#it's possible that i don't actually know what the word 'meet-cute' means

[slayfics]

is it possible for you to make any sort of shinsou related fics? I think it would be really cute to see him take the reader on a date or maybe a valentines special eventually?

Valentine’s Day with Hitoshi.

1,700 words~

"Isn't it so cute!" Mina exclaimed hugging a teddy bear to her chest. You both were walking back to the dorms after the conclusion of classes.

"Yeah, it's a pretty fluffy guy," you said smiling back at her. Mina was overjoyed to show off the teddy bear Eijiro had gifted her earlier in the day as a Valentine's gift.

"Do you have any plans for today?" she asked, releasing the teddy bear from his suffocating hug.

"Yeah, I do...," You answered already prepared for the several questions that were bound to come next.

"WHAT!?! WITH WHO?! DOING WHAT!?! WHEN?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!" Mina demanded.

You laughed at her predictable behavior, "I'm supposed to meet Shinso in about an hour," You answered.

"HU?! Shinso?! Wait- the purple-haired boy from general studies?! NO WAY! He asked you out?! You can't just leave me hanging without any details! When did you two even talk?!" Mian asked surprised.

The truth was you were surprised too. Hitoshi was in the general studies course, so you hadn't really crossed paths with him during your time at U.A., despite that you found a letter stuffed into your locker a few days before Valentine's Day.

You unraveled the letter from your pocket and handed it to Mina who took the liberty of reading it out loud.

I apologize for doing this informally. However, I am unsure if we will cross paths in time for me to ask you directly. I've been interested in getting to know you better for some time now and was hoping you'd be interested in meeting me after class this Wednesday. If you are, meet me at the stairs of the main entrance of the school at 7 pm. -Shinso

Mina cried out loud after finishing the letter, "This is so romantic! The dork could have left his phone number though."

"Yeah, I thought that too- it would have been nice to confirm with him but- that's all right. I'll get ready and, meet him over there," You answered.

"You have to text me right away after! He seems so mysterious- such an interesting quirk. I wonder what he's like. OMG! What if he brainwashes you, good thing you told me! If I don't hear from you by 9 pm I'm calling Aizawa.," Mina spoke, causing you to laugh.

"You're always so dramatic," You laughed as you both entered the dorms.

"You can never be too careful!" She spoke before giving you a wink. "Good luck! I'm off to meet up with Kirishima!"

You gave her a wave and made your way to your room.

Once you finished getting ready you made your way back to the school. You were shocked to see Hitoshi was actually waiting on the school steps, hands in his sweater pockets and backpack at his feet. His eyes lit up as soon as he spotted you.

"Hey," You greeted him nervously unsure of what to expect. You had never talked to him one-on-one before.

"Hi!" He greeted you back, unable to keep the smile that erupted on his face. It excited him to see you had come- and that you weren't afraid to talk to him in spite of his quirk. "I uh- apologize for asking you out in such an informal way- I would have liked to ask you in person but, I hadn't run into you at all the last few days," He explained.

Truth be told you don't ever remember running into him. Were you crossing paths with him before without noticing? He certainly seemed to be noticing you.

"Informal? What do you mean? A letter is as formal as it gets," You laughed, hoping to lighten the awkwardness and break the ice. "I didn't mind it at all, in fact, it was pretty thoughtful."

"I'm glad you think so, and I'm glad you came... you didn't have any other plans?" he asked, hoping he wasn't prying too much too soon.

"Mm no-," you said glancing to the side, slightly embarrassed that no one else had taken any interest in making plans with you this Valentine's Day.

Hitoshi tried to hide the smile that threatened to break through on his lips at hearing you weren't seeing anybody. "Well, I uh- got you something," he said leaning down to pick up his backpack and search inside. He pulled out a purple plushie cat with a pink bow tied around its neck. "Hope it's not too dumb," he said holding it out to you.

A squeak escaped you at seeing the adorable stuffed cat, "This is so cute!" you exclaimed, grabbing it eagerly and squeezing it.

"I'm glad you think so," He spoke, blush tinting his face at your excitement.

"I got you something too," you said reaching into your bag.

"Hu? You didn't have to-," he replied, a stunned look on his face.

"Of course I did, it's Valentine's Day and you were sweet enough to want to spend time with me so- here," you said handing him the chocolate bar you had picked out at the store.

"That's really nice of you," he spoke a full blush on his face now as he grabbed the bar from your hand. Hitoshi cleared his throat trying to get his composure back, "I uh- wasn't sure what you'd be interested in, so I had a few ideas but- are you ok with walking to the cafe to get something to drink?" He asked.

"That sounds fine to me," You smiled hugging the stuffed cat in your arms and you both started the walk to the cafe.

"I've uh- been admiring you for some time now," Hitoshi disclosed, as you both walked down the street.

Your face flushed, you'd never met a boy to be so honest and straightforward before. "Really?" You manage to squeak out.

"Mhm-" He nodded. "You work so hard in your courses- I know you'll be an admirable hero one day."

"Oh, thank you- I'm not really sure how to take that compliment," You laughed nervously. "You're in the general studies course, right? What is that like?"

"It's fine I suppose- but I'm working hard training with Aizawa to transfer into the hero course," He answered.

"You're training with Aizawa!?" You asked shocked.

"Yeah- he's your teacher, right?" he asked, as you both approached the cafe, and he held the door open for you.

"Yup!" You nodded happily, entering the cafe. "If he is training you, I have no doubts you'll be transferring to the hero course in no time!"

Hitoshi smiled and glanced at the floor flustered by your praise. "Thank you for that- it's nice to have the approval of someone like you," He spoke causing you to fluster slightly.

Hitoshi ordered your drinks and you both started the walk back to the dorms.

"What do you mean someone like me?" You asked curiously, still taken aback by his comment.

"Hm? Well- I suppose I put a great deal of importance on the hero course so... hearing that a strong hero student like you thinks I have what it takes to make it... It's nice. I'm not used to that. Most people are scared to talk to me because of my quirk or say it's a perfect quirk for a villain," He explained.

"Oh- well don't pay too much attention to those people. Your quirk is amazing and could definitely make for a powerful pro hero. So- just stay focused on your training and maybe I'll see you in my class before I know it," you said encouragingly.

Hitoshi smiled, "I would like that... to be in the hero course but also, to see you more often."

"Oh-," You exclaimed feeling your face get hot again. "I've never met someone so blunt as you- it's refreshing," You spoke hoping your cheeks weren't too obvious.

You both approached the dorms and came to a slower pace. "I don't have any problems expressing my true feelings- if I wasn't training so much with Aizawa I would have liked to ask you out sooner. These are your dorms correct?" He asked.

"Yeah..." You said a little downcast that you were back and already going to part ways.

"If it's ok with you- I would like to take you to eat after classes on Friday," he said. Hitoshi felt his stomach flutter at the way your eyes lit up at his invention. He had admired you from afar for so long that it was overwhelming to see how much you appreciated his attention.

"Yeah! That sounds good," you said excitedly, the stuffed cat bouncing in your arms due to your excited rocking on your heels. "Oh! Why don't you let me give you my number-" You offered holding your hand out.

Hitoshi fished for his phone in his pocket and handed it over. He couldn't help but grin at the careful way you kept the stuffed cat in your arms as you typed out your number.

"Here you go!" You said handing it back to him. "I uh- thank you this was really nice."

Hitoshi nodded in agreement.

"I guess I'll see you Friday then," You spoke feeling hesitant to walk away. You wanted to spend more time with him and get to know him more. You stared at the floor waiting for him to give his farewell and walk away.

"Mhm- I'll see you then. You can let me know wherever you want to go...," he said, and you both silently waited for the other to make the first move to leave.

Hitoshi let out a small chuckle, "I guess neither of us want to go do we?" He observed.

You blushed slightly and looked at the stuffed cat giving it another squeeze, "This was nice- I uh feel calm being around you." You spoke, giving a Hitoshi another flutter in his stomach. He was used to hearing he put everyone on edge because of his quirk. It was intoxicating to hear you felt the opposite.

"Friday will come soon," He spoke and stepped closer to you closing some of the distance. You stared at him with doe eyes, as he moved closer placing a kiss on your cheek. "See you then," he smiled and left making his way back to the general studies dorms.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @derangedmango

[disneyprincemuke]

bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

[fayes-fics]

Textual Encounter

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Text fic. Wrong number meet-cute over text.

Warnings: none... this is fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Fic request fill for Anon (HERE). I kept it fun and fluffy, but yeah, I can see a sequel where they sext. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy! <3

Y/N: Hey Liz, it’s y/n y/l/n. Kindle Spa gave me your mobile. Said you had moved to another salon. I don’t trust anyone else to wax me tbh. Big date this week, kwim 😉 Can I get an appt? I’ll come to you. Doesn’t matter where. 

BB: Errr, I think you have the wrong number…

Y/N: Not Liz?

BB: Nope, Ben here. 

Y/N: Not a waxer, I presume?

BB: I may have waxed lyrical in my time, may even have lit a few candles. Have not waxed anyone no - my own body or anyone else’s. Yet. But I’m game to try anything once...

Y/N: Lol.

BB: Big date, eh?

Y/N: ….Yeah. Not that it's any of your business, stranger Ben.

BB: Fair. BB: Does it hurt?

Y/N: ??

BB: Getting waxed.

Y/N: Oh. Yeah. Like a motherfucker. But you sorta get used to it, tbh. And it’s so much less itchy than shaving regrowth, especially in sensitive areas… Wait, why am I having this convo with a complete stranger?!

BB: We don’t have to be strangers. BB: I’m Ben, 33, London. BB: I have no strong opinions on hair removal methods.

Y/N: lol. K. I’m y/n, 28, also London. Y/N: I, as you can see, do have some opinions.

BB: Hi y/n 👋 BB: I hope you can find Liz. Or someone else to assist with your hair needs.

Y/N: I would like it stated, for the record, I’m not hairy like a troll. I just like to keep things neat.

BB: The lady doth protest too much…

Y/N: You are cheeky for a stranger.

BB: Hey, I thought we agreed. Not strangers. Me Ben. You hairy troll.

Y/N: BLOCK.

BB: Just typing it doesn't work, you know.

Y/N: You should work at the Apple Genius Bar.

BB: Hmm, possibly. I do look good in blue. Or so I've been told.

Y/N: Always glad to provide career counselling.

BB: 🫡

4 days later.

BB: How’d your date go?

Y/N: That's odd. I don’t see a Genius Bar appt in my calendar…?

BB: iCal is a lying bastard. BB: I also assume you now can move faster through water.

Y/N: ??

BB: Waxed smooth like a dolphin…?

Y/N: 😆 Y/N: Entirely none of your business, but yes, actually. Well mostly. I leave some. Why am I telling you this?! Y/N: The guy was such a dud tho, I didn't get to show it off 🙁

BB: Please don't stop on my account. This is just delightful.  BB: I apologise on behalf of all men.

Y/N: For what?

BB: Having 4 sisters, I find the safest answer here is usually… everything, of course.  BB: But specifically, your rubbish date.

Y/N: Apology conditionally accepted. Y/N: 4 sisters?! 

BB: Only conditional? What do I gots to do to make it unconditional? BB: Yeah, I know… I’ve got 3 brothers too. My parents were really into each other. 

Y/N: IDK, serve a mean martini? Y/N: Understatement.

BB: That could be arranged. I took an online mixology course during lockdown.  BB: My sister El declared I'm better than Stanley Tucci. Admittedly, that was after 4 espresso martinis… but I'm taking it. She's opinionated but the best one. They are a weird bunch tho 🤔

Y/N: WOAH WOAH WOAH. That's a bold claim.

BB: Well, there’s only one way to dispute it: try one for yourself…

Y/N: Smooth, Genius Bar, smooth.

BB: I do my best 🤷

1 day later.

Y/N: I can't get my AirPods to work.

BB: You do realise I didn’t actually follow your career advice?

Y/N: Urgh. Inconvenient. What use are you then?

BB: As I said. Cocktails. I’ll try my hand at waxing if you want.

Y/N: Best stick to the day job. Which is…?

BB: Graphic design.

Y/N: Oh, that’s quite cool. 

BB: It pays the bills. You?

Y/N: MI-5

BB: Wow, you're a shit spy.

Y/N: It could be an excellent double bluff…

BB:

Y/N: Oh, we��ve graduated to memes now, have we, Genius Bar?

BB: It was called for.

Y/N: I’ll take it. Purely cos it's a Hemsworth.

BB: I would too, tbh.

Y/N: Bi?

BB: For a Hemsworth? Always.

Y/N: Anyone else?

BB: I’ll keep you posted.

Y/N: I'm on the edge of my seat.

3 days later.

BB: Oscar Issac.

Y/N: Good non sequitur evening to you, too, Genius Bar Ben.

BB: For the bi thing.

Y/N: Ahh. Got it. I can respect that.

BB: This is me, btw: www.instagram.com/benbridgerdesign.  BB: Figured you can decide for yourself if I'm a creeper.

Y/N: Appreciated.

3 minutes later.

Y/N: You paint?

BB: I dabble

Y/N: Modesty will only make me like you more.

BB: You like me?! 🥹

Y/N: You didn't mention you were handsome.

BB: There is no way to respond to that without me sounding like a twat.

BB: But thank you 😊

Y/N: This is me: www.instagram.com/ynhandle 

7 minutes later.

BB: Oh, Amalfi is so beautiful, isn't it?

Y/N: Wow. That's a deep cut. How far did you scroll back??

BB: 👀

Y/N: Yeah, it's beautiful. Shame it's tainted for me now. Was there with an ex.

BB: I saw. Very handsome.

Y/N: Are you sure you're not just into men full-stop?

BB: 🤷 BB: You’re very pretty, too.

Y/N: I’d believe it if you didn't mention my “very handsome” ex first…

BB: I call it like I see it. BB: I have had 4 whiskeys, tho, so make of that what you will.

Y/N: On a school night?!

BB: It’s my brother Ant's birthday. This is like non-optional drunk, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Happy birthday to him. 

BB: He says thanks. He’s also told me to get off my fucking phone. Which is rich. He is texting his wife nonstop.

