#i just love them so so much. i need to visit more

[caitlinsnicket]

viktor relationship headcanons

warnings: if you squint, you might see something a little intimate, but other than suggestions, there's nothing.

a/n: surprised myself by not only writing this so quickly but also by not including any filth. wow.

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

He lives for shoulder kisses, treating them as a sort of stress reliever.

You visit his lab, bringing him a cup of tea (to make him sleepier and get him to bed quicker), and as you pass by, you lean down to kiss his shoulder.

Even through his shirt, he can feel your warmth, and as you leave, he manages to relax a little more.

Sometimes, before you go, he'll hold your hand and kiss your knuckles, his lips wandering down your wrist and arm until you start pulling him away from the workbench.

On good days—the days when he doesn’t feel as much pain or discomfort just from breathing—he asks for your help removing the harness he wears around his middle section.

He doesn’t actually need the help, but he loves the way your skin feels against his, especially during such an intimate moment, and he savors every second with you.

Putting the harness back on is a hassle, but it’s easier now because you understand.

It’s one thing to force your help on him, and another to ask if he needs it. He appreciates that you ask—and that you back off when he tells you to.

Another bittersweet aspect of your relationship is that he’s always cold. While it’s uncomfortable for him when he’s alone, it’s the best thing in the world when you’re around.

He’ll shiver slightly, and you’ll appear out of nowhere, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and pulling him close, tucking his hands under your thighs and kissing his nose until he’s boiling hot.

You also insist that he drink more warm beverages (except coffee—you banned that from your apartment ages ago), wear thicker clothes, and even use masks in the lab because his colds are always worse than expected.

Viktor insists he’s a grown man perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but when you hold his hands in yours and blow on them, he swallows his pride and lets you. Your love comes in waves like these, and he’s learned to catch as much of it as he can.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his appearance. While that unintentionally makes him a hundred times more attractive, it becomes a problem as he grows more important. It’s hard to explain that he can’t show up to an important meeting looking disheveled and that he needs to fix his hair before leaving the house.

So, you sit him down on the little bench you use to get ready yourself, using some of your products to tame his hair, smoothing down stray locks and ensuring he looks polished. The entire time, he fights to stay awake because of your gentle touch, eventually resting his face against your belly and breathing you in.

When you’re done, it’s a bit hard to get him up and out the door, but you manage by peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose. His heart races at your affection, and he promises to return as soon as possible so the two of you can be together again.

At some point, while redecorating the apartment for the millionth time, a picture falls out of one of his books: it’s him as a child, holding up a toy boat with a huge smile on his face. The sight makes you momentarily consider starting a family right then and there, so you call him over to show him.

He stutters, trying to snatch the photo from your hands, but you stop him, giggling at his embarrassed expression.

"You were so cute as a kid! I mean, you still are, but you looked so small! Baby Vik!" you tease, and he buries his face in his hands.

You end up framing the photo and hanging it on the living room wall, right beside one of your own.

But his absolute favorite thing the two of you do together is bathing. He never saw the point of it before—showering was easier and more practical—but now, he needs at least one bath a week just to keep going.

You fill the bathroom with bubbles, scents, and soaps, and he gets to sit back and relax with you in the warm water (which soothes his pain) in a dimly lit room. He loves it: your hands gently touching him, the care you take to ensure he’s comfortable and content in the tub, and even washing his hair for him.

He finds it almost pathetic how completely in love he is with you.

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[onlyangel4]

off limits. ls18. smau.

lance stroll x alonso!reader

going to visit your uncle at work suddenly gets a whole lot more exciting when you meet his teammate

faceclaim: blanca padilla

y/nalonso posted a story

written: going somewhere very exciting today

y/nalonso posted a story tagging fernandoalo_oficial

written: that's right i'm meeting with uncle nando ahead of the spainish gp !

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story tagging y/nalonso

written: every home gp i am reminded of how grown up she is

f1updates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 23,283 others

f1updates: fernando and his niece y/n have arrived at the paddock for media day, y/n alonso is a model and she has been unable to attend the spainish gp ever since fernando re-joined the grid due to scheduling issues. we are so glad to see her back

view all 2,019 comments

user1: omg she is so pretty

user2: fr real she is going to be turning some heads

user3: this makes me feel so old i remember her from when she was 11 with braces in the paddock

user4: they are icons

astonmartinupdates

liked by user5, user6, user7 and 25,284 others

astonmartinupdates: in case you missed it the funniest thing just happened. aston martin were on stage doing a Q and A with fans when lance pointed to this girl in the crowd and said "what about you pretty girl got any questions?" and she gagged him by replying, "not really i tend to just ask uncle nando any questions i have about racing" and lance's face fell

this man managed to pick y/n alonso out in the crowd and then flirt with her in front of her uncle and his TEAMMATE. he is never going to live this one down

view all 5,283 comments

user5: no nando turning to lance and saying "hold on playboy that girl is off limits" had me dying

user6: i mean i can't blame him she is stunning

user7: i just know fernando proper shouted at him after that

user8: did anyone notice how y/n was blushing a little because girl same

y/nalonso posted a story

written: team colours for race day

fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: the hotel i booked for you said you didn't check in is everything okay?

y/nalonso: yeah don't worry about me uncle nando i got drunk with flavy last night and stayed with her

lancestroll replied to your story: i think i should change careers and become a professional photographer

y/nalonso: is that so

lancestroll: maybe i just got lucky taking a picture of the prettiest girl

y/nalonso posted a story

written: oh how i have missed this

y/nalonso

liked by flavy.barla, lancestroll, fernandoalo_oficial and 583,383 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial. lancestroll.

y/nalonso: had the best time back in the paddock for the first time in six years

view all 56,283 comments

flavy.barla: loved seeing you pretty girl

y/nalonso: was a much needed catch up

fernandoalo_oficial: you are going to need to come back soon

y/nalonso: i am planning on it

lancestroll: it was lovely meeting you y/n

y/nalonso: thank you for making sure i didn't get lost in the paddock

user9: the lance tag and comment, get in there lad

lancestroll posted a story

written: first half of the season done, bring on summer break

y/ninsta posted a story

written: date night

fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: a date, with who

y/nalonso: you don't know him

lancestroll replied to this story: i am so fucking lucky

lancestroll posted a story

y/nalonso posted a story

lancestroll

liked by y/nalonso, fernandoalo_oficial, estebanocon and 1,002,283 others

tagged: y/nalonso

lancestroll: summer break with you is worth remembering

view all 82,192 comments

y/nalonso: i love you so much

lancestroll: i love you too, even if you have a scary uncle

fernandoalo_oficial: if you hurt her, i hurt you

lancestroll: yes sir

user10: i wish i was there when fernando found out about this

user11: this is such a hot couple

user12: i love them so much already

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

@bibissparkles

@milkysoop

@hadids-world

@callsignwidow

@barcelonaloverf1life

@queen-of-the-hunt

@piastrams

@kravitzwhore

@a-beaverhausen

@fangirlforever2000

@formulaal

@azeal-peal

@magical-spit

@that-one-little-soybean

@raizelchrysanderoctavius

@zatarias-pandora

@unknownmystery22

@anotheranotherblogwoah

@leclercdream

@charlesgirl16

@kikiki04

@dullypully

@awritingtree

@stylesmoonlight12

@pippyth3hippy

@hc-dutch

@whosra

@lancestrollsgf

@dying-inside-but-its-classy

@vulkaari

@random-human02

@daisyfreecs

@fandommaniac07

@mbioooo0000

@novelswithariana

@exotic-iris13

@natashaalinovaromanoff1984

@colmathgames2

@ajordan2020

@sltwins

@nichmeddar

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Elise

Request: Basically the reader is the CEO of some big/famous business and has a crush on her secretary but docent think that he likes her. So one day the Readers Sister come to the office for a visit and they are talking in the readers office and her secretary needs to drop off some important papers and over hears their conversation. So then he knocks on the door and acts like he didn’t hear the conversation. Reader’s sister says high and the reader notices how they interact together. So when the Readers secretary leaves the Reader is like “hey I think that you guys would look good together. He totally likes you.” Kinda stuff. And the sister is confused but docent really think much about it. So the Readers sister is staying in town for their friends wedding or something so the sister is always at the office. One day the Secretary decides to ask the Readers sister for help to get with the Reader. And that’s all I got.

A/N: This was so much fun to write, they are so in love with each other, totally would write more of them. This is kind of soft in a hot way, enjoy!

The CEO's minotaur

Minotaur x chubby fem!reader || semi-public sex, heavy making out, office sex

Your sister is in town after a very long time, and you had missed her so much, but right now, with her nagging at you about not acting on your feelings for your hot minotaur secretary… you aren’t so sure about missing her. (That’s a lie, you totally missed her, but dang if it doesn’t annoy you to be told you are stupid).

“Come on, you need to tell him, see if he feels the same way,” she’s saying. She’s told you that at least three times before in the past couple of days, but you still refuse to believe her. What has a hot minotaur to do with his human boss? Nothing.

“Stop it, you know he doesn’t like me that way,” you try to argue for what feels like the thousandth time. “He’s too goo-” You hear a knock on the door and shut up instantly, motioning your sister to be quiet, too. “Come in.” Said minotaur enters the room making you sigh in pent up frustration. His big form looks extra good today, and it does nothing to make you feel any less intense about him.

“I need you to sing these papers, ma'am,” his tone is so formal, and he keeps sending side looks to your sister as she tries to repress her laughter.

“Yes, sure, come here.” You sign the papers he puts on your desk as you tell him: “I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me ma’am, just use my name.”

“Okay…” He says, but you know he’s going to do it again. It almost feels like he likes to call you that, like it gives him some sort of satisfaction to act so proper around you. But that can’t be, right? There’s no way.

You exchange a few more words as he tells you about the calls and schedule for the rest of the day. You give him a list of a few things you need him to do as he smiles, a soft blush covering his cheeks and making you press your tights together. Fuck, you need to get it together.

When he leaves you look at your sister, who is covering her mouth with her hand trying to repress the giggles you bet she’s holding. “Don’t,” you warn her, already anticipating what she’s going to say.

She shuts her mouth but smiles brightly at you, changing topics. A while later, when your lunch break is over and your sister is leaving, she says: “For the record, he totally likes you.” She closes the door just in time to avoid the paper-clip you throw her way, her laughter heard even across the closed door.

Your sister stays in town a few more days, dropping by your office to have lunch with you every single day, saying it’s not always that she can spend time with her CEO sister in her important job. You laugh it out, but you are secretly glad she spends time with you every time she comes to the city. You miss her like crazy when she’s not there, and calls just aren’t the same.

That’s how you are about to round the corner when you hear her voice, talking to someone who shows up in your dreams way too often. “Then how do I approach her?” Your secretary says with a soft tone that makes goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“Just tell her you like her!” Your sister whisper-shouts. She was never good at being subtle.

