfold from his face with the same tenderness. His fevered skin flushed under your touch. He couldn't help but let out a low groan of relief as the air hit his face, the sensation a small comfort amidst the haze of his fever.

"Stay here for a minute," you said softly, your smile so warm and sincere that it made his heart skip. "I’ll be right back with something for you."

He nodded, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over him. There was no reason to leave now. He felt dizzy, weak, and content to stay under your care forever.

And when you returned, he saw that you weren’t just being kind—oh no, you were going above and beyond.

You made him rice balls, neatly wrapped in seaweed, and a glass of iced tea, its chilled surface sweating under the heat of the day. Homemade baked goods sat on a small plate next to the drinks, their scent filling the air with sweetness.

"You must be hungry," you said, setting the food down in front of him with a smile. "It’s not much, but I thought it might help."

Gojo picked up one of the rice balls, staring at it for a moment. There was no way he could say no to you. He didn’t even want to. Your kindness, your soft voice, the way you treated him like he wasn’t just the strongest sorcerer, but someone who needed care—it was intoxicating.

He bit into the rice ball, the taste as comforting as your presence.

You were perfect. Sweet, caring, thoughtful, and so effortlessly graceful. It was as though the universe had put you in his path, just for him.

But he knew better than to trust anyone so easily.

Gojo’s mind was clouded, his thoughts sluggish under the fever’s grip, but there was one thing he was sure of: You were too good to be trusted.

You were standing right beside him, still watching him with those soft, caring eyes as if you really cared about him. Your gaze was warm, concerned, but—he couldn’t help it—he felt a twinge of doubt. People like you didn’t just act like that without wanting something. He’d seen this before, felt it too—people were always after something, even when they pretended to be kind.

And yet, in the back of his mind, a darker part of him couldn’t shake the thought. Maybe this time was different. Maybe you weren’t like the others.

“Thank you,” he murmured between bites, his voice thick with something more than just gratitude. Did rice balls always taste this good? 

You hummed sweetly, a soft smile playing on your lips as you shrugged. "Just doing the right thing."

You weren’t just being kind—no, you were going out of your way to care for him. It felt too personal, too intimate, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the more you did for him, the more he wanted from you.

“You shouldn’t be wearing all that black during a heat wave, y’know?” you chided lightly, your voice lilting with that same gentle concern. But when you looked into his eyes, Gojo couldn’t miss the way your gaze lingered, like you were looking at him— just him. Sick, weak, and so very human.

He wanted to laugh at the thought. He was Gojo Satoru, after all. The strongest, untouchable. But in this moment, with you here, something about the way you cared for him made him feel... vulnerable.

“Even the cicadas aren’t singing today," you said, tilting your head as if you were pondering something deeper. "Is there somebody I can call for you?"

Gojo’s pulse quickened at the soft weight of your words, the way you framed your question. Was it concern? Or was it an invitation? He leaned back slightly, the fever making his thoughts blur, but he didn’t want to let go of that feeling of closeness you’d given him.

Someone to call?

A soft, amused smirk spread across Gojo’s face as he locked eyes with you. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing. But inside, something darker flickered. “But... if you really insist, you could always stay with me for a while. Keep an eye on me.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but there was no hesitation in your answer. You didn’t sense the undercurrent of possessiveness in his words, didn’t feel the quiet edge to his smile. You were too kind, too innocent, to see the real reason Gojo had said it.

But Gojo? He knew what he was doing.

You had helped him. You had made him feel seen.

And now... well, now he would make sure you never left his side. 

Suguru: Maid to Fall for You

The girls were turning six this weekend, and all they could ask for was some… magical girl doll? Suguru recognized the figures. Satoru used to make him watch that show all the time. Yet, did they really need to sexualize the magical girls so much? 

Suguru was genuinely concerned—how could anyone fight in a mini skirt and high-heeled boots? But, if that’s what the girls wanted, then that’s what they would get.

The problem was that the doll was so limited edition, the only place in Tokyo that had it was this… maid cafe? Suguru sighed, looking at the cute pastel pink exterior of the shop. He had missions to complete and didn’t exactly want to be seen here.

As the bell above the door jingled when he stepped inside, Suguru scanned the room. His eyes were immediately caught by you.

Was it the pretty lolita black dress with the dark red bow tied around your waist? Or maybe it was the collar wrapped around your neck, or the cute garters hugging the soft fat of your thighs. Perhaps it was the little cat ears with bells that sat perched atop your head. 

No… it had to be the way you looked at him. Your flushed face, the innocent sparkle in your dewy eyes as you purred, “Welcome home, Master!”

Oh, God. Suguru had to bite his lip to stifle a frustrated groan. The cuteness aggression was overwhelming. He just wanted to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, maybe chain you to his bed so no one could ever find out how adorable you were.

No. No, he couldn’t think like that. He was here for one thing, and one thing only. He wasn’t some pervert who went to maid cafes. But still… he couldn't help but wonder if the dress came with matching… No! He couldn’t think like that either.

“Yes, I, uh…” Suguru, fumbling with his words? A first. “I need a limited edition magical girl doll. The pink one and… the purple one?”

You blinked for a moment, and then your eyes lit up in recognition. 

“You’re a fan of Magical Girl: X&X too? Oh my goodness, I’m a huge fan too!” 

You squealed, practically bouncing on your heels as you turned to lead him toward the back of the store. Suguru had to look away, his cheeks flushing slightly as he tried to keep his gaze from lingering on how cute you were. Focus, Suguru. Focus.

You practically skipped toward the back of the store, the sound of your little heels clicking on the floor making Suguru’s heart race. He couldn’t stop his eyes from following the sway of your hips as you led him deeper into the shop. The way the skirt of your dress swished, revealing cute little bloomers under your petticoat. He mentally slapped himself. He had  to keep his thoughts in check, focusing on the task at hand. Geto Suguru was not some pervert! 

As you reached the display, you turned to face him with an excited gleam in your eye. “Here it is! The last one in stock,” you said, pointing proudly to a pair of limited edition dolls. The pink one, with her sparkling pigtails, and the purple one, holding a very magical looking wand. 

Suguru's gaze briefly flickered to the dolls, but then it shifted back to you. The way your eyes lit up, the excitement in your voice—it was all so… intoxicating. Like you were holding onto his every word. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, still not quite sure how to behave around you. "I didn’t expect… I didn’t think it would be so hard to get."

You giggled, a soft, melodic sound that made something flutter in his chest. “Well, Magical Girl: X&X is a very popular series! It’s hard to find the dolls, especially the limited edition ones. I’m glad you came in time.”

Suguru didn’t trust his voice to speak anymore. He just nodded and pulled out his wallet, handing over the money. You didn’t even look at the transaction, instead continuing to talk to him as you carefully wrapped the dolls in bright, crinkling pink paper.

Focus, Suguru. Focus on the dolls. You’re just here for the dolls.

But how could he? His eyes couldn’t seem to leave the way you tilted your head just slightly, your little cat ears bobbing with every movement. The little jingle that came with every movement. And the way you smiled at him, so genuinely, with that adorable little glint in your eyes that made something inside of him twist. He couldn’t stop it—his heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him to do something.

You handed him the dolls with such enthusiasm, your hands barely brushing against his fingers as you passed the package over to him.

Oh god, even the way you handed me the dolls is cute. Why are you so cute?

Suguru swallowed hard, the overwhelming desire to just… hug you, smother you, rising up in his chest. He wanted to pick you up, hold you close, and just protect you from the world. He wanted to be the only person you ever looked at, the only one you ever smiled at like that.

You were practically defenseless anyways. 

But he had to hold himself back. He couldn’t be that person, could he? No, no—he was here for a reason. He was supposed to be here for the dolls. 

“Uh… Thanks,” Suguru managed to choke out, his voice coming out hoarse and unsteady. He was so aware of the way his hands were shaking, holding the package. He needed to leave. Now.

But you were still looking up at him, your lips curving into a playful little smile. “You know, you’re really serious about this, aren’t you, Master?” You giggled, the sound so light, so melodic that Suguru almost felt like he could die from the sheer cuteness of it all. 

No, no, stop, Suguru! Stop!

“I—yeah, I guess,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at you. His gaze darted over to the corner of the room, anywhere but those soft eyes that were making his chest feel like it was going to explode. 

The urge to reach out and squeeze your cheeks—to just hold you—was so strong. His fingers twitched, his jaw clenched. He wanted to pull you closer, get a better look at how delicate you were, how fragile. 

“I hope you enjoy your figures, Master!” You brightly smiled up at him. God, how he wanted to strangle that pretty little neck of yours. How he wanted to tug on that collar so tight that you were choking with tears in your eyes. How he wanted to bite your cheeks to see what sounds you’d make. 

Stop smiling like that. Stop acting so cute. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.

His hands tightened around the package, the sharp edges digging into his palm. He wanted to scream, to yell at you to stop making him feel like this. But instead, he just smiled back, a smile that felt more like a grimace than anything else. 

“Right… right. I will,” Suguru said, his voice barely a whisper now. “I’ll… I’ll come back soon.” He forced the words out, though they felt foreign on his tongue. The truth was, he didn’t just want to come back—he wanted to stay. He wanted to be close to you. He wanted to know everything about you, every little detail. 

You smiled even wider, completely unaware of the danger you were putting yourself in. “I’ll be here! I’ll be waiting for you, Master!”

Suguru turned on his heel, trying desperately to calm his racing heart as he walked toward the door. But the entire time, his thoughts were consumed by you. The way you looked at him. The way your voice sounded when you called him “Master.” 

His thoughts spiraled as he stepped outside, gripping the package tightly in his hands. His chest felt tight, constricted. He had never felt this way about anyone before. This level of intensity, this overwhelming desire to possess and protect—it was like nothing he had ever experienced. He didn’t know whether to run or stay. All he knew was that you were the most perfect person he had ever met, and the more he thought about you, the more he spiraled.

But you were still so innocent. So dumb to how he felt. And that—that—was what made it so unbearable.

Nanami: Online Dating

Nanami Kento didn’t have time for dating. Not that anyone believed him when he expressed that.

Gojo, that meddling idiot, had sneakily downloaded a dating app on his phone, swiping through profiles until Nanami found himself matched with you—a party girl, as Gojo put it. The last thing Nanami needed was some whirlwind romance or a string of distractions. He had work to do, responsibilities to handle. Yet here he was, standing outside a quaint little café, a man of routine now playing the part of someone interested in this game.

He glanced down at the photos on his phone. There you were: pictures of you laughing with friends at clubs, holding drinks in your hands, the glamorous nights out at fancy restaurants. And then there were the modeling shots—posing next to sleek supercars, all shiny and polished. Nanami’s lips pressed into a thin line.

He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know you were probably a disaster waiting to happen. You had issues, he could tell. And that was the last thing he wanted to get entangled in. He wasn't the type to judge a book by its cover, but he knew enough to assume you wouldn’t be the kind of woman he'd ever bring home to his parents.

His brows furrowed slightly, a sigh leaving his lips as he shoved the phone into his pocket. He adjusted his long coat, letting the cool evening breeze swirl around him. This date was probably going to be a waste of time.

Then, out of nowhere, you appeared.

You walked toward him in a soft pink maxi dress, the delicate fabric flowing behind you like some ethereal vision. A simple, sweet white bow tied neatly in your hair. You radiated a charm, an innocence that Nanami hadn’t expected, and for a brief moment, his chest tightened with something he couldn’t immediately place.

You smiled at him, sweet and genuine, and he couldn't help but feel...

“Am I late?” you asked softly, your head tilting as you looked up at him, your eyes bright with genuine concern. “Sorry, I had a late shift at the cocktail bar I work at, so I was really worried I was going to—”

Your voice trailed off as you noticed the strange expression on his face. Nanami blinked, clearing his throat, but the chill of his cynicism seemed to melt under your gaze. The hardness in his chest softened, and that unsettling feeling gnawed at him again, the one that made him feel like he should be on guard. But why? Why did you make him feel like this?

“No,” he said, his voice gruff but steady. “You’re fine. I’m just... surprised.”

He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, but there it was. He was surprised—surprised by how genuine you seemed. It wasn’t the image he’d built in his mind based on the photos. He was used to women who were superficial, all looks and no substance, but you… you didn’t fit that mold.

You smiled again, this time a little more shyly, before giving a small nod. “I’m glad. I really didn’t want to make you wait too long.”

Nanami nodded curtly, unsure of what to do with this strange reaction inside him. His eyes studied you more closely now, noting the little details—the way you moved with a kind of quiet grace that almost made him forget the judgment he had passed on you. You weren’t like the other women he’d met, and that was... unsettling.

You stepped closer, the scent of your perfume—something light and floral—lingering in the air around him. He found it strangely intoxicating, though he hated to admit it.

"So, what do you want to do?" you asked, the sweetness in your tone making him feel almost... guilty. He was supposed to be the one guiding this evening, not you. But it was hard to ignore the pull you had over him already.

He cleared his throat again, pushing the discomfort aside. “I was thinking dinner. Nothing fancy.”

You smiled softly, your eyes twinkling, but there was something behind that smile—something that made his stomach twist, and not from discomfort. It was an entirely different kind of tension, one he had no intention of analyzing too deeply.

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed.

As the Date Continues:

Nanami hadn’t expected much, but as the evening wore on, he found himself listening to you in a way he hadn’t done for a long time. You weren’t just talkative, you were engaging, and each laugh that escaped your lips seemed to stir something inside him. You were kind, warm, easy to talk to—and it was starting to unsettle him. This wasn’t what he had imagined, and that, in and of itself, was a problem.

Every time you reached across the table to grab your drink, or brushed a lock of hair from your face, Nanami couldn’t shake the growing sense of... need. It wasn’t the typical attraction he felt—this was different. You were slipping under his skin in a way that was both dangerous and familiar.

By the time the meal was over, Nanami was no longer concerned about how out of place he felt. He was no longer thinking about the party girl who didn’t fit into his carefully constructed life. Instead, he found himself obsessed with the way you moved, the way you spoke. Everything about you now seemed... necessary.

“Are you sure you want to head home alone?” Nanami asked, his voice quieter than before.

You paused, blinking in surprise, but your smile remained sweet. “I’m used to it. My apartment’s not far.”

For a moment, Nanami didn’t speak, just watched you with an unreadable look in his eyes. 

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said finally, his tone calm, as he gave you a smile. “It’s the right thing to do” 

Choso: Heart Shaped Lattes

Choso stood outside the small café nestled in the heart of Akihabara, waiting for Yuji and his friends. The city buzzed around him, but he remained still, his gaze distant as he watched the passing crowds. His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling his attention. It was a message from his little brother:

“Sorry Choso! We’re running a bit behind, you can order first if you want! :)”

Of course, he wasn’t upset. Even though Yuji was already fifteen minutes late, and Choso had been awkwardly standing alone outside, he would never feel anger toward his brother. It was just a small thing. A human thing.

With a quiet sigh, he pushed open the café door, and the familiar sounds of clinking cups and soft lofi music washed over him. The dimly lit interior felt cozy, a warm contrast to the bustling streets outside. Choso’s tired eyes scanned the room, his thoughts clouded as he made his way to the counter, gaze fixed on the floor.

“One latte. Please,” he ordered in his usual low, steady voice. He glanced up at the menu, as if the words there would help him understand what to say next. “Hot.”

It was the only drink Yuji had introduced him to, and despite its simplicity, Choso had come to enjoy it. There was something comforting about it. Something predictable. He was still getting used to this—this human lifestyle, the routine, the small moments that made up their lives.

The barista behind the counter smiled, her eyes warm as she took his order. Choso barely noticed the kindness in her expression, too focused on his own thoughts to appreciate the way she smiled at him. She handed him the receipt with a soft clink, and he nodded in acknowledgment before stepping away to find a table.

The café wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. It was just the right amount of busy that allowed Choso to sit quietly in the corner, unnoticed. He chose a seat by the window, glancing at his phone again to see if Yuji had messaged. Nothing. He smiled faintly. He could wait. He had all the time in the world.

A moment later, his latte arrived, set on the table with a soft clink of ceramic against wood. Choso’s eyes flicked down to the cup as the barista placed it in front of him. He froze.

There, on the surface of the coffee, was something unexpected. A perfect heart, etched into the foam.

Choso’s breath caught in his throat. His mind spun in confusion. Why was his heart beating so fast? Was it—an enemy? Was someone threatening him? No… that wasn’t it. This wasn’t danger. It was something else. Something he didn’t understand.

Blood rushed to his face, and he quickly glanced away, his eyes darting around the café in a frantic search for a distraction. But there was nothing. Nothing to explain this. 

No. It wasn’t possible. Was it?

His gaze snapped back to the barista. The girl who had taken his order. Her face was bathed in the soft glow of the café lights, and now that he was looking—really looking—he saw how stunning she was. Her lips were slightly pressed, a small concentration as she worked, preparing drinks with smooth, delicate movements.

You. You were the one who had made the heart in his coffee.

Choso swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His pulse was erratic, the sensation almost overwhelming. 

A heart. You had put a heart in his latte. The pretty little barista.

That must mean… love, right?

