#its so organic the way that they ease into each other's life

[blkkizzat]

YAKUZA!TOJI X MILF!READER —aka toji on some joe goldberg bullshit

🎞️ 𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟐:

⟢ rating: mdni 18+ stalking, yuji is yakuza!sukuna x reader child, toji is still delulu af, size-kink, milf kink, breeding kink, voyeurism, dilf!toji, dissociative sexual fantasies, sukuna is an asshole, masturbation, killing fantasies, obsessive tendencies, heavy manipulation, brooding, yandere fluff, cute kid megumi.

⟢ episode run time: 𝟖.𝟕𝐤 ⟢ episode list: m.list ⟢ subscriber access: please comment on m.list to be tagged, rather than individual episodes as its easier for me to track. ⟢ director's note: e2 is here!! sorry for the initial issues! i hope you guys enjoy as we go deeper into toji's delulu, it's so much fun writing from his perspective. i feel like with each epi he only gets worse, hfsvsdjkfhvbsdj. he's still daddy tho.

The sky has since fallen completely dark, but the city lights of Tokyo still twinkle brightly in the distance, drowning out any stars. The light pollution still appears beautiful though, as a comforting beacon of civilization in the surrounding darkness.

The atmosphere, which had previously been so violently vibrant, has now quieted to a muted calm as the world slows down, whipping cool night air around Toji’s tense frame on his balcony.

However, it does fuck all to soothe the seared edges of his temper. 

Nor does the serene scene do anything to calm the heated exchange still taking place inside your condo.

Your domestic dispute with Sukuna fiercely rages on.

Toji savors the last few puffs of his cigarette before discarding it and quickly lighting another. Chain smoking is his last salvation, lest the persistent urge to protect you completely overtakes him and causes him to act rashly.

The current state of the organization had suspicions at an all-time high. Toji couldn’t afford that considering who he was dealing with and what all could come in between the two of you should he err from the plan. 

Closing his eyes, Toji manages to regain control by doing the one thing that never failed to pacify him—thinking of you, of course. 

Both the sweet poison and the bitter antidote to Toji, you do nothing but constantly plague his psyche. 

But perhaps it’s that he knows you need him as much as he realizes he needs you. 

Over the course of time he had watched you, it didn’t take long for Toji to conclude that you only chose to remain with Sukuna for the security he provided. Preservation and the obligations of motherhood were the only logical motivations you could have.

It was glaringly apparent that Sukuna didn’t love you. 

Even a blind man could see the truth of it.

Sukuna only visited you on rare occasions, when yakuza business took him beyond the central city limits, as Toji’s own surveillance and connections had revealed. 

And whenever he did show up, it usually led to arguments between the two of you. If you had indeed loved Sukuna at one point you weren’t foolish enough to hold onto any of those illusions now. 

Moreover, the subject of illusions—Toji had been privy to having many fantasies of you.

Weathering away at the stone around his heart he strived his whole life to build—only to then rebuild once again after his late wife—addictingly sweet visions of you so swiftly demolish the walls he set in place.

Toji allowed himself many hopeful images of what life could be like with you. 

A life of ease. 

That said, it would never be too easy. 

Toji is still a yakuza himself and he knew the organization would never let him walk away entirely. 

Nevertheless, his role was somewhat unique—an executive assassin was almost unheard of. Toji took on as many kills as he did as a way to numb and distract himself, not because it was required of him or he couldn’t pass it off to another. And ever since he’d laid eyes on you he had no desire to busy himself with anything other than you.

Toji takes pleasure in knowing he wouldn’t ever have to be away from you for long too. 

As it happens, he already owns a spacious five-bedroom home just outside Tokyo in Chiba—the previous home he had hoped to share with his late wife. Toji had planned to surprise her with it once she left the hospital.

Yet instead of leaving the hospital with Megumi’s mother by his side, Toji had walked out alone—only an urn in hand. Numbed to the world, he tightly gripped the sleek black urn that mockingly held her remains—along with his shattered hopes.

And as a result, no one had even crossed the threshold since the purchase was made.

But that would change though now that there would be the four of you to breathe life into the home.

Who else could give you that kind of life but Toji? 

Certainly not Sukuna.

Toji would give you everything if you let him—but you weren’t an easy conquest, something he learned quickly as you prove it to him time and time again.