“But- But… She doesn’t like me back. She’s my boss, and so good. She’s so pretty and powerful, and her aura is so sexy at the same time as kind… And I’m just a minotaur.” You hate the self-depreciation words coming out of his mouth. You want to scream at him that he’s wrong. That you are head over heels for him. Then he says: “She’s just so much better than me,” and you had enough.

You turn the corner and stare at his stunned face. “You are wrong,” you tell him.

Your sister is smiling so big you want to be annoyed with her, but you just can’t. Thanks to her you were able to hear him say those things about you. Fuck, she’s going to hold that over you forever, isn’t she? But at that moment you don’t even care. You just care about his sweet face all blushed in the prettiest shade of brown as he looks at you with big eyes and the hint of a smile.

“I’m going to take that as my cue to leave, have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She tells as she almost runs to the elevator.

You two stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. You scan his form, his proper clothes and soft fur, the way his horns are so big they almost reach the ceiling, the sweet smile that’s spreading across his features as he registers your flushed face. You don’t know who moves first, but before you can process it, you two are in each other personal space, and he’s looking at you intently.

“Can I kiss you?” You don’t even respond, grabbing his horns and pulling him down to devour his mouth in the most hot kiss you’ve ever given (or received).

You make out like teenagers, his hands all over your body as yours explore his. It’s intoxicating to finally be able to kiss him like that, to be able to touch him the way you’ve been waiting for so fucking long. He’s driving you insane in the best way possible and, judging by his moans, he’s no better.

“I need you, I need you, I need you,” you chant against his lips, pushing him softly to your office.

He hauls you up and your legs come around his waist. He walks you to your desk and sits you over it, doing the whole wiping-everything-off-the-table thing, the most cliche move of all times. You giggle as he kisses down your neck, his horns right in front of your face as you grab them to control his movements a bit more. You pull him up and devour his mouth again.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, I’m so fucking gone for you,” he whispers against your lips, his hands cupping your boobs over the fabric of your clothes as you moan. You can’t even tell him you feel the same way, your brain is foggy with desire as you palm the huge erection inside his pants.

“Take me, then. Make me yours,” you ask softly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he tells you with a smirk. You kiss him again, your hands working on his clothes to open them. You think some of the buttons of his shirt fly away, but you can’t care less.

He moves you enough to get your pants off your legs, ripping your underwear as you gasp. His strength turning you on so much you want to scream his name, but instead, you bite his neck to avoid making too much noise. You can’t forget you aren’t alone in the office, the other’s cubicles might be a few hallways away, but if you let out all the noise you want, they will definitely hear, and that wouldn’t be too professional of the CEO of the company.

He apparently can read your mind, because he whispers against your ear: “One of these days I’m going to hear your sweet lips screaming my name as I pound into you,” you groan at his words.

His fingers find your needy hole, pushing one inside without preamble as he starts finger-fucking you into a mess of arousal and pent up frustration. His thumb is on your clit when the second finger enters you, making you move your hips to ride his hand. He hums in contentment, urging you to move faster, to get all your pleasure off him.

“I need you, can I… Can I fuck you?” You take a second to process his words, your brain lost in pleasure to what his hand is doing.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you agree vehemently as he chuckles, taking his fingers away from your dripping cunt and spreading your juices over his dick. When you look down to see, you have to swallow a gasp at the sheer size of him. “You are so big,” you let out without wanting to, covering your mouth in embarrassment.

He chuckles again, caressing your cheek and kissing the tip of your nose. “Don’t worry, ma’am, it will fit.” You don’t doubt his words, seeing as you are fucking drenched with desire.

When you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy, you throw your head back, moaning like a whore as the tapered head breaches you. He breathes hard against your neck, his panting making everything hotter. He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing until he’s so deep inside you can almost taste it in the back of your throat.

Your fucking is frantic and desperate. You kiss each other with such desperation that you end up panting against each other mouth’s. It’s so hot and needy, is the climax of so much pent up sexual tension between you two that your orgasm catches you off guard.

“I’m about to…” You don’t finish the phrase before your body is convulsing and your pussy is fluttering around his girth as he curses loudly.

You bury your face in his neck to muffle your sounds as you come apart in his arms, the pleasure so high it’s almost blinding. He follows you over the edge not three thrusts after, and the feel of his come painting your insides is enough to send you over a second orgasm. You bite down on his neck muscles hard, making him groan and shot another load into your tingling pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when your heart slows down a bit.

“Give me a few minutes,” he jokes, making you giggle.

[aisiedaisie]

hiiii ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ i just found your page this morning and read through your entire masterlist and i loveeee your writing! is it possible to get royal poly!marauders at a ball or something and they catch sight of the reader (can be whatever role you wanna give them) and they are like 'damn'

Hello hello~!!!

First of all, thank you so much for patiently waiting for me to get to your request. Life has been pretty hectic on my end, so writing had to take a back seat for a little while. But today, I finally had some time to sit down and write!

Now, let me just say— this idea is absolutely amazing! I’m completely in love with royal and historical AUs, so there’s a good chance I’ll revisit this concept and or turn it into a series of drabbles. (Not that I’m particularly skilled at keeping things short!!!)

I really hope you enjoy my take on your idea 💖

edit: I got a bit carried away-

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7k

The night after the neighboring kingdom’s delegation arrives, the Griffyn Kingdom buzzes with anticipation. To honor their esteemed guests— especially the visiting princess —the King and Queen have announced a grand ball. This celebration is more than an act of hospitality; it is a shining declaration of unity, a glittering prelude to alliances and promises that will shape their shared future.

You find yourself standing in Princess Lily’s chambers, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows against the ornate walls.

 Before you, Lily examines herself in a floor-length mirror, her emerald-green gown a masterpiece of silk and embroidery. You and Mary fuss over the gathered fabric at her hips, smoothing it into place with careful precision.

“I can manage the rest,” Lily murmurs, her voice gentle but decisive. She steps away, gliding toward the gilded jewelry box on her dressing table. Its lid is open, revealing an array of jewels she brought for the journey— diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires glittering alongside an assortment of tiaras.

“You two should get ready as well,” she adds, her tone as light as the shimmering necklace she picks up, its facets catching the firelight.

You pause, caught off guard. “What?” The word escapes before you can stop yourself.

Normally, Marlene would stand guard in her knightly uniform, Mary would accompany Lily throughout the event, and you would remain behind— content to watch the festivities from a quiet corner of the castle, keeping a vigilant eye on the princess’s chambers.

“There’s no need for that tonight,” Mary says, her voice warm with reassurance. She steps forward, deftly fastening the diamond necklace around Lily’s neck. The glittering stones resting perfectly against the princess’s pale freckled skin. “We’re on excellent terms with the Potters. No one here will mean us harm.”

The words hang in the air, both an assurance and an invitation. Tonight is different, you realize. 

A diamond tiara rests atop Lily’s head, its intricate design sparkling like a constellation of stars nestled in her fiery red locks. She adjusts it briefly, her reflection regal and resplendent. “You rarely get a chance to enjoy yourself during visits like this,” she says softly, her tone kind but firm. “Go on, get ready.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by Lily’s thoughtfulness. Her generosity warms you in a way words could never fully express.

With her gentle urging, you retreat to your own room to prepare. A quick bath washes away the lingering weariness of the day, and you do your best to ready yourself for the night ahead.

Despite your efforts, a sense of inadequacy lingers. 

For such grand occasions, it’s expected that the lady's maids and companions are impeccably dressed, each carrying at least one formal gown for travels like these. 

You do have such a dress— a blush colored piece gifted to you by your mother when you first joined the palace as Lily’s lady’s maid.

The fabric clings just a little too tightly at the waist, its once flawless seams now strained from years of careful reuse. The soft blush color, though elegant, has faded slightly with time, its original vibrancy dulled by repeated wear. The bodice is adorned with modest embroidery— delicate vines and blossoms stitched in pale gold thread that catches the light just enough to hint at refinement. The skirt, while gracefully cut, feels heavier than you remember, its weight pulling at your movements as if to remind you of the weight of high society.

It was the best your family could afford when you first came to the palace— a gift from your mother, its fabric chosen to honor both simplicity and a touch of nobility. Back then, it had been a symbol of hope, a token of pride for a baroness’s daughter stepping into the royal household. 

Now, however, standing before the mirror, you can’t help but feel its inadequacy in the face of tonight’s grandeur.

Even so, you smooth the skirt with steady hands, letting your fingers trace the faint ridges of the embroidery. This night, you remind yourself, is not about the richness of your gown, but the confidence you bring and the memories you make. 

Perfection may elude you, but presence—your presence—is more than enough.

When you step back into Lily’s chambers, it’s clear everyone is ready to go. Lily, as expected, looks effortlessly regal in her emerald green dress, the rich color complementing her fiery red hair that cascades down her back in elegant waves. Mary, ever composed, is radiant in a soft yellow gown that perfectly flatters her figure, her dark hair neatly arranged in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look darling,” Lily murmurs, stepping forward to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. Her touch is as light as her tone, her emerald eyes warm with affection.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Says the actual goddess standing before me.”

“Truly,” Mary chimes in, her voice sweet as she adjusts the clasp of your necklace, ensuring it sits perfectly centered. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Before you can protest their kind words, a knock at the door interrupts the moment. Marlene peeks her head in, her light blonde hair swept back into a tidy low ponytail. “Ladies,” she announces with a bright grin, “it’s time to head down.”

Excitement ripples through the room as the evening’s promise beckons.

_____

You weren’t quite sure what to do once you stepped onto the crowded ballroom floor. Back home, state balls were familiar territory, their routines and customs etched into your memory. But here, in a foreign kingdom, uncertainty clouded your thoughts. 

Was the etiquette the same? 

Would it be seen as rude to linger by the walls, content to watch the swirl of color and movement before you?

Must you be drawn into the heart of the celebration?

Apparently so.

You stand near one of the grand marble pillars circling the ballroom, the cool stone a comforting anchor amidst the overwhelming splendor. A glass of white wine rests in your hand, a half-hearted shield against your unease. From the corner of your eye, you notice movement—a man approaching with easy confidence. His dark hair is tied into a loose, messy bun, strands slipping free to frame his sharp features. His attire marks him as a knight of the Griffyn Kingdom, though the smirk curling at his lips carries a roguish charm and confidence uncommon in most knights you’ve met.

“You must be part of the delegation,” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk deepening as his gray eyes fix on yours.

You hesitate, biting back the urge to fidget. He’s handsome, undeniably so, but you can’t quite place why he’s chosen to speak to you. With a soft sigh, you nod. “I am.”

“I thought so,” he replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “I remember seeing you earlier, standing just behind the little princess. So, why aren’t you out there, dancing?” He gestures toward the center of the room, where couples spin and sway beneath glittering chandeliers.