His mind raced with the possibilities. Was this some kind of sign? A gesture? Were you—interested in him?

No. It couldn’t be. He didn’t even know your name. He had barely spoken to you, hadn’t even properly looked at you until now. But still… the heart was something. It had to mean something.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away as you moved behind the counter, your every action now laced with meaning. The simple task of preparing drinks had transformed into something so intimate, so personal.

Choso leaned forward, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of his coffee cup. His thoughts churned as he stared….at that sweet little heart. 

Yuji and his friends would be here soon, but for now, he was lost. Lost in the warmth of the coffee, and in the warmth of a feeling that was new—and so very dangerous. A feeling that crept into his chest, tugging at something dark inside him.

Choso couldn’t help himself. He ordered at least three more drinks before his friends showed up. His heart is racing every time. Each time, you greeted him with that same smile, handing him the perfect coffee, each cup as flawless as the last. Each one had that sweet little heart in the foam. When you even gave him a free pastry—something small, something extra—he was sure of it. 

Surely, this was love.

Surely, he was meant to be here every day, because you two—you and him—were meant for each other, right?

This was what a soulmate was. 

Shoko: Medical School 

Oh, medical school. What a joke.

Shoko could cheat her way through most of her labs using her technique—healing, manipulating, fixing. But there was one thing she couldn’t control, couldn’t fake: Organic Chemistry.

She could easily fix broken bones, curse away a cold, hell, when her students lost limbs, Shoko could put them back together without even breaking a sweat. But Organic Chemistry? That was her undoing.

How was she supposed to understand what a nucleophilic attack was? Why were there shapes in chemistry?

It was a joke.

Which, of course, led her to you.

It was a slow morning, and Shoko dragged herself to the lecture hall, already exhausted from last night’s work. She slumped into the back row, hoping to at least catch a nap while pretending to take notes. Her eyes half-lidded, she scanned the room, not expecting anything interesting. That was until you—sweet, innocent little you—sat right next to her.

“Hah... I was worried I wasn’t going to make it. I never miss a lecture, y’know!” You said brightly, your accent heavy from one of the more rural areas of Japan. You were so… casual, so warm.

You leaned over, extending your hand to her with a smile. “I’m Y/n, and you are…?”

Shoko blinked, looking at your outstretched hand for a long beat, her gaze flickering from the innocent shine in your eyes to the warmth in your palm. She didn’t even bother to hide the smirk that tugged at her lips.

“Ieiri Shoko,” she hummed, amusement dancing in her tone as she took your hand and gave it a firm shake.

You were like a cute little puppy, weren’t you? Too trusting, too innocent.

She could already picture you with a tail wagging—completely unaware of what she might do to you.

Then, her gaze shifted.

You pulled out your notes—so detailed, so organized. Color-coded, of course, and even had cute little doodles in the margins explaining everything. A simple little smiley face here, a heart there, like a child’s drawing. Everything was perfect.

It irritated her. Not in the usual way. It wasn’t jealousy. No, it was something else. Something darker. Something that whispered: You’re the answer. You could help me…

Shoko’s eyes lingered on the page as she tried to suppress the urge to take those notes. She wasn’t proud of it, but—well, she had to admit it to herself. Organic Chemistry was her weakness. And you? You were her ticket to fixing that.

It didn’t take long for Shoko to fail the first exam. She’d be fine, of course. She could always cheat. But for now, it was an excuse to get closer to you.

She leaned over, her tone casual, but with a hint of something more—something almost… possessive.

“Your notes,” she began, voice dripping with barely-contained amusement, “they’re cute.”

Your face lit up immediately, a pure excitement in your eyes as you beamed at her. “Oh, thank you! I almost always get a seat in the front, but today I just missed my train after my shift at the Lawson, and well—”

Shoko didn’t need the backstory. She never did.

Her lips curled into a teasing, playful pout, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes, which glinted with something more dangerous. She leaned in just a little closer, lowering her voice.

“Could you lend them to me?” she asked, her tone silky and smooth, the words almost too innocent. “I really need them for studying. And I didn’t quite catch everything in the lecture…”

Your enthusiasm was infectious. You beamed, completely unaware of the darker edge in her voice. “Well, I can’t exactly lend them to you…but I could give you a copy!” you chimed brightly. Your excitement was so pure, so sweet, it made Shoko have to stifle a laugh.

Oh, you were cute.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if she were plotting something already. “Sure, sure. How about you come over to my apartment and drop them off, yeah? Maybe we could study together too… You seem to know your stuff.”

She watched as you nodded eagerly, too eager. Someone could just easily kidnap you, couldn’t they?

“Oh, that would be great! Here’s all my contact information!” you chirped, pulling out your phone and eagerly handing it to her.

Shoko took the phone from your hand, the faintest smile playing at her lips. 

You had already caught her interest. In more ways than one.

[3584-tropical-fish]

@xenoliith thank you for asking and giving me an excuse to ramble more about this topic! Fair warning that this will probably go on several tangents

Also disclaimer that I am approaching this from a geology standpoint, as opposed to a hydrology or biology or any other standpoint, but also that all scientific fields are interconnected and to understand one you must have a grasp on all others! And also I am not yet an expert on this. We’re working on it though

Under the cut because this got. long.

Okay, so! Firstly: what classifies as a tidal river? I wasn’t actually certain on this, so I’m going to work with the definition provided by Wikipedia:

So a tidal river must be affected by the tides, and while it is not necessary for the salinity to be higher than your average freshwater river, having a higher salinity does add credence to any “tidal river” classification.

Let’s consider salinity first, because that’s something I have more of a grasp on. The average salinity of our oceans is 35ppt (parts per thousand), or 3.5%. For water to be classified as brackish (which is what you’d probably expect in a non-freshwater tidal river), the salinity must be within the 0.5-30ppt range, and anything less than that makes the body of water fresh. We know that the White Gull river — especially in its lower reaches but even further up river — hosts a variety of organisms that you’d typically see in an estuary (delta) environment, like crabs, shrimp, limpets, oysters, and barnacles, all of which are adapted for varying levels of salinity, but usually waters that fall into the brackish range. So I do think it’s safe to say that the white gull is a brackish river, perhaps not all the way to its headwaters but certainly incredibly — and unnaturally — far upstream (and, judging by this post, that’s what’s happening here. The Trawler-man and his angels are a pollutant that is increasing the salinity of the river, and making it act in ways it shouldn’t. Which I think is very important to keep in mind! As scientific as I want to be, there is still Weird Shit going on).

As for the tidal setting, I’m going to be referencing these three types:

As defined in the Wikipedia page from earlier, these different environments all have different tidal ranges (meaning: the distance between low tide and high tide, on average (since these fluctuate throughout the year)). We don’t know the measurable tidal range of the White Gull, so we’re going to have to reverse engineer that based on what we know about the environment. And, honestly? I think it’s a macrotidal environment. There is no mention of barrier islands, which may just be because no one mentioned them even if they are there, but if no one mentioned them, then I can’t prove that they exist. Macrotidal environments also result in large estuaries, wide tidal flats, and marshlands, which is fitting for the White Gull!

So what does this mean for the river as whole? How far do the tides reach upstream? Let’s consider that currently, the Chesapeake Bay’s tidal range is ~1m, meaning it has a much smaller tidal range than the white gull likely has, and making it microtidal.

Fun fact that I learned recently: the same tides that impact the Chesapeake Bay can also be seen in upstate New York. Now, those tides are nothing massive, they’re like. A millimeter. But my point is that tides affect most bodies of water, even by a little bit. And if the White Gull is macrotidal, it has ranges of >4m, which could probably reach and significantly impact a large portion of the river. How much exactly I can’t say, because I don’t know how long this river is, but I feel like it’s safe to say that they reach pretty far upriver. And considering how much they talk about the tides in the Parish? Undoubtedly this is a tidal river, even if the reason it’s a tidal river is Weird God Shit.

So to actually answer your question — I don’t think velocity matters! For one, it isn’t involved in the classification of tidal rivers, and for another, this was an outlying event; the river doesn’t usually move this fast. Which leads me into my tangential point about the discharge rate of this river!

So, I’m going to work in theoreticals, because we don’t have the data to determine the exact discharge rate (meaning: how much water passes through the river channel, in meters cubed per second) of this river. What we do know is velocity, that Q = uA (or, discharge equals flow velocity times cross-sectional area of the channel), and the continuity principle (that the discharge at the beginning of a channel must be the same as the discharge at the end (Qsub1 must equal Qsub2)

Up at the headwaters of the white gull, the river is shallow enough for Carpenter to walk in it, and is presumably not very wide. We can assume that, like most rivers, the river widens and deepens as you go downstream, and we know that eventually it widens into a delta. So, from the aquifer to the delta, there is a net increase in A. In order for Q to remain the same, that means u must decrease. This means that even though the river is moving very fast near the Grand Aquifer, by the time the floodwaters reach the lower delta and, eventually, the ocean, the velocity would have decreased significantly, depositing silt and clay all throughout the delta and overall appearing much calmer, and more easily influenced by flood tides (since, if there’s less energy pushing out into the sea, it will be easier for energy from the tides to push in and upriver).

This is true at all times, but as I said, this was a unique flooding event. Base flow (or, the discharge of the river on your typical day, when it’s not impacted by flooding) would be significantly less, and the river would overall flow much slower.

I don't really know how to conclude this, but I suppose I might as well go all in and propose my theory as to the general ecology and behavior of the White Gull River, because dear god have I thought way too much about it in order to write this. So, to start:

The White Gull starts high up in some mountainous/hilly terrain. There are likely several smaller tributaries that all lead into it, and they're all probably very small streams. Since they're in the mountains, they have steep slopes and very turbulent flows; they move fast and dredge up a lot of sediment, which they transport downstream.

When we get down into the flatlands, the river has the space to widen out and, importantly, meander. Hayward makes a joke about oxbow lakes, and I wouldn't be surprised if this was a river that had meandered enough to create a couple! This is also where Jon Ware's comment in the season 1 q&a about the Trawler-man's two mouths being a joke about cut banks and point bars comes into play: As the river meanders, it flings the water around bends, which increases the velocity and causes it to weather away more sediment. It deposits that sediment on the point bars, where the flow is slower.

Out here, the river is wide and deep, and it flows slowly. It's depositing all the sediment that it weathered away in the mountains and at the cut banks, and we're probably getting a fair amount of wetland formation as this sediment is deposited. Think early season 1, Marcel's Crossing and Roake's bungalow and the marshland Carpenter and Faulkner start in would probably all exist around this portion of the river.

At some point, we hit the Saint's Dam, which dramatically slows the flow velocity, causing a lot of sediment to be deposited behind the dam, which in the future may cause it to fail! If anyone in this universe cared enough, someone should probably be keeping an eye on that! On the other side of the dam, there's undoubtedly an increase in velocity because a lot of water is rushing through smaller apertures in the dam. This dredges up a lot more sediment, which is carried downstream, and eventually to the delta.

The delta is where all the fun stuff happens (I love estuaries so much, and this is it). The river widens out, slows down, and deposits a LOT of sand and silt and clay, which provides nutrients for the plants and animals living there. Also impacting the delta is a massive tidal range, so the marshes that are forming are dealing with a lot of saltwater incursion, sediment deposits from the ocean which are brought in by flood tides, and the expectation that there will be large swathes of land that are sometimes covered by brackish water, and sometimes not. This is the environment that the Trawler-man thrives in, this is where the crabs and the barnacles and the oysters thrive, and this is where Carpenter grew up.

From here, there's nowhere else to go but out to sea. Any sediment that wasn't yet deposited in the marshes is flung out into the ocean, where it will likely take a very long time to settle out (it's only clay by this point, and is incredibly small so would have a very long settling time). You may have some tidal flats forming at the very far end of the delta, and maybe there are plovers that live there. Maybe worms and more crabs burrowing into the earth, here accustomed to mostly saltwater.

And I think that's all I have to ramble about. I forgot that I really love river environments and the geology that leads to them and the animals that live in them, but hopefully you enjoyed my tangent :)

Not that anyone asked but looking at a.) the fact that Carpenter says that it’s clay being torn from the riverbank by the floodwaters of the White Gull and b.) The Hjulström Curve:

We can determine that the flow velocity of the White Gull River in TSV45 was approximately 150-300 cm/s.

What does this mean? Absolutely nothing, I’m going to be so honest. I just find this amusing

[merakiui]

here’s some ace thoughts since i just saw your recent event ace posts. crowley wouldn’t let you stay at ramshackle over summer. so you tell grim to find someone to stay with since you can’t guarantee a job for yourself and although you’re fine with sleeping in the street you don’t want grim to. he probably goes all sad to deuce who tells their entire dorm but before anyone can make a plan ace just walks off. he find finds you and tells you you’re staying with him.

“but ace, did you even ask your parents?”

“it’ll be fine.”

“what if they already have a long term guest you don’t know about sleeping in the couch? you can’t just bring me in without asking!”

“the couch? i’m not stingy like you, we’re sharing my bed.”

“thank you but i insist im okay.”

“———, i’ll always take care of you.”

Omg yes!! You and Grim staying with Ace and his family for the summer!!!! The way Ace's older brother would poke fun at him for his (very obvious) crush on you. >:D and Ace just insists it's "not like that." No way he's crushing on you! He scoffs at the idea, but his cheeks are red and he's starting to stumble over his words.....

Ace who takes you to all the best places in his hometown, certain you'll enjoy them. Maybe you even meet up with Deuce somewhere! Summertime romance with Ace.... there was no shame in sharing a room and even a bed or fighting over who gets to use the sink to do their morning routine first. You're best friends, so everything is perfectly fine and platonic! ...or is it? >:)

That movie moment where you turn around and ask if he's coming while he's stopped to tie his shoe or something, and he just looks at you in a completely different light then because the feelings and vibe have been shifting ever since school let out for the summer and wow. Have you always looked so nice when the sun is framing you perfectly and has your smile always been so bright? AAAA what is he thinking!!!!!

And Grim can tell something's up with Ace. He keeps looking between the two of you, always wondering... sometimes it's a relief Grim's there because he makes for the perfect scapegoat when Ace wants to take you somewhere but doesn't want it to seem like he's asking you on a date. BECAUSE HE'S NOT!!! This is for you and Grim!! Don't get it twisted!!! Of course he completely understands why you might want to go out with "yours truly" (you roll your eyes at that), but it's just a simple hang-out. It's also not a relief because sometimes Grim just makes the awkward tension even worse and he doesn't even mean to do so. T_T

Or when Ace's older brother shares all kinds of embarrassing stories about Ace or when his parents leaf through photo albums, and Ace is begging them to stop because noooo all of his aura and swag are gone the minute you hear about that one time he tripped over his laces or that day he fell for his older brother's dumb pranks or that one awkward photo of him from middle school... he has a reputation to uphold as a cool guy (in front of you) and this is so not helping!!!!

[meirimerens]

You probably have already made a post about this (in which case I apologize for bothering you) however I really love how you render and color! Do you have any tips?

Hiiii so I probably indeed already answered something like that but it’s probably time for an #update + realized i can put pictures and it would probably help actually. Slay okay.

THE BASICS: have brushes you like. I have my faves, they’re in my #brushes tag (click below), you might also see them on the screen of my paintings in wip lol. Typically i thicken them up for rendering AND, now this is integral to my liking of rendering these days + the look: COLOR JITTERING. In procreate that’s tap brush -> color dynamics and i adjust the stamp & stroke jitter in the « hue » category. I have my fave brushes quadruplicated as thicker No Hue, 3% color jitter, 5%, 13% depending on the desired look. What this does is give intrinsic interest, variation and depth to your colors, and that way you can have more fun when colorpicking. This will come back again later.

STEP 1: a lineart you like. Doesn’t have to be clean tbh some of my fave linearts from current works were quite messy. ALWAYS colored.

STEP 2: on a layer underneath the lineart, put down flat colors. See what % of color jittering brings you the most #joy. I will do flat colors or i will sometimes already define some areas of light and shadows.

^ you can see the subtle color jitter in the « white » of the shirt and the green of that first image. Second is to show the already defined areas; if i know i want a different hue on here. something else for some pizzazz: tint a color with an adjacent one. not really visible in these screenshots but in matador, at some point, i added an orange tint to burakh's sleeve, the one closest to the red cape.

STEP 3: the shadows. On the same layer as above (you can duplicate it before this so you can always come back to it later if you need to redo), put down your shadows; the trick: COLORPICK FROM A PIXEL WHERE THE COLOR OF YOUR LINEART AND THE COLOR OF YOUR FLATS INTERSECT. You might have to recolor your lineart (use the « alpha lock » feature of your layer or something of the sorts) until you’re satisfied; i typically redden it in the face and hands.

STEP 4: put down the highlight. I typically do highlights the complimentary color as the shadow: if shadow bluer, the highlight is redder (-> pinker), etc.

STEP 5: now this is the scary part. Before proceeding if you’re #scared, group your lineart and colors, duplicate the group and merge one of them so you can always come back to them unmerged. MERGE YOUR LAYERS. You heard me. Merge lineart and color. From then on…

STEP 6: render. Render, render… PATIENCE… est mère de sûreté bien sûr. Here’s my secret: I NEVER BLEND. I ALWAYS COLORPICK. COLORPICK where two colors meet and you’ll have the perfect transition color.

tip: always have an all-black layer set to color mode above all layers that you can toggle on and off to check your values.