Y/N: Hah! Safe travels through Whiskeytown, BenBridger 🫡

BB: I kinda miss Genius Bar…. 😞

Y/N: I can't win…

2 days later.

BB: Settle an argument for me.

Y/N: 🍿

BB: Col, younger brother, never stops eating... He claims Katz Deli is overrated. I argue it's touristy but still good. You’ve been. Where do you sit on this matter?

Y/N: You really did go thru my Insta, didn't you?? Y/N: Thanks for the follow, BTW.

BB: It's a compliment, I assure you. BB: Welcome. And same.

Y/N: Not complaining. And yeah, I agree with you, actually.

BB: Hah! Excellent!!

Y/N: Wait… your older brother is Ant, and your younger brother is Col? You’re Ben. So, like ABC?

BB:  … I already warned you my family was weird.

Y/N: You did. You did.

BB: Now, please excuse me while I go gloat.

Y/N: 👍

5 mins later.

BB: Hi. This is Col. You must be the famous y/n. Ben’s in the bogs, and the mug left his phone on the table unlocked, so this is on him.  BB: He like really likes you. Like a lot. Will you go on a date with him pls? 

Y/N: Err, ok, hi Col. Y/N: Umm, I think Ben should be the one to ask me that. Don’t you?

BB: He’s too scared you’ll say no.

Y/N: I won't…

BB: EXCELLENT.

2 minutes later.

BB: I am so SO sorry about that 😬 He’s such a shit. BB: But… do you mean it?

Y/N: Ask me properly…

BB: Would you, y/n, like to go on a date with me? Please?

Y/N: I would be delighted to Ben. 😀

BB: ��� BB: Are you free on Thursday? Could I take you to dinner?

Y/N: Sounds wonderful. 

BB: 7pm? Meet at Picadilly Circus? By Brasserie Zedel?

Y/N: I’ll be there 😀

BB: 😀

10 days later.

BB: I think you should know… Liz is an artiste 😮‍💨

Y/N: Stop texting me from my bed, you dork. 😘 Y/N: How do you take your coffee?

BB: I'm like 10 meters away. Why not just ask me?

Y/N: You started this, Genius Bar…

BB: Come back to bed, Mostly Hairless Troll.

Y/N: I asked for that, didn't I? 🤦

Benedict taglist, pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[venusjaynie]

baby names ~ blurb

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: a cute little scenario about discussing possible baby names with your husband chris.

cw: pregnancy, a lot of dialogue

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"what about... chris junior?" your husband turns to you with a smirk.

"we've been over this. he is not having your name." you say with an exasperated eye roll, though you don't fight the smile that graces your lips.

"i know, baby, i'm just teasin'. and bernard is definitely out?" you stare at him blankly in response.

"i know you aren't even serious about that." he just laughs at you. his laughter dies down and the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, with chris slowly rubbing your bump. you're around the 5 month mark now, and you couldn't be more excited, however the discussion of a name has been long winded, and hasn't just included you and chris. "what was nick's suggestion again?"

"nick originally said jimmy, which i vetoed. i love my dad but c'mon. then he said william." chris' reaction to the name didn't show much interest.

"that's nice but he just doesn't feel like a william, y'know?" you say to chris.

"i agree. matt suggested jonathan, which i didn't really like. mom still thinks he's actually a girl 'cause she says sometimes the scans can pick things up wrong." he says while looking at you, and you hum in acknowledgement.

"maybe she's right? sometimes they are wrong. it might be worth having a few girl options just incase, right?" he nods in agreement.

"what about... christina?"

"chris!"

"kidding, kidding. i like isabella." he says seriously.

"isabella... that's pretty. i like that one. that can be an option." he smiles in satisfaction that one of his suggestions has been received well. "i really like daisy, too." chris hums thoughtfully.

"me too." he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "hey, if we do have a boy, what about theo?" a smile graces your face.

"i like theo, but can his full name be theodore so we can call him teddy?" you ask sweetly, and chris chuckles quietly.

"sure thing, babe. teddy sturniolo. he sounds like a fuckin' badass." his seriousness makes you giggle.

the two of you fall into that comfortable silence again, and chris runs his hand up and down your thigh gently.

"hey, i'm really happy i got you pregnant."

"that's an strangely romantic sentiment, where did that come from?" you ask teasingly, to which he shrugs.

"i don't know, it's just that, i never thought i'd have kids this young 'cause i'm immature as fuck, y'know? but you make me think i can be a really good dad." your heart practically melt at his answer, until he says "and obviously you look hot as fuck with my baby in you." and your smile drops, unamused. he doesn't even redact his words as you know that he means well, and as much as he's crass and crude, he is genuinely glad that the two of you are starting a little family. you reach up to press a swift kiss to his cheek as matt enters the room.

"did you guys decide on a name yet?" he asks, walking over to the two of you.

"yeah, i think we're gonna go with bernard." you say, deadly stone-faced, and you receive a death glare in response from matt, followed by a burst of laughter from your husband.

"tell me you're kidding." he says.

"of course, matthew, we are not calling our child bernard." he breathes what can only be called a sigh of relief.

"what did you pick then?"

"as of right now, we're pretty set on theodore." you tell him, running your hand over your stomach, and matt's eyebrows raise slightly in surprise.

"theodore, huh? never heard either of you mention that one before."

"yeah, we just thought of it." chris chimes in. "y/n says we can call him teddy, and i said we can call him theo, so there's plenty of nickname potential there."

"that's really cool, guys. i can't wait to meet my nephew. or niece, according to mom." matt says with a laugh. "hey, maybe it's twins and you guys just don't know yet. y'know how sometimes they can't see it on the scan? imagine if that happened to you guys. that would be insane."

matt's words make you freeze up a little. you hadn't even thought of that possibility, and while having twins would be fun, you're nervous enough for one, never mind two.

"i never even thought of that." you say with wide eyes, and matt can clearly sense the nervousness his words brought you.

"it's probably not twins, uh, they can almost always tell. you'll be fine!" he says quickly. feeling uncomfortable in the situation he created, matt awkwardly mutters out a 'sorry' and steps out of the room.

"and, babe, even if it is twins, we're gonna be amazing parents, yeah? and you're so strong so carrying those kids is gonna be light work for you, right?" chris says comfortingly. you nod, and relax again into chris' side.

you have to admit, the thought of having twins is exciting.

"yeah, it'll be fun." you say with a small smile. "we could get them little matching-but-not-matching outfits!"

"alright, sweetheart, don't get ahead of yourself, we don't even know if we're having twins yet." chris replies with a laugh.

"i know, i know. i'm just excited. and anyways, i've got another scan in a couple of weeks, so we'll know by then." he nods in response.

"imagine two mini versions of us running around." he says, secretly ecstatic at the thought of having twins.

"daisy and theo."

"fuckin' coolest duo in boston."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this sucks ass :)

[smuttykdrama]

[Sub!Masochistic!Test subject!Hyunsu x Dom!Sadistic!Scientist!Fem!Reader / Sweet Home Season 2]

PART ONE AS REQUESTED!

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal sex, Sub!Hyunsu, Dom!Reader, Masochism, Sadism, Extremely fucked up reader, Female reader, Knife play, Name calling, Face slapping, Bondage, Blood. PURE FILTH BE WARNED LOL. Only read if you're 18 and above!!

Plot: Based on my idea in my previous post. Mad scientist reader meets Cha Hyunsu. All hell breaks loose when you decide you want him in other ways besides being your test subject.

Story under the cut. 🤭

"Yah, Cha Hyunsu."

He hesitantly looked up at you, nervously kneeling before you, chains shackled around him, binding him at your feet. Hyunsu's entire body shivered, alerting you of his coldness. You knew that he was freezing, having been confined completely naked. Fuck, he must be really embarrassed. Cute.

"Y-yes?"

He mumbled quietly, his puppy like eyes staring back at you. You'd been a scientist ever since your Dad introduced you to the wonders of the world, and this whole apocalypse thing really did excite you. And having an incredibly handsome and nude half human at your mercy was just the cream on the cake. The others wouldn't mind if you did a little experimenting on your own, right?

"Wanna get out of here?"

Hyunsu's head snapped up at the mention of escaping. He nodded, but still was wary. He at first had wanted to help to find a cure...but knowing now the reality of this place...he wasn't so keen to stay. You raised your eyebrows, smirking and with your hand, you lifted his chin up with your finger.

"Hmm? You're a pretty one, aren't you? Tell me. How far would you go for me to help you? I certainly can help you escape...for a price."

Hyunsu sighed; you scientists were all the same after all - conniving and sinister. Of course there'd be a price...but what? He didn't like the twinkle in your eye...or did he?

"What do you want?"

He murmured shyly, standing up slowly, trying not to trip back onto the floor from exhaustion. Your mouth creased up into a crooked smile as you thought of all the possibilities.

"Hyunsu. Nothings free in this world. But what i want isn't money. I want...you."

"W-what?"

Hyunsu thought he didn't hear you correctly. You wanted him? Why? He's just a pathetic monster, a test subject. Did you want ro experiment on him more? Subject him to torture?

"No."

He stated, afraid of what you were offering. What if you wanted to make him your lab rat as well? But...something about the way you seductively stroked his chest made Hyunsu uneasy. It wasn't as simple as that, was it?

"Oh baby. You don't have a choice, anyway. I'll use you. I'll use you until you feel like crying."

You inched closer to the man, making him step back hesitantly.

"You know what I mean, right, Hyunsu? My options are limited here, and the men aren't exactly like you. They...don't even come close to you."

Your cold finger running down his chest and abdomen made Hyunsu shiver; in a good and bad way. Wait, was he actually turned on by this? He knew exactly what you meant. Without hesitation, you stated,

"Cha Hyunsu. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to fuck you and use you until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Hyunsu couldn't believe what he's hearing. His mind went blank and his body seized up, unable to think clearly or stop you. All he could see was your eyes gleaming maliciously at him, lips pulled up into the most terrifying grin he'd ever seen, teeth bared in a grimace. He trembled at your touch, his body begging him to take this all further, to give in to his desires. But he didn't say anything. Not a word.

"Hyunsu."

Hyunsu snapped out of his trance once you repeated his name. The look in your eyes was no longer playful, but full of venomous determination. He gulped, his eyes watering from both fear and lustful frustration. You leaned forward, whispering huskily against his ear.

"I'm going to have you, and you're going to let me."

You pressed your lips to his jaw, sucking lightly while rubbing your thumb across his bottom lip. The action sent shivers down his spine, causing him to shudder. You bit hard, pulling away from him. He whimpered.

"Lay on the ground. Now."

His body quaked with anticipation at the mere order, obeying your wishes and complying immediately. You kneeled beside him, straddling his hips to make things easier. His breathing became erratic, shallow pants and quick breathes. He tried to keep it together, but his cock started growing, aching for attention.

"(Y-Y/N)..."

Hyunsu whined, his hips desperately bucking up into you. Without another word, you peeled your shorts and panties off in a second, positioning yourself.

"Let's see how long you can last first. Don't cum, or I'll punish you."

With those words, you pushed onto him, moaning as you felt the hot, wet friction between your two bodies. He gasped at the sudden intrusion, hands clutching the concrete floor beneath him. You grunted as the feeling overwhelmed you, feeling your body tighten up with passion as he gripped your hips tightly.

"Oh god..(Y/N)..."

You smirked, slapping Hyunsu's face.

"Quiet. So a monster can get it up? Interesting...I bet your monster wants to fuck me right now, isn't that right, Cha Hyunsu?"

Hyunsu nodded. Truth be told, ever since he arrived here, the other scientists were cold and cruel towards him. But you...you were warm and kind. Your fascination with him grew to be much more than just being interested in his abilities. Rocking back and fourth on his cock, you gripped his wrists and held them back above his head. With one hand, you held Hyunsu's arms back, and with the other...you got out a knife from your back pocket. Hyunsu's face dropped.

"Good boy, Hyunsu. Now, shall we put your healing abilities to the test? Scream, and I won't let you cum. Scream, and I'll make you suffer."

Hyunsu shook his head frantically, but the only sound he made was a small whimper. You chuckled darkly, leaning down to kiss Hyunsu forcefully on the lips, biting the side of his lip harshly. He yelped, trying to pull away, but found himself unable to when you bit too deep. It healed within seconds.

"H-hurt me..."

Hyunsu begged, eyes clouded over with lust, staring at the knife. You rolled your eyes. A sick freak. You could've easily used the knife to kill him...but this is too fun, watching him squirm under your control. You took the knife, slashing it roughly across Hyunsu's chest, eliciting another gasp from the half human as he watched blood start dripping down his pale skin. It healed again, quicker this time. Not that it was any less painful. Your eyes widened in fascination as you fucked him harder.

"Amazing..."

"W-what?"

"I like you, Cha Hyunsu. You can be my fucktoy, painslut and test subject...In fact...I don't think you'll ever leave at all."

Hyunsu screamed.