“I’m not particularly fond of dancing,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. It’s not entirely true, but you hope the excuse is convincing enough to deter him.

“Nonsense,” he says with a laugh, his hand extending toward you. “Anyone can see you want to. Prove me wrong, if you’d like.”

The invitation lingers between you, daring yet strangely kind.

You hesitate for just a moment, glancing at the glass in your hand before setting it down on the corner of the nearest table. Then, with a small breath of resolve, you place your hand in his. “Don’t get mad if my heels end up on your toes,” you quip, a touch of nervousness slipping into your tone.

“Trust me, I’m quite nimble. Dodging danger is part of the job,” he replies with an easy smirk, already guiding you toward the dance floor with a confidence that leaves little room for argument.

Normally, you might have countered with a quick remark of your own, but your mind is too distracted. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, drowning out coherent thought.

The lull in the music amplifies every other sound—the clack of your heels against the polished marble, the low hum of whispered voices as heads turn to watch you pass. The weight of their gazes burns into your skin, and your hands tremble slightly as the knight clears a path through the crowd, his presence commanding in a way that both unsettles and reassures you.

Other couples filter onto the dance floor as the musicians shuffle their sheet music, preparing for the next song. The murmurs of the room settle, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Well,” you manage, your voice soft as you cling to anything that might distract you from the dozens of eyes still following your every move, “it seems you’re rather popular.”

“What can I say?” he responds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am rather handsome.” The smirk that accompanies his words is maddeningly self-assured.

Before you can respond, his hand presses gently against the middle of your back, drawing you closer. His other hand takes yours in a firm yet careful clasp, guiding you into the proper frame with a natural grace that makes it seem effortless. You barely notice the band striking the first notes of the song, your attention fixed on the storm gray eyes studying you with something close to intrigue.

You set your hand clumsily on his shoulder, your fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his maroon jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind your hesitation, his movements assured and steady as he begins to lead you through a simple waltz.

To your relief, the steps come naturally, your body quickly attuning to the rhythm of the music and the gentle guidance of his lead.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice soft, nearly lost beneath the rising swell of the orchestra.

You glance up at him, your voice barely above a whisper as you give your name.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into a charming smile paired with a wink that, despite yourself, pulls a smile to your face.

“And you?” you counter, a touch of playfulness creeping into your tone. “Who might this oh-so-charming knight be standing before me?”

His eyes glint with amusement, their gray depths catching the light like polished steel. “Sirius,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue with a quiet confidence.

You nod thoughtfully, letting the music and his lead guide you effortlessly across the floor. “An attention grabbing star for an attention grabbing knight,” you muse aloud, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Seems fitting, I suppose.”

His laugh is low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like the melody. “Well, I do strive to live up to my name.”

“I doubt you have any trouble with that,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips as you hold his gaze.

The music begins to fade, the elegant notes giving way to the quiet hum of conversations around you. As the dance slows to a stop, you take a small step back, though his presence still lingers like the warmth of the ballroom’s golden glow.

“So much for not being a dancer,” he teases, his smirk as effortless as the steps he led you through.

You turn to him, unable to suppress your grin. “Maybe you were just that good of a lead,” you say sweetly, your voice light with sincerity. But before he can respond, you catch sight of Mary and Lily across the room.

“I ought to check in on my lady,” you add, inclining your head slightly. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Sirius—”

“Sirius,” he interrupts gently, his tone almost playful. “Just Sirius is fine.”

You nod, your smile softening as you take a small step back. “Fine, then. Thank you for the dance, Sirius. It was... unexpected, but I truly enjoyed it.”

With a final glance, you turn and make your way toward Mary and Lily, weaving through the gathered crowd. The warmth of his hand on yours still lingers faintly, and his name echoes in your thoughts like the fading strains of the music— a memory you suspect will stay with you far longer than the evening itself.

_____

James and Remus stepped out of the nearest sitting room, the faint hum of ballroom music echoing down the corridor. Remus, ever meticulous, adjusted James’s slightly askew collar, his fingers deftly hiding the newly formed love bites that marked the prince’s neck—evidence of their brief but heated absence.

“We need to get back before anyone notices,” James murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement as he fixed his tousled hair.

Remus smirked. “We’re already late. Let’s hope Sirius hasn’t set the place on fire in our absence.”

But as they approached the ballroom’s grand entrance, what they saw made both men falter. There, on the dancefloor, Sirius Black was leading a woman in a waltz.

The sight itself was striking. Her blush colored dress stood out in gentle contrast against the bold, jewel toned gowns of the others swirling around her. The simplicity of her attire only seemed to magnify her elegance, and for once, Sirius appeared utterly focused, his usual roguishness tempered by something softer.

“Sirius never asks a woman to dance,” a sharp voice cut through the hum of the crowd. James and Remus glanced toward a cluster of women, their faces half hidden behind delicate feathered fans. The speaker, a haughty looking noblewoman, tilted her head knowingly, her words drawing murmurs of agreement from those around her.

Remus’s brows knit together. Sirius was notorious for politely but firmly declining the endless stream of invitations to dance he received at events like these. Yet, watching him now, Remus found he could understand why Sirius had sought out this particular partner.

She was... radiant.

“Well, isn’t she a sight to see,” James murmured, his voice just low enough for Remus to hear.

Remus nodded, his hazel eyes tracking the woman’s graceful movements. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s one of Princess Lily’s lady’s maids,” he said, his tone thoughtful.

James’s eyes widened slightly in recognition, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Is that so?” he drawled, the spark of an idea lighting his gaze.

Remus sighed, already sensing trouble. “What are you thinking, James?”

The prince’s grin only grew. “I think,” he said, “we should pay a visit to the princess. Seems like her lady’s maid could use some... royal introductions.”

_____

After reuniting with a gushing Mary and Lily, a server approaches, bowing their head politely before handing you a fresh glass of wine. You thank them quietly, though you can’t help but find their deference a little peculiar. Still, you accept the drink, shifting your attention back to the princess as she launches into a spirited account of your performance on the dance floor.

“You looked absolutely stunning out there,” Lily exclaims, her cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement of the evening—or perhaps the wine.

“She’s right,” Mary agrees with a hum, a bright smile lighting her face. “Everyone was watching. You two were the talk of the room.”

Both women had taken their turns dancing with high-ranking gentlemen throughout the night. Suitors vying for the honor of even a single waltz. Yet, they seemed convinced that your dance was the highlight.

“He’s quite a talented dancer for a knight,” Mary observes, taking a sip from her own glass.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I figured he’d be good, considering how confident he seemed. But he led me effortlessly. I barely had to think about the steps.”

“Well,” Lily interjects with a soft laugh, her hand fluttering to her lips as though trying to stifle her amusement, “that’s hardly surprising. He’s a noble, after all.”

“What?” Both you and Mary turn to her in confusion, the notion catching you both off guard. Nobles rarely became knights, considering the station beneath them. Sirius hardly seemed the exception, yet here you were.

“He’s the son of Duchess Black,” Lily explains with a slight grimace, lowering her voice. “Her sons are far more tolerable than she ever will be.”

“Lily!” Mary scolds, her eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard the princess’s blunt critique. Fortunately, the surrounding hum of conversation seemed to swallow the comment whole.

“But...” you trail off, your brows furrowing as you ask. “Did you not just dance with the heir to the duchy?”

“That would be my younger brother,” a smooth, familiar voice cuts into the conversation, making you turn sharply.

Sirius stands behind you, his easy smirk firmly in place, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gray eyes. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you instinctively dip your head in greeting, murmuring, “Sir Sirius.”

“Sirius,” he corrects lightly, his gaze softening as it lingers on you.

“Sirius,” you murmur, correcting yourself softly.

His smirk softens into something warmer. “You danced with Regulus, Your Highness?”

“Lily,” the princess corrects, her tone mirroring his own.

Sirius chuckles, his attention shifting to her. “Of course, Lily. So, you danced with Reg?”

“As I always do, Sirius,” she replies with a sigh, clearly anticipating where the conversation might lead. Her expression brightens, however, as her gaze lands beyond him. “Oh, James, Remus! A pleasure to see you.”

Both Mary and you instinctively bow your heads, mirroring Lily’s graceful greeting as two men approach.

“Leave the formalities for the elders,” James teases, waving his hand dismissively. “Raise your heads, ladies.”

James Potter is every bit the image of royalty, dressed in a pristine white suit adorned with a red sash. The high collar adds to his regal air, but it’s his confident posture and easy smile —so warm and almost boyish—that truly captivate.

Beside him stands a tall, broad shouldered man with tousled brown hair. The scars that trace his skin catch your eye briefly before you hastily return your attention to the prince, unwilling to appear rude. Yet, the man’s hazel gaze, calm and piercing, seems to notice everything.

“Are you all enjoying the ball?” James asks, his voice warm and smooth as his signature smile graces his lips.

Lily answers first, her response polite and poised as ever. Her agreement prompts Mary and you to nod along.

“Glad to hear it,” James replies, his smile widening. “I know Sirius was enjoying himself not too long ago,” he adds with a teasing lilt, his hand clapping Sirius on the shoulder and lingering there in a way that seems deliberate.

“It was one dance,” Sirius groans, tilting his head toward the prince in exasperation.

“One dance more than usual,” Remus chimes in, his deep, steady voice carrying a hint of humor. His hazel eyes flicker to Sirius, glinting with quiet amusement as he observes his discomfort.

James turns his gaze to you, his teasing grin softening into something gentler. “He didn’t step on your toes, did he, my lady?” he asks, the mock solemnity of his tone bringing a smile to your lips.

You shake your head, your amusement showing clearly. “Of course not.”

James bursts into laughter, the sound rich and full, drawing a few curious glances from those nearby.

“Having women cover for your clumsy footwork now— what a shame,” Remus adds, his tone dripping with mock disappointment as he shakes his head.

Sirius turns to you, lips curling into an exaggerated pout. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve egged them on.”

You shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now, why would I do that, Sirius?”

“You’re killing me, doll,” he groans dramatically, prompting laughter to ripple through the small group.

The conversation shifts back to something closer to polite, though the teasing undercurrent remains. Mary moves subtly closer to you, her hand brushing comfortingly over your back. It’s then you notice the weight of the many gazes lingering on your group, a pressure you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Your eyes lower to the polished marble floor as you focus on listening to James and Lily’s easy banter, their words melding with the hum of the ballroom.

“You alright?” Remus’s voice pulls your attention. He steps closer, his question soft, laced with genuine concern.

You nod lightly. “It seems all of a sudden I’ve run out of energy,” you say, a polite fib. The truth is, this entire night has been draining, though you don’t want him to think he’s dull company. “I’m not used to parties like this,” you add quickly to clarify.

Remus’s lips curve into a smile, his expression warm and understanding. “We have lounges on the top floor for guests who need a break. You’d be welcome to rest there if you’d like.”