This is more of a fun thing i like to do even if i haven’t done it often: use some hints of a geometric brush to add interest when using an « organic » brush (or vice-versa, I’d guess, but i rarely render with geometric brushes). Exemples again:

And well Das Preddy Much It… Your Turn Now….. and because i realize a short demonstration is better than a long speech, have a speepvideo of the two pieces I’ve used as exemples one after the other (matador first to 44 seconds in, moschophoros second). the very beginnings are cut because we’re focusing on the above steps.

Your turn……. To play.

[knottedhearts]

Q&A: C.S

The soft hum of the camera turning on filled the quiet room as you and Chris sat side by side on his couch, the glow of the ring light casting a warm, flattering light over both of you. It had been ages since he posted anything on his personal YouTube channel, and today was the day he finally decided to pick it back up. The two of you had agreed to film a Q&A session, answering questions from his fans who had been eagerly awaiting his return to the platform.

Chris was fiddling with his phone, scrolling through the questions his followers had sent in. He looked over at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright," he said, turning to the camera and giving a thumbs up. "It’s been a while, but let’s kick this off. First question…"

He glanced down at his phone, brows furrowing slightly as he read. "Okay, this one’s… interesting." He paused for effect, clearly teasing you, before reading aloud. "'Have you guys had sex?'"

You froze for a second, then burst out laughing, your face going bright red. "Oh my god," you groaned, shaking your head. "Seriously?"

Chris leaned back, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "I mean, we are answering questions, right?" He gave a playful shrug, looking at you with that signature, mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not that it's anyone’s business, but we’re here to have fun, right?"

You covered your face with your hands, still laughing. "This is what I get for agreeing to this. I swear your followers are crazy."

Chris’s laughter joined yours, and it was hard to tell whether the question was funny or just absurd. But the chemistry between the two of you made it all feel lighthearted, and it was easy to fall into the rhythm of answering questions while sharing inside jokes.

You took a deep breath, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. "Alright, alright. Next question before we get any more weird ones." You reached for your phone and skimmed through the list of submitted questions. "Let’s see… Here’s a cute one. 'What’s your favorite thing about each other?'"

Chris looked over at you, his smile softening. "Honestly? It's how we can just hang out and not even have to do anything and still have a great time. Like, we’re always on the same wavelength." He chuckled. "And how you always make me laugh. You’re like the funniest person I know."

Your heart gave a little skip, the warmth in his voice making you smile. You shrugged casually, acting nonchalant, but you could feel the fondness in his words. "Well, you’re pretty funny yourself. I guess it’s why we get along so well. But I’ll admit, you do have that charm that makes everything feel more fun."

He nudged you playfully with his elbow, then turned back to the camera. "Next one, I think we can all guess this one… 'Do you two ever fight?'"

You snorted, laughing at how predictable that question was. "Oh, definitely. We’re not perfect. We argue, we bicker, but it’s nothing too serious." You glanced at Chris and made a face. "Mostly about silly stuff, like when he steals the last slice of pizza."

Chris raised an eyebrow, smirking. "It was one slice. And you didn’t call dibs."

You pointed at him, laughing again. "You always steal it and then act like it’s no big deal!"

Chris winked, turning to the camera. "Hey, you snooze, you lose."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes dramatically. "You’re impossible."

As the conversation flowed, you and Chris went through a handful of questions, answering with a mix of humor, honesty, and a little bit of teasing. The questions ranged from the goofy to the sentimental, but no matter what was asked, it was easy to feel at ease with Chris by your side.

Eventually, Chris read the next question with a slight hesitation, his grin widening as he glanced over at you. "Okay… another weird one," he said, drawing it out for dramatic effect. "You ready?"

You squinted at him, already dreading what might come next. "Just read it, Chris."

He cleared his throat, pretending to be serious, and read, "'Do you ever have matching outfits?'"

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment before bursting out laughing. "That’s it? That’s the weird question you were hyping up?"

Chris grinned widely. "You’re telling me you didn’t think about this one? I thought you two would rock a couple’s costume for Halloween or something."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. "You know, that wouldn’t be the worst idea, actually."

Chris rolled his eyes but was clearly entertained by your suggestion. "Alright, let’s get back to the real questions, shall we?"

The next few questions were just as random, but you couldn’t stop laughing—"Do you think you’re both cute?" "Do you ever argue over the TV remote?" and, of course, the classic "Who is the better cook?" (You both agreed it was Chris, but you liked to pretend it was a tie to make him laugh.)

As you both read through the questions, the time seemed to slip away, the easy back-and-forth between you and Chris making the whole process feel like fun instead of work. Every time you’d tease him or crack a joke, you’d catch him looking at you with that smile, and it was impossible not to feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Eventually, you wrapped up the video, both of you laughing at the absurdity of some of the questions. As the camera shut off, Chris turned to you with a grin. "Well, that wasn’t so bad, right?"

You grinned back, leaning over and bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "Yeah, it was pretty fun. Even if your followers are a little… intense."

Chris chuckled, throwing his arm around your shoulder casually as he stood up. "You love it. You know you do."

You shook your head, still laughing as you followed him toward the kitchen. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered, but you couldn’t stop smiling. It was moments like this—simple, goofy, and filled with easy camaraderie—that made everything feel perfect.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Lewis, Next Door” ~ pt 2 Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warning: age gap (lowkey?), alcohol.

Summary: Y/N’s night out spirals into chaos, leading to a desperate late-night call to Lewis that she barely remembers making. But when he shows up to help-, slightly annoyed, and undeniably magnetic—she finds herself teetering between embarrassment and intrigue.

The bass thumps in my chest, so loud I feel it in my bones as we sway and stumble together under the neon lights. MK Club in Monaco is packed, bodies pressed together in a wave of glitter, laughter, and the haze of way too many drinks. Winter break has finally started, and my friends—Janelle, Isabella, and Séraphine—and I have decided that tonight is all about celebrating our freedom. Maybe we’re overdoing it, but who cares? We’re young, we’re back from school, and we deserve this.

I lean into the music, my head spinning in the best way. “We’re out of money,” I realize, looking down at my half-empty drink, frowning. Not a cent of parental allowance had dropped in any of our accounts yet. My own savings were being bled dry by all this fun, and, seriously, what’s the point of being a rich kid in Monaco if I can’t order bottles of Ace of Spades?

Séraphine slings an arm around me, her face flushed and eyes glassy as she shouts, “We should just try to flirt with some guys! Get ourselves a table!”

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little worse for wear, her lids drooping as she slurs, “No… Alain will kill me if he finds out I pulled something like that again…”

As they debate, an idea pops into my head, striking like a flash of drunken genius. I grin, barely able to focus, but sure of one thing: I have Lewis’s number. Lewis, my neighbor and friend of my dad, but also ridiculously rich, famous, and possibly my ticket to a few more rounds. So what if it’s 2 a.m., right?

“I’ve got it, guys. I know someone,” I announce proudly, though the words come out like a tangled mess.

Séraphine squints at me, laughing. “You’re drunk, Y/N. You don’t know anyone.”

“Oh, yeah?” I pull out my phone, holding it up triumphantly as I squint at the screen, fingers fumbling over the contacts. “There it is.” I hit the call button, holding the phone to my ear, my friends watching me with barely-contained curiosity.

The call rings a few times, and just as I’m about to give up, a low, groggy voice answers.

“Hello?”

The confidence I had fizzles, but I swallow my nerves. “Lewis?” I slur, hearing my voice in that weirdly bold way only a couple of drinks can make possible.

There’s a pause. “Y/N?” He sounds confused, and I hear him shift like he’s sitting up.

“Yeah. Are you out?” I ask, the music blaring through the phone. I feel the eyes of my friends glued to me as they wait, wondering who I’m talking to.

“What? Where are you?” he asks, voice sharper now, more alert.

“I’m at MK,” I say loudly over the noise, feeling smug.

There’s another pause, and then he says, almost to himself, “MK? You’re not even old enough to be there… And, wait… are you drunk? It’s 2 a.m.—”

I cut him off, a playful edge to my tone. “I was just calling to see if you wanted to come and get us more drinks,” I say, though the words tumble out in a barely coherent mix of slurs and giggles.

There’s a long, exasperated silence on the other end.

“Hello?” I ask, annoyed he’s taking so long to answer.

His sigh is audible over the phone. “Do you… need me to pick you up?” he asks, his voice lined with something that sounds like he’s already resigning himself to it.

“No! I don’t,” I reply with confusion. “You’re so boring,” I add before hanging up. My friends laugh, and we go back to dancing, somehow managing to snag a few more drinks from guys around us.

It’s 3:00 a.m. by the time I manage to stumble my way back to my parents’ penthouse, swaying down the hallway in my heels. My purse feels like a black hole as I dig through it, searching for my keys. They have to be in here somewhere, right?

But after minutes of searching, I realize they’re not. “Shit,” I mutter, slumping against the wall, the reality sinking in. I don’t want to wake up my parents like this—tipsy, disheveled, and very obviously not sober.

I slide down to the floor, feeling my frustration tip dangerously toward tears. I’m too drunk for this. I stare at my phone, desperate for some kind of solution, and in my daze, I remember… Lewis. Again, I don’t recall that I just called him an hour ago, and with no other option, I hit his number.

After a few rings, his tired voice picks up. “Yes?” he says, clearly woken up again.

“Lewis?” My voice breaks a little, the earlier playfulness gone.

He sounds a little more awake, sensing something’s off. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t get into my house.” My voice trembles with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Wait… are you outside right now?” he asks, the tone of his voice shifting instantly, more alert.

“Yeah… I don’t have a key,” I mumble.

He sighs deeply, and I hear him rustling, like he’s getting up. “Okay… give me a minute.” He hangs up, and I wait in the dimly lit hallway, feeling stupid but relieved.

A few minutes later, the door down the hall opens, and there he is, looking tired, standing there in nothing but sweatpants. Even through my drunken haze, I can’t help but notice how he looks, the way his gaze meets mine across the hall, his face softening when he sees me.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low, quiet command. The authority in his voice stirs something in me as I pull myself up, stumbling toward him, heels clicking with each unsteady step. His eyes drop to what I’m wearing—a short dress, tight enough to get the attention of every guy at MK tonight—and he looks away, maybe to save me from feeling self-conscious. Or maybe to save himself.

“Come in,” he murmurs, stepping back and letting me walk inside. His place feels dim, warm, quiet—a stark contrast to the loud, chaotic energy I’d just left. The moment I step in, I sway, and his hand catches my arm, steadying me.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, his voice edged with concern as he leads me toward the living room. “Why did you drink so much?”

I flop onto his couch, letting out a lazy laugh as I lean back. “I don’t know,” I reply, slurring, barely caring how much of a mess I must look to him right now.

He disappears for a second, returning with a glass of water, holding it out to me. “Drink that. You need it.”

I take a sip, and he watches, standing over me, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “Look… I don’t have a key to your parents’ place, so you’re kind of stuck for now. Do you have a friend nearby?”

I shake my head, setting the glass aside and sinking further back into the couch. “No… I don’t know.” My voice is soft, almost defeated.

He sighs, glancing at the clock. “It’s 3:17 in the morning…” he mutters, and I let out a giggle, finding it all absurdly funny.

He shakes his head, but there’s a small, reluctant smile on his face. “You’re a mess,” he says, voice teasing.

I sit up, pouting. “No…” I argue, slurring as I try to mimic his mock-scolding tone.

“Yes…” he says, meeting my gaze, and for a moment, his eyes linger on me, trailing down to my dress. His hand reaches up, almost instinctively, to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. I look at him, something bubbling up in me—a boldness from the alcohol, or maybe just the thrill of being near him like this. I reach out, letting my hand rest on his thigh, feeling the solid warmth of him.

He looks at my hand, then at me, his gaze suddenly intense. He reaches down, covering my hand with his, his grip firm as he lifts it off his leg. “No… no, Y/N. You need to sleep this off,” he murmurs, voice low but soft.

“Hm? No… I’m fine,” I insist, leaning closer, letting my eyes half-close as I give him what I hope is a sultry look.

He lets out a breath, amused but resolute. “Yeah… that’s definitely the alcohol talking.” He stands up, guiding me gently to follow him. “Come on. I’ve got a spare bedroom. You can sleep there, okay?”

I frown, feeling my hazy hopes sink, but I’m too tired and too out of it to argue. I stumble along behind him, my heels clicking down the hallway as he opens the door to a guest room. I step inside, feeling the plush carpet beneath my feet, a cozy contrast to the cold, hard floors of MK.

“Just get some sleep, alright?” he says, rubbing his eyes, clearly exhausted.

“Wait,” I call, almost whining, as he turns to leave. “Can you…” I pause, heart pounding, barely believing my own boldness as I turn around, showing him the back of my dress. “I can’t sleep in this…”

He sighs, and I can tell he’s fighting an internal battle. “Y/N…” he starts, his tone edged with caution, like he’s about to refuse. But then he relents, stepping forward. His hands come to rest on my hips, strong and steady, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric. I feel my breath catch as he pulls me closer, his fingers brushing against the small of my back.

For a moment, his hands linger, almost as if he’s hesitating, feeling the weight of the moment as much as I am. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raises one hand to the top of my zipper. His fingertips graze the bare skin at the base of my neck, and I can’t suppress the shiver that runs down my spine.

He inches the zipper down slowly, each pull of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, his touch leaving a tingling trail down my back. I can feel the soft brush of his knuckles against my skin as the dress loosens, exposing more of my back, inch by inch. His breathing is steady, but there’s a tension there—a restraint that feels almost tangible.

The zipper finally reaches the base of my spine, and his fingers linger there, as if reluctant to break the contact. My skin feels electric, every nerve heightened, and for a moment, he doesn’t move, his breath warm against the back of my neck. It’s like he wants to say something, to break the charged silence between us, but he holds back.

He clears his throat softly, his voice a quiet murmur in my ear, almost a command. “There. Now… get some sleep.” His words are gentle but firm, like he’s trying to steady both himself and me. And then, just as slowly as he approached, he pulls away, letting his hands fall from my back, the absence of his touch leaving my skin cool and craving the warmth of his hands.

As he steps back, he meets my eyes briefly, a flicker of something unreadable passing between us. For a second, I think he might close the space between us again, say something, or do something that will change everything. But he only gives me a small, careful nod, a final reminder of his restraint, and turns toward the door.

“Now… sleep,” he says once more, his voice soft but unwavering. With one last look, he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

———————————————-

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works.

I hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

Please like and follow for more!

Хохо

Princess

[aleskie-hischier]

HEY OSCAR! | Oscar Piastri x Reader SUMMARY: You’ve shared a close friendship with Oscar Piastri since you first met during Freshman Orientation. When you join an open mic event that requires you to have an original composition, you channel your feelings into a song, hoping it can convey what you’re too scared to say. As it turns out, sometimes the heart speaks louder than words. AKA the Oscar Piastri University AU

Word Count: 8k Warnings: None :>> Just a lil Best Friends to Lovers ♫ Listen: Hey Stephen by Taylor Swift ♫

You sit cross-legged beneath the shade of an old oak tree in the open fields of the university, guitar in hand, fingers plucking strings with delicate care as you hum along. Beside you, a glitter pen rests on top of an open notebook, the pages half-filled with scrawled chords and lyrics that have been scratched out.

The air’s turned crisp and the sun dips lower, casting the sky in vibrant waves of orange, pink, and violet. But you're too absorbed in perfecting the melody, to enjoy the beauty unraveling above.

“There you are!” a familiar voice calls out, cutting through your focus. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It’s your best friend, Oscar.

He crosses the field with his usual lopsided grin, looking slightly out of breath, his backpack bouncing with each step. As he reaches you, he plops down on the grass and drops his bag with a thud beside yours, the collection of keychains clinking against each other like a small wind chime.

“I thought I’d be headed to the library by myself,” he says, still smiling, his eyes glancing over at your notebook. “Didn’t think I’d find you out here, lost in…this.” He gestures towards you hunched over your guitar, scribbling glittery musings in your notebook.

You shrug, glancing sheepishly at your notebook. “Sorry bub, you might still have to go without me. I’ve got this melody I need to finish.”

“A melody?” He echoes, raising a brow and clearly amused. “You do remember we’re engineering majors, right? Not musicians.”

“Unlike someone, I actually have a hobby,” you shoot back, grinning, though your gaze drifts back to your guitar, fingers instinctively tracing the fretboard. “We can’t all be robotics prodigies, Mr. Piastri.”

“Augh!” He clutches his chest in mock injury, grinning widely. “Low blow, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes and return to strumming, catching the way he settles onto his backpack, head tilted back as he scrolls through his phone. Clearly, he isn’t going anywhere, so you continue experimenting with melodies and rhymes, though none of them feel quite right.

As the sky darkens and a chill settles in, you glance over to find Oscar still sprawled on the grass, now with his AirPods in, chuckling softly at something on his screen. Smirking, you reach over and pull one of the earbuds out.