Toji recalls your second encounter with sharpened clarity.

⟡

It had taken Toji only two weeks to meticulously study your habits. The encounter had been carefully orchestrated, but despite his planning, the day hadn’t quite unfolded as Toji anticipated to say the least.

Parked down on the block of your typical walking path, Toji sat in his blacked-out Mercedes, keeping an eye on his rear-view mirror monitoring your approach. The mirror also showed Megumi, who was peacefully dozing in the backseat.

Heh, yeah he’d made damn sure to have the kid with him back then too.

Hardly older than 18 months and already a lady-killer, Megumi never failed to melt the heart of any woman who laid eyes upon his abundant chubby-cheeked cuteness. 

Not like Toji had ever really needed to expend the effort before now. He knew just a mere look from him could get panties leaking, but you’d be harder to conquer than that. 

Toji would enjoy taking his time, which if he thought about previously he would have deemed odd—he’d never been one to hold himself back or take his time with a woman.  

Not anymore. 

Not since her at least. 

But the agony that had accompanied thoughts of his late wife had dulled considerably since he’d first started observing you. 

A bonus of that being it no longer hurts as much to see Megumi—not when he would picture you rocking him in your arms.

Toji had even gone so far as to believe that she would have approved, that she would have liked you. He imagined she would have gladly chosen you to take care of both Megumi and him if she’d known you.

A familiar form appears in the rear-view mirror and Toji knows it’s game time.

Here you were, a reward for his diligence in tracking your habits, right on schedule.

Your features sparkled in the summer sun as you pushed Yuji along in his stroller, humming a tune while the child giggled along clapping. 

The kid’s bubbly deposition had to come from you, Toji decided—surely none of it could have come from, nor been influenced by, Sukuna. 

Toji wondered if you could even make a somber child like Megumi smile.

Biding in-wait until you passed, Toji snatched up Megumi and kept far enough distance so as to not alarm you of his presence. 

His original plan had been to exit the car as you passed by and walk into the store together. But that all changed when Toji got the first glimpse of what you were wearing. 

Toji would avoid being noticed by you, but your attire made it near impossible for him not to notice you.

The dress you wore was barely made modest enough to wear in public by the cardigan you draped over it. A less curvaceous woman could have likely pulled it off without turning a head.  

However on your body, the way the thin loose fabric hung off your shape as it clung onto the moist areas of perspiration like a second skin—was fucking obscene. 

Especially as despite your continued efforts, the crack of your ass kept gobbling up your sundress no matter how many times you subtly tried to yank it free.

Toji bet your ass could swallow his cock up just as well. 

Damn.

Toji wished the walkup to the store was longer. 

He’d never been one for prayer, but he would have started if whatever God deemed it fit right at that very moment to send an unanticipated gust of wind. 

Your lack of panty line had his mind racing as to whether you wore a thong or were just slutty enough to be outside bare-assed in a short sundress mid-afternoon.

The green of your sundress matched his eyes too and Toji took it as another sign from the universe, he was on the right path by pursuing you like this.

You were doing this intentionally just to tease him, weren't you? 

Hoping he’d see you like this and to tempt him into taking a peek, right?

Entering the grocery store, Megumi seated in-cart, Toji continued tailing you as you shopped.

True to the homemaker he previously confirmed you to be, you picked up mostly fresh produce, prime cuts of meat from the butcher, and some pantry baking items. 

You were capable of more than just the frozen dinners he’d be more accustomed to if not for his Nanny’s cooking. She was a decent enough cook too—but she wasn’t you. 

Nothing she cooked smelled a fraction as good as the mostly foreign, but appetizing, smells that wafted from under your door to fill the hall with warm spices.

The food you would make him, once Toji gets you settled in your new home, would definitely be much better. 

You were truly perfect, well nearly so.

After tailing you down a few aisles, Toji suspects the one minor flaw you may have is you appeared to be the absentminded type. 

How else could you be disregarding his overbearing presence as he continuously had put himself in your line of vision? Restlessness overtook Toji as he waited for you to look up and catch his eye, giving him a casual opening.

You had been too consumed with your phone to notice his attempts— which if he would guess, wouldn’t be successful anytime soon. 