You shake your head gently. “I really shouldn’t, but thank you for the suggestion–”

“That’s a great idea,” Lily interjects with an encouraging smile. “Let’s rest our feet for a while.”

“I’ll let Marlene know we’re heading upstairs,” Mary offers before slipping away, likely toward one of the food tables where Marlene is undoubtedly stationed.

“We’ll escort you,” Sirius says smoothly, but Lily raises a hand, declining the offer with a polite smile.

“We’ll be fine on our own, but thank you,” she assures him.

“Of course,” James replies, bowing his head slightly.

Mary returns soon after, accompanied by Marlene, who carries a golden plate piled high with delicate finger foods.

“Enjoy your rest,” James says with a gracious nod, his tone sincere though his smile holds a trace of teasing warmth.

The women dip their heads in thanks before retreating upstairs to find a quiet lounge.

_____

As soon as they’re out of earshot, James turns to Sirius with a mischievous smirk. “Well, wasn’t she a sweetheart?” he asks, his teasing tone unmistakable.

“She’s polite but knows how to hold her own. I’d say you’ve chosen well, Sirius,” Remus adds with an approving nod.

“If you two hadn’t left me—” Sirius starts, a hint of irritation coloring his words.

“We did say you could join us,” James cuts in, raising his hand as if to defend himself.

“And you know damn well if all three of us disappeared, people would notice,” Sirius counters, arching an eyebrow.

James shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Your loss.”

“Not entirely,” Sirius says with a wolfish grin. “It just means we can take our time later.”

“No visible marks,” Remus warns, his voice carrying the weight of experience. “We’ll have guests for a while.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, his grin unwavering. “It’ll be fine—it’s never stopped us before.”

Remus sighs, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “Fair enough.”

[vityaposting]

WRITING REQUEST HIII

what about reader going to viktor to get augmented for a non physical reason - like maybe mental illness or addiction or something (idk dealers choice) and viktor slowly getting to know them over time. eventually reader overcomes their problem, and viktor realises that he likes reader just the way they are - unaugmented or not.

don't feel obligated to do this lol just saw that your requests where open

HI!!!! i love this request so much i decided it needs to be a multi chapter thing (4 or 5 probably?) i got broken up with yesterday so i ATE this prompt up lol

how to heal a rusted heart - mh!viktor x gn!reader - part 1

wc: 2100

You approach Emberflit Alley with no small amount of trepidation. The house is smaller than you expected, shoddier on the outside; shutters hang from foggy, cracked windows, and ivy like claw-scratches makes its way up the worn brick walls. You know—as does every Zaunite you’ve ever met—that there is more to the Machine Herald’s residence than meets the eye. You don’t know exactly how—somewhere, some way, there is a massive laboratory tucked behind the house’s unassuming facade. Maybe a separate underground sector, or even a pocket dimension supplied by the Herald’s knowledge of thinning the barrier between tech and magic. All these speculations are, of course, rumors—you’ve never had a reason to solve the mystery yourself. Until today. Today, you’d snapped.

Your chest still burns with the fury of it all. Betrayal. And to think they’d claimed to love you. Sickly-sweet self-satisfaction rises like bile to the back of your throat, putting a little more power behind your knock on the door. You’d been right. Paranoia, your doctor had proclaimed years ago—a not-uncommon symptom of your particular ailment. Well, was it true paranoia if you were always proven right in the end?

It doesn’t matter. After tonight, you won’t care.

A thickly-accented voice cuts through the speaker above the knocker: “You may enter.”

Ominous. You push away your trepidation, another instinct you’d be free of sooner rather than later. The door is heavy steel—you have to use your shoulder to pry it open, but once you’ve managed its weight, it swings inward for you on well-oiled hinges.

You emerge into a wide space thick with the stenches of metal and oil, cast under an ambient glow in various shades of orange. Lights flicker at you from lanterns on the walls, from faint bulbs hung across the ceiling. A lab bench spans the entire length of the room, which seems impossibly large compared to the house’s outer facade. A pocket dimension it is, then. Maybe. You still can’t be sure. The equipment littered across the bench is foreign and complex-looking.

The whistle of steam and clicking of gears greets you before the Herald himself can.

He’s tinkering with something. Something sharp. He sets it down, turns on his stool, lowers his hood and pushes his goggles onto his forehead. You aren’t quite sure what you expected the Machine Herald to look like under his armor and mask. If he even takes them off at all. Whatever you expected, this isn’t it.

“Good evening,” he says levelly. His voice rumbles in his throat, his accent lending the greeting a soft, alluring quality. He tilts his head, an oddly innocent gesture, considering his reputation. “With what can I be of service?”

The words you’ve been rehearsing for hours lodge themself in your throat, and even a heavy swallow can’t force them out. The Herald is unblinking. Molten orange pupils burn into yours, piercing against his dark scleras. His face is pale and his features sharp—he’s beautiful, you note, not completely willingly—and his frame is thin and willowy beneath his cloak.

“Well?” he prompts, and shame floods you, reminding you why you decided to take measures this drastic in the first place. “Nobody comes this deep into the Lanes just to visit me. Not to say I mind the solitude.”

He doesn’t want you here.

You’re here for a service, scolds the rational side of your mind, a side which seems to grow more and more powerless with every passing week, with every friend you lose, with every burst of rage and every bridge you burn. A service he openly advertises. He allowed you to open the door. He could have… have death-rayed you.

“Mister… Machine Herald,” you begin, horrendously embarrassed at how your voice quavers. The air in the lab is muggy. You wrap your arms around your middle anyway. “I’ve heard of the… the services you provide, and I—”

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “Viktor will suffice.”

You cough. His eyes narrow.

“Go on. You seek augmentation.”

“Of the… unconventional variety, I guess you could say. Less of a physical augmentation and more of a…”

“You are at war with your own mind,” he observes. “I can see it in your eyes. Come closer.”

And you do, because there’s something in the rumble of his voice—which is so close to a growl you feel weak in the knees—and the sharp glow of his eyes that draws you in like a moth to a lantern. He gestures to the second stool at his side. You wonder who it’s normally reserved for. Patients? Experimental subjects? A partner, perhaps—or has he always only worked alone?

“You’re tense. Relax.” He speaks with such calm authority that it’s impossible not to listen. “I will not touch you without explicit permission. If it’s only emotional suppression you seek, I may be able to offer a solution that does not require me to lay hands on you.”

You don’t know why this disappoints you.

He tilts his head as he gazes at you, one gloved hand fidgeting with a trinket on his workbench. “Tell me. In detail. What is it you want out of this? What causes you such pain?”

“Everything,” you say. It’s almost a whimper. He raises an eyebrow. Clearing the embarrassment from your throat, you try again. “Everything is… is so much. I’m scared. All the time. I can’t love anyone anymore, I… I’m afraid they’ll all leave me.” Oftentimes, they do, you neglect to add. This won’t concern Viktor. He has no reason to care. “And it can change on a coin. It’s like you said. It’s like being at war.” A war between your body and your brain, you’ve realized, would never be one worth fighting. This, however, seems to be the only way to put an end to things. You look at Viktor plaintively, hoping he isn’t judging. If the rumors are true, he removed his ability to judge long ago.

“Ah,” he said after a silence that seemed to stretch for eons. “I understand.”

“My doctor says it’s an… ailment.”

“That may be,” he says. “As such, you have a right to want to heal it. Procedures with the intent to alter emotions are harder and riskier than procedures focused on the physical. I am happy to give you what you ask for, but you must be aware of the potential consequences. Do you intend to eliminate all emotions, or… only their extremities?”

“Only the extremities.” Life will be much easier, you think, if you never have to love another person again. Amicable acquaintanceship, however, hurts nobody.

“Good,” he hums. “Complete removal is difficult. If I weren’t so stubborn I’d nearly say it was impossible.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried,” he says plainly.

“And you failed?” You don’t know what emboldens you to say it.

“I simply have not yet succeeded.”

You look at him, then, really look at him. And behind those beautiful eyes that glow with the light of a hundred fires, shine with the darkness of a hundred polluted Zaun nights, you almost swear you see your own loneliness staring back at you.

“It’s risky,” he continues. “In the case that something goes awry, do not say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course,” you whisper.

“May I take a closer look? I’d like to get a feel for the incision site.”

You nod a silent confirmation and bow your head, gripping the sides of the stool. He wheels himself closer. Lifts his hand. You hold your breath.

The Herald’s hands are gentle when they card through your hair, pushing a few strands away from your forehead. His demeanor now is a far cry from the terrifying villain you know him to be—the chaos-wreaking force of evil most of Zaun insists he is. You wonder, as your breathing calms, exactly how many of the tales are wild fantasy, because this soft touch is the realest thing you've felt in a long, long time.

“All I can promise you is that I will be careful,” he murmurs, tracing a line from the center of your forehead to the crown of your hair. “This particular procedure is immensely detail-oriented, even in comparison to the others I’ve performed. To dampen your emotions, I will be altering your limbic system, in the simplest of terms. However, if I am not meticulous, I risk damaging other functions, such as reasoning or memory.”

Truth be told, waking up without any memory of the hurt you’ve endured doesn’t sound too awful.

But, you realize as a shiver runs down your spine—you want to remember this.

“There is another option,” Viktor goes on. You’re forced to draw your attention away from his soft, prodding touches. “Implants in the form of pills. Those, however, I’ve not yet managed to make permanent. They’re finicky, and they don’t last long. You’d have to take them twice a day—one separate medication for each emotion you wish to suppress. I imagine it would all be a hassle. This, however… if you consent, I can perform the entire procedure in one process, and your desired results will be immediate.” He draws his hand back, lightly scratching your scalp—it’s enough to relax, but not enough to hurt. “You don’t have to decide today.”

“No, no. That’s alright. I’ll take the… the surgery.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Finality settles over you like a chilly breeze as he pulls away. You’ll finally be free. Free of heartbreak, of fury, of flaws. There’s something in his mechanical gaze that unnerves you and enthralls you simultaneously. Something human.

“Being that this is a complicated procedure,” he says, “I will have to schedule it in advance. I will reserve an entire day for you and I cannot free the time for a week. A week from today. Is that alright with you? I can give you the medication to temporarily curb your symptoms in the meantime, if you like. It’s experimental, but I am relatively sure of its safety.”

He looks so hopeful. You know the joy etched in the lines of his sharp face is nothing more than the joy of scientific innovation, but it’s endearing all the same. The Machine Herald of Zaun’s urban legends is a completely different person. You find it hard to believe that the cackling, murderous tyrant rumored to haunt the Lanes even shares a name with the man in front of you. There’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and a few locks of hair sticking up haphazardly from beneath his goggles. You find yourself cracking a grin for the first time in days.

“No,” you say. Your chest feels lighter. Just a bit. Enough to be noticeable, enough to instill the certainty that trusting your life to the Herald is the right decision—malicious cackle, terrifying armor, death laser, and all. “No, I’ll be alright.”