[cuubism]

work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

--

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

[romanticoms]

everything i said i knew, i didn't (come through)

lando norris x fem!reader → tags: wc 2.2k, pure smut, fan(?) x athlete, no use of y/n (thankfully) not proofread, 5am.

author's note: this set us back by like 60 years.. i won't elaborate on why it's so bad. (my excuse is that i only write resident evil fanfics :3)

it's about a week or so into the new season, which has everyone evidently excited, some more so than others, much like you, you could only ever dream of watching the races in real time, it's a given that you're on vacation a little too near to what could be considered a hotspot for drivers alike.

drivers were practically saran wrapped in black coats, heading from the hotel lobby straight up to their respective rooms,

you were just a simple thing, minding your own business, it'd be rude to even try to look for any one of the drivers, that's class a asshole behaviour, as much as you were willing to look for any of them, it's not like it's in your cards to find a driver on their one special night's rest, let alone build up the courage and ask any one of them for their signatures.

to your surprise, word on the street says something about mclaren's drivers promoting a new sponsor of theirs, it won't hurt to snag a picture or two, especially now that there are fans posting about it,

you arrive at the ballroom, not too big not too small, reasonable enough not to squint to look at either one of the two, but you were fairly distanced away from the two, a crowd lies in between you and the two, hell, if someone had to point you out from the crows it'd probably take hours, not for lando though, his eyes had been on you since the moment you'd been there, probably longer? only he knows, but it takes you a questionable amount of time to even realize who exactly he was staring at, you shrug off the possible feeling of the fact that he was actually staring at you, don't get your hopes up, that's what you agreed on since the start anyways.

a little after the event concludes, it's a slip past midnight but you still manage to shower the feeling of heavy crowds pushing you back and forth away, slipping into a racy nightdress, you're reminding yourself to make the best of a holiday, even if it means you have to sacrifice some comfort to look cute (even when nobody's looking), you finish off by tying a near slobbish knot that doesn't have you trying again, still buzzing with the idea that lando's been looking at you, as much as you're willing to deny it for the right reasons, it's true, looking back at the recordings on your phone and it's more apparent that he was taking quick glances at you and the crowd ahead of him, then you, back to the crowd, it's an endless cycle and it has you giggling to yourself, a fucking coincidence

a knock or two hits your door, it's faint but you're aware that it's bed time, room service at this time of the night? they changing your room due to booking fuck ups? you think of the possibilities on the short walk to the door, you peek through the peephole to find lando norris, at your door, smiling somewhat like an idiot.

meeting an f1 driver was certainly not on your "list of things that happened today" bingo card, let alone on the fact that he's here just to see you, it's too surreal it has you nearly weak at the knees.

the door, holy shit. opening the door, butter fingers, it's a generational curse, lando seems much more relaxed after seeing you, poor boy was probably scared he got the wrong room,

you turn to speak but he hushes you, a fucking finger to your lips and it already has you feeling butterflies, given your knees were weaker than gruel, he's had you in a trance, captivated to the point where you take a few steps back from the door until he allows himself in, he shuts the door softly, double— triple checking if they're locked, he turns to you, it's the glint in his eyes that show he owes you an explanation,

"sorry about that," he starts,

"what brings you here?" you ask out of pure concern, it shocks you (and others, probably) that lando would go out of his way for someone like you, it's cute, to a point.

"just needed an escapade," he sits himself on the edge of the bed, it's crazy that you have him here but there's no way in hell he's here for whatever your brain believes.

"well, if you really want to know," he clears his throat before speaking again, "i'm here to see you,"

"me? of all people, me?" you cough up, at this rate you won't stop beating yourself up over nothing, it's valid given the status difference between the two of you.

you're visibly surprised, and it amuses lando, well enough for him to take the first step.

"yes, you," he murmurs, standing as he speaks, his frame slightly overlooks yours, he's like a a shadow that's brighter than you, in any and every way, odd.

"i saw you at the event earlier, you'd be surprised to know how easy it is to play pretend with the concierge." he chuckles, you just stare at him with your arms crossed, like you're babysitting a kid.

"it's still shitty of me, i know, i know," he has both arms slightly up, you're turned to him, now you're sitting on the same bed as him and it smells like bergamot and a pang of tension.

a pang doesn't cut it, you stare deeply into his eyes as he does with yours, it's not long until you're letting out, it's messy, really.

catching onto how many times he's been chuckling in between kisses, it just gets hotter and hotter, he really is the sun much like they claim.

his arm is around your waist drawing you in closer to him, his free hand tangled in your hair, gently caressing your cheekbones.

he deepens the kiss, savoring the warm heat of your body against his. his hands move slowly down your back as he pulls you towards him, it's nearly dramatic, the way you two hit heavy on the bedframe while simultaneously continuing, like animals, it's evident from the pale moonlight watching over the two of you, he's ferocious, grasping onto either sides of your waist and down, bruising them evenly, he whines and bites his lip the moment you pull back, just briefly before he has you on your back, you feel the mattress dip as he gets closer to you, crooning in your neck, he whispers, "jesus, feels so fucking good,"

barely a minute, no, two minutes? three? you lost count, your mind is drifting elsewhere, questioning how lando could keep track of the time, (it's his job to do so, obviously) but his kisses just keep pulling you back to the situation at hand, he'll deal with the rest later, he's desperate to peel the layers of clothes stringing you two apart.

"come on, can't wait—" he mutters to himself, desperately undoing the final strap of your silk before tossing it somewhere to the side, he's careful to not rip a single thread,

if it weren't for anyone or anything suspecting your unexpected visitor this late at night, he'd make it his goal to get you to scream his name, he'll settle for what he can get now, the rest will come eventually.

"there, there, sweetheart," he's coaxing you relentlessly, you're at ease, "where do you want me?" he looks up at you, you say nothing, slowly snatching his wrist to feel his calloused palm feel your stomach, he's knee deep in this, you're just made that way, made for him, "fuck, that's hot," lando hisses by your ear as he positions himself to box your frame.

"want me to be gentle, sweetheart? or rough, it's your call," he murmurs sweetly before softly nibbling at the lobe of your ear, peppering kisses from ear to neck, "rough," you choke out, "didn't hear you, sweetheart," he's teasing you and it feels worse than having pins and needles, "rough, please," you're crying out and he's heartlessly teasing you, barely met the guy and you know he's gonna make up for it, "atta girl," it's like you were sculpted for him, mind, voice and body.

he brings the incessant teasing to a mere halt when he motions you to get on top of him, feeling your cold but sweat glazed back pitted against his abs, feeling his cock swell against you, in heat of the moment, you mindlessly respond to him without even realising it, swirling your tongue on his middle and ring fingers, coating through and through before bringing it down to your aching pussy, his digits pressed up on your clit, he's really, really slow with his movements but you're not fighting it, you're not fighting for a quick stimulation, given the situation, the pace and timing are suited to your mind's liking, not like when you'd desperately stuff your fingers in your pussy to take your mind off the edge, you were sloppy n' straightforward with it, but lando, lando's a whole other topic that needs to be studied,

"this good for you, sweetheart? i can go a whole new mile for you if you need me to, just give me the word, i'll be more than happy to provide," he's whispering in your ear and it's making your stomach turn, unable to think and come up with anything, you come, cum all over his hands, all over nearly nothing, guilt washes you, barely pleased him and you're already selfishly doing this, lando's not even questioning a thing, he smirks against your shoulder and you feel it, he's silent but he doesn't even think twice before he continues, "good girl, such a good girl," he's consistently praising you, still at the same pace, maybe a little faster, you wouldn't know because of how it'd felt in the moment, lightheaded but in a good way, indefinitely, cloud nine? better than that, then you're hit with a second orgasm, this time your legs trash and you nearly give in before he stops briefly, you're gasping for air but you're desperate to finish, "no, please, don't stop," you pant in frustration, "hey, i'm not going anywhere," he's nonchalant about it, treating your desperation with utmost attention, he's careful with you, switching positions, he's up and facing you on the bed, slowly going over your waistline, then, he lines the throbbing red heat of his cock with your mound, slowly teasing you, pushing it up and down for a few seconds before slowly bottoming out, you push back in a pang of shock, not even a split second later it feels better than anything you figured he'd promise, locking your fingers with his, slow but rhythmic slaps fill the hollow sound of your once empty room, he dives forth, finds the crook of your neck, slowly sinking his teeth in, this one definitely does it for you, the third orgasm definitely jumps on the scale, feeling it ramp up to a solid twelve, you feel lando pick up the pace, "'m gonna cum, baby, n' it's gonna be all over you, n' you're gonna take it," evident from the grunts you hear in the back of your mind before you're picked back up into reality, he pulls out and you feel empty, yearning just a little more, nothing beats the view of seeing his essence take up certain areas of your belly, he watches as your breathing slowly regulates.

figuring you need a minute or two to cool off, he disappears into the bathroom without saying a word, you hear the water run and hit the cold floor, then you start to see steam fog up the mirror from the door, conveniently angled to the bed, lando pops back out to pick you up, bridal style at that, he's admiring every feature painted on your face, even the waterproof mascara he's managed to ruin, kicking the door shut with the back of his foot, he sets you in the bath tub where you're immediately soothed by it's warm embrace.

[piperlivingdeliberately]

Blushing, Crushing, and Totally F*cked! Part II

This is the second part to my first fic! Here's the link to that: :)

Summary: Hazel and the reader grow much closer as friends through the club, and after the emotional bonding meeting, they think they might be ready to grow closer in other ways.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: fem reader (she/her pronouns used), swearing, sexual content (no explicit smut), making out, discussions of divorce, mental health, emotional topics, a bit of hurt/comfort, angsty because I got carried away, etc. Hazel is much less of a loser in this one, but she's just as cute. 18+

Your younger popular self never would have imagined that you would be sitting in a circle with a bunch of losers who you punched in the face every day. Yet here you were, surrounded by violent losers, your favorite loser with a goofy smile on her face sitting to your left. Hazel looked over at you, making you remember how much you never would have expected that smile to make you so weak in the knees.

You still got butterflies thinking about the first time Hazel talked to you; a simple two-word compliment after your first spar made your heart flutter with giddy nerves. The interaction spurred you on enough to allow you to feel comfortable giving her friendly smiles. These quick greetings turned to light touches, then to bolder flirtatious statements, and eventually deep conversations that were cut off by school bells. You wondered when you'd finally gather the courage to discuss what you really wanted to tell her: you had been crushing on Hazel since the first day of eleventh grade. If only your classes were longer than 15 minutes.

"So, we know that the club has been a good way for us to feel empowered physically, but we also thought it could be a way for us to feel empowered emotionally," Josie kicked off the meeting on yet another unexpected note. You were grateful for the interruption in your spiraling thoughts.

The trauma-dumping session began, everyone adding their own little secrets and worries. You felt comforted by the supportive listening ears and voices around you. You had grown so close to these girls, so close that you ached hearing the tales of their pain. You felt your heart clench even more when Hazel timidly spoke up about her tense relationship with her mother.

"It's just been really good for me to get to know people who actually want to know me," she finished, eyes locking with yours before quickly fixing on her shoes.

"I just want to go back to Brittany for a second--" PJ began, but you didn't listen. You rested your hand on Hazel's knee, an offering of support, of friendship, or maybe something else. You completely tuned out the rest of the meeting when her own hand rested on yours. Her thumb stroked your wrist. Your whole body went stiff, but your hand felt like rippling water being held in hers.

"I think that's a good place to wrap up," PJ closed out the meeting, thanking everyone for their attendance as the rest of your friends filed out. You and Hazel didn't move, though. Your hand stayed on her knee, her thumb stayed gently gliding against the back of yours. Her sharp inhale was the only thing that got you to look up from the spot where you touched.

"Thank you," was all she said. You didn't have to ask why she was thankful, and she knew she didn't have to tell you. Something unspoken was always settled between your eyes as you stared.

"You're welcome." You removed your hand, not knowing if it had been there for too long or not long enough. "If you... If you ever want to keep talking about your mom or anything else that bothers you, I'm always here to listen." Hazel's gaze softened even more, which you didn't think was possible.

"Do you want to come over and talk more?" She said it so fast that even she seemed surprised by the question. "I mean-- only if you want to. We could watch a movie or I don't know. If it's stupid, I'm--"

"Yes," you assured her. "Let's go."

Her eyes widened like a cartoon character, so you began rising off of the gym floor to urge her on. "Oh-- okay. Great. Let's go."

...

The ride to Hazel's house was realistically no longer than 15 minutes. It felt like hours, though, with you using all of your energy to avoid staring at her ringed hands on the steering wheel. Your cheeks grew hot at the thought of what they would feel like on your bare skin. Your cheeks grew even hotter when you finally realized that Hazel had already parked the car and was watching you ogle her fingers.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing, sorry." You pushed the door open, waiting for her to lead you into her house.

One step in, you stifled a gasp. Hazel's home was almost as bright and beautiful as she was.

"Do you want to go up to my room? I can grab some snacks," she offered.

"Sure, sure." You followed her like a puppy as she led you through the breathtaking halls of her house. She gathered various food and DVDs before finally plopping down on her bed when you reached her room. You hovered in the doorway for a moment, unsure of where you were allowed to sit.

"Come here, you freak," she joked, patting the sheets next to her. You laughed as you tentatively sat at the edge of her bed. "I've had enough trauma-dumping for the day, so I'm thinking we should watch some Disney for a palette cleanser." You grinned like a little kid at the assortment of movies she had laid out before you. "Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?" you replied.

"Pick one." She looked up at you through her dark lashes. "The princess gets to pick the princess movie."

"Fuck off," you scoffed, shoving her playfully to prevent her from seeing how red your cheeks had gotten at the nickname. She simply raised her eyebrows, still waiting for your choice. "Fine." You pointed at the purple and yellow Tangled DVD case.

"Classic." She hopped off the bed and inserted the disc. When she rejoined you, you could have sworn she sat closer than she had originally. Don't think about it, you told yourself. You were just two friends who shared lingering glances and hand touches watching the most romantic princess movie known to man. That's all it was.

The movie was as wonderful as ever, if not more wonderful what with Hazel's poor renditions of all of the songs to entertain you. For the most part, you were able to sit comfortably beside each other. You were completely content to watch the screen, that is when you were able to ignore that you could feel her looking at you instead of the TV at times. It became impossible to ignore when the credits began rolling and you had no choice but to meet her eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked quietly.

She hesitated. "I didn't expect you to be so..."

"...not bitchy?" you finished her sentence.

She laughed, "Well, not exactly. I guess I just never would have guessed that you were so kind and supportive."

"Yeah, most people don't expect the popular cheerleader to be anything but a ditsy fucktoy for football players, I guess." You had meant it as a joke, but Hazel shot up in defense.

"That's not what I meant." She shook her head. "I think what I'm trying to say is that I never would have guessed that someone as cool and-- and beautiful as you would hang out with any one of us in the club."

"Honestly," you sighed. "I never would have guessed it either." You shared a laugh with Hazel, marveling at how sweet she sounded when she was happy.

"I'm really glad you joined the club," Hazel told you, suddenly seeming more shy. Her soft gaze melted your heart, yet somehow made you feel braver than ever before.

"You're the reason I love the club so much." You almost whispered it, so afraid of the reaction it would elicit. Hazel continued to look at you for so long that you considered changing the subject as a diversion from your confession. You were unable to speak, though, because Hazel quickly pressed her lips to yours.