“I thought you were heading to the library?” you tease, raising a brow.

He huffs, reaching for the earbud in your hand, though his fingers linger on yours for just a beat longer than necessary. “You weren’t going to be there, so what’s the point?”

You feel some heat rush to your face but quickly push it down. He’s your best friend—nothing more. Probably.

“So, what? You’ll just stay here until I’m done?”

“Nah,” he says, a playful glint in his eye, “I’ll stay until you decide to ask for my opinion.”

“Ask for help from the guy who hasn’t even added a single song to our shared playlist?” You scoff, pouting, bringing your focus back to composing. “Yeah, no thanks.”

He hums a response and a beat passes before he gives you a knowing look. “So, why’d you even sign up for that original-submission open-mic thing anyway?”

You shrug, mumbling, “It seemed fun at the time.”

“Not so fun now, huh?” He smirks, his gaze drifting to the notebook littered with scratched-out lyrics and half-formed lines.

“Shut up,” you groan, playfully nudging him with your foot. He laughs, a sound as familiar as it is comforting, and you can’t help but smile as you return to your guitar, his presence a steady rhythm in the background, keeping you company as the stars begin to appear overhead.

“Well, let me offer some advice anyway, since you clearly don’t know what you’re doing,” he says, sitting up and rummaging through his backpack. He pulls out a hoodie and tosses it toward you, his aim landing it squarely on your face before it tumbles into your lap. “Just…focus on what you know.” 

The hoodie is your hoodie—well, his hoodie, but you’ve claimed it enough times that it might as well be yours by now. It’s the one you always reach for on cold mornings and late nights. The one that’s softer than all his other hoodies. The one that clings to his scent the longest—not that you’d ever admit you notice that.

“Write what I know, huh?” You look over at him, letting your gaze linger on his tousled hair, his bright eyes, the faint freckles sprinkled across his face. As you think about his words, you start to make a mental list of the things you do know.

You know robotics and calculus. You know the exact temperature for steeping different types of tea. You know how to sew and knit and crochet. You know chemistry and coding and…you know Oscar.

You know his quirks, his habits, the way he folds into himself when he sleeps, how he prefers his coffee, and how he schedules his day with way too many alarms. You know his class schedule by heart, the subjects he struggles with, and the way he pushes through them anyway. If nothing else, you know him. You know him in all the small, quiet ways that matter.

You slip on the hoodie, feeling its warmth wrap around you, and can’t help but give him a small, almost secret smile—a little mischievous, a little uncertain. You already know what you’re going to write about.

For better or worse, this would be a song he wouldn’t forget.

You first meet Oscar at freshman orientation. By chance, the two of you end up sitting side-by-side in one of those endless welcome sessions, the kind that packs in far too many speeches from people you’ll probably never see again. He’s quiet and a little reserved, dressed head-to-toe in school merch: a fresh university shirt and a cap with the campus logo. You’d actively avoided wearing any of it, determined not to look like the stereotypical freshman, but somehow, on him, it’s endearing. He actually seemed excited to be here, enough to wear it proudly—and, well, he was cute. That didn’t hurt either.

You, on the other hand, were exhausted. The nerves from knowing you’d be starting college had robbed you of sleep, and the stuffy room only added to the weight of your eyelids. Somewhere between the speech on campus values and the talk on student resources, your head dips forward, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep—right on his shoulder.

He’s the one who gently nudges you awake once the session finally ends, when everyone else is already getting up to leave for campus tours. Blinking in confusion, you sit up quickly, mortification settling in as you realize what happened.

“Oh my God—I am so sorry!” You say, eyes wide and filled with regret.

“It’s fine,” he says, hands slipping into his pockets, a small, slightly awkward smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Could’ve happened to anyone.”

You squint, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

He shrugs, still calm. “I mean, it could. I was close to falling asleep too,” he admits, leaning in as if it’s a secret.

You let out a laugh, nerves easing just a bit. Somehow, he makes it seem like less of a big deal, and you find yourself smiling.

“I’m Y/N,” you say, extending your hand with a tentative smile, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness of your unplanned nap on his shoulder.

“Oscar,” he replies, reaching out to grasp your hand. His shake is gentle but sure, his grip warm against your fingers.

For a brief moment, you hold his gaze, and there’s something both reassuring and easygoing in his expression. You can tell he’s someone who doesn’t mind the little quirks in people—he’s likely someone who’d find them interesting. The noise of other freshmen shuffling around to start the campus tour fills the air, but the two of you linger for just a beat longer.

“Well,” you say, letting go of his hand reluctantly, “Which group are you in for the tour?”

“Um.” He checks his phone, squinting slightly. “Group four.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and a smirk creeps onto your face. “Well, look at that! Looks like you can’t get rid of me yet.”

“Never said I wanted to get rid of you.” He chuckles, sliding his phone back into his pocket as you both fall into step together. “Especially not when you’ve made quite the first impression.”

After a shared laugh and an easy exchange of grins, you lead the way to the back of the line for Group Four. Building after building, you walk together, navigating the labyrinth of campus with a strange mixture of excitement and calm.

Sometimes you walk in comfortable silence—the kind that only comes in those first moments of meeting someone, when you want to say more but aren’t quite sure where to start. Other times, your conversation spills into heated debates that draw in other students before they drift away again, leaving you and Oscar to continue on alone. You chat about everything from the cafeteria’s rumored curfews to the quirky statues scattered around campus, and as each topic arises, Oscar surprises you. He’s reserved, but his dry humor and unexpected quips keep you laughing, his calm wit a perfect match for your own.

By the time you’ve seen most of the campus, you realize there’s something different about him. He’s easy to be around, comfortable and safe, but with a spark that keeps things interesting. You can’t explain it exactly—and maybe it’s too early to tell—but some part of you feels that this could be the beginning of a friendship that’s special—one that could last a long, long time.

By the time sophomore year rolls around, Oscar is celebrating seven months with Michelle, his girlfriend, while you’re somewhere around your millionth date—or at least, that’s what it feels like.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. Oscar’s always been the type to settle down in serious relationships, while you’ve leaned into the idea of playing the field, keeping things light before they turn into something more. But that idea lost its appeal fast when you realized most people in the dating pool were just looking for something casual, something fleeting.

And it didn’t help that every so often, you’d find yourself third-wheeling Oscar and Michelle. They’d gotten together near the end of freshman year, survived a summer apart while he went back home to Australia, and picked up in sophomore year as if they’d never left each other’s side.

You kind of like Michelle. You’ve spent enough time with her to consider her almost a friend, sometimes hanging out without Oscar around. She’s sharp, funny, and somehow manages to match Oscar’s dry humor in a way that leaves you in stitches. But sometimes…well, sometimes, she gets under your skin. Like right now.

“Do I look alright?” Oscar asks, running a hand through his hair for what has to be the hundredth time tonight, eyes fixed on the mirror as he adjusts his shirt and frowns slightly.

You’re sprawled across his roommate’s bed, a spot that’s become practically yours over the past two years.

Oscar’s roommate, Lando, is an upperclassman in your major, just a year ahead, and the three of you clicked almost instantly. He’s practically the big brother of your university life, guiding you through the maze of class schedules, professor choices, and which activities are worth your time.

He’s loud, fun, and has an impressive collection of video games that you all regularly raid. And thanks to him, you and Oscar have a standing invite to all the best parties on campus, where he dramatically introduces you both as his “prized students.” He’s a blast to be with. There’s never a dull moment with him. 

Currently, he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing his Nintendo Switch with complete focus while you absentmindedly twist curls in his hair.

“You look fine, Osc,” you groan, “You looked fine thirty minutes ago when you first asked.” You give him a pointed look. “Which, by the way, was the time she was supposed to meet you here.”

Oscar shrugs, brushing it off with a small smile. “She’s probably just finalizing the details of the date. She’ll be here soon.”

Lando smirks, not glancing up from his game. “Does she know that offering to plan a special date—and then executing it—also involves showing up on time?”

You smack the back of his head lightly, and he yelps, finally looking away from his game. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t make him feel bad,” you pout, crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes, grinning. “Oh, so you can throw in all the little comments about her being late and flaking out, but I can’t?”

“Yes,” you say, matter-of-factly, crossing your arms, “Because I actually hang out with her. You just get the highlights.”

Lando snickers but doesn’t get a chance to reply before Oscar cuts in, his expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “Wait—so you gossip about my relationship now? Since when?”

Lando gives Oscar a devilish grin, leaning back with a smug look. “That’s classified info, Ozzy boy,” he says, “But we’ll let you in on the secret if you two either break up or end up getting married.”

Oscar looks at you, his expression practically pleading, as if to say, And you’re in on this too? You’re going to keep this a secret from me?

You can’t help but smirk, knowing how it’ll get under his skin. “What he said.” You and Lando share a quick high-five, laughing at Oscar’s groan.

Then, Lando gives you a sly look, leaning in with a grin. “Honestly though, Y/N, if you ever get tired of waiting on him, I’m single. We’d be campus royalty, you know? Top of the line.”

You snort, playing along. “Oh, totally. Imagine the headlines: Y/N and Lando—A Match Made in Unexpected Heaven!”

“Right?” Lando grins, winking. “We’d be a dream together, love.”

Oscar shifts uncomfortably, crossing his arms as he watches you two banter. “Are you two done planning your imaginary relationship?” He mutters, trying to sound casual but giving you a sidelong glance.

You glance back at him, laughing. “Relax, Osc. Lando’s not even my type—”

“Hey now!” Lando protests, feigning offense.

“—But if he were,” you continue, ignoring Lando’s dramatics, “You’d totally be the best third wheel, bub.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, but there’s a glint of something behind the exasperation, something you can’t quite place. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember who’s actually got a date tonight.”

Lando raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. We’ll let you focus on impressing your date, lover boy.” He smirks. “If she ever gets here.”

You give him another light smack on the head and he laughs as Oscar chuckles along, the three of you settling back into the easy rhythm of jokes and chatter. Oscar seems quieter than usual, but you chalk it up to nerves about the date—or lack thereof.

You’re just relieved to have the same easy vibe you’ve always had with them—after all, that’s what matters most.

When the clock strikes midnight, Michelle is still a no-show. No text, no call, no explanation. And Oscar is...silent. Even Lando, usually quick with a quip, notices the change in Oscar’s mood and dials down the teasing, trying instead to fill the silence by chattering about a game they both play. But even that doesn’t bring Oscar around; his usual lighthearted responses are replaced by quiet nods and distracted hums.

His clothes have long since changed from his date outfit to his usual worn hoodie and sweatpants, but the frown on his face hasn’t budged.

You and Lando have swapped places now—you’re sprawled on the floor, and he’s kicked back on his bed, scrolling on his phone. Oscar lies between you two, his head resting on your lap, eyes fixed on his screen. He’s still waiting, clearly hoping for some sign from Michelle, though by now you’re almost certain that no text is coming.

Eventually, you give him a gentle pat on the cheek, signaling for him to shift so you can slide out from under him and put your shoes back on to make the trek to your own dorm.

“The third roommate moves out,” Lando jokes, leaning back with a sigh. “Always the hardest part of the night, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smirk on your face as you give him a quick hug. “My presence really does brighten up the place, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He grins, playfully nudging you. “Bring her back safe, Osc!” He calls out as you and Oscar step into the hallway.

You and Oscar walk in silence, a heavy quiet that neither of you rushes to fill. After a moment, he reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, and you squeeze his hand back, hoping it’s some small comfort.

“What she did was shitty, you know,” you murmur, finally breaking the silence.

He lets out a laugh, though it’s empty, tired. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? I got all dressed up, wondering how the night would go, and then…nothing.” His voice trails off, resignation in every word.

You stop and turn to him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “This isn’t on you, bub. She should’ve said something.”

He looks at you, eyes tracing the ground for a second before they finally lift, catching yours. “At least you’re here.”

“Perks of being single and unwanted,” you joke, your voice light but the words half-true. You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’ll always be here, Osc. No matter what.”

Hand in hand, you make your way to your dorm, basking in a silence that feels steady, solid. When you reach your door, you pause, turning to him with open arms. He steps into the hug, pulling you close, and you feel him cling just a little tighter, his warmth grounding you both.

After a long moment, he pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders, but he doesn’t let go. “For the record,” he says softly, his gaze steady on yours, "You aren’t unwanted.” His voice grows quieter, serious. “I’ll always want you around.”

For a moment, his words feel loaded, almost more than platonic, and something in his eyes lingers a beat too long. But you brush the thought away, reminding yourself of the boundaries in place—he has a girlfriend, and he’s just been hurt tonight. He’s vulnerable. So you ignore any underlying meanings—ignore the rising tension—and you ruffle his hair, keeping things light.

“Me too, bub.” You smile, patting his shoulder. “I’ll always want you around too.”

With a last squeeze of his hand, you slip into your dorm, leaving Oscar standing there, both of you holding onto that quiet, unspoken promise between you.

Oscar and Michelle break up just before summer, right near the end of sophomore year. You can’t say you’re surprised—honestly, you’d been half-expecting it since that night she stood him up. But when he tells you, his voice low and resigned, you do your best to hide any hint of satisfaction. You give him a steady pat on the back, listen as he mopes through the last few weeks of school, and keep all those unspoken feelings locked away. After all, he’s your best friend, and that’s what he needs most right now.

Still, you can’t deny that a part of you is relieved. He’s spending more time with you again and his hoodies have officially returned to their rightful home—your dorm room. You feel a secret giddiness every time he hands you one to wear, relishing the way it’s soft and warm and unmistakably his. It’s as if things have gone back to how they used to be.

But you’re his best friend, and best friends don’t overthink the little things. So you keep it to yourself, even when you’re studying for finals together, living off caffeine and library vending machine snacks, or trading late-night rants about the professors who dared assign twenty-page essays. You proofread his pages with half-shut eyes at 3 a.m., he helps you organize your chaotic notes, and somehow, you make it through. After every three-hour final, you both wait outside the exam hall for each other, sharing a quiet sense of victory, collapsing into a laugh about how little you actually remembered from all those nights spent cramming.

When the semester finally ends, and it’s time for him to pack for his trip back home to Australia, you help him sort through his clothes and cram textbooks into his suitcase, doing your best to ignore the familiar ache of goodbye.

If your fingers brush a little too long while folding his favorite shirt, or if you find his face lingering a beat too close as you hand him one last book to pack, neither of you mentions it. These almost-moments hang in the air, the silence thick with words you’re not yet ready to say. But it’s enough just to know he’ll be back, that no matter how far he goes, he’s still yours. 

At least, in the way best friends belong to each other.

When he comes back after the summer, now entering into your junior year, you notice he’s different. It’s subtle, but unmistakable—a little more confidence in the way he carries himself, a bit more certainty in his steps. He’s shed some of that awkward charm, replaced by a newfound ease that almost feels strange. You find yourself watching him more closely, catching moments that feel just a little bit different.

There’s a shift between you, too, something new lingering just beneath the surface, threading itself into each conversation. It’s a tension that neither of you dares to name. The way he walks, the way he talks to you—it all feels sharper, more vivid somehow. And the way he says your name now, in that deeper tone with that familiar hint of teasing, makes your heart race a little faster, even though you tell yourself it’s silly.

One afternoon, you’re sitting side by side on the campus lawn, watching students pass by, each absorbed in their own lives. Oscar’s fingers idly pull at the grass between you, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you, lingering just a moment too long. His eyes are warm but searching, as if there’s something he’s been holding back. 

“Do you…miss me over the summer?” He asks, half-smiling but with an edge to his tone, as if he’s testing the waters.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you give his shoulder a playful shove. “Are you forgetting the reason I spend half my summer awake at the strangest hours? Making sure your calls don’t end with me passing out mid-conversation?” You raise an eyebrow, leaning back. “Trust me, bub, you’re impossible to forget.”

“Just wanted to make sure,” he says, jutting out his lower lip in a mock pout. His gaze stays steady on you, his eyes searching yours, and there’s something there—something you can’t quite place but that you feel all the way down to your bones.

You swallow, trying to keep your tone as light as his. “Oh, Oscar. No need to be dramatic. You’ve been stuck with me since orientation.” You smile, warm and reassuring. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He chuckles, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “People have a way of leaving,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “I mean, Lando is.”

His chuckle is warm, but the laugh doesn’t fully reach his eyes. A flicker of something vulnerable, almost haunted, crosses his face. “People have a way of leaving,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, Lando’s about to graduate, and after that…well, things change.”

His words hang between you, stark against the background noise of campus life. It’s a reality you both understand: university, with its friendships, late-night talks, and steady routines, is never as permanent as it feels in the moment. Change is inevitable, and soon, it’ll come for all of you.

You scoot a little closer, letting your shoulder brush against his, grounding him in the here and now. “Lando’s an old man at the edge of freedom, the lucky bastard.” You smirk, nudging him gently. “You and I though? We’re still the same. No one’s going anywhere.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, the weight of unspoken promises lingering between you. His gaze dips briefly to your lips before flicking back up, and there’s a spark of something that feels new, unexpected. It’s as though he’s waiting for the right words, like there’s a tune that neither of you has heard yet playing gently in the background, just waiting for one of you to finally hum along.

You rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath, letting the familiar weight of his presence ground you. “We’ve got time, Oscar.”

He grins, a little reluctantly, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that softens his expression, something unguarded and real. You can feel the silent understanding settle between you both, an unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, some things don’t have to change.

Not yet.

And now, you’re here. Typing out the lyrics to the song you know is going to be for Oscar, while lying on his bed with his arm resting comfortably around your waist, his breathing slow and even beside you. The gentle weight of his arm keeps you grounded, but it’s more than that; it’s the warmth of him next to you, a presence you can’t shake, a feeling that lingers even when he’s not here.

You’d thought nothing had changed between you two. But now, looking back, you see it—small shifts, like puzzle pieces rearranging themselves before you even noticed they’d moved. Maybe it’s the way he’s been studying your face a little longer, or the way he’s been holding your hand more often, or how he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear without a second thought.

Then, there was that moment just a while ago. You’d been sprawled out on Lando’s bed as usual, laughing at some random meme he'd shown you. But Oscar was just watching you, a soft expression in his eyes that felt almost...territorial.

"C'mere," he’d said suddenly, his voice soft but insistent, breaking through your laughter. “Stay with me.”

Lando had raised an eyebrow at Oscar’s request, and you’d missed a small knowing smirk on his lips. But you were more focused on how Oscar’s eyes hadn’t left you, his hand reaching out in a quiet invitation.

You’d moved over to him, hesitating for only a second before settling into his arms. The way his hand had rested on your waist, his fingers drawing small circles there as you leaned against him, felt different—like he was anchoring you there, like he wanted you closer than usual. And though he’d acted like it was nothing, you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat pick up against your shoulder.

Now it’s just the two of you, the quiet of the dorm settling around you, warm and easy. Lando had left a while ago, heading to a friend’s party and leaving you and Oscar alone—though not before snapping a couple photos of you two on the same bed. The dim light from the streetlamp outside filters through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room, and you can’t help but notice how natural it all feels—like you were always meant to be here.

Oscar stretches beside you, facing you with his hazy eyes and that familiar, sleepy smile. There’s something gentle in his gaze, a kind of warmth that makes your pulse skip a little, though you try to ignore it, focusing instead on the slow rhythm of his breathing and the subtle sound of his laughter still echoing from earlier.

“Comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low and a little drowsy. His hand, warm and steady, rests lightly on your shoulder as he draws you closer.

“Yeah,” you say, not even bothering to hide the smile in your voice. It’s almost ridiculous, the calm that fills you while you’re with him—no masks, no obligations, just the two of you in the cozy quiet.

Minutes pass in an easy silence, your head resting just close enough to his that you can feel his breath against your cheek. When you look up, he’s already watching you, eyes half-lidded, a softness in them you haven’t quite seen before. There’s a vulnerability there, something almost unguarded, as if he’s waiting for you to catch onto a feeling that he’s carried all along.

Your eyes drift closed, and soon enough, the quiet thrum of his heartbeat beside you becomes a lullaby, easing you to sleep with a sense of comfort you can’t remember feeling anywhere else.

When you wake the next morning, soft sunlight is spilling through the blinds, warming the room with a gentle glow. For a moment, you’re disoriented, blinking away sleep and adjusting to the soft, steady breathing beside you. Then you remember—you’re still here, wrapped in the blankets beside Oscar.

Oscar stirs, his eyes fluttering open just enough to catch you watching him. A lazy grin tugs at his lips, and his hand, which had somehow ended up wrapped around yours, gives the smallest, sleep-tinged squeeze.

"Morning," he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," you reply, feeling a warmth settle over you that has nothing to do with the morning light filtering through the blinds. There’s a pause, a soft kind of stillness stretching between you, as if the world outside doesn’t exist yet and you’re suspended here, in this quiet, shared moment.

"G’moooooorning," Lando groans from across the room, his voice muffled by the covers. The two of you chuckle, knowing he’ll be facing a brutal hangover today.

Still smiling, you shift to sit up, and that’s when it hits you—just how close you and Oscar are, practically nose to nose on his twin bed. His hand is still loosely draped around yours, and you can feel his steady breaths, warm against your cheek. The familiarity of it sends a pleasant hum through you, a feeling of rightness that’s been quietly building in moments like this.

Oscar’s gaze catches yours, his eyes lingering just a bit longer than usual, and you notice the small smile playing on his lips, a little shy, a little more awake now. For a split second, something in his expression feels different—like there’s a question he hasn’t quite asked, or a confession he’s almost ready to say.

You feel a flicker of something, unexpected and thrilling, settle in your chest. And in that moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, there's something more here. 

But you shake the thoughts from your head. You’re just friends. Best friends.

Oscar’s bed is quickly becoming your new headquarters, if only because he won’t let you sit on Lando’s anymore. He insists it’s practical—Lando’s bed is too far from his side of the room, and Lando would complain about your stuff spilling over anyway—but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it. And Oscar’s growing possessiveness over “his side of the room” only fuels that suspicion.

One afternoon, as you’re curled up in his bed, typing out lyrics on your laptop, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, smiles, and excuses himself to take the call, wandering to the far side of the room. You’re too focused on your song to notice right away, but something about his tone pulls you from your work.

“Hey, yeah…I know, I know,” he says, his voice soft and a little bashful. You can’t make out the other end of the conversation, but whatever they’re saying has him pacing, one hand ruffling his hair as he mutters a response.

He sighs a second later, a smile playing on his lips. “Come on, it’s not…it’s not that easy, alright?” He glances over at you, catching your eye for a brief, vulnerable moment before quickly looking away, his cheeks tinged with color. “I don’t think she’s...aware of anything like that. Not yet, at least.”

You can practically hear the teasing tone from the caller without even needing the words, and Oscar groans, running his hand over his face. “Okay, but… what if… I mean, what if it messes things up?”

You pretend to be fully absorbed in your screen, fighting back a small smile. You can’t hear the other side, but the snippets you catch send a warm flutter through your chest for some reason. 

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, conceding. “No, I get it. I do.” He steals another glance your way, a softer, unguarded look in his eyes, something unspoken. “Look, I’ll...I’ll think about it, okay?”

When he hangs up and returns to the bed, there’s a new, nervous smile on his face, like he’s holding back.

“Good talk?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light, though curiosity buzzes in your chest.

“Yeah, uh, just Hattie,” he says, still sounding casual, though his eyes are filled with something quieter, maybe even hopeful. He hesitates, as though choosing his words carefully. “She, um…thinks I should take more risks.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, leaning in, feeling the familiar, magnetic pull between you. “What kind of risks?”

He laughs, though there’s a nervous edge to it, his gaze dropping to the edge of the blanket as he fidgets with it. “Just…the ones that aren’t obvious until you actually go for them, I guess.”

You hum, shifting back to your lyrics, though your heart skips a beat. The air between you feels charged, like you’re both on the edge of something new and a little terrifying.

It’s two weeks before the open mic, and you’re sitting at your desk, carefully polishing every line, every note of the song. There’s a rhythm to it now, a familiarity as you hum the lyrics under your breath, and suddenly, it hits you—this song, this performance, everything…it’s for him.

You're in love with Oscar Piastri.

You don’t exactly know when it happened—the exact moment it shifted from comfortable friendship to something deeper. Maybe it was that quiet moment on the field when you swore he looked at your lips a little too long, or when you found yourself deciding to dedicate this song to him. Maybe it’s always been this way with you both, feelings going deeper but never having the chance to be more.

Now though, it’s glaringly obvious. And it’s stressing you the fuck out.

Lando, on the other hand, is having the time of his life.

“Oh, thank the heavens!” He snickers, barely containing his glee as you finally confess it to him, late one night while Oscar’s out with other friends. He dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye. “I was starting to think you’d never figure it out!”

“It’s not funny!” You groan, slumping back into the chair across from him, running a hand through your hair.

“It soooo is!” Lando cackles, his laughter echoing through the room. “I mean, come on, Y/N. You were acting all kinds of weird back when he had a girlfriend!”

You sit up defensively, crossing your arms. “I was being a good friend! I even hung out with her!”

“On hangouts you always had issues with!”

“She was never on time and flaked constantly!”

He rolls his eyes, his smirk widening. “Fine, fine. But what about the fact that you basically live here now, huh? You and Oscar are like a package deal.”

You stick out your tongue. “You like having me around.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he admits, smirking. “But come on. It’s obvious now—you’ve liked him for ages.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping as the weight of the truth settles in. “Yeah. I guess I have.” You let out a breath, feeling both relieved and nervous now that you’ve finally said it out loud.

Lando leans forward, raising an eyebrow. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

You blink, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. “I mean…do I have to do anything? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Lando gives you a look, the kind only a big brother can give, full of patience and a hint of frustration. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung the stars. Seriously. You could be a serial killer and he’d be wagging his tail while helping you dig a hole.” He chuckles. “He’s madly in love with you. I swear it.”

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through you at his words. But you still shake your head, hesitant. “You think so?”

“Duh,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Look, don’t overthink it. Just play your song, put it all out there, and see how he reacts. You’ll know.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a playful nudge. “When did you get so wise?”

“Probably when I had my graduation photos taken,” he grins, brushing you off.

You laugh along with him, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s all you need to do—play the song, let the words say everything you’re too afraid to put out there, and hope he hears it in all the ways that matter.

Two days before the open mic, you’re practicing alone in the small rehearsal room on campus, running through the song again and again. The lyrics are practically engraved in your memory, but each time you sing them, they feel heavier, more vulnerable. You’ve poured so much of yourself, of your memories, into these words—it’s impossible not to think of him as you sing them.

The door creaks open, and you almost jump out of your skin. Oscar steps inside, an easy smile on his face as he leans against the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Hey,” he says, his voice low and soft, “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up as you try to act casual. "Just practicing,” you say, glancing away and strumming a few absent chords on your guitar. “You know, trying to make it sound…not terrible."

He chuckles, shaking his head as he walks further into the room. “Not a chance of that. I know it’s gonna be incredible." He stops just a few feet from you, and suddenly the room feels much smaller. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this serious about something that wasn’t for our grade. It’s kind of amazing.”

You laugh, a little too nervously. "It might have turned out to be more important to me than I originally thought.”

He watches you, and there’s something unreadable in his expression, a mix of admiration and curiosity. It makes you feel exposed, as if he can see right through you, into the meaning behind what you just said, into all the feelings you’ve been trying so hard to keep under wraps since you realized.

“Since we met…” You trail off, catching yourself, unsure if you want to finish that sentence.

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Since we met…what?” he asks, leaning a little closer, his gaze locked onto yours.

The words almost spill out—how you can’t help but think he looks like an angel when he smiles, or how sometimes you wonder what it would be like to kiss him in a moment like this, your mind drifting to the memory of the two of you dancing in the rain, soaked and laughing as if it’s just the two of you in the world. 

But you’re not sure you’re ready for that. Not with the performance so close, and definitely not when he’s standing here looking at you like that.

Though what that is, you can’t say. Or maybe you’re still too scared to find out.

Instead, you manage a small smile, shrugging. “I don’t know…since we met, it’s just been…magic,” you say quietly, the word barely louder than a whisper.

There’s a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, something soft and almost vulnerable, and then he smiles. “Yeah…yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. He’s close now, close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a second, it feels like maybe you’re not the only one feeling this.

It takes everything in you not to lean in, not to close the distance. Instead, you look away, your heart racing. "So…you’ll be there? For the performance?"

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says, his voice sincere, and the way he’s looking at you makes it feel like maybe he means more than just the performance.

When the open mic comes, you’re almost a wreck, nervous and excited all at once. When the night of the open mic finally arrives, you’re a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling each second tick by as the lights dim and the hum of the audience grows. Backstage, you tighten your grip on your guitar, casting one last look through the curtain to see if he’s there. But he isn’t.

A pang of disappointment settles into your chest. You tell yourself he’s probably just running late and that any second, he’ll slip in, giving you that half-smile he always has when he knows he’s kept you waiting. But a part of you can’t shake the small, sinking feeling that maybe…maybe you were hoping for too much.

But Oscar’s never let you down. And you don’t think he’d start now. 

When your turn comes, you take a deep breath and step onto the stage, feeling the warmth of the spotlight, and yet the crowd feels distant—none of them the person you want there the most. Settling into your seat, you scan the room one last time, but he’s still not there.

With a quiet sigh, you look down at your guitar, anchoring yourself in the familiar strings, the melody you’ve practiced countless times. You close your eyes, letting the weight of your feelings pour into the chords, filling every note with the things you’ve never been able to say.

Your voice starts soft, and as you sing, memories start playing in your mind. You think of meeting him at the Freshman orientation, the awkwardness, the fragility of the budding friendship—but you also think of the way you knew he was gonna be a part of your life, the certainty with which you realized you like having him around.

Hey darling, I know looks can be deceiving, But I know I saw a light in you And as we walked, we would talk, And I didn’t say half the things I wanted to.

You picture him beside you, the way his voice dips low when he’s teasing, the way his hand always seems to find yours in crowded spaces, like it’s second nature to him. A small smile tugs at your lips as you sing, the words becoming more and more specific to your story with him.

The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you say my name It's beautiful, wonderful—don’t you ever change.

Each word spills out, heavy and vulnerable, leaving you bare as you play. Every line is something you’ve kept close, something you’ve been afraid to say, and it’s only now, on this stage, that you’re finally able to let it out.

Hey darling, why are people always leaving? I think you and I should stay the same.

Each note, each line is a confession, a quiet vulnerability you let slip through the melody, hoping he hears it—wherever he is. 

As you near the song’s climax, your gaze sweeps over the crowd, people swaying in time with the music, and then, finally, you see him.

He’s standing near the entrance, face slightly flushed, like he’s just rushed in, but he’s there, his eyes fixed on you with a look that sends a surge of warmth straight to your chest.

When he catches you looking, he raises his hand in a small wave, a hint of that familiar grin on his lips. The weight on your chest lifts and you feel a renewed sense of purpose, like you’re the only two people in the room, your voice steadying as your gaze stays locked on his.

Hey darling, I could give you 50 reasons why I should be the one you choose.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you can’t help but imagine all those reasons, each one racing through your mind. You could probably give him more than fifty—and every one of them would be true.

All those other girls, well, they're beautiful, but would they write a song for you?

When you sing that line, he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. The sight makes you laugh, your voice softening as you step into the final chorus, feeling like every word has finally found its rightful place.

'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain So, come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you Can't help it if there's no one else

The last notes hang in the air as you let the final chords fade, your fingers gently leaving the strings. The song comes full circle, wrapping up with the melody that began beneath the oak tree, when you first decided to give this song to him.

The applause swells, and you stand, bowing before making your way backstage, where you know he’ll be waiting. Heart pounding, you step through the curtain, and there he is, leaning against the wall, hands behind his back, looking at you with a combination of expressions you’ve never quite seen on him before—soft, maybe a little nervous, with a hint of pride shining in his eyes.

“You’re late,” you tease, unable to keep the grin off your face.

He smiles sheepishly and, with a slight flourish, pulls a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind his back. “Turns out flower shops are in high demand on nights like this.”

Your heart melts a little as you take the bouquet, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of the flowers. “You’re forgiven,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

He rolls his eyes in playful relief. “Good. You get cranky when you’re mad.” He chuckles as you give him a slight nudge. “C’mon let’s get out of here. Dinner’s on me.”

You nod, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and relief, and hurry to pack up your guitar. As you walk out together, his hand finds its place gently but firmly on your hip, guiding you toward the door. And if you notice the way he pulls you just a little closer, his fingers lingering as if they belong there, you don’t say anything—you just smile and let yourself fall. 

For once, maybe things are exactly as they should be.

Dinner’s casual, nothing too fancy, but there’s a shift in the air. He’s more forward now, his fingers brushing against yours with a confidence you haven’t seen before. He holds your hand a little tighter, his gaze lingering on your lips more often than it ever has.

Lando was right. You knew it. And so did he.

The meal feels familiar—easy laughter, the same teasing banter, inside jokes that still land with ease. But beneath it all, there’s an unspoken tension, a hum in the air that keeps the silence between you both louder than it should be. It’s the quiet weight of a confession that hasn’t been made, but you both feel it there, just waiting for the right moment.

He links your fingers together as you walk back toward your dorm. The night feels like it’s stretching out, slow and deliberate, each step bringing you closer to something inevitable.

You break the silence first. 

“When did you come in?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“A little bit before you sang…” He clears his throat, his smile teasing. He sings the line with a laugh, "The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name, it's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change."

You groan, embarrassed, but can’t help smiling at how effortlessly he teases you. He laughs, full of heart, and says, “I loved every moment of it.”

“Good,” you reply, the words simple but carrying everything you want to say. You lean a little closer, just enough for him to feel the shift in the air between you.

As you reach your door, you stop, heart racing in your chest. You look at him, trying to gauge what he’s feeling, the question that’s been swirling in your mind now impossible to keep inside. 

“Did you get it then? What I meant to say?”

Oscar’s expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand gently covering yours where it rests on your guitar. “Y/N,” he says, his voice low, “I think I got the message loud and clear.”