He crosses his arms over his lap. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he says softly. “But the ache in your heart… someone put it there. I know the feeling. You are not the first to be driven away from loving altogether. I once thought I had a simple fix. I… do not know if it was the foolproof solution I thought it was. I will perform any procedure on you that you wish. But you should know this. Metal is perfection, yes, but love… love can rust the strongest steel.” He swallows, fiery eyes flickering. “I thought I’d warn you. However, I do my best for all my patients, and you are no exception.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. You’re grateful for the lab’s low lighting—it’s unlikely Viktor can see the blush crawling up your neck. “I—thank you.”

“Do you still want this? Even considering the risk?”

He looks at you so softly. He must look at everyone that softly, you realize, but the knowledge doesn’t make you feel any less warm. “Yeah.”

He gives you a businesslike nod, and you can see the Machine Herald’s persona sliding back into place. Cold. Unfeeling. For a moment, though, you saw the truth. “Thank you. I will see you one week from today—be here as early in the morning as you please. I’ll walk you out. Be safe out there. I can only complete the procedure if you return to me in one piece.”

What a gentleman, you think, but you say nothing. You accept with a small smile.

His hand brushes your shoulder as you reach for the handle of the door. Your whole body sparks, as if you’re a machine already.

“Goodbye,” he says. “And best of luck. I will pray that the next week treats you kindly.”

You almost want to hug him goodbye—out of thanks if nothing else. You hold yourself back. “I’ll see you then.”

The last thing you see before the door shuts behind you are his eyes. Two pinpricks of light in the darkness of the Lanes. Mechanical though they are, you realize they still crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

[winwintea]

Belladonna! bad ending ↬ everything is not as it seems

You were too late. 

Karina was dead.

You had failed her.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you sat on the cold, blood-smeared floor of the theater’s dimly lit office. Karina’s body lay in your arms, her lifeless eyes staring into nothing. You couldn't stop the sobs that wracked your chest, nor could you escape the crushing weight of failure. The bitter taste of guilt consumed you whole, suffocating you as flashes of memories spent with Karina played in your mind.

Renjun’s name echoed through your thoughts, as loud and relentless as a gunshot. Renjun, with his twisted quest for revenge, had been the cause of so much bloodshed. Every victim he had killed was another reminder of your inability to stop him. And now, Karina was gone. 

A creak suddenly interrupted the silence, your head snapped up as the office door swung open, revealing Renjun standing in the doorway. His face was unreadable, but his presence screamed: danger. 

“You,” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. You clutched Karina’s lifeless body, as if you were protecting her from him even now. “You did this. You killed her. You killed them all! I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Renjun slowly stepped into the room. The flicker of the lights casted shadows over his face, making his expression even harder to decipher. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the accusation hang in the air.

Then he laughed. A low, hollow laugh that sent chills down your spine. “You think I killed her?” he asked, his voice unusually calm. “You really believe that?”

“You’re a monster,” you hissed, your fingers curling into fists. “You’ve been on this path of destruction for weeks. I couldn’t stop you before, but I will now.”

Renjun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, I’ve been watching you, love. Closely. And what I saw tonight?” He took another step closer, “You killed Karina. With your own hands.”

The words struck you like a physical blow. “That’s a lie,” you shook your head. “You’re trying to twist this, manipulate me like you do everyone else! Like you manipulated me into loving you.”

Renjun just stared at you, his gaze not changing. Suddenly, a creeping dread began to claw its way up your spine. A memory flashed—a flicker of Karina’s horrified face, a struggle, the spray of blood.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. Your breathing quickened as the fragments of the day pieced themselves together. Meeting Karina in the office. The overwhelming anger that had consumed you. And then... Karina’s voice, desperate and pleading, calling your name.

The truth crashed down on you, a wave of terror and repulsion. Your hands, trembling and stained red, had ended her life. Not Renjun’s. Yours.

Renjun his expression almost mocking, as he watched realization dawn on your face. “There it is,” he murmured. “You’re finally seeing it, aren’t you? The truth.”

You staggered backward, releasing Karina’s body as if the more you held it, the more it would burn you. “No,” you repeated again, but the denial sounded weak even to your own ears.

Renjun crouched down next you and cradled your face in his hands, his voice a low hiss. “You were so blinded by your obsession with me, so consumed by your need to be the hero, that you didn’t even realize who the real monster was. It was you all along.”

prev ↤ belladonna! ↦

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ 🙈🙈

SUMMARY ↬ you've been tasked with visting and inspecting the grand rose theatre, a theatre that's been plagued with mysteries over the years. all seems well, until a string of murders follows your visit. as you further investigate, you find yourself falling for huang renjun, the beautiful male lead, and your mystery murderer who leaves you love notes and clues about who they could potentially be. will you be smart enough to be a step ahead of the killer? or will you find yourself caught within their trap?

TAG LIST ↬ @aquaphoenixz @lyvhie @nerdsungie @nanaxwi @itsashley127 @syatchy @p-d1ddy @galacticnct @neocrashed @multifandomania @lotties-readings @odxrilove @clockwork--fandoms @hyuckies18 @kaciebello @marvelahsobx @injunnie-lemon @busy-daydreaming02 @ldh0000 @wony1e @polarisjisung @onlyhyunjin @roseangelxfuma @sunoopsis @mystverse @dudekiss3r @nctjunie @onlyforyoukook

[strnilolover]

Vet!Chris taking you to an animal café and he has a little bit of a hard time getting you to leave …

Chris glanced at his watch, then at you, sprawled across the floor with a calico cat purring in your lap. “Alright, baby,” he said softly, crouching down next to you. “We’ve been here for two hours. I think it’s time we head out.” he states.

You didn’t even look up at him. Your fingers scratched gently behind the cat’s ears, earning a contented trill from the feline. “Five more minutes,” you mumbled, clearly enraptured by the small sea of animals around you. A golden retriever had settled at your feet, while a tiny rabbit hopped curiously near your hand.

Chris sighed, trying to hide his smile. He’d taken you to the animal café as a way to unwind after your stressful week, but he didn’t anticipate just how hard it’d be to pull you away. Not that he blamed you — seeing you so happy, your face lit up with childlike wonder, made it impossible for him to be annoyed.

Still, he had a schedule to keep. “Sweetheart, the café closes in fifteen minutes. You know we can’t just move in, right?” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world — which it was.

You finally glanced up, your lower lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. “But Chris, look at them!” you gestured around at the assortment of animals, your voice full of longing. “They need love and cuddles! What if they miss me when I leave?” you whined, already feeling your chest tighten with the fact you had to leave them for the day.

He chuckled, reaching out to boop your nose gently. “I think they’ll survive, babe. Besides, don’t I give you enough cuddles at home?” You gave him a teasing look. “Not nearly as fluffy, though.”

Chris’ hand came up to his heart, like you had punched it. “Rude,” Chris shot back, feigning offense. “You’re hurting my feelings, baby.”

You giggled but stayed rooted in place, your hand now occupied by a curious kitten batting at your bracelet. Chris leaned back on his heels, watching you with an affectionate smile. “Okay, what if I make you a deal? We can come back next week, and I’ll buy you that strawberry boba you like on the way home. But only if we leave before the staff has to drag us out.”

You perked up at his offer, your lips twitching into a grin. “Promise?” he nodded his head, “I promise.” he said, placing a hand over his chest.

Reluctantly, you scooped up the calico cat one last time, giving it a soft kiss on its tiny nose. “Okay, but I’m holding you to that boba and next week’s visit.” you said, placing the kitty down as your hands reached out for Chris.

As he helped you to your feet, Chris wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Well come back as much as you like, i promise. And of course i wouldn’t go back on my word, you know that baby.” he said, walking toward the doors as you gave a quick smile and wave to the workers.

“Yeah, i know..” you muttered, still a little bummed that you had to leave. Chris noticed, pressing another kiss to your temple as he held the door open for you.

“You know i love you, yeah?” he said, pulling his keys out and unlocking the car as he opened the passenger door for you. And you looked at him, smiling.

“I know.” you said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips before situating yourself in the seat.

© strnilolover

LITTLE VET CHRIS BLURB. MY SWEET BABY 🥹

[willowsnook]

community relations (18+)

Pulled pork! Vinegar! Wrap! ~ Mike’s Way ~ Thank you for this, such a great idea!!

quinn hughes x coworker!reader

I’d be insane not to love you

—----------------------------------------------------

“I have an observation from today,” Quinn said as you packed up after the event.

The local children’s hospital had sent some kids to skate with Canucks players, including their captain, who was lingering behind.

“And what’s that?” you asked, glancing up over the box you were carrying.

“You don’t know how to skate,” he said, smirking.

“I do not,” you admitted with a smile.

“How?” he asked, bewildered. “You literally work for a hockey team.”

Shrugging, you passed him the box. “My job doesn’t require me to be on the ice.”

“But still,” he persisted, following you to the storage closet. “Let me teach you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip.

“Not for another hour,” he replied, grinning wide. “Now let’s find you some skates, princess.” Before you could protest, he was already running off. Sighing, you followed, wondering what you’d gotten yourself into.

Quinn was the most requested player for community events, so you spent a lot of time with him. At first, he was quiet and reserved, but over time, your friendship grew, making your job easier and more fun.

After discovering you weren’t a hockey fan growing up, he took it upon himself to teach you the basics. Today’s lesson, however, would take place on the ice.

Sitting on a bench, you watched as Quinn tied your skates. His fingers moved deftly, and he glanced up at you with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said softly. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You clung to the wall as he led you onto the rink, showing you the basics before holding out his hands. Taking them hesitantly, you shuffled off the wall, Quinn skating backward to guide you.

“That’s it!” he encouraged. “Isn’t it fun?”

“Not really,” you replied, earning a loud laugh from him.

As you completed a lap, you began to wobble. Quinn tightened his grip, pulling you into his chest as you stumbled. His arm wrapped securely around your waist, steadying you.

“Easy,” he murmured, his face inches from yours. Your cheeks flushed at the proximity, and neither of you moved.

“I think you can let go of me now,” you teased, breaking the tension. Quinn stepped back, his cheeks reddening as he guided you off the ice.

Later that afternoon,  your mind wandered to the interaction. Quinn was undeniably attractive—and kind—but he was also your coworker, the captain of the team. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to feel this way about him, but he wasn’t making it easy to resist.

Making yourself dinner, you picked up your phone to Facetime your sister. 

“Hey y/n,” she greeted as her face popped up on the screen. 

“Hey J,” you replied, propping the phone up. “Ready for this weekend?

She was visiting Vancouver to visit you and catch a game as your guest. You were excited, as you hadn’t seen her since over the summer and were very much in need of a girl's weekend. 

“So ready, I also expect you to take me bar hopping after the game on Saturday,” she said and you giggled. 

“Dangerous,” you replied, remembering the very rough nights the two of you had shared while going out. 