The speed of the kiss shocked you at first, Hazel moving quickly as if she were afraid that you would run away. Your hands found her hair and she instantly relaxed, your lips melting together.

You didn't know that kissing could feel this good, this easy, this right. Despite never wanting to stop, you tugged on Hazel's hair to look at her gasping face.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, hands framing your face in concern.

"God, yes," you laughed. "I'm so good."

Your giggles were once again cut off by her lips. They chased yours with more urgency, so you slipped your tongue against hers. She moaned softly against your teeth, spurring on your ministrations until she detached herself from your mouth.

You almost protested at the lack of contact until you felt her wet lips trailing down your jaw and neck. You whined as she sucked and softly bit a sweet spot, reveling in the sound of her moaning at your own noises. Her hands snaked around your waist, slowly climbing up toward your breasts.

"Is this okay?" she breathed against your collarbone.

"Fuck, please." She let out a low chuckle at your begging, her laughter soon muffled against your skin as she slipped her head under your oversized shirt. You felt her breath dance across your tits, aching for her already. After one delicate kiss to your left nipple, moans filled your ears. Hazel emerged from beneath your clothes when you both realized that the sounds were coming from neither of you.

"Shit!" Hazel exclaimed. "I hate it when she does this." She collapsed onto the bed, breathless.

"Is... Is that your mom?"

"Yes," Hazel groaned from behind her hands. "She's very vocal."

"God, I'm sorry you have to hear that." The pair of you couldn't help but laugh at the obscene sounds from down the hall, clutching each other's arms in disbelief as they grew louder.

"I'm just sorry that we were interrupted," Hazel whispered against your hand before kissing your palm.

"I am, too," you agreed. "It's getting late, though. I should go." You nearly got teary-eyed when you saw the sadness on Hazel's face.

"Right," she said. "Let me take you home."

You found yourself wishing that you lived farther from Hazel when she pulled into your driveway after just a few minutes. You planted a quick kiss on her forehead before thanking her and walking to your front door.

"Wait!" you heard Hazel call your name through the rolled-down window. You bounced back over to her. "My mom's not going to be home this weekend. So, if you wanted to come over again, we could... you know..."

"...watch The Princess and the Frog next?" you joked.

Her infectious giggle sounded like Heaven. "You got it, princess." With one more soft kiss, she pulled away from your house.

The weekend couldn't come any sooner.

...

AHHHHH sorry I got so carried away with this but there will DEFINITELY be a smutty part three for all of you sluts. Let me know if you liked this one!

[notiddygothgf]

munch!

★ pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: waka loves his fiancee. especially when her legs are around his head.

★ content warning: smut, pwp, porn without plot, cute porn though, simp wakasa, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, pussydrunk!waka, unprotected sex.

★ a/n: all my juicy bitches wya 😩😩 thought id do some fan service. enjoy!! mwah mwah xo

★ w.c.; 3.8k

mdni! smut beneath the cut

"YOU'RE SO FULL OF SHIT," Keizo hummed. "There's no way you actually, genuinely think that's a good way to live."

Shinichiro shrugged. "I'm just not a fan."

"Fan of what? Eating pussy?" Wakasa chimed in. The three men were lounging in the living room of Shinichiro's apartment, sharing friendly banter. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I like receiving better," Shinichiro retorted.

Wakasa couldn't possibly disagree more. "Just say you're bad at it, Shin."

"Shin, you sound like..." Keizo began. "You sound like one of those guys who just want to be included in the conversation, but you actually have like... no experience whatsoever."

"Eating pussy is so much better than getting blown, man," Waka mused. "I mean really, you're missing out."

"Take it from him," Remarked the largest of the three, who sat back in his chair with his legs spread wide. "He's a devoted munch."

"For enjoying giving my girl pleasure? Alright, dude." Wakasa rolled his eyes. "The way the girls' legs grip your head, the way she squirms... you're telling me you don't eat that up?"

Wakasa had a sort of reputation around these parts, although it wasn't like he didn't have anything to do with it. He adored his queen. His beloved fiance. It was no secret to anyone from one end of Tokyo to the other that she was the apple of his eye, and that he lived to please her to the furthest extent possible. However, in more recent times, he had made a name for himself. The name in question?

"You know what that makes you?" Keizo remarked with a sharp exhale. "A munch."

The two men were seated in the lounge shortly after a meeting. Their coworker and boss, Shinichiro Sano, sat just off to the side of them, watching the exchange with a shit-eating grin.

"What does that even mean?" Wakasa furrowed his brows. Sinking further into the couch, he reached into his vibrating pocket.

Shinichiro decided that now would be the perfect time to chip in with his own two cents. "A munch is, like, the male equivalent of a dickrider, obsessed," he answered, although it wasn't like anyone asked. "Someone who's all up in one girl's pussy – metaphorically and sometimes physically. Like you."

After a brief pause, Wakasa's weary lilac eyes scanned the illuminated text on his screen. "Rather be all up in one girl's pussy than be getting none at all," He retorted, holding the phone up to his ears. The tone of his next few words was virtually unrecognizable from that of his previous statement as he answered the incoming call.

"Hi, pretty baby," He greeted. "How are you?"

From the other end of the receiver, he could almost see the way her face scrunched together when she yawned. She paused, and then in that sultry, soft-spoken voice that drove him wild, she said, "Hi, Daddy."

Shinichiro's eyes widened as he leaned forward in his seat. Although Keizo's surprise wasn't as outward, even he couldn't hide the quiet chuckle that escaped when he dampened his lips with his tongue. Wakasa clutched the phone closer to his ear, turning away from the two men.

"I'm with the guys, baby, behave," he warned her, although his tone remained as soft as ever. "Is something the matter?"

He heard his precious girl sigh on the other side of the phone, followed by a quiet rustling sound. He wondered where she was right now. It sounded like she was in bed. If that was the case, he could already picture her in all of her sculpturesque beauty – tangled in the sheets of their queen-sized bed, heart-shaped lips parted ever so slightly, face dusted with a hue of pink that matched her pretty pink satin jammies. He wondered if, then, she would be wearing his hoodie. Fuck, just the thought of that had him squirming.

"Nothin's the matter, um..." His muse trailed off. He knew she was fiddling with her earlobe, just as she always did when she was deep in thought. "Jus... I jus' miss you."

If it were even possible, Wakasa felt his exterior soften even more. "I miss you too, princess."

"When are you coming home?"

If she asked him like that again – in that quiet, beautiful voice of hers – he would be coming home within the next few minutes, no questions asked. He didn't tell her that, of course. The two of you had spent the entire night indulged entirely in one another. His neck bore the battle scars of such an altercation; two small red hickeys which had been tactically placed by a devious little gremlin without his knowledge.

"Not sure, why?" He asked, fighting off his internal monologue which had memories of last night on replay in the back of his mind. "You need somethin'?"

"No," Was all she said. There was a brief silence, during which Keizo and Shinichiro resumed the conversation they had been having.

He heard her rustling around in the background again – his phone vibrated once, signifying a new message, but he didn't go to answer it – and then she said, "Look at what I sent you."

Wakasa obliged, like the munch he was, and opened the message. It was from her, of course. He'd expected that. What he hadn't expected though, was the image that awaited him when he entered the private message with her.

Immediately, he shielded the phone from his friends (who were, in hindsight, far too deeply immersed in their own private conversation about the politics of gender roles and derogatory nicknames to care ). Feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck and the corners of his lips twist into a grin, he fought to regain his composure.

"You took that just now?" He asked, a little more quietly than before. "Have you been waiting for me to come back all morning?"

"Mhm," The girl mumbled proudly. "And when you do come back, that'll be waiting for you."

That was all he needed to hear. Wakasa stood up from the couch and dusted off his shorts. "Be there in 15."

"Kay," you giggled, and that was the last thing he heard before you hung up on him.

Wakasa sighed, pocketing his phone, and then turning back to his two friends. "I gotta bounce," He called, interrupting their conversation to announce his departure. "I'll catch you guys later."

Keizo crossed one leg loosely over the other, throwing his arms along the backside of the couch. "The missus calls?"

The shorter man – who was already reaching for the doorknob – flashed a small grin. "What can I say? I'm like superman."

Shinichiro, who was now against one arm of his loveseat while his legs were thrown over the other, commented on Wakasa's choice of words. "More like Supermunch."

Wakasa ignored his comment, pulling open the door. "Suck me." .

"Oh fuck."

Wakasa groaned in response, although the noise was muffled by her thighs. Buried nose-deep in the world's wettest pussy, his grip was like a vice, strong hands digging into the girl's hips in such a manner that he knew his fingers would leave pretty purple bruises.

His thick, beautiful goddess. He loved everything about her. More than that, he loved eating her out. When he'd run his tongue over the most sensitive part of her, her whole body would twitch. Her hips, painted with stretch marks, were his handles. He adored the way her soft, supple body careened into his touch.

She tasted like heaven, and god, she was gushing for him.

He sucked gently on her clit, which was flushed red with arousal, watching in awe as the woman arched up off of the bed. He could see this show a thousand million times and he would still be just as enthralled as he had been the day he had taken her like this for the very first time. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pretty pink pussy, his tongue found its way down toward her dripping hole.

Leaving not a moment to waste, she gripped his disheveled ponytail by the root, pushing his head in deep enough for the tongue to slide right in – like it was meant to be there.

"Please," His fiancee pleaded, although he wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. She knew full and well that he wasn't planning on slowing down anytime soon. "Mnnnh-"

And, just to tease her, he withdrew, replacing his tongue with two damp fingers. "Feel good, sweetheart?" He murmured softly, just up against her red-flushed skin.

While he wasn't answered with words, the response he got was nonetheless gratifying. With a gasp and a desperate rut of her hips against his mouth, against the low vibration of his voice, she sent a message as clear as day.

He made no effort to stop her. Instead, adjusting his hands to grip the meat of her ass, he allowed the beautiful, frenzied girl to shamelessly ride his face. Her hips jumped up and down, rubbing her pretty little clit on his lips and his nose, smearing her juices all over his face. She shuddered, opening her legs even further, and arched into the warm, mushy mess he had created with his mouth.

She looked so fucked out like this, so ruined. Her head was thrown back, hair strewn haphazardly over the satin pillow, pink lips parted gently to make way for her trembling breaths. The little red babydoll she was wearing – what started all of this – complimented the undertones of her skin in such a way that it made his head spin. One of the straps hung loosely off of her shoulder, just barely exposing her breast. She was too much; he wanted to touch everything. To say he was enjoying the view would be an understatement. God, he could paint it if he could – on some Van Gogh shit, but if he were a porn addict.

Her smooth legs clamped shut over his ears. He huffed a satisfied little laugh before prying them apart and continuing to make a ruin out of the poor girl in the open.

Unfortunately, as he was only one man, he had to pull away for some air. He plunged two digits back into her, curling them up against that spot that would make her purr. He knew her body like the back of his hand, having memorized every curve, every crevice. Moving forward to continue lapping at her clit, he tried sucking in more air without having to stop. He never wanted to. He could hardly breathe but, fuck, he wouldn't mind going out like this: squished between his fiancee's thighs, feeling her warm essence drip down his chin while she cried out for him.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. The way she took his fingers so well, sucking them in and then clenching around them like she never wanted to let go. The way she gasped out his name over and over like a broken mantra. He could feel the heat of his own arousal straining against the seam of his boxers, but he didn't care. Being able to see her like this was more than enough.

With a gasp, he pulled back. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're purring like a kitten for me."

She carded a trembling hand through his hair, taking some of it into her small fist and tugging on it. He arched into the sensation. He loved the pain.

"Please," She begged again.

Though his fingers never stopped, he paused his desperate licking to draw the moment out even longer. An hour wasn't enough. He wanted to be inside of her all day, in perfect tune with the rhythm of her body, every arch, every stutter of her hips spurring him on. He rubbed the point of his index finger over her sweet spot, pulling her apart from the inside. "Use your words, princess."

Judging by the way her walls were beginning to spasm around his fingers, fun time was about to be cut short. He wanted more. No, fuck, he needed more. But honestly, he wasn't so sure that she could take anymore. Her eyes rolled back, slurred words and broken moans pouring out of her mouth a mile a minute while she struggled to hold on.

Deciding she had taken too long to answer, he dove back into her, parting her lips with his nose and then forming a light suction seal over her clit. He had to readjust himself to fit his fingers and his mouth in such a small space.

She felt so good inside, so warm. He could die in this pussy.

His fiancee gasped, "Waka, stop, 'm gonna cum."

His lips departed from the woman's dripping wet cunt, but only to roughly slide her ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding her previous please, he devoured her. His hair was beyond disheveled, tangled in her fist, while the rest hung in damp strands around his face.

He peered up at her hungrily, pulling back and greedily licking her off of his fingers. "Say my name like that again," he'd practically moaned, running his hands up and down your trembling thighs. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf in the breeze and he was reveling in it. "Say my name while you ride my tongue, baby."

"Mmmfuck– wait," She gasped. Her body, however, sent a different signal. She yanked his hair – hard, too – and trapped his head between her thighs. Those pretty little noises she was making increased in pitch and became more frequent within. She was near the breaking point, broken pleas of his name tumbling from her devilish lips. "Wait, wait... Waka, baby."

He wasn't planning on obeying her, moaning against her now abused clit while his lips and tongue alternated applying pressure on it. The pleasure coursing through his veins was enough to drive him wild – fuck, if she kept swallowing him up like that he was gonna cream his pants. She was getting loud and, to be frank, that was turning him on like crazy. He wanted to reach down and palm the ache between his legs, rut his hips down against the bed – anything to release some of the tension that was building between his legs – but he was far too enamored by the sight of her to take any attention away.

Head thrown back, hand gripping his blonde (and purple) tresses like a vice, back arched up off of the bed while that red babydoll dress slipped further off of her shoulders... she was a sight to behold. He never wanted to stop, never wanted her to stop moaning his name. He didn't care if the neighbors heard – hell, the whole building.

His tongue swapped places with his fingers.