Before you can say anything, his fingers brush your cheek, his touch so soft it sends a shiver through you. The world feels like it’s slowing down, the noise of the night receding into the background as he leans in just a little closer. “Play me the song again,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “So I can hear it in full.”

You chuckle, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I should’ve just written a song with fifty reasons why it should be me.”

He shakes his head, a soft smile playing at his lips as his thumb brushes against your skin. “You didn’t need fifty reasons. Just one would’ve been enough.”

“And what would that reason be?” You ask, your breath catching in your throat.

“Because I love you too.”

And then, before you can process anything more, he’s kissing you. It’s soft, tender—like the final note to a song you’ve been playing in your heart for what feels like forever. You melt into the kiss, the world around you vanishing as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapped around you, grounding you in a way that feels like home.

In that quiet moment, as the sounds of the night drift into the background, you realize it was always meant to be this way. All the magic, all the feelings have been there since the day you met. 

Everything falls exactly into place.

[nightxcreature]

Operation Meat Man

Summary: Reader, Jack, Sam, and Cas attempt to steal Dean's Thanksgiving pie without getting caught.

Pairing: DeanxReader

Warnings: None other than cursing and slight sexual innuendo, i believe.

A/N: This was just a fun little thing i started this afternoon, that turned into something much longer than i thought it would be. As always, written quickly and edited poorly. Comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated, stealing my work is not.

18+ only

“Sasquatch, come in, Sasquatch. This is Baby Two. Over.” The walkie-talkie crackles as I release the button on its side. Jack glances nervously over at me from his position on the other side of the door, he places a finger to his lips and nods toward the kitchen where we can hear Dean humming the guitar solo to “Black Dog” as he bastes the turkey.

                I huff in frustration and press the button again, “Sasquatch, seriously, come in!”

                “Why do I have to be ‘Sasquatch’?” Sam’s voice grumbles from the speaker, “You couldn’t have picked anything else?”

                I roll my eyes and bring the walkie-talkie to my lips again, “You shot me down when I offered ‘Samantha’ so no, you don’t get another choice.” I release the button again and nod toward the kitchen, where Jack looks quickly and shakes his head, holding up a finger. “Not yet” he mouths. I press the button and speak lowly, “Cutie-Patootie says the coast isn’t clear yet. Where are you and BFBF?”

                The crackle from the radio doesn’t last as long this time and when he speaks the annoyance is clear in his voice, “BFBF? Is that supposed to be Cas? What does that even mean?”

                “My Boyfriends Boyfriend.” I reply quickly, “That’s not the point, where are you?”

                “We’re on the other side of the kitchen. How did you rope me into this?” He mutters, and I see him quickly stick his head around the opposite door before sneaking back behind the frame, “I mean, the pie’s good, but we could wait until dinner.”

                Jack shakes his head furiously from beside me and holds out a hand for the radio. I slide it over to him and keep an eye on Dean as Jack speaks, “No! He’ll eat it all while he cooks, and you know it!” His eyebrows are furrowed as he whispers into the speaker, and I grin a little at the frustrated look on the Nephilim’s face. I give him a high five as he passes the radio back to me, nodding in appreciation. We watch Dean finally turn his back to us and head to put the turkey in the oven, glancing to one another we nod in unison, matching grins on our faces.

                “Alright, alright. Say when, we’re ready.” Sam’s voice crackles through once more and the grin stretching across my face couldn’t grow any bigger.

                I press the button once more and narrow my eyes at Dean’s back, “Operation Distract the Meat Man is a go.” I crouch down beside Jack as Sam and Cas step into the kitchen, Sam sending a nod our way when Dean turns to face them. We both slide into the room and head toward the oven where I can see the pie filled pan on the stovetop.

                Dean quirks a brow at the two men as he wipes his hands on a towel in the apron pocket, “Why are you in here?”

                “We were just…” Sam glances quickly to Cas as he tries to remember the plan, and I take the opportunity to crawl closer to the stovetop, “Uh, we’re just…”

                “Looking for the remote.” Cas blurts out monotonously, “We thought it could possibly be in here. With you.”

                If Dean’s eyebrows could’ve risen any higher, they would be on the ceiling, I scowl as we wait for his response, “Looking for the remote? In the kitchen?” I send Sam a look of frustration over my shoulder, and he shrugs causing Dean to start to turn his head. My eyes widen as I flatten myself to the floor when Sam slings an arm out and knocks over the empty pots beside him.

                “Hey! Watch what you’re doing!” Dean yells, rushing over to grab the pots from where they’ve scattered by the door, “The remote isn’t in here. Now help me get these up and then get out of here.”

                Cas grumbles something about using the remote as a spoon and slowly walks over to help pick up the pots while Sam slides to block Jack and I from view in case Dean were to look our way. Jack nudges my shoe, nodding toward the pie. I nod back, turning to make sure Dean is nowhere in sight. Seeing his back turned again while he places the pots back where they belong, I lunge forward and jump quietly to my feet. The pie is very obviously still warm, apples and cinnamon coming through the top of the perfectly buttered crust. He latticed the crust this time, and not only am I impressed, I’m a little jealous of his work. The crust is flakey and laid gently one of top of the other, butter shining and juices pouring out of the small spaces between them. My mouth waters as I stare at it, reaching a hand out to snatch it, I pass the pan down to Jack quickly.

                Glancing up, I see Dean’s back is still turned, giving me time to reach for the knife he left beside the bag of flour. As my fingers wrap around the handle, I hear his gruff voice from right behind my head, “Drop the knife, Darlin’.” I jump and send the flour falling to the edge of the counter, coating my jeans and Jack’s hair. The white powder rolls down his back as he lunges to the side to save the pie.

                “Shit.” I whisper as I drop the knife and slowly turn sheepishly to face Dean, “If I tell you I was coerced into this operation would you believe me?”

                He laughs, shaking his head and grabbing the pie from Jacks hands, “You were the brains of this operation,” He places the pie back on the counter and chuckles again as he helps Jack to his feet, “Hit the showers, James Bond.”

                Jack shrugs, sending me an apologetic look before making his way out the door with Cas, who looks more than confused at the movie reference.

“You’re not an international spy, Jack.” He mutters quietly as they leave, “You know that right?”

 Sam remains in the same spot as their voices fade down the hall. He’s trying his hardest to hide the smirk on his face and doing a terrible job. I narrow my eyes and glance between the two brothers. My frown deepens as I raise a single finger and point it directly at Sam, “You gave us up! You did that stupid Winchester telepathy shit and sold me out!”

                A shit-eating grin crosses his face, and he bursts into laughter, “It wouldn’t have worked anyway! You know he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to pie.”

                I roll my eyes and flip him off, “Whatever, Samantha. Don’t ever ask me to change your code-name again.”

                He laughs louder as he heads out the door, returning my finger with one of his own, “Alright, Baby Two. I’ll see myself out.”

                I glare at his back as he leaves, my arms crossed and a scowl on my face when Dean slowly turns me around. His own grin is as big as Sam’s as he stares down at me, placing a fork in front of my face. I glance down at the golden crust on the end and feel my eyes light up.

                “If you wanted a bite of my pie, all you had to do was ask.” He mutters arrogantly, “It’s yours anytime you want it.”

                I hum in response before placing the fork in my mouth. The gooey goodness coating my tongue was delicious, all apple, cinnamon, and butter. The perfect combination of sweet and savory. I smile up at him and place a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you.”

                He places the spoon down on the counter and turns slowly back to face me. His hands reach up to cup my jaw and he places a soft kiss to my lips, “Sweet.’ He mumbles against me, “I didn’t do half bad, did I?”

                I giggle and run my hands up his chest, “At least top two of the best pies you’ve ever made.”

                “Top two?” He asks, leaning into to counter and pulling me along with him, “I think I can make that other favorite later tonight, if I have some help.”

                I smile up at him innocently and reach for the rest of the pie he left behind, “I’m a very good sous chef,” I reply with a wink, “Probably the best you’ve ever had.” I push off his chest and head for the door, pie in one hand two forks in the other.

                He laughs loudly and swats my butt as I walk away, “Share that with the kid. I’ve an extra baking anyway.” He yells down the hallway after me, stopping me in my tracks, “Hey! Why’s your code-name ‘Baby Two’?”

                “The O.G.s in the garage, duh.” I reply with a shrug, “I figured you’d know that.”

                The smile that stretches across his face is beautiful as he realizes the significance. I wink and raise the pie, waving at him before turning the corner toward Jack’s room, “Pie! Love you berry much!”

____________________________________________________________

Dean Taglist: @aylacavebear

Taglist of people I tag all the time😂💕: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @k-slla

If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know!

[m-jelly]

Late night snack - Chapter 2

Vampire Levi x human reader

Trouble arrives for Levi and Erwin, so they must work with the police to stop some dark and twisted trading. You go shopping, meet a fan, take Levi home and it's loving time.

Ao3

Part 3

Levi pressed you against the wall, his lips never parting from yours. He should have left your place about an hour ago to help Erwin, but he just couldn’t let you go. The way your body curved against his, the heat of your body, the taste of you and your darling touch and voice was addictive to him. He was in a pure happy bubble, but he could hear someone walking closer and it annoyed him because he knew very well who was coming.

Erwin walked into your apartment and went up to your blood heater. “Afternoon.”

You pulled from Levi’s lips. “Mm, hi Erwin.”

“Afternoon.” Erwin and you had met two weeks ago and you just clicked. You became fast friends and you were helping him romance a cute thing down at the city hall. Erwin had some control over Levi’s power and strength, but you fully tamed him and Erwin appreciated it a lot. “I figured he would be with you.”

Levi slipped behind you and hugged you tightly. “I’m not leaving.”

“I need you for work.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

Erwin sighed. “Levi.”

Levi hid behind you a bit. “No.”

Erwin looked at you and said your name. “Could you have a word with him?”

You turned in Levi’s arms. “Sweet honey kitten.” You cupped his face. “Be a good boy and go with Erwin, okay?”

Levi pouted. “But you’ll be lonely without me.”

You wiggled his face. “I will be a bit lonely, but when you come back will be so exciting and fun. Think of all the kisses we’ll share when we reunite.”

He nodded as he processed what you said. “You’re right.”

“Plus, you’re off to be strong and brave.”

His eyes lit up. “Yes! I’m off to be very strong and brave.” He kissed you. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

You grinned. “Okay!”

Erwin cleaned up his bottle before recycling it. “If you’re that worried about her, I could always ask our friend Theodore to look after her.”

Levi pouted. “No.”

“What is your issue with him? He’s a good friend.” Erwin laughed. “Is it because he’s clumsy sometimes?”

You looked over at Erwin. “Who is this friend?”

“We have a few, but the one we’re talking about is Theodore.”

You heard Levi growl a little. “Well, I hope I can meet more of your friends.” You kissed Levi’s cheek. “Be safe.” You playfully bumped your fist against Erwin’s jaw. “You too.”

Erwin chuckled. “I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

You waved as both left your apartment. “Bye!”

Erwin walked with his hands in his pockets while Levi dragged his feet. “You have changed a lot.”

Levi pouted. “What do you mean?”

“You enjoyed it when you had to work, but now you pout and show a lot of emotions.” He paused by the car. “It’s a good thing.”

Levi climbed into the back and waited for Erwin to join him. “You think so?”

Erwin nodded. “I do.” He leaned forward and whispered to his driver before sitting back. “You two are good for each other. You bring out the best in each other.”

Levi smiled softly. “I think you’re right.” He tapped on his phone and texted you a bit. “So, what’s the job?”

“Now, I know we usually sort out vampires but the issue here is a human.”

Levi frowned. “Human? What?”

Erwin pulled his phone out and looked at the report. “This human is capturing vampires and bleeding them. He’s not become a vampire, he’s just using the blood to be stronger and heal up.” Erwin put his phone in his pocket. “He’s claiming he’s close to god.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “So, he’s pretending he is a prophet and achieving the lie by using vampire blood?”

“Yep.”

Levi clenched his fist tightly. “What the fuck are the police doing?”

“They called me.” Erwin looked over at Levi. “They said that we can have this. I was surprised that they called, but they weren’t sure how to handle this so it must be bad.”

Levi leaned his arms on his legs as he stared at the floor. He said your name with deep love. “I worry about her. If she knew how terrible things were, the things I’ve done, the things I do…she’ll…she’ll leave me.”

Erwin placed his hand on his dear friend’s shoulder. “She loves you more than you think. I know she’ll stay with you even after you’ve told her everything. Trust her, Levi.”

He nodded as he considered Erwin’s words. “You’re right. I trust in her and love her.” He climbed out of the car and glared at the high-rise building. “Tch, fucking businessmen.”

Erwin walked with Levi. “They’re the scum of the earth, especially the ones on wall street.” He paused by the door and saw a sign put up for vampires that said all are welcome. “Thank goodness for that sign.”

Levi stormed into the lobby and up to reception. “Erwin?”

Erwin leaned on the table. “Hello, miss, mind telling me what floor Mr White is on? I would really appreciate it.”

She blushed a little at seeing the two handsome vampires. “Top floor.”

He winked at her. “Thank you so much. Oh, and thank you for putting a sign up on the door.”

She nibbled her lip. “All are welcome here.”

Erwin chuckled. “What a lovely lady you are.”

Levi huffed. “We need to get going.”

Erwin walked with Levi. “Let’s race up the stairs. Shouldn’t take us long.”

The lady at the front desk gasped when the two men became blurred as they rushed off up the stairs. “Vampires are hot.”

Levi slammed the double doors open and stopped in front of Mr White’s desk. He saw Mr White flinch and drop a bottle causing blood to glug out onto the desk. “Mr White.”

He shoved his chair back, but Erwin grabbed the back of his office chair and trapped him. Mr White shook in his seat. “Mr Smith and Mr Ackerman! H-Hello.”

Erwin leaned over White’s shoulder. “Say, Mr White, that’s an interesting colour of drink you have for a human.”

“I-It’s a medical d-drink.”

“That so?”

Levi picked up the bottle and sniffed. “Vampire blood. Odd medical drink.”

Erwin hummed. “Interesting medicine, right Levi?”

Mr White laughed nervously. “I-it’s just medical!”

“Levi?”

Levi used his speed to act. He launched the chair across the room before grabbing Mr White’s neck and slamming him against the window causing it to crack. “Talk, Mr White, or I show you what happens to the human body when it falls from 40 floors down to a tarmac floor.”

Mr White sobbed. “Okay! Okay! It’s vampire blood.”

Erwin walked over and looked up at the scared businessman. “Where did you get the blood from?”

He nervously kept looking over to the same spot in his office. “I uh…it’s donated because I-I’m a prophet!”

Levi looked over at a painting of Mr White as Jesus. “You seem to really love that painting, huh?”

“N-No!”

“Erwin, you might want to take a look.” He flipped Mr White, crashed him into the marble floor before grabbing his ankle and dragging him. “Let’s have a look at what’s there.”

Mr White wheezed. “P-Please.”

The squeaking of Mr White’s sweaty body being pulled against the marble floor filled the room. Both the smart shoes of Levi and Erwin did join in, but Mr White’s sobs took over. All of them came to a stop in front of the large painting. Levi and Erwin weren’t religious, but this painting was making a mockery of those who did have faith.

Levi grunted. “It’s a door.”

Erwin grabbed the edge of the painting before ripping it off the wall to show a huge safe door. “I wonder what’s behind door number one. Levi?”

Levi handed Mr White���s leg over to Erwin. “Got it.” He walked up to the door, tapped his knuckles against it and hummed in thought. “Couple of feet thick.” He grabbed the handle and pulled a little causing it to groan loudly. “Easy.” He yanked the door off and held it above his head. “Where do you want this?”

Mr White screamed. “He’s a monster!”

Erwin pressed his foot against the man’s chest causing him to gasp. “Quiet.” He looked around. “Anywhere will do.”

Levi threw it to the side causing the marble floor to crack and splinter everywhere. He looked at the opening to see it was pitch black and something didn’t feel right. “Erwin?”

Erwin moved closer to the opening. “Something…it’s not right.”

Levi grabbed the back of Mr White’s neck and dragged him into the dark. “Tch, what the fuck do you have in here?” He banged his fist against the light switch making the room brighten up and reveal the horror inside. “Fuck.”

The room wasn’t large, but you didn’t need a big room to break people. Chained up by silver were four vampires, their wrists and ankles bleeding due to silver knives constantly pressing against them. Their eyes were just crusted puddles of silver that had clearly been poured into them. The smell inside was horrific which was unnatural for vampires. However, these vampires were not normal and appeared to be infected by bad blood. When a vampire’s blood becomes tainted they lose their minds and become mindless beasts. The vampire illness was long gone from the world, but this man had found a strain and some weak vampires.

“He’s bleeding them.”

Erwin leaned closer to a vampire and sniffed. “These vampires are practically dead.”

Levi shoved Mr White against a vampire’s oozing wound from the infection. “Tch, look what you’ve done, you shit! All these lives were ruined because of you!” He leaned towards Mr White’s ear. “Do you feel holy now?”