“I have to go, but I’ll see you when I land tomorrow,” she said before hanging up. This was going to be a long weekend.

—--------------------------------------------------------

“That was amazing,” Jaelen said after the final buzzer went off. The Canucks had won easily and you were happy just to be a fan for this game rather than an employee. “I want to be a WAG so bad.”

You laughed at your sister, knowing this was nothing new. The first thing she said when you told her you got the job a couple of years ago was ask when she could meet some of the players. 

“Do you know where they go out after the game?” she asked, and you sighed, trying to look away. “Omg, you do!”

Because of Quinn’s insistence that you eventually join him to celebrate one of these days, you knew the usual hangout was a small bar a couple of blocks away. You lived close to the arena, so you decided to stop by your apartment first and change into a pair of black jeans and a tight white top. You made a couple of martinis to pregame and eventually made your way to the bar. 

A lot of the hockey team was already there when you both arrived, and you spotted Quinn standing by the bar chatting with someone you thought might be one of his brothers. Jaelen was already dragging you to the bar, and you avoided his gaze as you stood up to order. 

“Put her drink on my tab,” you heard him say as he approached you. You looked over at him with a small smile on your face and met his eyes, sparkling with amusement. 

“Finally made it, and I didn’t even text you this time,” he teased. 

“My sister wanted to come out,” you defended. 

“Lot of bars in Vancouver, princess,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah yeah, she wants to bag one of your teammates,” you admitted. Quinn stepped closer to you, bringing his mouth to your ear. 

“I like how you didn’t include me as one of the options there,” he whispered, and you were instantly flustered, not even realizing what you had said. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled before sipping your drink. His smirk widened at your discomfort. 

“Hi, I’m Jack,” the guy he had been with earlier interrupted, holding his hand out. Quinn shot him a look of annoyance, but Jack’s smile didn’t falter. 

“Y/n,” you replied, shaking his hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, making Quinn blush and you smiled. “And I can see why.”

Jack shamelessly checked you out and you tilted your head, amused at the brother. 

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You replied, locking eyes once again. 

“Only for you, sweetheart,” he flirted, and you felt a slight blush cross your features. Quinn was frowning now as he glared at Jack, who shot him a wink. You chatted a little longer with the boys, well mostly Jack, as Quinn had grown quieter as the night went on. Jack finally left to go to the bathroom and you turned to him. 

“You okay?” You asked and he looked down at you, clearly contemplating saying something. 

“I don’t like him flirting with you,” he admitted and you looked at him confused. 

“He’s just being nice,” you countered and he gave you a look. 

“I know my brother.” 

“I’m not going to hook up with him Quinn,” you said amused, grabbing your purse. “There’s only one Hughes brother I’m interested in and it’s not him. I’ll see you later.” 

His eyes widened as he processed your words and he watched you walk away. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of weeks had passed since then, and Quinn had definitely been more flirty with you but hadn’t made a move. You were starting to get worried that you had said too much that night at the bar; it was exactly why you avoided drinking around him in the first place. 

It was the week before Thanksgiving and you were going to your good friend Rachel’s house for a Friendsgiving party. She had done it each year for the past three and it always meant a good meal and then sitting around a bonfire, drinking and talking. You had been looking forward to it all month; it was a good chance to get away from work and just relax. It didn’t seem like work would be getting away from you, though, as you looked over to see Quinn stepping out of an Uber at the same time you pulled up. 

“What’s up princess?” He asked with a grin, taking the potato dish you brought out of your hands. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked befuddled. 

“I’m friends with Rachel’s new boyfriend,” he said and you nodded. Rachel had started dating this guy she had met at work a couple of months ago. You had yet to meet him but had heard good things. “You’re friends with Rachel, right?”

“Yeah,” you told him as you walked in the house. 

“Y/n!” Rachel called as you made it into the kitchen. She was wearing a cute little apron over her sweater and jeans and you hugged her in greeting. “Meet Paul!”

Her boyfriend gave you a kind smile, shaking your hand before turning to pull Quinn into a hug. 

“What’s up huggy?” Paul said and you watched amused as the two boys caught up. 

“I totally forgot to tell you that Quinn was coming. You guys see each other a lot at work, right? " she asked, and you nodded. “He’s cute.” 

“Rachel,” you warned and she smirked. 

“Just saying.”

You helped her with the final touches as everyone else arrived, Quinn staying in the kitchen with you guys, nursing a beer. 

“Okay, everyone, grab a plate and food, and let's eat!” Rachel called, and you joined her in line. You filled your plate and moved to the dining room, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as Quinn took the spot next to you. 

“So how long have you two been together?” One of Rachel’s friends asked you and Quinn. Other conversations flowed in the background as you looked at Quinn quickly before answering. 

“We aren’t together, just coworkers,” you said and she nodded. 

“Just coworkers, not even friends?” Quinn said, pouting and you rolled your eyes. 

“Friends,” you confirmed and Rachel gave you a wink from where she was sitting. 

“I didn’t know you worked for the Canucks,” the girl continued and you nodded, taking a sip of your wine. 

“Yeah, have been for a couple of years now,” you told her. 

“That’s so lucky. I’d love to work around a bunch of hot athletes,” she said, and you choked a little on your drink, causing Quinn to grin. 

“Yeah, she is lucky,” he teased, and you shot him the finger. The rest of dinner went smoothly. You had a couple more glasses of wine before slowly following the group outside as Paul got the fire going. It was chilly, and you regretted already not having brought your heavier coat.

Quinn was already sitting back in one of the outdoor chairs, watching you as you got closer. 

“Cold princess?” He asked as you got closer and you crossed your arms shaking your head. 

“I’m fine,” you said but shivered involuntarily, causing him to give you a teasing smile. 

“Come sit in my lap,” he said and you gave him a death glare. 

“I’m not sitting in your lap,” you said and he smirked looking around. 

“Where else are you going to sit?” 

Sure enough, Rachel had invited more people than usual, and there were actually no seats open. You held your head high, determined not to show him his effect on you, and you moved closer to him. His eyes widened as you sat down on his lap, and he set down his beer next to him so that he could adjust you into him. 

Rachel was grinning widely at you from the next chair over and you ignored it, just jumping in to ask her about work. You chatted with Rachel for a while, enjoying the warmth Quinn provided with his arms wrapped around you. She got pulled into another conversation and you turned your attention to Quinn. 

“You’re being quiet,” you said and he gave you a small smile. 

“I’m enjoying the peacefulness,” he said and you smiled. “Still cold?”

“A little,” you replied and he shifted so you could lean into his chest. His head rested on top of yours. “Better.”

“Good,” he hummed. You watched the fire for a little bit before shifting again to get comfortable. 

“Stop moving,” Quinn rasped and you moved again to look up at him, earning a small groan. You were about to ask what was wrong but you felt it. He gave you a pointed look as you smirked, feeling him hard underneath you. 

“What’s wrong Huggy?” You teased as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Don’t be a tease,” he grunted. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered. Looking around to see everyone engrossed in their own conversations, you smirked before resting your head on his shoulder for a second, bringing your lips to his neck, and nipping at the skin. 

Quinn lifted you off his lap, standing up with his hand holding onto yours tightly. 

“I think we’re going to head out,” he told Rachel and Paul. Rachel looked at you knowingly and stood up to hug you goodbye. You said goodbye to some other friends before following Quinn through the house and back out towards your car. 

The car was filled with a charged silence as you and Quinn sat next to each other, both knowing what was about to happen. 

You broke the stillness by casually asking, "Your place or mine?" Quinn's eyes flickered down to your lips, and without a word, he leaned over the console and grabbed the side of your head, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in a fiery kiss, his breath mingling with yours as he punished you for your teasing at the bonfire earlier. Your body responded eagerly, melting into his touch as you whimpered into the kiss. A small smirk tugged at Quinn's lips before he pulled back, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“Your place as long as this isn’t a one-time thing,” he said and your eyes widened as you caught your breath. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

“I don’t do one-night stands,” he said simply and you tried to understand his words. 

“So you want to hook up more than once,” you said, and he chuckled, looking at you in amusement. 

"Forget just hooking up, princess. I want to take you out on real dates. I want to be by your side constantly. I need to see you outside of work, in every moment possible," he declared, his words igniting a fiery passion in your heart.

“But it’s really not allowed,” you said, shoulders sagging. 

“There is no rule against it,” he countered and you sat back thoughtfully. 

“Fine,” you agreed and he smiled. “I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I’d be insane not to like you,” he said and you pressed your lips to his again, softer this time. 

You were nervous as you made the drive to your apartment. Quinn was quiet in the seat next to you, but his hand on your thigh assured you that he wanted this. He followed you out of the garage and up to your apartment, taking in the cozy space that was so you. 

After throwing your keys on the counter and taking your jacket off you stood facing him wanting him to make the next move. He eyed you slowly before coming towards you, raising his hand to hold the side of your head. 

“Are you sure?” He whispered and you hummed in agreement. That was all it took and his lips were on yours, his other hand pulling your hips into him. His lips moved harshly against yours, nipping at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp. 

Hands finding your ass, he lifted you up, letting you wrap your legs around him as he carried you to your bedroom. He laid you down gently, without breaking the kiss, hovering over your body. 

Quinn's hands roamed your body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. You arched into him, craving more contact. He broke away to trail kisses down your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point.

"Quinn," you breathed, running your fingers through his hair.

He lifted his head to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured.

You blushed at his words, pulling him back down to capture his lips again. Your hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his abs. Quinn groaned into your mouth, grinding his hips against yours.

Sitting up slightly, he tugged off his shirt before helping you remove yours. His eyes roamed your newly exposed skin hungrily.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked again, his voice husky.

You nodded, pulling him back down to you. "I'm sure," you whispered against his lips.

Quinn's hands skimmed down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He unclasped your bra, tossing it aside before cupping your breasts. You gasped as his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

"You're so responsive," he murmured, trailing kisses down your neck to your chest.

His mouth replaced his hands, tongue swirling around one nipple as his fingers teased the other. You arched into him, hands fisting in his hair as pleasure coursed through you.

Quinn continued his path downward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach. He looked up at you as he unbuttoned your jeans, silently asking permission. You lifted your hips, allowing him to slide them off along with your thong.

Quinn's eyes roamed over your now fully nude form, a look of awe on his face. "You're incredible," he breathed.

He kissed his way up your inner thigh, his stubble creating delicious friction against your sensitive skin. When he reached your center, he placed a gentle kiss there before slowly running his tongue along your folds.

You gasped, hips bucking involuntarily. Quinn gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued his attention. His tongue circled your clit before sucking it into his mouth, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

"Quinn, please," you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for.

He slid a finger inside you, curling it to hit that spot that made you see stars. Adding a second finger, he pumped them in and out in tandem with the movements of his tongue.