The way she was mewling for him like a cat in heat made his heart run wild with desire. She was beautiful, so fucking pretty. She always was. But nothing compared to the way she looked like this, spread open for him like a mouth-watering buffet. He whined, feeling her tug harder at his hair. Her guts were clenching around his tongue like she wanted more. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he got what he wanted from her, so he removed his mouth from the girl's dripping cunt, allowing his fingers to work her open – an obscene mix of her juices and his spit glistening as it ran down his chin. Somehow, he found the strength to utter the words, "I need you to cum for me."

He had power over her at that moment, he knew he did. He had her rocking her hips back on his fingers like a desperate whore, chasing that sweet release she so desperately craved. When she slapped her hand over her mouth to keep quiet – because she had gotten a bit louder, to say the least – he quickly grabbed her wrists, pinning them down into the mattress. "Let me hear you, baby," He panted. "Let the whole building know who's making you feel good."

And he continued the downright slaughter of your pussy with his mouth this time.

"Daddy," the girl mewled, curling into herself. He'd been edging the poor thing around for far too long. He knew that. He just didn't care enough to stop.

It slipped out. It must have... Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of her core, her lips spilled praise of his name. "Daddy!"

His smirk grew in size. He licked some of her off of his lips, and then hummed, twisting his fingers around. "That's it, princess. Such a good girl for me."

And then he could see something in the girl snap. The coil of her release snapped with all the power of an oncoming freight train, slamming into her in such a way that had her back arching up off of the bed. Her hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while savoring the slow strokes of his long fingers against her gummy walls. He could feel the shock tear through her in waves, ripping trembling gasps from her lungs while she clenched around him.

"Baby," she mewled. "Oh, fuck, baby."

He slid his fingers out of the girl slowly, savoring the way her pretty pussy clenched over his fingers one last time before pulling out. Taking the soaked digits up to his lips, he sucked them clean. God, he would never forget how she looked right now, even if he'd seen it a thousand times before.

"Fuck, I wanna feel you," He shuddered, pushing himself onto his knees and then reaching for his tee shirt. Seeing her cum on his tongue like that was enough to drive him mad, dick straining hard against his pants. His lips found their way to hers in a messy clash of tongue and teeth, slick spreading from his face to hers while juices dripped down his neck. He pulled back, "Wanna feel you so fucking bad it hurts."

His beautiful fiancee sat up with uncalled quickness, small hands grabbing at his wrinkled shirt. That was all he needed to push the girl onto her back, promptly tugging the damp fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. When he turned back around, he caught the way her eyes studied the linework of his tattoos with newfound hunger.

She reached a pretty manicured hand out to rest on his abs, fingers splayed open, roaming the expanse of his ink. She traced the lines down to his abdomen, down to the junction between his hip and his pants – where his v-line was peeking out. He felt himself twitch beneath her touch.

"Don't be a tease," He breathed, although that breathless smile never wavered. He had to make a conscious effort to regulate his breathing. If he didn't restrain himself, god, he didn't even know what he would do to her. He had spent the whole ride over here fantasizing about her, about his pretty girl. He could do so many things, but there was so little time to do them. At least, that's what he'd been thinking before he felt her hand cup his erection through his sweats.

He let out a pent-up gasp that turned into a breathy chuckle. "Ah, fuck."

And then he pulled the girl into another bruising kiss, gripping her ass in his hands and pulling at the flesh like he was tearing into Thanksgiving dinner. Her hand pressed further into his crotch.

She parted from his lips to mumble, "Want you..."

"Yeah?" He breathed. It was getting hard to keep his composure when her hand was palming at him through his pants. His hands slid over her waist and gently cupped her face. "Where do you want me, princess?"

She laid back against the bed, arching her back down. Her legs remained folded against his waist. He quietly observed her, mesmerized by the woman and the way she welcomed him with open legs. Sighing blissfully, he lowered his hand to the warmth between her legs, which had begun to drip

Wordlessly, she brought her legs up onto the table. The man quietly observed her as she did so. He was mesmerized by the girl and the way she welcomed him with open legs. He hummed, lowering his hand to the warmth between her legs. "Right here, baby?" He asked.

Instead of answering, she reached for the waistband of his pants.

He left no time to waste, sliding them down over his hips with a hand at her back and letting her tug his boxers down below his thighs.

Immediately, she pushed her hips back against his, rubbing the head of his cock between her drenched folds. Something in him snapped, or rather, something was about to snap.

"Put it in, Daddy," she whined, and, fuck, when she was getting his cock wet like that he had no right to refuse her. The way she was so desperate even though she just came... he was going to get her pregnant one of these days.

He sighed, adjusting her legs around his waist, running his hands down her stomach – which rose and fell with every ragged breath – to rest on her hips. He let one hand move down towards his dick, wrapping around the leaking tip and then lining it up with her entrance. She was dripping all over him.

Before he could put it in himself, the girl slammed her hips back, sheathing the entirety of his cock in her heat.

"F-Fuck," He gasped, although it came out more like a whine. He let her set the pace at first, sliding back and forth in a way that had his head spinning. Her walls were so wet, so warm, so gummy. Fuck, it felt like he was melting.

Fucking into his dripping-wet fiancee, he couldn't fight the strangled moans that were ripped from the depths of his soul. "Fuck," He whimpered. He slowed down to savor the way her pussy sucked him in, and then pushed him out, and then sucked him in again. It made him dizzy. "Fuck, fuck."

"Mmm," the little devil chuckled. "Feel good?"

"So warm," he panted in response, sounding like a bitch in heat. "Oh fuck, I–" He angled his hips upward, bringing his hand over her cunt to roll his thumb over her clit, relishing in the way she cried for him. "I'm not gonna last long."

He'd never put it in so soon after eating it before. Fuck, the sensation was indescribable. He wanted to die like this – buried eight inches deep in her warm, wet cunt.

"Kay," she giggled. Then she moaned, "I want you to cum inside, okay?"

He knew that if even thought about getting to paint her insides right now he wouldn't last much longer. Hell, this would mark the fifth time he'd done it this week, even if it was only Tuesday. But, shit, whatever the princess wanted?

"Okay, baby."

Princess would get.

a/n: hey heyyyy, I hope you enjoyed it!!! if you liked it, you would loooove my other waka fics which can be found here.

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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[etherealily]

𝟡 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Darker. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You should be grateful.

════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ════════════════════

He wasn't supposed to text you. He was supposed to take the beating you'd given him for being a prick, like a man, and shut the fuck up about it.

But here you were, midnight, staring at the chat that had started it all.

'yo, u up?'

You rolled your eyes, going back to your scrolling.

'I hate seenzoners.'

You liked his message.

'That's so much worse.'

'The fuck do u want?'

Nate Jacobs sent a voice message.

You could have just ignored it. You could just block him. You could just… stop. But the allure was far too much. The urge of finding out what he wanted was too strong.

"Guess where I am."

He could've just texted that. No need for a voice message, but he was Nate Jacobs.

"I don't know, the psych ward?"

"You wanna know? You'll have to drive and follow my instructions, though. You trust me enough for that?"

Ha. No fucking chance. "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Oh, so you'll text me, but won't see me in person?"

His voice was oddly sultry, as if he'd either just woken up or hadn't slept for days. Most likely the second one.

"Bingo. Go to sleep, Jacobs."

And then he sent you a picture of him from the bleachers of your school's football stadium - how the fuck did he get in?

"C'mon, don't you want to see what our school looks like at night?"

Uh, yes. But with him? No.

"It's 12:05, ASSHOLE. No fucking way."

"This is the scene where you cave and meet me and we have a cute little nighttime school montage where we sit and talk about life."

You listened to that message a good four times before you stopped laughing.

"This is the scene where I block you."

"I will come over if you don't come to the school. Uh, y'know, if you want your parents to think you're fooling around with the QB."

"I will literally shoot you if you come within fifty feet of my house."

"Come. I'll make it worth your while."

Was it possible to hear smirks?

"I'm not coming, Nate."

No way he was actually at the high school. It was probably an insanely good edit.

"You will be."

The FUCK was that supposed to mean? Not like he could force you to show up.

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure. Fifty bucks says you show up to the high school tonight."

"Not blowing fifty bucks on anything, even if I do win."

"What's it going to take for you to come? Look, I-I know it's been weird, and I might've scared you, but that's… that wasn't my intention, I swear."

Yeah, his intention was just to show you what his blood looked like. You liked his message once more, rolling your eyes.

"Dude, seriously, I swear, I'm not like, a serial killer or anything. You can bring pepper spray, a taser, whatever, if it makes you feel better. I'm just- okay, fuck, you're right. Dumb idea, trying to convince you like this."

Wait, okay, good. That was good. He was getting the message.

Another voice message.

"I forgot who I was talking to. You leave me no choice."

"What?" No.

And then, you received a video. He was teetering off the edge of the top-most row of bleachers. With a gun at his head.

"Come on, Y/N, this is getting really sad, that the only way I can grab your attention is by almost killing myself."

"I don't care. Do whatever. Not falling for it this time."

═════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"FUCK!", you yelled, as you found yourself running frantically through the school football field for the second time in two weeks.

You'd actually kept your word for a while, pushing out every Nate-related thought for a good night's sleep - you didn't fall for it.

Until McKay called and informed you that Nate wasn't picking up his phone - and that his last message was something along the lines of : 'Call Y/N if you don't hear from me in the next couple of minutes'.

He was deranged. Playing Russian Roulette with his own life was absolutely deranged.

"You actually showed."

GOOD, he was still alive, meaning you could kill him.

You didn't speak. That would simply complicate things, because then you'd have to look at him.

"Plus, you didn't flinch when you saw me. Think that's a win for me in the trust department."

You stood there, glaring at him as he jumped down from the bleachers, even doing that dangerously, as if he was a cat with nine lives, or he was playing a video game and would just respawn.

"You know, you could say something."

He wasn't getting impatient, though, like his tone was trying to portray. No, he was getting more amused. He liked this. He liked the fact that he got you to come to a basically abandoned-for-the-holidays-high school at midnight. He reveled in it.

"Like hey, Nate, thanks for convincing me to actually live a little for a change instead of staying cooped up in my house.", he suggested.

You punched him.

Yeah. You kept running across that field till you were close enough and you punched him right then and there.

You full-on punched him, shoved him back, slapped him, clawed at him. "Stop FUCKING doing this to me! STOP! You can't FUCKING do this to me!", you screamed, hitting him repeatedly on his chest.

He took every beating, and the fact that it seemed he was trying not to laugh just egged you on even more to actually kill him, make his nose bleed, make his head fall clean off his egotistical body.

Eventually, though, it seemed even Nate Jacobs had his limit. He grappled against your hands as he held them between both your chests, clenching his jaw. He wouldn't risk saying anything, seeing as your eyes were already burning with tears.

"You…", you cried out as he shifted his grip on your hands to only one hand, wrapping the other around you. "…Can't keep…"

"Shh, shh, I know.", he muttered as he rested his chin on your head. "Shh, I had to."

"No, you didn't."

He kissed your head, then your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and stopped for a moment, hovering over your lips but not touching them, as though he was more scared than you were. "You know I did."

You wondered if he could taste the tears, whether he relished it. Knowing what little you did of him, he might have.

"I would've come."

"No, you wouldn't have. Shh." He was right, but there had to be some other way.

"You know what, sweetheart?"

It was sickening how he could do this to you and then use words of endearment against you.

"You should actually be grateful."

And that's when you noticed that he was actually gripping onto your hair, tightening it when your face didn't show any contortion due to pain (only contortion due to unbridled rage and the urge to stab him with your car keys).

"I usually hurt people to get what I want. With you, I'm hurting myself."

You fought the urge to say 'so fucking what?'

"You're not bleeding, baby, that's what you don't get. You're untouched, and safe, and not bleeding. Me, however?"

What was his point? That he was being a gentleman by scaring you half to death instead of having a normal adult conversation?

"I'm bleeding. I'm hurt. I'm in pain. But I'm still holding you."

He said it with exaggerated magnanimity, like he was doing you a favour, or something, like all your problems, trauma, worries, stress, had just disappeared because he was holding you in his 'big strong arms'.

"Then stop!"

"Neither of us wants me to stop holding you."

"I do."

He grinned, knowingly, with a subtle shake of his head. "No, you don't."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, Nate."

"Fine. Because you called me Nate and not Jacobs.", he nodded, letting go of you and throwing up his arms. "Don't hit me again."

"Was McKay in on this?"

He frowned momentarily, before realization swept over his face. "Shit. Yeah, no, he wasn't. I should text him, huh?"

Oh, now he was asking if he should be a courteous human being?

You watched him loathingly, as he typed out what you guessed was a half-assed apology.

'Sorry, McKay, I'm good, man. Chicks, y'know?' or some absolutely fucked up shit like that, to be sure.

"Done. Now, will you stop being so square and enjoy the fact that you're here at school at midnight?"

"What?" Enjoy?

"I'll bet this is your first time out at midnight period, let alone your first time out at midnight somewhere you're not legally supposed to be."

"Why am I here?"

The condescending look he gave you set your teeth on edge. 'Oh, poor, naive girl. Of course she doesn't even know why she's here. This is why I told her to stay in my grasp. She never listens.'

FUCKING ASSHOLE.

"You're my good luck charm. My good luck charm, but I heard you're fucking Shane. You can't be doing that."

The softness in his movements, the gentleness, it had either completely stopped, or entirely overshadowed the fact that he had put you through yet another nerve-wracking event that would raise your blood pressure.

Shane who, Shane who, Shane- oh. Shane.

Not so much fucking as went on one date with, but it was better for everyone if Nate thought you had already gone that far.

"Why not?"

"He's a punk."

"You're one to talk."

"Look, he plays defense. What if you're just, like, intensely fortunate? Can't have him sneak in a quickie before the game and then he's lucky."

It's like he wanted you to punch him again.

"He's on your team. You'll win anyway."

He shrugged, as though he could see where you were coming from, but was about to respectfully absolutely ruin your argument.

"I like to win."

"Not a team player, are you?"

"Never claimed to be."

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

He was so clearly getting frustrated with your lack of response - the initial dopamine and thrill of being a disgusting element of surprise by shooting/not-shooting himself in the head gone.

But what could you say?

You'd already ghosted Shane after the date had tanked, so technically there was no reason for you to still be here. The chances of a 'lucky quickie' were virtually zero.