Grumbling, Toji had to take matters into his own hands if he wanted to shop with you at all.

Easy enough too, you were already so carelessly distracted.

Momentarily taking his eyes off you, Toji calculated how long it would take you to reach the end of the aisle. So as you moved from one aisle to the next, he casually nudged his cart into your path, creating a T-bone collision that made it look like you were at fault for leaving the aisle.

The bang was jolting enough to finally draw your attention.

“OH MY GOD! I WASN’T WATCHING WHERE I WAS GOING! I’M SO SORRY– I-I …Fushiguro?!”

Heh, took ya long enough to notice. 

“Well, hey doll. Long time no see, ma.”

A flagrant lie. 

Toji had seen you nearly everyday—you just hadn’t seen him. 

He could tell you were flustered and embarrassed as multiple heads in the store had turned towards the two of you from the rattling collision. 

You couldn’t apologize enough to Toji who was on cloud nine from your attention focused on him.

And as Toji had predicted, your attention was soon stolen by the black spikey haired baby boy seated in his cart.

“Oh wow Fushiguro!!—” 

“—Toji, ma.”

A smirk bloomed across his features as you rolled your eyes at him, continuing your affections towards Megumi.

“—I remember you said you had a son but I didn’t know you had a little mini-me, he’s so adorable!”

Toji didn’t fail to notice the double—no triple, take you had given between himself and Megumi. 

He also couldn't help but see how your big ass tiddies looked—like they wanted to bounce right outta that sundress and into his mouth—as you bent down to get a closer look at Megumi. 

No bra too?

Oh, you’d surely be the death of him.

But Toji's cock wasn’t the only part of him swelling, his heart rate sped like crazy just from watching you fuss over Megumi so apologetically—much like a loving mom soothing her own child at the sight of him sniffling back tears. 

For a moment, Yuji’s giggling drew Toji’s attention as the boisterous kid seemed to think it was some sort of ride. Needing no comfort at all, Yuji merrily squealed with laughter at the impact, continuing to stuff rice puff snacks into his little face.

The distraction kept Toji from warning you not to pick up Megumi and before he Toji knew what was happening— you scooped Megumi up. Settling Megumi into your arms, Toji noted you cradled him with the same joy radiating from you as you did Yuji—and much to Toji’s shock—Megumi let you.

It went without saying that Megumi wasn't the friendliest kid. 

Toji suspected he had inherited that from him, along with his trademark scowl. The little terror was known to pitch a screaming fit if someone other than Toji or his nanny picked him up. 

However, in your hold, Megumi appeared calm—angel-like even—as far as Toji was concerned.

More curious than upset, Megumi's tears dried at the corners of his eyes as he reached out to gently bop your nose with his tiny fist.

“Aye! Manners, kiddo.”

Toji chides Megumi, but inside he is amazed by the interaction. 

Returning the gesture, you softly boop Megumi's nose with the pad of your finger, causing him to grab it in defiance, as you offered him softly whispered apologies for upsetting him.

This served to confirm in Toji’s mind the place you belonged in his life. 

He couldn’t be wrong about you. 

You were perfect.

Everything was aligning better than he could have hoped for.

“No harm done ma, Megumi can take a lick. Just like his daddy.” 

You shook your head at Toji and gently rubbed soothing circles on Megumi’s back, cooing at him.

“Oh? So you’re growing up strong like your daddy, huh, Megumi?”

Megumi tilted his head slightly, his thumb resting gently in his mouth.

“Just don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re smooth like he does.”

You shot Toji a teasing smirk, immediately resulting in a half chub pressed against his suit pants.

Now you were… teasing him? 

Oh, you had no fucking idea just how smooth Toji could be when he wanted. And Toji planned to put 3 more kids inside of you soon too, just as smoothly.

Those facts withstanding, Toji could tell his son hadn’t quite made up his mind about you yet. Megumi just blinked at you, but the fact that he wasn't screaming his head off was good enough for Toji.

“Don’t let the blank stare fool you, ma, he likes you. Trust, ya would know if he didn’t. Just takes him a while to warm up to most folks.”

You gave Toji another playful smile.

“Hmm, and wonder who he got that from?”

Primal urges surged in his veins as Toji wanted nothing more than to grab you in his arms at that moment, although Toji settled for countering with a smirk of his own.