“Fuck Quinn I’m gonna cum,” you whined out and he increased his pace. Your hands were gripping the sheets on either side of you and you struggled in his hold as your orgasm washed over you. He cleaned you up before coming back up to kiss your lips.

Quinn kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh through his jeans. Reaching down, you palmed him through the fabric, causing him to groan into your mouth.

"These need to come off," you murmured, tugging at his waistband.

Quinn quickly shed his remaining clothes, kicking them off the bed. Your eyes roamed his now naked form appreciatively. He was all lean muscle, his body honed from years of hockey.

"Like what you see?" he asked with a smirk.

"Very much," you replied, pulling him back down to you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his length slide against your wet folds. Quinn reached between your bodies, lining himself up at your entrance. He paused, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked one final time and you nodded, gasping as he pushed into you. “Fuck princess, you’re so tight.”

Quinn stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. You rolled your hips, signaling him to move. He started with slow, deep thrusts, gradually building up speed.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, burying his face in your neck.

Quinn quickened his pace, his hips slamming into yours. You could feel your climax building, the pressure coiling in your belly.

Suddenly, Quinn changed positions, pulling you on top of him and sitting up against the headboard. He held onto your hips as you rode him, setting a pace that had both of you panting.

You leaned back, hands on his thighs for support as you tilted your hips to hit that spot inside you again and again. Quinn's fingers dug into your skin as he watched you pleasure yourself on him.

"You look so fucking beautiful like this," he groaned, and it pushed you over the edge.

You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you once again, Quinn following soon after with a loud groan.

You lay there, panting and tangled in each other’s arms. Quinn pressed kisses along your neck and jaw, before pulling out of you.

"That was incredible," he said, flopping down beside you.

"Mhmm," you agreed, snuggling into his side.

“I was being serious about what I said earlier,” he said and you looked up to him. “I want all of you.”

“Then you can have me,” you said leaning up to kiss him. 

[flutterclouds]

This was such a great chapter, Tesh! I really loved getting to read about Nia and Toby trying to get their real first lead into the earthquakes. I also really liked reading about the tense scene in the rain between Calder and Kern. I do wonder if the Girafarig that slipped away will show up again. I do have to wonder what they might be up to.

I also loved seeing Samir team up with Team Scarlet in this chapter. Toby internally noting how Nia attracts lonely people to her was such a cute touch. I thought the narration’s noting of the the town having so much rain to be quite interesting. Perhaps a Pokemon is using Rain Dance? On that note, Earthquake is a TM, and a large number of Pokemon can learn it, including Girafarig. I’m not sure on how TMs might factor into the world of Seekers of Soul, so I’ll just have to wait to see if any of my move theories might be have some truth to them.

Another part of this chapter I really loved was the worldbuilding. Toby being sensitive to contact with water due to being a Fire type is so interesting to me. Does he drink water at all, or does he only stay hydrated through hydration berries? I also loved the little detail of Deidra being more sensitive to the quakes since she is a Lopunny and thus has pretty good hearing. Nia having the wherewithal to get under the saloon was also such a good detail since I know some places in the our world have extensive earthquake education. That makes me think that Nia must have lived somewhere near an earthquake fault, or at least learned about it at some point.

I think you’ve done such a great job expanding the world of Seekers of Soul, especially when it comes to the mythos and geography. The towns and locations visited so far feel very lived in. The Xylem Guild is a cozy community of Seekers, Ghatha is a lively city of colorful stone, and Asra is a desert mining town that comes alive at night after the day’s work is done.

Finally, I want to say I loved seeing more of Toby’s softer side this chapter. It was especially clear when he absorbed the Oricorio’s words, letting them take precedent for a moment over his need to find information about Team Zenith. He’s really come such a long way. Nia too, she would have never have gathered the courage to chase after Samir in the rain after an earthquake at the start of the story. You’ve done such a great job with their character development. I’m so excited to see where their adventures lead them next, with the matter of Giratina hanging over their heads and all. There’s also the matter of Will. At this point, I do not trust him and going by an animation you posted a few years ago, he’s definitely connected to Giratina in some way. Either way, I’m looking forward to seeing what Nia, Tobias, and Samir find in the mines next time.

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 43] (34 Pages)

<< First | < Previous | Next >

-

Trouble crops up in Asra. Tobias and Nia find a new lead.

-

Keep reading

[idorukiss]

Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Sylus would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and ive made similar ones for the other boys too!

1,035 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Xavier ・ Zayne ・ Rafayel

Sylus is always prepared for any and every situation that could happen when he works, In all his time reigning over the N109 zone there hasn't been a single thing or person that hasn’t been accounted for to some degree- that was until you showed up at least. Like a black cat, you seemed to bring unexpected chaos wherever you stepped.

Of course he couldn’t help but do everything he can to keep you by his side, not only to be a formidable ally but simply cause he finds you as a whole fascinating. What kind of things will you say next? How will you get out of this situation? It’s like a game to him, one that he can’t predict or brute force the ending to.

While the two of you didn't get off on the best foot at the start, he proved himself very trusting and that he cared for your well being fairly easily. Sure he would take chances to tease you for the littlest things- even creating various situations just to see your reaction to them, but he still honestly responded to your every question and kept you as best in the loop for things as he was able.

It was strange yet nice to have someone like him by your side, someone so strong and confident that you could trust to cover your back and seemingly trusted you as much to cover his in return. It was a dynamic you weren’t that used to yet, sure you had your fellow hunters but no matter how much you fought alongside any of them you just couldn’t find yourself fully trusting in their abilities like this.

The more he got to know you the more he found himself thinking about you and the things you like. Often swiping his card first and thinking later any time your face flashed in his mind when perusing wares. He wonders how long it will take you to realize he keeps all of his estates fully stocked with presents and everything you might need in the event you show up to any of them.

“Sylus? Why are you calling me so early??” “Check your door kitten, you should have a package waiting for you” “Don't tell me its another gun, I keep telling you I can't use these outside of the N109 zone” he chuckles deeply “Well I could get you a gun too if you really want one. But no, it's something different this time” Curiously you grab the box and start to open it “...A teddy bear?” “Do you not like it? I figured it could add to your growing plush collection.” You let out a small giggle “That's so sweet of you. But you didn't have to send it to me right away, you could've left it in my room for the next time I came by like usual.” his voice is soft, almost whispering into your ear “I couldn't wait to give it to you is all. Wont you accept my gift?” Your heart pounds “I love it, thank you. Ill be sure to sleep with it every night!” your face is beaming, he cant see it through the phone but he can surely hear it in your voice.

Any time you find yourself without missions long enough to justify the trip, you spend it in the N109 zone with him. You told yourself at first it was just to keep an eye on him and see if you can catch any weaknesses, but you were secretly excited to be spending time with him even if it was just sitting in content silence together while he worked. And despite his unchanging face, Sylus might’ve looked forward to each of your visits even more than you.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary to accompany him to various events and gatherings, and it was surely strictly for business at first. Now though? It’s hard to tell. Not that you mind either way, it just felt nice to have his arm around you and being doted on throughout the night. When people inquired about who you were, he would usually refer to you as his woman in a more joking way at first, but your heart couldn't help but flip the first time he said it more genuinely. While looking right at you with a smile.

One very late night after attending a party, you couldn't help but doze off in the car on the way back to his place. It was much later in the night than you are typically used to, you don’t know how he can function at this time of night most days. You can’t help but let your mind wander and picture what day to day life with him would be like if you just never went back home.- If you stayed by his side for the rest of time.

He gently carries you inside, but instead of going all of the way to your dedicated room he brings you with him into his. There's no nefarious plans, he just simply wants to have you by his side longer and has wished to wake up to your face for far too long. A faint hum stirs you from your dreams as you are being gently placed onto the comfort of his mattress. A small kiss pressed to the top of your head as the blankets pulled over you before he quietly climbs in beside you.

Did you even wake up in the first place? Even if it was still a dream it meant everything to you, and you reach an arm out pulling yourself close to him and nuzzling into his side. Your eyes flutter closed once more enjoying his warmth as he quietly chuckles to himself and wraps an arm around you in return, falling into a blissful sleep of his own. Neither of you would give up this moment for the world, you were meant to be in each other’s arms just like this for eternity.

He would kill for you, and you would live for him. Nothing anyone could do would predict your love for one another, and you'll continue to defy fate to be with him

[teecupangel]

Hate to be that person crouding your asks but... you know the thing girls say to their boyfriends?

'would you still love me if i was a worm?' ...that but with Desmond actually turning in to one

As long as you don’t mind how long it takes me to answer asks or reply to you guys, cloud away XD

We have a Worm!Desmond idea before but the caveat for that one is that Worm!Desmond has the ability to actually turn into a big worm.

In this one, Desmond has no special power.

He’s absolutely just a normal worm.

But to give him a ‘helping hand’, we’ll make his life a bit easier by having a ‘fated meeting’ with his human ‘partner’ (there is no way in hell that Desmond would let anyone call them his master, even if he is, for all intent and purposes, absolutely the pet in this situation.

For Altaïr, he actually meets worm!Desmond while he was hiding to stop other people from seeing him cry over the death of his father. He takes Desmond in and actually hides him in their room, slowly building a habitat for him while he’s training. By the time Altaïr is an Assassin, Desmond already taken an entire wall for his ‘room’ and is living the best worm life XD

For Ezio, we’re going for a more angst-y version. He’s actually Petruccio’s pet that Petruccio was nurtured. When they were attacked, Desmond’s ‘home’ was destroyed and Ezio actually found him when he came back to get Giovanni’s robes. Desmond had been crawling towards him and Ezio almost stepped on him before taking him in.

For Ratonhnhaké:ton, we’ll spice things up and make him connected to Shay. Specifically, Shay and Liam are actually the ones taking care of him, giving him a home in the homestead. When Shay defected and killed Liam, Achilles didn’t have the heart to kill the worm and just gave it food and left it alone in the office. Ratonhnhaké:ton started taking care of him afterwards and would sometimes talk to him, mostly to complain about Achilles and to tell him what has happened in the homestead.

Edward, Arno and the Frye twins have similar setups.

For Edward, he already had a home in the captain’s quarters in the Jackdaw and Edward just continued to feed him. Desmond actually didn’t know Edward was a Kenway until much later. He just thought Edward was some pirate dude that didn’t mind feeding some random worm.

In Arno’s case, Desmond’s home is right next to the chest that held the cafe’s profit and Arno learned the tradition of leaving Desmond food whenever anyone put or took money from the chest. He would learn later on that the one who started that tradition was Bellec who saved Desmond from being used as fish bait. (Bellec was absolutely plastered when he announced that he was keeping Desmond as a pet and is too proud to go against his drunk self’s proclamation)

The Frye twins have no idea where Desmond came from. He was already in a very nice home (kinda like a repurposed aquarium) and no one felt the need to be a dick and kill him so he just eats and watches the drama unfolding between the Frye twins in the comforts of his home in the train the twins hijacked.