Erwin pulled back and took his phone out. He dialled the police captain and sighed. “Captain, I need a word with you. You were right, Mr White was bleeding vampires, but there is something very concerning here.” He looked over at Levi. “I’d get here before Levi kills Mr White.” He hummed as he listened. “Understood. Thank you.” He ended the call. “Levi? Try not to kill Mr White, the Captain is heading over here.”

Levi glanced over at his friend. “Can I break him?”

“Yes. Like I said, no killing.” Erwin put his hands in his pockets and watched as Levi covered the floor and wall in blood. The screams of Mr White were like music to his ears. He glanced at the vampires to see they weren’t reacting to human blood. “These vampires really are lost.”

Levi stopped beating Mr White for a bit. “No reaction. Tch, this fucker.”

“No. Killing.”

Levi shook a little as he tried to control his rage. “I just keep imagining it’s my bunny in there.”

Erwin patted Levi’s shoulder. “I understand.” He looked over at the entrance to the secret room to see the Captain enter. “Captain.”

The Captain looked around the room slowly as he tried to process everything. “What in the world?”

“I called you because there vampires here are almost mindless. He’s infected them with an old virus. We need to know where he got this and how.” He folded his arms. “Buying a virus is a bioterrorist act. If there was no virus, I would take care of this but you need to be involved.”

The Captain looked up at one of the vampires. “I would like to work with you on this. Having the support of your group would be appreciated.”

Erwin offered his hand. “You have our support.”

He shook Erwin’s hand before looking over at Levi. “Mind calling him off?”

“Levi? Let’s go home to your girlfriend.”

The Captain’s brow raised. “He has a girlfriend?”

Erwin nodded. “Yep and he’s madly in love with her, so it’s very useful in getting him to behave for me.”

Levi walked over to Erwin. “I need to clean before I see my bunny.”

“Use the bathroom here. I’ll finish chatting with the Captain.”

Levi bowed his head before hurrying past the police scaring them a little. He barged into the bathroom and cleaned himself up as panic started to set in. All Levi could think about was how his actions would terrify you. He strongly believed that you would hate him if you knew all the things he did. He didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t lose you because you were the love of his life.

“Levi?” Erwin leaned in the doorway. “You’re spiralling. She loves you for you.”

Levi turned and faced his friend. “I just worry I’ll frighten her.”

“You two need to talk.”

Levi walked with Erwin. “What if she leaves me? I can’t live without her.”

Erwin chuckled. “You had a life before her.”

“It was a bad life. It’s better with her.” He whined a little. “I need her.”

You huffed as you looked between two bottles for Levi. Both would heat blood for him, but you didn’t know which one he’d like more. You pouted as you thought hard and then it clicked. “Ah! This one.” You decided to get him one with bunnies all over it and then hurried to the section with human thermal cups and grabbed one with black cats on.

“Batbunny?”

You gripped your basket as your hair stood on end. You loved meeting fans, but there were some mental and physical scars from some crazy fans. You slowly turned to see a woman smiling with a cute goth look. “H-Hello.”

She gasped and bounced a little. “I’m a fan. I love your streams and videos!”

You relaxed because the vibes you got from her were soft. “Thank you so much.”

“Are you releasing more merch soon? I’d love to get more. You make such cute things.”

You pulled a face as you thought. “I wasn’t thinking about it, but maybe? I did talk to the team and I was thinking maybe a witch bunny?”

“That’d be so cool!” She eyed your basket. “Sorry, I stopped you while shopping.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

She shifted a little on the spot. “Could I get a picture or something?”

You shifted close to her. “Mm.” You smiled with her as she took a selfie. “Do you want me to sign anything?”

She admired the picture before gasping in delight. “Really? That’d be so cool!” She fished around in her bag-shaped like a coffin and pulled out a little book. “Thank you.”

You signed your name and drew a little bunny. “How are things? How are you doing?”

She took the book back. “I’m doing better than I was. I reached a dark moment, but I’m fighting through it and having you there most nights just chatting and playing games…it really helped me.”

You welled up. “I know how you feel. Do you want a hug?”

“Y-Yes.”

You hugged her tightly. “You’re so brave, strong and amazing to be here in this life still. Keep fighting.” You pulled back and smiled. “You are loved.”

She smiled. “Yes.” She gasped as something clicked. “Oh, are you shopping for you and your new fella? Is he here?”

You hugged yourself. “He’s not here. I wish he was, but he’s been very busy with work.”

You were right, Levi had been incredibly busy and it was due to work. Levi made it very clear to you that he loved you and it wasn’t avoidance, he had something bad pop up. He had been honest with you and told you about the tainted blood, the virus and the sick vampires he’d found. Levi said he was going to tell you everything that was going on in his life and the things he did. All you needed to do was wait for him to come home and he was going to open up more.

She nodded. “I bet you miss him.”

“So much.” You let out a long sigh. “I hope to see him soon. I’m doing a shop for him right now.”

“He has very pretty tattoos.”

You nibbled your lip as you thought about Levi’s beautiful hands, muscular arms and the stunning tattoos on him. “He does.”

She blushed. “I should leave you be.” She looked behind you as her eyes widened. “Oh…oh wow. He’s…”

You turned around to see Levi walking around the shop looking like an angry guard dog. He spotted you and instantly lit up, he smiled softly and hurried over to you. You giggled at how he went from someone scary to someone wonderful. “Levi.”

Levi charged for you and ignored everyone around him. He tackled you into a hug and hummed in delight. “I missed you.”

You hugged Levi with one arm. “I missed you too.”

He pulled back a bit. “You hugged me with one arm.”

You showed him your basket. “I have a shopping basket.”

“But.”

You placed it down and hugged him tightly. “Mm.”

“Better.” He released you and noticed the goth girl. “Oh, hello.”

You petted Levi’s chest. “She’s a fan of mine.”

Levi picked up your basket. “Thank you for being a fan.”

She squealed in delight. “I can’t believe I’m meeting Leviathan. You two are just so perfect for each other.”

Levi pulled you against him. “Mine.”

“I better leave you both to it, I can imagine you have things to do.” She waved to you. “Bye Batbunny!”

You waved to her. “Bye-bye.”

Levi gripped your basket. “What you getting?”

“Secret.”

He pouted a bit. “Can I buy it for you?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m buying you things.”

“I don’t need anything, I need only you.”

You patted his cheek. “I understand, but I want to spoil you.” You held his sleeve and pulled him around the shop until you were done. “Close your eyes while I’m paying for everything, okay?”

Levi chuckled. “Okay, closing them.”

You paid for everything and patted his cheek. “All sorted.”

Levi opened his eyes and smiled. “I love looking at you.” Nuzzled his nose against yours. “Oh, I’ll carry that bag for you.” He held it and took your hand. “Let’s go home.”

You hummed a laugh as he showered your hand with kisses. “Levi?”

He blushed a little. “Forgive me. I’m just so happy.” He hummed and led you to a car. “I drove by car today, hope that’s okay? I know you love my bike.”

You hurried over to his black car and marvelled at its beauty. “This car is perfect,” you said. “It looks comfy.”

He opened the door for you. “Get comfy, okay?”

You slipped into your seat and wiggled into the spot. You waited for Levi to get in before speaking. “It’s very roomy.” You looked over at Levi and rubbed your thighs together. “You have tinted windows so people can’t see in.”

Levi tapped his thumbs against the wheel. “It’s a good car.”

“Room in the back too. Do these seats go back as well?”

“Yes.” He glanced over at you. “What are you getting at?”

You gripped your seatbelt. “I have some thoughts and some ideas.”

He chuckled. “Really? What kind of ideas?”

You massaged his thigh and moved your hand up slowly. “I want to do something for you.”

He gripped the wheel tightly. “I uh…what…what kind of thing?”

“Pull over somewhere private and I’ll show you.”

He turned his car. “We’ll go to yours as it’s close.”

You pouted a bit. “Okay.”

He parked in the little spot he had at your place. “I’m curious about what’s happening in your cute head.” He grabbed your bags and followed you into the lift. “You’re a fun little mystery.”

You giggled as you leaned against the lift wall. “A mystery only you can explore and solve.”

Levi growled a little as he eyed you. “Just the way I like it.”

You walked out of the lift and unlocked your door. “Come on, handsome. Follow the cute little bunny.”

Levi raced after you and tackled you into a hug. “Bunny.”

You wrapped your arms around him as you kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you always.”

You pulled him along to your sofa and sat him down. “Get comfy.”

He parted his legs and hummed as he watched you. “What are you planning?”

You ran your hands up his thighs slowly as you knelt. “You look so cute. You’re a man in control and confident, but as soon as I’m not shy you get all flustered.”

He gulped hard. “You just keep me on my toes so much.”

You undid the button on his trousers. “Levi?”

“Mm?”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Can I uh…you know…suck your dick?”

He went bright red. “U-uh, y-yes. S-Sure.” He pulled at his shirt a bit. “Don’t f-force yourself though.”

“I asked for his. If it makes you comfortable I won’t.”

“I’m comfortable. I just.” He laughed nervously. “I mean…it’s you. I love you. I’m very attracted to you. I just…I don’t want to disappoint you.”

You leaned up and cupped his face. “I’ll love you no matter what. I’m sure you look and taste perfect. Besides, it’s okay if you don’t last as long as you want.”

He caressed your cheek. “If you let me touch you or eat you after.”

You giggled. “Deal, now sit back and relax.”

He watched you open his trousers and stare at his bulge. He grunted when you pushed your hand into his boxers and pulled his erection out. His hard length sprung out and tapped against his abs. Normally Levi was confident, but with the love of his life looking at his most intimate part, he was embarrassed. He turned his head to the side and whined a little.

Your eyes widened in awe at how beautiful he looked. He was thick, not too big with a cute pink tip. His shaft was a lovely smooth and light colour with a vein wrapped around it. “Levi.”

He placed his hand over his face. “Tch, I know it’s ugly.”

You touched his tip before running your finger down his shaft. “You’re so pretty.”

Levi moaned at your touch as a shiver ran through him. “S-So…mmm…” He peeked a bit. “R-Really?”

You massaged his length. “Mm, very pretty.” You leaned closer and kissed his tip. “Your skin is so soft too.” You titled your head and kissed his cock. “Hmm. Heavy too.”

“Y-you like it? You like me?”

You nodded as you licked your lips. “I love it.” You stuck your tongue out and ran it up his length causing him to sigh in delight. “Perfect.”

He relaxed against the sofa and closed his eyes as your tongue dragged over him like a cute little kitten. He pushed his fingers in his hair and hummed in delight. A shiver consumed him when you sank your mouth on him. Each hot inch of your mouth was incredible to him. He shifted his legs a little more and felt his body pulsing as you moved your head up and down on him. Each movement from you was electrifying.

He bit his hand a moment. “Fuck, how are you so good.” His fang pierced his hand a little causing his blood to run down it. “Such a hot cute mouth you have.”

He looked down at you and watched for a while as he began to lightly pant. He reached down and massaged his fingers in your hair. He smiled when you looked up at him and hummed against him. The vibration of your hum sent Levi into another world of pure euphoria. He ran his hand to your cheek and ear allowing him to caress you. He chuckled when you hummed a little and mewled against him, he knew you were seeking something from him.

Levi tucked your hair behind your ear. “Good girl.”

The purr of his words of praise was delicious to you. Something about Levi praising you like he did was addictive to hear, you wanted to listen to it for the rest of your life. You tried to take all of him, but it was too much. You pulled back and coughed a little as you felt embarrassed that you let him down, but you were wrong he wasn’t disappointed at all.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing wonderfully, my little bunny. You feel so good.”

You smiled at him. “Really?”

“Yes.” He pulled you up. “Come here.” He kissed you and sighed in contentment. “That’s my bunny.”

“Can I keep going?”

He nodded and let you move back down. “I’m all yours.”

Levi melted against the sofa as you bobbed your head up and down on him, your tongue caressing him in all the right places. He couldn’t control himself, the urge to cum was building up inside him. He gripped the sofa hard as he resisted the desire to buck. He panted as he felt his pleasure increase. His fangs began to tingle as his hunger for your blood increased. He clenched his jaw and growled.

He gasped when he felt his release. He moaned as his cock twitched in your mouth and filled it with cum. He grunted as you sucked and gulped every last drop. “Bunny.”

You popped your mouth from him and smiled. “Did I do-?”

Levi used his speed to slam you against the sofa before you could finish talking. His lips were on yours as he kissed you passionately. He pulled back from your lips, bit the crook of your neck hard and gulped down your blood. “Mm.”

You held Levi against you as you moaned. “Levi.”

He pulled back as his lips and fangs dripped with blood. He licked his lips and moaned your name. “You are a delicious little bunny.”

You felt your whole body heat up. “I-I am?”

He kissed down your body with blown pupils making his eyes look almost black. In one swift motion, he whipped your bottoms off. He admired your thick thighs as they pressed together. “Why are your legs closed?”

You whined a little. “Because I umm…”

Levi massaged the back of your legs as he lightly kissed your knee. “You’re perfect, sexy, cute and lovable.” He parted your legs and dragged his lips down between your legs. “And all mine.”

You cried out in bliss when he sucked on the inside of your thigh before biting down. He moved your legs over his shoulders and dove for your heat. You gasped as his hands plunged and pierced your pubic mound. He lapped up the blood before taking your clit into his mouth. He squeezed your thighs as he sucked and licked you over and over. Your body was on fire with pure pleasure.

Your thighs pressed against Levi’s head making him growl. Your toes squeezed in delight as euphoric bliss rushed through you. The way Levi’s tongue moved against you was such heavenly bliss, you’d never experienced anything like this before. Levi was pure perfection, and he seemed to just know your body and exactly what you needed. He knew how your body worked and what you craved.

You reached behind you and gripped the cushions. “Le-Levi.” You arched your back. “Oh, fuck, Levi.”

He squeezed your thigh as his tongue lovingly rolled against you. He purred sending a vibration through you. A pleasure-filled gasp came from you. Levi could sense everything about you through to your blood and it was music to his ears as he sensed you enjoying everything he was giving you. He could feel you were close and he could wait to taste your blood when you came hard.

You shifted under him. “A-Ah, I’m…mm.” You covered your mouth in embarrassment as you came hard. “Mm! F-fuck.”

Levi lapped at your pussy before crawling up the sofa. “Darling bunny, you are delicious.” He panted a bit. “I want to be inside you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I want it too.”

He shifted a little before pressing his tip into you. He pushed in all the way slowly so he could feel you stretch around him. “You feel incredible.”

You panted a little. “Mm, you’re perfect.”

He tangled his fingers in your hair as he rocked slowly against you, each drag and push of his hips moved his cock perfectly in your pussy. “I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

You dragged your nails across his back. “I will always need you, my love.”

He grabbed the arm of the sofa behind your head and pumped his hips a little faster. “I need your body to remember me, need me, desire me. I need your body to crave me and only be satisfied by me.”

You arched your back and grabbed Levi’s slender hips. “Y-Yes, Levi!”

He gripped the arm of the sofa more causing it to groan under his strength. “You’re mine, mine, all mine.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his thick warm member rammed itself in and out of you, each movement pressed against your g-spot and placed you in a constant state of pleasure. Words failed you as the man above you sang your praise and worshipped your body. You were at the pure mercy of a blood-drinking beast above you and you loved it. There was no going back after being with his man, he was perfection personified.

Levi dove for your neck and peppered loving kisses on your skin. He couldn’t help but smirk when you whimpered and lifted your neck closer to his lips like you were asking for a bite. He panted and sighed against your skin and ear setting your nerves ablaze with bliss. Teasing you was another delicious meal within itself, but deeply teasing you would have to wait for another time.

Your toes squeezed tighter. “Le-Levi.” The desire to be bitten was consuming you. “Please.”

He parted his lips before latching down on you. The cry of delight coming from you was enough to make him rut against you in an animalistic way. Such a beautiful creature you were below him and he couldn’t wait to make love to you all night. He had yet to inform you that a vampire’s stamina, especially a pureblood, was unmatched and almost unending. You were in for a long night.

He moaned against you as your blood pumped into his mouth was sweet, which meant you were cumming and you were cumming hard. He smiled when you screamed out and shook below him. He pressed himself against you as you bucked and spasmed in bliss. He released your neck, cut his tongue and then licked the wound making it heal.

You panted softly as your body tingled all over. You weakly caressed Levi’s cheek as he licked his kissable lips. “Mm, that…you’re…”

He turned his head and kissed your hand. “Darling bunny, you are in for a long, long night. Vampires have impressive stamina.” He leaned closer to you as you gasped. “I’m going to get you cumming all night long before I stuff your pretty pussy with my cum.”

You squeaked in delight. “Levi.”

“Don’t worry, I can only impregnate a vampire. So, you are safe for now and get your pussy filled with plenty of cum.” He knelt up and massaged your pelvis right where his cock was buried making you mewl. “But when I turn you, I’ll breed you like the good little bunny you are.” He eyed you. “Would you like that?”

You nodded as pleasure throbbed inside you. “Fill me with all your cum, Levi. I want to always be filled with it. I want it all. Stuff me with it so that it almost leaks out. When you turn me, breed me good. I’ll give you the best little babies.”

Levi blushed hard. “They’ll be adorable.”