“We’re not that bad ma—once you get to know us.”

Toji flashed a toothy grin at you, amused by the upward pull at the corners of your lips as you tried and failed, not to be entertained by him. 

You gently set Megumi back down in the cart, smoothing down his onesie and safely buckling him in before turning back to Toji.

“I’m sure Megumi is a perfectly sweet kid, who just needs to come into his own a bit.”

“Eh? And whadda ‘bout me, mamas?”

“The jury is still out on you—Fushiguro.”

“—Toji,” he corrected once again—and again you responded by rolling your pretty eyes under those long thick lashes of yours.

Oh, Toji had just the thing for that ass since you liked to roll your eyes back that much. 

Toji imagined how deeply they’d be lodged into your head once he stuffed you full of his fat cock—all in one go—effectively pushing your guts up into your chest. 

Yeah, he had it bad for you—real bad.

Unable to stop the many intrusive sexual thoughts that would spring in his mind just from being close enough to smell the scent of your sweet vanilla and jasmine perfume.

Yet Toji couldn’t let the chance pass to press his limits with you.

“So—How about ya give me y’er number so we can set up a playdate, eh? Since ya think Megumi’s such a sweet kid and all, mamas.” 

Caught off guard, you looked away from Toji in contemplation, chewing on your lip.

“Hm... I-I don't think that’s such a good idea, Fushiguro.”

You shift your stance a bit, taking on a defensive posture. 

Tch, fuck. You’d be harder to crack than Toji originally thought. 

Plus you seemed to still have some loyalty to Sukuna, even if you held no love for him.

But that was all fine, Toji calculates—a good thing even.

That just meant you would be all the more loyal to him once he did have you.  

Thinking on his feet, Toji subtly switches tactics, playing dumb as he lifts a brow.

“Toji, doll, but ya know what I do for work. Think I gots time to be babysitting brats? What, s’not a good idea for the nanny to bring Gumi by?”

“Oh! Of course the nanny! Yeah that’s fine, erm, that's… sorry. I thought—”

“—thought, what mamas? You tryna get a playdate with me too? ”

Toji couldn’t hold back his laughter as your eyes widened in shock. 

Embarrassment washed over you like a tsunami, intensified by Toji's teasing. You hid half your face with one hand while the other gripped the grocery cart handle so tightly that Toji half-expected it to snap off.

“Kiddin’ ma—lighten up a ‘lil eh? Ya left y’erself wide open for that one, doll.”

Sighing in defeat, you finally conceded to his charms, exchanging numbers with him solely so his nanny could coordinate the playdates.

“I see you think you got jokes, Fushiguro.”

Toji relished the win as your smile returned. 

“Ya know I do—and it's Toji, mama.”

With that shift, Toji was pleased to see you gradually lower your guard around him, the ice between you started to melt. You continued your shopping together, Toji casually picking up a few items, occasionally seeking your advice on what to feed Megumi.

Truth be told, he had no idea. The nanny always handled all the shopping.

Subtly taking the lead in the conversation, Toji casually provoked you into revealing more about yourself. Details he couldn’t piece together—like where you grew up, what your life was like before Japan and what brought you here—all which he cataloged meticulously in his mind. 

Toji wanted to ask how a smart girl planning to be a doctor with a full-ride exchange program scholarship to Tokyo University got knocked up by a dumb fuckhead like Ryomen Sukuna—but the very last thing he wanted you to think about when you were with him was Sukuna.  

However, each piece of information he learned of you convinced him more of how much he wanted you—

“Oh yeah, Fushiguro! Despite what you said, I actually managed to make a friend!”

–all to himself.

Tch, a fuckin’ friend?

Toji’s demeanor darkened, but you didn’t notice—too busy humming to yourself while checking apples for bruises in the produce section.

Not like this information came as a particular surprise to him, Toji's eyes narrowed as he could guess exactly who it was right away.

Toji had seen the tall raven-haired woman whose afternoon jogs in the park so-conveniently aligned with your walks with Yuji. You both would exchange pleasantries as she admired your son, and you her commitment to fitness, that you would say you never seemed to have the time for these days. 

Yet your interactions from what he had seen never ventured much beyond that. 

Although Toji would normally oblige you a few friends, having a friend here would complicate his plans.