Kassandra’s of a similar ‘boat’. Desmond was already part of the Adrestia’s décor and no one really bothered to tell her if Desmond was meant to be there or not. Everyone just feeds him and keeps him safe in a little home inside.

Bayek, on the other hand, travels with Desmond because… he really has no idea why. The worm had been Khemu’s and Desmond just tried to follow him even after Bayek tried to give him to a friend he knew would take care of him. No, Desmond will not become any kind of Hidden One symbol. He’s so small, barely no one notices that Bayek carries him around XD

Okay, so I’m fusing Eivor’s and Basim’s idea because they’re connected. Basim actually keeps Desmond for one single purpose. After Enkidu refuses to come near him, Enkidu visited him once and left a worm by his feet before flying off. Desmond is actually the last ‘gift’ Basim got and he named Desmond ‘Gilgamesh’. Did his Loki senses ping anything about Desmond? Who knows XD What matters is, after Basim gets suckered into Yggdrasil, Eivor took Desmond off Basim’s clothes and gave him to Hytham. She knew that Basim cared for the worm (most of the time, talking to the worm as if the worm could understand him) and it felt right for the worm to be given to Hytham. … Desmond is just reeling from the fact that he spent years accompanying some kind of human being possessed by an Isu or something (he doesn’t know that was a thing XD)

[thoughtcascades]

What are the consequences to keep in touch with an emotionally unavailable man that tells you that for now he doesn’t want anything serious and wants to see you only as a friend and know each others more?

Staying with an emotionally unavailable man who's already told you - "I don't want anything serious" - is signing up to get hurt, over and over again, and calling it love. It's self-destruction masquerading as patience. You're standing in a queue, waiting for a train that never comes. You already know it's not coming, but you tell yourself that maybe the timetable will magically change just for you. Spoiler: it won't. That guy is not a mystery to be solved, or a misunderstood anti-hero in a Netflix drama. He's just someone honest enough to tell you what he can't give, but selfish enough to keep you around anyway. And that's the game. He gets the comfort of your presence, your attention, your hope, without ever having to give anything real in return. It's exploitation on a vibratory level. He's feeding off the space you hold for him, while giving nothing but breadcrumbs. The audacity. The consequences: First, your self-esteem will take a hit. You'll start to equate your worth with his mood swings. If he's responsive and nice? You'll feel high, maybe you're winning him over. But if he pulls away or reminds you of "the rules" (friends only, remember?), you'll spiral. This inconsistency rewires your brain, making you crave the highs so much that you tolerate the lows. You become the one clinging to the possibility even though it's killing you. And he's fine because he's not attached to any of it. He's got his limits, his freedom. And you? You're drowning in his emotional currents. He doesn't want to "get to know you better". That's code for "I like what we've got going, so why mess it up by adding responsibility?" He's keeping you at arm's length, just close enough to keep you invested, but far enough to avoid accountability. He knows. He knows you care more than you should, and he's fine with that imbalance because it works for him. This isn't cluelessness. It's calculated selfishness. People like this thrive because society romanticizes this toxic nonsense. Movies, songs, social media - they all sell the idea that if you love someone hard enough, they'll finally wake up and see their worth. It's a lie. Love doesn't fix people. Your patience won't magically unlock their ability to care. And yet we keep buying into this garbage narrative, thinking we're the exception to the rule. We're not. Staying in this dynamic isn't just bad for you - it's bad for everyone. You're enabling his behaviour. By staying, you're teaching him that it's OK to use people as emotional placeholders. You're telling him that he can get the benefits of intimacy without the responsibilities. He'll keep doing it with you, and then with the next person, and the next. It's a cycle. And every time you make excuses for him, you're not just hurting yourself - you're hurting the world in a kind of existential ripple effect. You're losing pieces of yourself. Your sense of independence, your boundaries, your ability to recognise when you're being abused - it all erodes. You'll become someone who settles for less, someone who settles, someone who thinks they have to earn the love that should have been given to them for free. And for what? For a man who told you in advance that he couldn't give you what you needed? People will tell you to "just walk away" because it's sooooo easy. It's not. Walking away feels like ripping your own heart out. But staying? Staying is like letting them rot from the inside out. Choose your poison. Either way it hurts, but at least there is a way to heal. You deserve to be with someone who doesn't make love feel like a waiting game, someone who doesn't treat your feelings like a convenience store to be visited whenever they feel like it.

[jamethinks]

Since Yor and Loid both work very dangerous jobs they have picked a few quirks in relation to safety. Their ideas of what's a normal thought process are a bit warped. But because they're so close it never really strikes them as odd

-

*Twilight and Yor enter a new building*

Loid: There are approximately 15 exits to the exterior, including windows

Yor: 20 security workers. Some are posing as wait staff. No guns only tasers

Loid: No. The head one has a gun. Small discrete. It's probably a pistol. My best guess is that he's not supposed to have it.

Yor: right. I think that table in the north east is our safest bet.

Loid: I said the same thing. Best escape route. Can accommodate moving Anya with ease

Anya: I just wanted to meet bondman.

-

*Twilight showing Yor around a house they want to buy*

Loid: below the basement there's a secret cellar. There's also a tunnel that leads all the way to the garage at the back of the property so we can easily escape

Yor: that's nice but I am concerned about Anya. I don't want her to come down here and play and get stuck by accident.

Loid: ywah, I'm gonna have to work out the mechanics of it. Need it be discrete but also not easy for kids to play around with. Will take a minute

Yor: that's fine. But I do love having a cellar. Nice a spacious and soundproof.

Loid: you could kill someone down here and no one would know

Yor: exactly.

-

*Yor comes back from visiting Melinda's house and is discussing it with Loid*

Yor: the house is such a maze. If you wanted to break in you're gonna need a map

Loid: what's the security like

Yor: surprisingly light on the inside. You would be good once you're inside but getting inside is the real struggle.

Yor: I must say the landscaping is a great desception. You'd think it would be easy to break in and use the foliage as cover, but it's so noisy it would alert anyone.

Loid: *chuckles* those Desmonds really have a way with security huh

-

*watching a horror movie*

Yor, watching a man get chopped up: that's so anatomically incorrect

Loid: that's way to much blood for such a shallow cut

Yor: you only get that kind of spray for a jugular

Loid: There's no way they didn't get caught with all that stomping they've been doing

Loid: that's not how a silencer works

Yor: look at that bullet wound. That's way to big for the type of bullets they were using

Loid: The exit wound is the same size, too. Seriously, who directed this?

-

*Twilight about to teach Anya how to shoot a gun*

Yor: loid what the hell are you doing?

Loid: look ok she's needs to be able to defend herself against intruders. The stabbing and hand to hand combat rely on her being in close proximity. Guns are vest for long range

Yor:

Yor: fine. But we are not showing her how to use a shot gun. It's way to heavy. Trying a pistol.

Loid: No. Too small. It'll be harder for her to get a good shot in. Shot guns can be propped up so she won't have to carry it. Plus, they're way more socially acceptable to have in the house

Anya: Becky's probably playing dress up right now...

[respectthepetty]

Hiii! Hope you have had a lovely Christmas.

I was watching His and the pre-series and the guys are red & blue. But I noticed that green was a big factor in the film.

I wondered if you had any thoughts.

I did notice at the end the ex wife seemed to be green, so I wasn’t sure if the green was linked to her.

It's been almost one year since you asked me this, and I'm finally delivering an answer because I am setting His free from Petty Prison four years after locking it up as part of me giving thanks to the BL gods for Thanksgiving.

His (Colors)

In the series, Shun is a Blue Boy and Nagisa is a Red Rascal.

Which makes perfect sense because only a Red Rascal would invite someone else to go with him to break up with his girlfriend, and only a Blue Boy would be loyal enough to actually go and witness him break up with his girlfriend.

And this was only on the second day of knowing each other! But then again, it was love at first sight for Nagisa.

Which is partly why it was never going to work with Chika. The other part is that they are too similar.

Chika is cool, but Nagisa needs someone who is not so close to his color because he needs a balance. Between the two colors, blue is better for him.

He needs a more reserved person, not someone who is loud and social.

But Shun just isn't blue.

And the more his feelings develop for Nagisa, the greener he gets.

Which is why, just like Nagisa and Chika, it was never going to work out between Shun and Ako. They are too similar.

The boys need each other because they make each other see the world differently instead of simply seeing it the same way they have always seen it.

So as Nagisa's feelings quickly rise to the surface as he becomes more enamored by Shun, we see more green.

And when he finally becomes so overwhelmed by his his emotions for Shun, who he thinks is dating Ako . . .

He kisses Chika, who is in green, which almost caused me to throw the series in Petty Prison.

But he realizes his mistake, and in his pink = 💕love💕 sweater in front of the red thread stairs of destiny, he finally admits to Chika that he loves Shun.

And we end with a promise of the boys keeping in touch and Shun returning in the summer while Nagisa wears the thinnest of blue stripes and Shun's backpack has little red stripes on it.

(But then again, they were exchanging colors and stealing glances of each other changing on the second day, so they really have been in love this entire time)

So we begin the movie with them still very much in love and still exchanging colors even in university.

UNTIL NAGISA DECIDES TO BE TRUE TO HIS COLOR AND BURN EVERYTHING DOWN BECAUSE HE IS IMPULSIVE!

And this is why His has sat in Petty Prison for four years because this wild ass Red Rascal decided to break the love of his life's heart so he could pursue his passion and be "normal," only to just randomly show up on that broken man's doorstep YEARS LATER expecting that man to take care of him AND HIS CHILD! THE AUDACITY!!!!!!

And to make it worse, the movie begins in the present with Shun in green still in love with Nagisa with a red book over his face and Ogata commenting that Shun is basically a dead man (because he hasn't been living since that devil broke his heart!)

But the best part of the movie is where the brightest green shows up. If it weren't for Sora, and her favorite book about an alligator writing letters to his friend to visit him IN THE SUMMER, these two would not have found their way back to each other.

Sora was even the one to unintentionally push them out of the closet in her tiny green sweater.

She understands the color assignment since after Nagisa and Shun were caught kissing in the kitchen, Nagisa finally wore green.

And this is important. Nagisa has always been surrounded by green even in the series. He has always been aware of his feelings for Shun since the first day he met him, but Nagisa has not worn green, so him wearing it now, getting a job, and wanting to make a home with Shun shows he is finally serious about making this work WITH Shun.

Which finally allows Shun to forgive Nagisa, confess to the entire community (at a funeral) that he and his boyfriend are not just friends but homosexuals, and to wear Nagisa's color.

So even though you thought the green came from the mom, the mom is still trying to figure out what "normal" means now that she is a single working mother with a gay ex-husband. But no matter how much she clings to her version of "normal," Sora has always known what it is.

Green is the new pink.

Because that's the color of her dads' love.