And so, you just stood there, the two of you, with inexplicable rage pooling within.

Your senses were heightened, your emotions wilder than the crazed look in your eyes as he stood there, looking down at you like an adult looking down at their childhood toy. As if you were the naivest, most precious, pathetically adorable thing he owned, reminding him of a simpler time.

At this point, even a rabbit's foot had been treated with more respect than you.

And you hated every moment of it because it was thrusted upon you, just like the silence of the eerie, void-like field you two were in.

"Why are you like this, Y/N?", he groaned, with the nerve to sound tired.

You? Why were you like this? What about him?

"You're… so cold." His hands flexed as if they were about to move from your hair to your throat. "Just… let loose, please. You're the reason I'm winning, I'd at least like to get to know you!"

"Oh, so this is like, an interview? Is she good enough to be associated with me? You think you're hot shit? Dude, I- you gotta realize how fucked up all of this is."

You were practically pleading. Acknowledge your absurdity, Nate Jacobs, please.

"Hey, whoa, look, you chose to associate yourself with me. Not my problem, ok?", he spat back, clearly happy with the return of banter.

"I didn't choose any of this!"

"You requested to follow me after I followed you. You chose not to block me after I followed you."

"You're putting this all on me?"

That's what normal people do ; they follow people back! He was grasping at straws, but it still seemed as though he had an iron grip on them.

"There wouldn't have been a first time if you didn't care so goddamn much." Like he was mocking you. You almost screamed. You almost hit him. He was so nonchalant.

But that… rang true. However, the humanitarian in you was adamant that there was absolutely no one cold enough to shrug off a video of someone slicing so effortlessly into their palm and exposing their blood so unabashedly.

Well, except Nate Jacobs himself.

"But, y'know what, Y/N?", he said, clearing his throat, matter-of-factly. "That's all in the past. Because now, now, we're going to sort out this arrangement between us and everything will go back to normal."

Normal? Normal as in, both of you go back to being strangers? Unlikely.

"Arrangement?"

"How this thing is going to go. Before every game, you fist-bump me. You don't touch any other players whatsoever, Blackhawk or otherwise."

Great, he was policing who you could fist-bump now.

"I- you brought me here at midnight for this?"

"Uh, no, I brought you here at midnight for fun.", he replied, scoffing. "But since you wanted to be all violent and physical, I thought we should stick to business."

Did he mean to be this insufferable? Was it a bit? There was no way an actual human being could act like this, yes? There was no way anyone could think that this was a justifiable response to a genuine question. Right?

At this point, you didn't know anymore.

Nate Jacobs had officially stumped you.

"If I say okay, can I leave?"

"No, you cannot leave, but you definitely can go sit over there and think about your little attitude before I bring out the tequila."

He burst out laughing at your annoyed face, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulder in an oddly possessive display of 'familiarity'.

"Relax. Loosen up, like I said, and you'll be fine.", he snorted, and that was your only indication that he did not, in fact, actually wish to put you into time-out.

The insane man with a gun had a sense of humour, apparently.

"You brought tequila?"

"I told you, the whole point of tonight was fun and getting to know the reason I'm winning better. So, sit."

You sat, still glaring up at him. You must have looked absolutely fucking cute or something, because he pouted at you before reaching into a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before and whipping out two bottles of straight tequila.

"Body shots?"

"Jacobs…"

"I'm joking, I'm joking. You'll come around soon, though. They all do."

Great. That's brilliant. You'd been reduced from a stranger, to a bitch, to a joke, to now a stereotype. This was just spectacular.

"Why me?"

That question seemed to genuinely catch him off-guard.

Good. Now he knows what this past week with him has been like.

"Hm?'

"Why me? Why am I the good luck charm?"

"I don't know."

"You could just be a really good player. You don't know, you haven't gone a single game without it, so you assume you're winning because of it."

"The third game was the one you weren't there for. You must remember hearing about it, though? Most embarrassing game for East Highland, I swear. 34-nil? That was shameful. That's why I decided, fourth game onwards, I wouldn't have to risk it because I got you."

Shit. That actually made sense.

"Okay, now you tell me.", he began, slightly turning the bottle in his hand around and examining the contents, curiously. "Shane Crestin? Seriously?"

"What?"

He scoff-snickered, taking an impressively large gulp before answering. "Y/N, the guy's a tool."

Look who's talking.

"He asked me out after the game."

"So, he knows you're my good luck charm.", he said, quietly, like a king trying to figure out where his men's loyalties lay.

Did Julius Caesar have a girl who he gaslit in order to get her to watch him in battle because of superstition? If so, she'd have been the first to stab him.

"Of course he knows, you made a huge spectacle of it that first time."

"Oh, yeah. But still, what a bastard. Trying to steal my lucky girl and her luck like that."

You needed to do a lobotomy on this man, seriously.

It wasn't even like you could ask him what the hell that meant because that would just bring him immense amounts of joy.

"You're not drinking. Why?", he inquired, opening the second bottle and forcing it to your lips.

You frowned as you held onto it. "I don't drink."

"Oh, bullshit. Come on, drink, don't be a nerd."

"I said no, okay?"

"Wait, do you not want to drink around me?"

He was really going above and beyond to break the 'dumb jock' stereotype, wasn't he?

"I can't believe it.", he continued, leaning back on the bleachers as he watched your face. "After all this, you don't trust me."

After all this, he said, as if he had spent his entire life working solely for your benefit. Like a tired mentor.

"I mean, dude, this is like… such a bitch move, you know that? I'm just trying to be nice."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Nate."

"Uh, trust me? Thought we were cool now, Y/N. You think I'm going to get you blackout drunk then have my way with you? Rape you? Are you scared to be around me? At midnight? In a quiet, empty football stadium where no one would think to look for you?", he questioned, still holding your gaze as he lifted his bottle to his mouth.

The elaboration of that statement unnerved you.

"I don't think you're going to rape me, I'm just-"

"Just scared of the possibility?"

"Don't take it personal, but-"

"There's no other way to take it. You're all but accusing me of assault. I thought you were different."

Was that meant to make you melt? 'Oh, no, I'm just like everyone else in that I don't want to end up in a ditch somewhere, the horror!'

"Maybe I'm not.", you shrugged.

"But you came. Tonight. No one else would have. So maybe you're a judgmental bitch like everyone else, but you've at least got your stupidly huge heart going for you."

If you strained your ears, that almost sounded like a compliment.

"Uh, thanks?"

"Drink, Y/N. Please."

Oh, fuck it. You needed that goddamn tequila to shoot through you with a vengeance.

"There we go.", he mumbled, watching you. "Dude, look at you."

"Hm?"

"You're finally badass."

His eyes lit up as he saw your finger enter the scene. He chuckled for a moment. "I'm being serious. I mean, you've beaten me up, what, three times so far - once in front of the entire school - and now you're doing underage shots with me at night at school, which is like, two illegal things at the same time."

See, that's where the difference between the two of you lay.

He thought that was being a badass.

You thought that was being a dumbass.

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"…So yeah. That's why I joined football, basically. Made me feel, like, stronger and more in control, I guess."

This asshole had just told the most human story, and now you had to see him as a person. The cunt.

You watched as he stood in the middle of the field, aiming and shooting at the banners that were strewn up all around the field.

God, he was so fucking terrifying.

How does he play Russian Roulette to bait you into coming one minute and then reload and shoot at banners like a child with his first Nerf the next?

"Control. Yeah, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You want everything to go your way. You get pissed when other people do things of their own will."

"Can't argue with that.", he shrugged, as he turned his back to you and shot another banner, impressively shooting right in the centre of the 'O' in a 'GO BLACKHAWKS!' sign. "You know how to shoot?"

"No."

"You should learn."

"I'll get right on that.", you scoffed, as you observed your tequila bottle intensely, ignoring him coming back to rest his feet on the bleachers from your peripheral vision.

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Humour me."

"I've humoured you enough tonight."

"Please? Pretty please?"

You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth. You had no idea what you expected, but it sure as hell was not him stuffing the barrel of his gun in there. You suddenly felt the tequila evaporating from your bloodstream as he slapped your hands away after you tried taking it out, like anyone would. Shit, it hurt. FUCK.

"Just relax.", he whispered, so soothingly that he might as well have been talking you through a panic attack. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Besides the hot gun you've got basically lodged up my throat.

Suddenly, the amount of danger you really were in began to materialize in your head. He was right. It was midnight. It was spring break. It was at high school. No one would think to look for you there.

"Are you scared?"

Oh, God. He was one of those freaks who got off on these things.

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do.

"You think I'll shoot you?"

You shook your head.

"Kill you?"

You shook your head.

"Then why are you scared?"

Honestly, it was the fact that he wasn't going to do either of those things, and decided to shove a gun down your throat simply for shits and giggles.

"You need more tequila."

WHAT?

You frowned, but nodded. Anything to get the gun out of your mouth.

He poured it straight from the bottle into your mouth, watching with sick satisfaction as you swallowed, and you realized that he was psychotically drunk.

"How's that? I do it all the time, y'know? Hot metal plus cold tequila equals the best fucking night ever."

Um, ew. No. But that would be super unwise to say.

"You shove a gun down your throat then take a shot?"

"One of my more dangerous drinking games, yes. God, dude, look at you. Like, you're so fucking uptight, loosen THE FUCK up!"

You were unsure how much 'looser' you could get - you were already going along with his 'dangerous drinking game'.

"I am!"

"Not enough. Not even close. You need more."

"We're all out.", you said, (thankfully) pointing at the empty duffle bag next to him.

"Oh.", he sighed, slumping down next to you and using the duffle bag as a pillow. "Just- I don't get it. What is it about you?"

"That makes you get suicidal?"

He snorted, softly. "That makes me so mad?"

"You're mad?"

"Not like angry-mad. I mean like… crazy-mad. Like I go mad around you."

Five-year-olds could explain things better than him, but, to his credit, he was shitfaced.

"Really? Thought you were born that way."

"I mean, last week? When I kissed you? I don't do that shit. But it was the only way to shut you up. I-ugh. It's you, Y/N. Just fucking up my brain, one game at a time."

"Oh, oh, so you being a psychopath is because I didn't show up to one game?"

"When you're constantly worried about someone needing to be there, you do crazy things. Like cut yourself. I would have done it, too, seriously."

"I know. That's why I came."

"So, we weren't entirely strangers, huh? You knew me a little, at least?"

"Uh, no, we were definitely strangers."

"Now? What are we now?"

"Uh… friends?" You didn't mean that. You wouldn't be his friend if it killed you.

"No, I think I'd know it if we were friends." Phew.

"So, you tell me."

"What? No, you've been in charge this whole time, you tell me."

He just said you'd been in charge.

One offhanded, sweeping statement, and he'd shifted all the blame on you as easy as pie.

How did he do that?

It was obvious what he was referring to: the fact that none of these interactions would have happened if you just hadn't given a shit in the first place.

The fact that every single move of his had been linked to you, in whatever this weird everybody (except you) ante, sketchy poker game he was playing was supposed to be.

And it unnerved you.

Because in some twisted way, it was true.

"Acquaintances."

"But we've kissed.", he reminded, diligently and unwantedly. "Acquaintances - and classmates, before you suggest that - don't just kiss."

"Dude, then what do you want to be?"

Shit. That was what he'd wanted all along. For you to ask in exasperation, to give you his interpretation.

"You know, just… an average relationship between a man and his good luck charm." He inched closer, his hand loosening its grip on the railing as if it was going to do something, but there was no more tequila to reach out for.

There was only you.

And reach, he did.

First, his hands were on your cheek, like they had been a half hour ago. Then, suddenly, they were in your hair, and his tongue was trying to coax your words out of you directly from the source.

And you just let it happen.

If anyone knew why you let it happen, you'd have loved to start a suggestion box.

But you had a funny feeling that the only person who knew why was Nate Jacobs himself.

Fat chance he'd tell you.

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ ℂ𝕦𝕥𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕪𝕤 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Could I request Ayato, Zhongli, Thoma, and Kaveh with a s/o who can create cute, living toys?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yeah! Absolutely! Honestly I'm not entirely sure about it buuut... hopefully you like it?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ over years, Zhongli already saw many toys and mechanisms, yet yours always seem to surprise him

✧ he may've seen the greatest inventions, but yours? They're so simple and cute, they have their own charm

✧ he's used to formal introducing when it comes to inventions like that, and yet you introduce it as if it's some toy for kids! Who knows? Maybe it is?

✧ but what he finds the sweetest is that they actually seem like alive, they move and some even talk! It's hard not to be impressed!

✧ like mentioned earlier, he's used to formal inventions, definitely not as silly as these, so his recommendation may not be the best...

✧ despite that, he wants to help, so he takes you on few adventures and shows you many secret places around Liyue or tells you stories which you may find closest to "fairytales"

✧ he's never recommending anything directly but he doesn't mind giving you ideas by sharing what he already knows

"Hehe~ ... No, nothing. I just thought your invention is really sweet. You have a real talent, dear."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @toyaswif3y - come get your broke archon!

✧ Thoma is literally like a supportive mother when it comes to your work as an inventor

✧ he's always gonna compliment any work of yours, usually taking time to admire it's looks and functions to give you more detailed compliment than just saying "it's good" and leaving it at that

✧ but he also won't lie to you when he sees something could use some fixing... he's definitely very gentle with it and if it's something little, he might hesitate to mention it but he'll probably tell you about it sooner rather than later

✧ coming back to mother subject... he's not gonna let you pull all nighters! And if he catches you, he'll immidietly force you to go to bed

✧ but if he catches you sleeping on your desk at 1am... he's just gonna move you to bed and moves little health talk for another time

✧ if you ask him for some ideas, they're most likely gonna remind you more of child toys than some serious robots but... those are usually still rather interesting ideas! So why not give it a try anyway~?

"Oh, this one's really good! I really like their design and how you went for the sweet look... and I can also see you worked really hard on making it move so smoothly. You did a really good job! Here, take a break after all of this work, I can make us tea."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your perfect malewife~

✧ I have a feeling like Ayato, due to being head of Kamisato Clan would know a bit on how to judge inventions but not actual clue how to make ones

✧ but judging is still something! Because he can always tell you what's missing and what requires fixing in his opinion

✧ tho his words may be a bit harsh, due to being used to formal meetings and saying what he thinks there, as it was what he payed for... he tries making words gentler for you next time but first? Feel free to tell him he's being a bit blunt...