You giggled as you linked your arms around his neck. “What a cute dom you are.”

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: Soc’s

I just did one of these recently going over greasers and so I thought I’d go over Soc’s! Something to keep in mind is they aren’t really a subculture(really neither are our greasers) but are a defined group, clique might be the best word.

Ponyboy explains soc himself in the book by explaining its short for ‘Socialite’

Socialite:

is a person from a wealthy background who is prominent in high society. Who generally spends a significant amount of time attending various fashionable social gatherings, instead of having traditional employment.

Rich > popular

Soc does not automatically mean popularity and shouldn’t be seen as a stand in for a “popular kids”, however there’s an overlap and high likelihood they are popular but it’s not a requirement or the only aspect. The Soc’s are the rich kids.

In the sixties that likely means a two story house, two car garage, full kitchen, finished basement, central air etc. Nice new clothes and a nice car, they’re able to keep up with modern trends in just about everything. They’ll get records and stuff they like with relative ease.

There’s also the social aspect to being a social!

Being social-

Their entire life is about knowing the right people and being in the proper circles, they’re being reared to be the next proper socialites. Typically the women, men too but they’ll get a marketing, sales or board job that’s also primarily knowing people and cutting deals.

They throw ragers now but it’ll soon turn into garden parties and charity luncheons or company picnics. Building relationships and passing money around to each other and to whatever cause of the week they’ll pretend to care for or perhaps genuinely do but are so separated from everyone else it’s still tone deaf. We’re talking that kind of rich here.

For now Soc’s are still young, they may attend family events when needed but are largely left on their own to throw their own things… beer blasts, ragers. Getting in the news for their insanity but being praised in it the next day like cherry says. It’s a weird duality.

Appearance

To be a soc one has to be hyper-vigilant. One has to be presentable. One can never really be themselves or even know themselves. It’s hard to turn it off even when they’re alone, is there anything beneath that smile? Has it ever got a chance to develop? Bringing up Cherry again because she describes it so perfectly in a book that they’d talk without listening to themselves, just to talk, don’t even really know any of their friends but they’re friends because well— no one remembers.

They keep ramping up their antics just to feel something, anything. So you’re jumping greasers. You’re getting wasted. Wreckless, violent etc. might as well get it all out of your system now, it’s harder to burry when you age. They’re losing their minds a little constantly before they learn to completely harden. This is something still prevalent today amongst upper class kids.

Which, again don’t misunderstand me. They do have feelings and they are people I’m just explains how the pressures and demands of who/what they are often leads to completely losing yourself to the collective (there’s so many movies on this lol). Or just simply are lead not to care, too busy either networking or having fun to have a chance to think. Cherry mentioned something on this too, I think if they ever had a moment to stop, for silence or a sunset they’d explode. Need to fill themselves with noise and action to feel.

A lot of their more general behavior, that’s not influenced by the pressures of being Uber rich, overlaps with just plain and regular ‘popular’ kids in school. Not really knowing your friends or what you’re doing but you’re young and hot and you have fun so who cares really?

Soc = prep

While a soc isn’t interchangeable with Popular, they do tend to be. A better synonym would be the Preps/Preppies of the 1980s

Prep:

an American subculture associated with the alumni of college-preparatory schools in the Northeastern United States.

A prep is essentially a soc, just with more focus on the style of clothing and less the social aspect. It’s sort of the overlap with Soc and popular, as if you’re middle/upper middle class but popular and dress in the style you’d be considered a prep.

In the end, Soc refers to the “rich bully” whereas a Greaser is the “working class bully” as specified in my post on them. This is speaking in the stereotypical sense as the entire point of the story is people are more than the surface or stereotypes.

[yagiichan]

cod x fem!reader EDC Week

cod x fem!reader

cod members reaction to you when they first see you out of your tactical gear, and you’re actually dressed up for EDC.

Warning: mentions of smut, 18+ Minors DNI, language. Mentions of breeding.

A/N: EDC literally just happened in my city, and I’ve been into the COD x reader stories recently. It’s not going to be anything impressive, but I hope ya’ll like it. Again, this is my HC for whatever reason. IDK, I don’t really make sense to myself neither, so don’t @ me. :3 This is also my first time posting on tumblr, so please be nice.

FYI I do not know a whole lot of lore, I’m just here for the fun of it, so please do not flame me for any inaccurate/unplausible storytelling I am about to convey.

P.S. I drew the design of the dress, but I referenced an image on pinterest. I apologize as I do not know the original artist for the figure.

----------------------------

Chatter amongst the operatives broke out, as everyone began filing out of the room, from another long debriefing. You were new to the squad, and just barely began speaking to anyone. Layered in heavy combat armor, and face covered with a balaclava and dark round shades every time you’re on base. You don’t like it when people gawk at you, especially when conducting professional business.

You find it easier when you’re covered up. People treated you like a normal soldier, rather than a piece of meat. Though, doesn’t really stop the flirtatious comments coming from your companions.

Soap would linger sometimes, making fun little passes, “What’ve you got hidin’ under there, bird?” You’d laugh him off and just tell him nothing he’d be interested in. He’d quip back “Bet there’s loads I can find interesting, dove…” You continue to laugh, making your way down the dim hallway. The other members, following behind. Gaz would chime in with a “knock-it-off” comment every now and then, but he was just as curious how you’d look too.

Pretty much, everyone has seen one another, considering how long they’ve been enlisted together, so it’s no surprise that fresh meat would immediately attract the attention of wolves.

Ghost, Konig, and Horangi followed from behind, watching you laugh.

“What’s the fresh meat good at anyways?” Ghost asked nonchalantly. Horangi shrugged his shoulders, with a soft “mm-mm”. Konig shook his head at the both of them “Hand-to-hand combat and reconnaissance. Apparently, she’s managed to close the distance on the Captain and threw him straight into the wall.” Ghost scoffed, attempting to burn a hole in the back of your skull. “She is? Look at her” he pointed with his chin, “A literal fuckin’ gnome is what she is.” Horangi chortled a little bit, Konig staying silent.

Price picking up on their conversation, cleared his throat, “You’ll see in due time lads. Someone like that can be the least expected.”

“So, since it’s the start of the weekend why don’t we start with a bang and head down to the pub for a fill?”

 Soap suggested eagerly. The week prior had been incredibly taxing, so everyone was privy to the idea, besides you.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I’ve actually got plans this weekend,” you sheepishly laughed. Soap whined, prodding you on what your plans are. You didn’t budge, only that it was already planned some time ago and you can’t miss you. Despite the constant badgering, Soap deflated in defeat, as Gaz patted his back. Despite the initial rejection, Soap bounced back almost immediately.

Chatting away with you, talking about coming out with them another time. You laughed along, apologizing that you couldn’t attend now, but promised to meet in the future.

Making your way towards your apartment complex on base, you noticed everyone else also shuttling into the freight elevator with you. You tilted your head in confusion, queueing Price,

“Well, we all share the same apartment complex. Compliment of the base we currently reside on. Wants to make sure we’re on the ready for when things go down.”

 You slowly nodded in understanding. You clicked your floor number, 10 and noticed that nobody else clicked a floor number besides 14. You looked at Price again, who sheepishly explained that squads are assigned to their own floors. That, since you’re now part of their operation, you’ll probably need to get the changes made soon.

“S’pparently supposed to bring us ‘closer’, build a bond with one another?”

You hummed in acknowledgement, thinking it was cute, “Yeah, I suppose it makes sense.” Chatter continued, until you reached your floor. Getting off, you said your goodnights to everyone. Soap continued to moan, hoping to get a glimpse of you at some point. Gaz agreeing, and Price chuckling at them.

The brooding bunch discussed themselves the best bar to pick from for the night. As the elevator finally reached their floor Soap clapped his hands together “Welp! How’s bout we all meet up again in an hour aye? Freshen up a lil bit. Maybe catch us a pretty bird tonight,” wiggling his eyebrows with the suggestion.

Sighing at Soap’s obvious desperation everyone agreed to meet in the hallway before heading down to the pub.

“Right! Now, let’s get this party started!” Soap howled, looking like he pregame’d before meeting up with the crew.

Everyone had transferred themselves into fresher clothing, finally peeling away the grime of the week. Excitement slowly brews in the group as they can finally wind down for the weekend. Although everyone had changed into more comfortable attire, the three brooding bunch kept their visages concealed.  All members shuffling into the freight elevator, chattering happily amongst themselves.

As the freight elevator begins its slow descent towards the ground floor, it suddenly stops at floor 10. Voices begin to hush as the door slowly slides open, revealing a woman with a high slit dress, stopping at the waist. Four thin black bands wrapped around strong thighs.

Her upper torso covered with black cloth besides the diamond cut pattern, exposing her breasts with dangerous allure. Her lower face covered by a black cloth that looked infused with the rest of the dress, leaving only her eyes visible, and hair to flow freely.

The unknown woman continued to adjust herself, before looking up into the elevator, capturing the eyes of every man on board.

----

Your eyes gleamed with happiness, pulling your mask down, smiling brightly at the lot.

“Hey team!” You chirped.

Silence.

“Heading out to the pub now?”

More silence. Eyes continued to stare you down. Not sure what to make of who you are. You started to feel awkward. Not realizing that this is their first time seeing you, especially like this.

“Erm… well then, off we go…? Heh…” you laughed nervously, with the door sliding closed once more, and the lift beginning its descent once more.

The ride down was silent and awkward, at least for the men. You just continued to tap away at your phone, not a care in the world, making plans to meet your friend at the festival entrance.

“(Y/N)?? Is that you?” Gaz piped up, still inspecting you from head to toe. You turned towards Gaz, nodding your head and smiling.

“Suppose this is the first time you guys have seen me outside of my Michelin Man outfit huh?”

You laughed at your own joke, not ever noticing the way their eyes grew hungrier by the second.

You never noticed the way Price stood just a little bit closer, in hopes of accidentally bumping into you. He’d blame it on how crowded the elevator was.

You never noticed the way Soap suddenly started spilling all over his words. His face slowly heating up with every time you laughed at his silly antics.

You never noticed the way Gaz was literally, so star struck, only nodding and laughing at whatever you were saying.

You never noticed the way Ghost suddenly stood up a little straighter, rather than leaning towards the rail of the elevator, trying to make himself look taller. More attractive for you.

Or the way Horangi adjusted his glasses every now and then to make sure you don’t catch him staring at you.

Or the way Konig began to fidget anxiously, staring intently at your being, hands held together to hide something that slowly began to rage in his pants. He was sweating profusely.

“Konig?” you questioned, staring up at the hulking 6’10” man.

Shit.

“Are you alright? You’re sweating up a storm.” Everyone began to turn towards him, suddenly finding himself embarrassed. With a few ‘legit’ coughs Konig spoke.

“Just need some air s’all.” He played it off way too cool. The others glared at him with jealousy when you showed concern for him. Konig, though his face not visible to others, smiled a triumphant smile under his facemask.

You smiled brightly at him, breathing a sigh of relief, tugging at his heartstrings even more. Glances were stolen every now and then by your team members. Assessing your body, and trying to determine if it’s the trick of the light, or your thighs are just that delicious. Toned, large, and ready to crush heads.

Oh, how they wished to have their heads between your legs. To have that pretty black dress lifted over their heads, and to hear your sweet voice calling out their names in ecstasy. Your hair sticking to your skin, drenched in the sweat and tears of your pheromones.

To watch the rise and fall of your heaving chest, as your honey coats their face and tongues. Once you’ve had your high, the dress comes off and you smile that bright smile at them, hands cupping their faces whisper-begging.

“Come here, darling… Come to me. I need you, so badly.” You’d pant out, with tears in your eyes, and a wobbly smile on your face, just begging to be ravaged by them. To be pumped with their loads.

Oh, they all wanted you, and you didn’t even know it.

The ride down felt like forever, until the soft ding of elevator is heard throughout, indicating your destination of the ground floor.

----

“So, where are you heading, dressed up like this?” Price inquired.

“EDC. It’s going on for 3 days, but I’ll only be going for two.” You stated excitedly.

“EDC? Wassall that then hen?” Now Soap asking the questions.

“It’s just a music festival. Electric Dance Carnival. Been dying to go, and since we’re out here I wanted to take the chance.” You informed the bunch. They all walked along side you, the rest in silence as Soap continued his barrage of questions.

“Oh, but I won’t be getting insanely lit or anything like that! It’s just an opportunity is all! I’m meeting some friends.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to have your team think you’re some sort of degenerate (hehe).

As you continued to happily chat away, your taxi pulled up. Bounding towards the door you turn back towards your fellow soldiers, not missing a beat.

“Ay, be safe, okay? If you need anything, don’t hesitate to phone me.” You chirped once more.

“Anyways, I’m off then! Be seeing you around!” You waved as you got into your taxi, driving away into the city.

----

Sitting around a table, with a dimly lit light hanging above them, Ghost groaned at the thought of phoning you to let you know that he isn’t feeling well. That he might need some of that ‘comfort’ you were giving to Konig earlier. Felt kind of sweaty. Might need you to take care of him, if you get what I’m laying down.

Price, Konig, and Horangi sat around the table, watching Gaz and Soap playing rounds of pool, but not really committing to it. Something on their mind, pretty sure knowing what, or who, it could be.

“If I died tomorrow, I’d want it to be those thighs wrapped around my head.” Soap dreamt, leaning on his pole.

“Yeah, no shit. Wasn’t expecting any of that. Reckon I’d begin howling at the moon just to have a bite.” Gaz chuckled.

Eyes snapped up at the duo, and then at each other.

Price laid a hefty pat on Ghosts shoulder, reminding him of his comment earlier.

“Still not what you were expecting, weren’t you lad?”  laughing heartily. Ghost grunted at his comment, as did Horangi and Konig.

“I… must admit… I too, was not expecting such a treat tonight.” Horangi shuttered with each word. Konig nodded vigorously.

Still fantasizing about your worry over him. Fretting over his comfort. He was already fantasizing about your wedding. The life you’ll lead together. Breeding you up with his young, having you cry under his weight, with your legs wrapped tightly around him as he drilled his throbbing member deep into your core. Konig shuttered at the thought.

“I’m going to make her mind” Konig stated out of the blue. Suddenly, all eyes snapped at him. Flashes of competitiveness and want evident on everyone’s face. Now, everyone was vying for your affection. And you didn’t even have an inkling of an idea that any of this was going down.

----

I hope ya’ll liked my story. It’s probably all over the place, and that’s okay. It was something I’ve been needing to get out of my system. Something I can go back to when I’m feeling that little itch.  I may build on this for our individual heroes. IDK.

[spaghettixdemon]

J Stands for more words than one PT.2.5

DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

Warnings: Drinking/Drunkenness, P in V, getting freaky in a car, fighting, slight mentions of death, Jealousy??

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Word Count: 323

Little author message here- I wanted to go back to shorter updates so this is a little rambling so I have more space for PT.3! (which is coming out VERY soon)

part 1 here | part 2 here

—————————————————————————————————

“Alright finally done for the day..” Garcia grinned as she loomed over Emily’s desk. Garcia saw JJ back at her desk as well, seeing how annoyed she looked. Whatever was irking JJ didn’t seem to be a big deal, though, so Garcia made her way over to Spencer’s desk, a smile still plastered across her face. “Hey genius is Y/N coming out tonight or what?” Spencer spun to face her, shrugging his shoulders, seeming relaxed. “Uh yeah, I’m pretty sure she was into the idea! She talked about how fun it would be to get to know you all better.” Gracia pouted her lips. “Aww she’s so sweet…I can’t wait to see her later!” She turned back to face the office, walking over to JJ with a pep in her step.

————————————————————————————————

JJ scribbled some notes down, but that makeout session was still fresh in her mind. She was almost in her own world, thinking about Spencer and how he wrapped Y/N into his arms as they kissed. She thought about the desperate expression he made…how he seemed to forget anything outside of that car..” JJ? How bout you? Have the energy to go out tonight?” JJ snapped out of her thoughts. Those thoughts. She swiveled her chair looking at the bubbly, colorful woman before her. “Huh? Oh yeah! I need to get to know Y/N better, obviously!” She smiled, looking over to Spencer, making eye contact. “I have to get ready obviously, but text me where we’re meeting and I’ll be there.” JJ closed her file and stood up getting out of her office chair. She grabbed her bag and coat and looked back at her teammates. “I’ll see y’all later..!” Gracia seemed slightly surprised by JJ’s quick reaction, but didn’t pay it much mind- she had been acting odd all day anyway. “Yes! I’ll message you!” Garcia looked back to Emily with a grin. “Tonight will be so exciting..!”

—————————————————————————————————

taglist: @libraprincessfairy @esposadomd @teenwolfbitches28

[wisteriagoesvroom]

Can we have an overview of you girl!lando 🥺🥺 like the aesthetic and maybe a glimpse or her playlist 🙏

yesss of course. snippets of lyrics i’ve put here before. (will post the playlist once the fic is out!)

moodboard, well you got me trying out the pinterest collage function for the first time so thank you for that too—

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[crossbackpoke-check]

yOu'Re gOiNg fOr a LiTeR? | "Habs react to Quebec Maple facts", 10.22.24