✧ but he gets there with time so don't you worry! He doesn't want to be mean to his partner after all!

✧ and if you have tough client to deal with? He'll volunteer to go with you and to help you with business talk, he sees how much passion and work you put into your works so he only finds it fair the other person needs to pay fair price

✧ also, he's gonna try his best to pull you away from all nighters buuut... he takes them himself so he can't really argue here... he'll just try to help you and get you to bed as soon as possible

"They want to pay this little? No, you're fighting for the right thing, you're obviously trying to under pay you. Tell me, when are you supposed to meet them? I'd like to assist you if it's not a problem."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your boba lover!

✧ inventor the architect.... don't you see it's the perfect duo?

✧ Kaveh get's your struggle... so little time and so many ideas... let alone, if you're selling what you create!

✧ he's never gonna hesitate to help you, be it with the design or just to get idea for your next project

✧ and if he can't think of anything, he'll go on a little tour with you and maybe there you or him will be able to think of something

✧ he doesn't know much about inventing but he does know that all nighters are sometimes necessary and real pain at the same time... so he'd be happy to be your assistant and pass you various tools

✧ and if it ends you have to pull all nighter and don't allow him close to your inventions? He'll be happy to be your company for the night and coffee and snack bringer

✧ but since you're his lover, he's still worried about your health so despite doing that himself, he'll try getting you away from sacrificing your sleep

"C'mon honey... I get that it's important but so is sleep. And if your client complains, I'll personally have a talk with them! So don't worry about it, go to sleep and let me handle it if necessary, okey?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your architect beuty~

[izzywantscheesecake]

leo valdez x female reader!! dating headcanons *blows kiss*

Dating Leo Valdez Headcanons!

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader Fandom: Camp Half-Blood Chronicles/Heroes of Olympus Quick Synopsis: Just some paragraphs headcanons on how you and Leo would meet/what dating him would be like. Tags: Use of Y/N, Fluff, no specific physical description of the reader (other than the fact they're female coded), Comfort

HOW YOU TWO WOULD MEET I imagine Leo to be someone who looks for a person he's able to have a lot of common ground with in a relationship. Of course, he's able to crack jokes (even the not so funny ones) around practically everyone, but there's a difference between small banter and just full on being able to vibe with someone. I think he'd be very attracted to someone interested in the arts, or someone who likes to make their own things as a mean of self expression in general. We all know how Leo is in terms of self confidence - he'd like a person who is unapologetically them, proud of their art and self expression and someone who has enough emotional awareness to give him reassurance in a relationship when they can sense he needs it. You guys would probably first meet at some type of event or workshop, or if you're a camper, probably at the dining pavilion when he sees you and has to do a double take because "who is that cool girl I've never seen before?" he'd muster enough confidence to come up and tell you a corny joke, stumbling on his words, which makes you laugh.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

You looked up from your feet, now practically face to face with this guy you'd never seen before. His clothes were wrecked with dirt and debris, so were his gloves.

He was standing awkwardly, and his hands, clearly shaking, were clenched into tight fists.

"Sure?"

"So um, riddle me this. Why can't you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?"

"Because pterodactyls went extinct 65 million years ago?"

His eyes widened, and a red tint began to become more visible around his face as he scratched his head, messing up his already tangled locks of hair.

"Oh.. That wasn't what I was going to say," He chuckled.

You smiled, suddenly feeling a warm aura coming from this boy.

"Well, what were you going to say?"

"Because, uh.. The P is.. Damn, whatever. My name's Leo. What's yours?"

ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS He was awkward at the start of the relationship, not really knowing what to say or what exactly "being a boyfriend" entails, but once he starts getting comfortable and more confident around you, that's where the fun begins (yes this is a star wars reference) Expect every Spanish nickname to be pulled out of the book. "Mi amor," "Hermosa," "Bonita," "Mi vida," "Corazón," if it exists in the Spanish language, he's most definitely said it. And he won't skip out on variations of your preferred name, or even silly sounding nicknames in public, like: "pookie" and "sugarplum" or some other stupidness. For dates, I believe he'd very much vary between educational and immersive dates and just straight up goofing off. It honestly depends on the season. Late Fall/Winter is for going to museums, workshops, possibly a joint coding class or hanging together in one of your rooms, and Spring/Summer is for exploring the town and having those cute little boardwalk + beach + ferris wheel dates. (I also imagine him to be somewhat clumsy and he WOULD drop ice cream all over the pavement.) As the son of Hephaestus, he is most definitely a human radiator. Definitely had a lot of fever scares just because of his temperature alone. But don't worry, he's fine. And the heat is an extra bonus if you're cuddling. Speaking of cuddling and physical proximity, Leo's love languages are gift-giving and physical touch. It doesn't matter if you guys have been apart for 2 minutes or 2 days, if he hasn't seen you in a little bit, he will greet you with one of those spin around hugs or a kiss on the hand. And for gift giving, he enjoys giving and receiving gifts. He likes to either make you little trinkets, or make/buy your favorite foods. He is a firm believer of giving his lady princess treatment, even on a dollar store budget. Though he wouldn't consider himself much of a photographer, I think he probably enjoys taking lots of pictures of you, both with and without him. It's to savor the moment, and also because he wishes he could've taken more pictures with his mother when she was still alive. He has a photo album of just you, him, and the adventures you two go on. You're not a stranger to pranking by him, by the way. If anything, he probably pranks you the most, out of love. You'll chase him down for a few hours, and he gets a thrill out of it knowing you won't stay mad at him forever. In conclusion, dating Leo can be rocky, calming, and give you a whirlwind of emotions, similar to how being on a floating trireme would feel.

A/N: I'm going to be real I never really paid much attention to Leo in the books, so I'm hoping this is accurate?? my bad if it isnt gang 🙏🏽🙏🏽

[justmystyles]

I need some angst with happy ending please. Am a sucker for angst and jelly harry or yn

Veiled Insecurities

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: Harry has some insecurities about your relationship, but instead of talking to you about them, they end up coming out in the wrong way.

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: thank you so much for this ask! i don't know where this idea came from, but it was a lot of fun to work through. including yelling at myself for an entire commute home trying to work out dialogue. my apologies to anyone that happened to be stuck in traffic next to me on the highway friday night. 😂

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

The air in the car was thick with tension as you kept your eyes locked on the passing scenery, refusing to give Harry the satisfaction of glancing over at him. Neither of you had spoken a word, you were waiting for an apology. You had no idea what he could possibly be waiting for. 

Harry pulled the car into the driveway, and you hopped out before he even had a chance to put it in park, slamming the door behind you.

“You didn’t let me get your door,” he commented as you made your way to the house. 

You turned to him, rage burning in your eyes. “You haven’t been a gentleman all day. Why start now?” 

He winces slightly at the heart wrenching combination of your words, and the disdain they were spoken with. 

Today was the day of your company picnic, and Harry was actually going to be in town and was excited to go with you. He had heard so many stories about your job, and your coworkers, that he was looking forward to putting faces to all the names. One face in particular changed all of that. 

The department you worked in was small, only about five or six coworkers and your boss. While you all worked closely together, your job was particularly intertwined with your coworker, Roger. You had told Harry about Roger before, his existence wasn’t a surprise to him. What was a surprise were his good looks, and how close the two of you were.

He had heard the term ‘work husband’ before, but he had never heard it more than he did at that picnic, and everyone that used it had been referring to you and Roger. He knew it was a platonic thing, that it didn’t mean anything, and he was glad that you had a support system at work. But that combined with the slight touches throughout the day had Harry seeing red. 

You had noticed a shift in Harry shortly after Roger’s arrival, and it just kept getting worse, coming to a crescendo after you and Roger won the three legged race. You were so embarrassed by his behavior that you made some excuse about your limited time with Harry and left early. Much earlier than you had wanted. 

Harry knew you well enough to know you were upset, so he didn’t say anything on the ride home. He knew you’d want to collect your thoughts before talking, he would let you start the conversation. And you decided to do so as soon as you were in the house.

“What the actual fuck, Harry?” You spat, finally meeting his gaze. 

“Princ-”

“No,” you interrupted. “No pet names.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. “Y/N, I think you’re overreacting.” 

Your eyes went wide. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen you so rude before!”

“Only to him,” Harry mumbled. “I was fine with everyone else.” 

“And there it is!” You throw your hands out in frustration. “Please tell me what is so wrong about my closest work friend.”

“Don’t you mean your work husband?” He snapped back.

“Oh my god, Harry. Seriously? You have like four work husbands!” 

“Maybe,” he started. “But they aren’t all over me like he was with you!”

Your eyes went wide at his accusation. “No shit, because you’re all over them!” You run your hand down your face, trying to keep your composure. “Harry, you are the most physically affectionate person I have ever met, it’s one of the things I love about you. It also makes it incredibly hypocritical of you to have an issue with other people doing it on a significantly smaller scale.”

“But you’re my girlfriend, I didn’t like seeing another man’s hands on you.” 

You stared at him in disbelief. “Who are you? This is not you. You’re not possessive like this.” 

“I thought you liked when I was possessive of you?” He asked with an arched brow, trying to diffuse the situation. 

“When we’re alone, and in the heat of the moment? Absolutely. But when you’re like that around other people, you come off as a toxic asshole.” A quick flicker of sadness flashed across your face. You hoped Harry didn’t notice. “Roger was excited to meet you, he’s heard so much about you.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Because I love you and I talk about you all the time.” 

“Okay, well I just don’t think it’s very professional for him to be so flirty with you.” Harry shrugged. 

You buried your face in your hands and took a deep breath. “You want to talk about professionalism? Part of your job is literally your sex appeal. You have women throwing themselves at you on a regular basis. You’re basically one step above stripper the way you dress and dance around on stage.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you held up your hand as you continued on. “Every fan hug that lingers a little longer than it should, every girl that calls you daddy, or tries to shoot their shot with you at a show, every bra thrown in your face; I take it all in stride and I don’t let it get to me. Do you want to know why? Because I love you, and I trust you completely. I know you would never do anything. It absolutely breaks my heart that you think so little of me and my commitment to you that you don’t extend me the same courtesy.” Before he could fully process your words, you turned your back to him and stormed away, slamming the door to your bedroom shut. 

The tears had barely begun to fall before Harry was knocking on the door. “Y/N?”

“Go away, Harry.” You couldn’t help the waiver in your voice. 

You prayed that Harry didn’t hear it, but he did. And it felt as though his heart had shattered, he had made you cry. He had made you cry, and you were trying to hide it from him. He knew that you would often mask your pain as anger, not wanting to give people the satisfaction of seeing your tears. Because of his actions, you had put up a wall with him. You didn’t want to be vulnerable, and it was his own fault. He couldn’t blame you, this whole thing had blown so far out of proportion and he needed to make it right. 

He opened the bedroom door and entered slowly. You were sitting on the side of the bed, elbows on knees, you looked over to Harry, and his breath hitched. Your cheeks were already tearstained, your eyes red-rimmed. 

“Y/N,” he said softly, taking a seat beside you and raising his arms. Before he could get them around you, you slid out of his reach. He looked up at you with pain in his eyes. 

“No,” you said sternly. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to comfort me right now. You’re the reason this happened, you don’t get to ride in here on your white horse and hold me and tell me it’s going to be okay.” 

He nodded silently and looked down at the floor. “I do trust you,” Harry finally broke the awkward silence. “This was never about me not trusting you. I know that you love me, and I trust you implicitly.” He turned his head to look at you. “It’s not even about not trusting Roger. I just…” He let out a deep breath. “I saw how close the two of you are, and it reminded me that you have this whole life that I’m just on the outside of because I’m always away.” 

He turned, sitting with his legs crossed on the bed so that he could face you. “I wasn’t jealous because I thought he was going to try something, I was jealous because he gets to see you everyday, because you two have a closeness that I’m afraid you and I can’t have.” 

You finally look up at Harry, the frustration in his eyes now replaced with concern. “Harry,” you turned, mirroring the way he was sitting. “I’m closer to you than I’ve ever been with anyone.” 

“I know, I believe that. And it means the world to me.” He reached out tentatively to take your hand. Letting out a relieved breath when you didn’t pull away. “You’ve been so incredible, you’ve completely thrown yourself into my world. My family loves you, you’re practically a member of the tour staff. I want to be that for you, but I’m never able to be here long enough.” 

“Why haven’t you ever told me this before?” You squeezed his hand gently. 

He lifted your joined hands to his lips. “I guess I never really realized how much it bothered me until today.” 

“Well first of all,” you started. “The tour isn’t going to last forever. It’s going to end, and then you’ll have some time off. I would like to think that you’ll come and spend some of that time with me.” 

“Definitely,” he agreed. “As much as I can.”

“So that’s when you’ll be able to mix in with my life more.” You explained. “We just have to take turns being in each other’s lives. Right now, you’re all over the world, so I have to make a little more of an effort to meet you halfway. When you’re on break, it will be your turn. By the time you go back on the road, or whatever you do next, it will be more of an even playing field. It just seems imbalanced now because we haven’t had time to even it out.” 

“I’m so sorry, angel.” He apologized. “Are we okay?” 

“We’re okay,” you nodded. “But next time, if you’re feeling insecure, just pull me aside and talk to me.” You sat up on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, Harry.” 

“I love you too,” he replied, burying his face in your neck. “Princess?” You hummed in reply as you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Do you really think I’m one step above stripper?” 

You chuckled, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “Maybe two.” 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I think for all the discussions we have of "everyone hears the jokes and the piano; after that, they stop listening" surrounding Louis, we tend to still simplify his connection to the piano.

Yes, it's very cute that he sings Clementine a little song when they first meet, and it's very cute that he plays a little prank on her while "tuning" the piano. It's super cute that they carve their initials into the piano and Clementine carves a heart around them. It's mega cute that he names his song he wrote after her when she confesses her feelings. Louis playing Don't Be Afraid at the party is, in my opinion, one of the best moments in all of TFS.

But here's the thing: That piano is Louis' heart.

I don't mean to go all metaphorical on you, but I'm dead serious—the piano is Louis' heart, and when you think about his arc and his romance route with that in mind...?

That piano is his one comfort in a world where the dead walk. It's been with him from the beginning of the outbreak. We know from his backstory that Louis wanted to take singing lessons so he could be a real musician, and his father denying him of that was what set him off to be a "vindictive fuckhead." Louis never got those singing lessons, and it's a very real possibility that Louis taught himself how to play.

Sure, others could've taught him; we know Minerva was musically talented, perhaps she showed him a thing or two. But learning piano, or any instrument, is brutal even with professional guidance. It takes hours of practice until numbness wears fingertips raw; dedication to memorize every key and finger placement to make music pleasing to the ear; self-discipline to keep going through every fumble, every failure, every single cruel thought of self-doubt; intelligence and a creative ear to write his own songs.

And yet, it's severely under-appreciated by everyone. It's annoying. It's distracting. It's unimportant. It's an excuse for Louis to mess around and not do any real work. He doesn't have any actual talent. The music and the piano are brushed off, unheard.

Yet, Louis keeps playing. He keeps singing. He keeps making jokes.

Creating music, the one thing he wanted so badly as a kid that he destroyed his parents marriage, was possibly the greatest comfort he had... a welcome distraction to disassociate from the horror and death happening around him.

It's bittersweet, like a purpling bruise that you can't stop pressing on; it hurts, but there's something else below the pain. The piano is out of tune and it's something that brings him joy... but will always act as a constant reminder of who he was and what he did, why he's at Ericson to begin with.

We first meet him while he's playing; Louis' heart is exposed, but is it really? Is he playing to his true potential? Louis hides behind the mask of a charming, charismatic goof. It's what is expected of him, so he plays a silly song intended to poke and prod at Clementine, to gauge a reaction. That's something we see him do at multiple points in episode one. In fact, we can consider a majority of episode one to be like the song he's playing when we meet him; it's mostly cheery or fast-paced.

Louis is able to soothe AJ with his "alluring" music after the kid bit Ruby is an indication that the two of them will share a bond. Louis is a natural at communicating and bonding with the younger kids [another talent that's overlooked] so it's interesting that he praises AJ for being a natural at piano, as well.

But the song stutters just a bit when Louis and Clementine are in the woods together, though; "There's only one guarantee: this moment. That's the only you got, only thing any of us got. Might as well enjoy it." ...Only for Louis to compose himself and send her away.

It's only when Clementine has a gun in her face, held by Marlon, that the music isn't fun anymore; it's rainfall and thunder and the words "I thought you were more than that" sung through the wind in a melody only Louis can hear.

Then Marlon's dead. The song is over, and reality has arrived.

I've talked at length about Louis in ep2 and his vote in the past. It's one of the most compelling things about Louis' arc and romantic route. It's a tragic mistake driven by trauma and guilt. It's people simultaneously telling him to shut up and telling him to be angrier than he is. Telling him to stop burying his head in the sand when he's never been more aware of everything happening. It's AJ peering up at him with pleading eyes that Louis can't stand to look at. It's Clementine wrapping his heartstrings around her fingers and tugging just enough to hurt, but not break.

Louis missed Clementine. He says as much when Clementine admits she missed him first. I don't even know where to begin with that! I can think of no other way to describe it other than they are half agony, half hope over this... and if you get that reference, you get a gold star. I just- the ache, the tension, the conflicting feelings of finally having a quiet moment to talk but Louis not being ready yet.

Y'know how someone carved "you suck at playing" in the side of the piano? It's something you might not initially notice while playing the game, just as Louis' insecurities aren't apparent at first.. but they're carved in him; never fully healed, still scabbed and bleeding... Until Clementine offers him a bandage.

She won't clean the wound for him, but she'll be there. She'll help him figure out how to do it himself so he can heal. She'll listen to him, not belittle his feelings or pain. She'll make an effort to know his keys and notes and practice playing his song until she understands.

When Clementine chooses him to spend time with him, it's a mirror of their first time meeting... but this time, Louis plays something real: a song he wrote, one that I believe he crafted during the two week time skip... a song he wrote with Clementine on his mind, for better or worse.

If the piano is Louis' heart, he literally asks her to sit there and try to tune it, which ends up being a joke but I say she's already tuned your heart, my guy. It's there before them, changed in the warm candlelight. He plays for her and opens up about how no one actually listens, but Clementine did.

And remember, this is the night of the raid. They don't know it's coming, but they know it'll be soon. Louis understands that he could very well die, so what does he do? He carves his initial into the one thing he's always had, and he asks Clementine to do the same.

I'm sorry, how are we NOT more feral about this? Prior to this scene, the only thing we see carved into the piano, into Louis' heart, is an insult. This thing that Louis cares so deeply about, this instrument that's become so intertwined with who he is... he wants to leave his mark on it just in case he dies. A reminder that it was his and he belonged to it just as much. Something so important, and he asks Clementine to carve herself into his heart where no matter what, they will be immortalized together in this moment.

And when Clementine carves a heart around their initials? Yes, his reaction is very cute and that's great... but she's not ashamed of him, or her feelings for him. She wants everyone who looks upon his heart to know that. She tells him how she feels and Louis is so giddy, and warm, and he names the song after her and I am going to start biting anything that moves, I can't-

Oh, and let's discuss the party scene in episode three, shall we? Y'know, where the heart covered initials are on full display? Where Louis tells the story of why he was sent to Ericson to everyone?

Louis is so... vulnerable. Sincere. Ashamed of what he did. This is the exposed nerve, the one he was so afraid of showing Clementine but there it is... and she doesn't reject him. Sure, she can say it's fucked up if you choose to, but she doesn't break up with him over it.

Also the fact that everyone sitting around him finally listens when he's at his most unshielded only for Tenn to ask him to play Don't Be Afraid for them after...? How do you not see the connection? Are you trying to make me cry? In that moment, Louis' heart was heard and appreciated and beautiful and strong and-

Listen. I am fine. I'm so normal about this. And fine. I'm fine.

But I also have to add that during the walk in episode four, if you let Louis choose what to add to the imaginary house, he picks a brand new piano because he wants a new heart to reflect the confidence and growth Clementine helped him achieve and because he loves her and AJ so much that wants the new heart to not just be his but also theirs and I am so fine with this, okay.

[fernlessbastard]

okk love your blog, so I rlly wanted to send an ask even if its nothing too especific ;-;

soo, since u like tntduo (like me :]) whats your favorite hc for their relationship? I love hearing about hc's, and since your art its so cute, u probs have some cool hc's

Thank youuuuu I appreciate it so much, and by all means flood me with asks! Asks are great, I love asks, be it random thoughts, art ideas, opinions, etc etc, asks are always welcome (unless they're from the 🥝 anon 🙄🙄🙄 /j/loving)

And a favourite headcanon? Hm, i don't know, hard to say. I have multiple headcanons, idk if I favour any in particular

There's one where after revival Wilbur's body is kinda fucked up in the nerves and blood vessels department, so he has some trouble with kinda controlling it, which particularly expresses itself in his hands being unsteady. They're so unsteady, that the first time he picks up a guitar again he can't play right. He blows up over it and has a breakdown, and vows to never play again. He still ends up trying a couple times, but each time he just immediately gets pissed off and upset, and tosses it away. It really breaks him. At some point he's at Quackity's place, and he sees a guitar. He looks at it for a while, but doesn't say anything, of which Quackity makes note. Next time they meet up Wilbur shits on Quackity for not having touched it recently, so Quackity takes it as a challenge. Once the music starts, Wil goes quiet. He's sitting to the side of Q, slightly behind him, and after a while for just a moment he leans against his upper back, and closes his eyes, simply taking the moment in. This situation repeats, a couple times, and each time Wilbur lets himself relax a bit longer. He starts playing with Quackity's hair as he listens, and one time he begins trying to braid it. His hands are shaking, he's struggling to divide the thick hair into even parts, he's having trouble keeping the braid even, but what's crucial is that he does it. Next time it repeats. And next time too. And the next, and eventually the braids start to look actually pretty decent. Time passes, they meet up more often, and eventually comes a day when Wilbur takes the guitar. No words are exchanged. No ridicule, but no praise either - no verbal acknowledgement. Instead Quackity just sits slightly behind him, and begins gently braiding his hair. The notes are wonky and don't always sound quite right, and the rhythm is messy, and strumming only goes well sometimes, but he's playing...

Quackity kisses Wilbur's head, right above the new braid. He leans in, partially hugging him, as the other's playing. It's been a bit over a year since he started playing again, and the difference is big. Neither knows if he'll ever fully regain the control and steadiness of his hands, but he manages to keep the rhythm, and the notes now ring out clear a big majority of the time. He plays quicker songs too, now; sometimes they both sing, and laugh when they mix something up. Quackity smiles, closing his eyes as Wilbur once again butchers a random song by changing up the words completely to make it as on the nose as humanly possible. He begins to wonder what they should eat tomorrow for their anniversary breakfast.

[its-all-stardust]

Hey, so first of all, I love your work, it's absoluteley amazing!!!

I saw that your requests are open, so I thought that I would ask for a Matt Murdock x reader oneshot? You know, just something cute and fluffy?

Maybe I'm gonna sound a bit stereotypical but how about a reader that owns a bakery and wants to try out a new recipe. Matt tries to sneak a taste from time to time while "helping out" (honestly, he's just teasing and making reader's job probably harder [affectionaly]). Just domestic fluff? Maybe please?

You don't have to if you don't want to, but I thought I'd give it a try :)

Thank you!! I'm glad you like my writing!! 🫂

I'm worried with this one that I tweaked things just enough that it's not exactly what you wanted anon, but I did my best and wrote what inspiration gave me!! I'll be honest, it could be fluffier, but I'm also not offended by my own writing so that's something lol I hope you like it!! ❤️❤️

Check out this post for request guidelines

Masterlist

Matt Murdock/GN!Reader

Word Count: 964

Was turning your residential apartment into a glorified bakery after you moved in with your boyfriend legal? According to Matt, a very good lawyer, it wasn’t technically illegal, so you did it anyway and prayed your landlord never found out.

It wasn’t really a bakery, not in the traditional sense. You didn’t try making it into a storefront, nor did you want it to be one. You did, however, take specialty orders through your website. You mainly baked for small events or private parties. You weren’t touching a wedding with a ten-foot pole unless you made the cake or just one of the cookies for the snack table.

It wasn’t enough to pay the bills on its own—you still had a full-time job—but you enjoyed it, and the small amount of extra income it generated was nice.

Matt enjoyed it, too. So much so that you often joked he had ulterior motives for dating you.

But even though baking was a passion, it still came with challenges.

You let out a frustrated sigh and leaned against your elbows, bent over the counter, and buried your face in your hands. 

This is the worst part about baking, you thought.

“Do you need help?” Matt asked, hand suddenly on your shoulder. You jumped, letting out a small gasp. “Sorry. I tried calling a couple of times.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed, turning to wrap your arms around his middle, leaning into him, and pressing your face against his neck. “I just hate this.”

Matt huffed a laugh. “It can’t be so bad. You say that about every new thing you try.”

“But I really mean it this time!” you whined, though you actually didn’t.

You strived for perfection, but new recipes were always daunting. Either the first few batches didn’t meet your standards, or the very first one did, but the subsequent batches often failed. You thought once or twice about not adding anything new to your menu, but you needed to keep a refreshed list, or else you risked losing repeat customers—the ones who made this business possible for you in the first place.

“We can do it together,” Matt offered, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Will that make it better?”

You considered it for a moment. Matt’s taste was impeccable. You often used him—and Foggy and Karen—as guinea pigs, and he was always able to offer you the best advice. In another life, he would have been a fantastic chef. You’ve never baked anything with him before, only handed him the finished product.

If he helped you now, as you were putting everything together, it could make the whole try, try again process you had going significantly shorter, if not bypassed completely.

“Yes, actually. I think it will,” you answered, lifting your head up. 

The only problem: Matt was a complete and utter nuisance.

He wouldn’t do what you told him, at times completely forgoing your instructions—the one you found in an old cookbook that wasn’t like anything you found online—and adding either the incorrect amount of something or adding something that wasn’t even on the list of ingredients.

No matter how many times you told him baking was an exact science and the time for experimentation was after you followed the recipe to a T and tasted the finished product, he refused to listen. You thought he did, at first, but then you caught him tossing in almond extract behind your back, and things only went downhill from there.

“Would you please stop sticking your fingers in the bowl?” you practically begged after you caught him helping himself to the cookie batter for the fourth time.

“How else am I supposed to taste it?” he asked with a playful smirk. He seemed to enjoy the fact he was making you want to pull your hair out.

“With the spoon I specifically set out for that purpose!” You picked it up and thrust it at him. He ignored it and stuck his finger in his mouth.

“But I’m blind. How am I supposed to know where it is?” 

You raised an eyebrow, not fooled. “The same way you find the bowl even after I move it.”

Matt shrugged. “Fair point. But if I used the spoon, I couldn’t do this.” He stuck his finger in the bowl again.

“Matthew, I swear to—”

He stuck his finger in your mouth, not far but enough for the batter to touch your tongue, before he pulled away.

“—God,” you couldn’t help but finish as the first notes of the batter processed. Brow furrowed, you focused on the taste, brushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to make it last while you sorted out the different flavors. It was…

“That’s amazing,” you said, stunned. “What did you put in there?” You pulled the bowl toward you, forgetting the spoon in your hand as you dipped in a finger from the other. It wasn’t what you were trying to make at all, and you needed another sample.

“I tried telling you it just needed a few extra ingredients.” Before you could stick your finger in your mouth, Matt took your hand, wrapping his lips around your batter-covered finger. His tongue lapped gently against the pad, almost teasing. “Now it’s perfect,” he said when he pulled away.

“I think I need you in the kitchen more often,” you said, wheels already turning in your mind.

Matt beamed at you and tried leaning in for a kiss. You, however, didn’t notice and stepped away to find your phone, leaving him confused.

You opened your notes app and said, “Quick, tell me what you did before you forget.”

Matt could only shake his head in amusement before he dutifully listed everything he had snuck into the batter.