The women of The Nursery up until now had done such a good job in isolating you all on their own without him having to lift a finger. Toji was relying on their catty caste system to ultimately drive you into his arms, as the only person you could rely on.

Toji couldn’t have one of them ruin that. 

He needed to know more about this ‘friend’ of yours. 

How well have you gotten to know each other? 

And in what ways?

The fact that this development happened right under his watchful eye, without him knowing the depth of it, had Toji cross to say the least.

Thankfully, your isolation had you starved for an attentive ear, so you were eager to spill your guts about your new friend to him. 

And as the good future husband he’d be to you, Toji was sure to listen now as he would in the future—or at least appear like he was most of the time.

“She’s new like me! Well, not new I suppose, but back for a stay here with her fiancé until things calm down due to all the commotion happening overseas now.”

So that woman did intend to leave. 

Good. 

The sooner the better so Toji’s own hand wouldn’t have to be forced and your little ‘friend’ could be spared. 

Toji couldn’t have anything nor anyone coming in between the two of you—no matter the consequences from who they were associated with.

“She doesn’t have any kids so I’ve been giving her tips and sharing how I dealt with Yuji this past year. She always seems to be busy though, so we haven’t really had the chance to really do anything—but she calls me often.”

Toji’s teeth clenched. 

They dared to make phone contact even?

And bad girl—you’d been so eager to give this stranger, who had no respect for boundaries, your number but you hesitated with him?

What did Toji need to do to show you he was the only one with your best interests in mind?

Toji was the only one you should have confided in and the only one you should trust.

“Heh, well isn’t that nice, ma.”

Toji would have to figure out how to deal with the problem of your new friend at a later time. He didn’t want to spend the fleeting moments he had remaining with you brooding, as it was sure to soon show on his face and sour the mood.

Pivoting the subject back to just the two of you, Toji inquired about the baked goods he’s still owed. He could tell you’d forgotten already, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity he had to taste your cooking. 

It would keep him sated long enough until he could actually taste you.

“Ya know, I usually don’t like sweets though.”

Toji told you when you asked his favorite dessert and you were genuinely determined you could bake him something he’d like.

“Hmm, you know I can make a mean fudge brownie! I make them with semi-sweet chocolate too. Plus, since I moved here I also cut some sugar and added matcha to the recipe, so they wouldn’t be too sweet. they are so gooey they melt in your mouth.”

“Heh, yeah—I bet you would too, ma.”

This time, you didn’t suppress your amused cackle as you shook your head and pushed your cart forward, still overall ignoring his persistent flirtations even if you were growing more comfortable with them.

Toji sensed the playful personality you’d kept tightly wrapped under all those layers from being with Sukuna, whose cruel sense of humor would only serve to crush yours. 

Toji couldn’t wait to be the one to fully draw it back out of you.

“Ugh—boy, you play too much, Fushiguro!”

Toji chuckled, pushing his cart along after yours—he could tell your cheeks were still burning though. 

“—Toji, ma.”

When you both finally reached the register, Toji checked out first, slyly sliding his card to cover your groceries as well.

You were completely unaware though, having left your cart with him in line while you rushed Yuji to the bathroom.

Yuji, being the growing boy that he was, had devoured his rice snacks too quickly and promptly spat them back up all over himself.

Feeling smug in his chivalry, Toji anticipated seeing an even sweeter smile when you returned to find your groceries already paid for.

Yet, he’d seemingly made another miscalculation with you. 

As when you returned to see your groceries bagged and paid for, you kept Yuji in your arms as you placed your bags of groceries in the stroller itself, storming out without a word leaving behind a dumbfounded Toji.

Toji was more than puzzled as you seemed furious at the fact Toji had done what he deemed to be ‘a-nice-thing-any-woman- would-want’. 

The fuck happened?!

Shifting Megumi and own bag in his arms, Toji swiftly pursued you. 

“Oy, mamas!”

You ignored him but Toji wouldn’t give up on you easily, or at all truthfully. 

You didn’t realize that yet but Toji figured you must have gathered he was bullheaded enough to keep following you until you acknowledged him once you abruptly stopped and whipped around to face him.

“What, no ‘thank you’ f’er me, ma?”

Toji watched your nostrils flare as you angrily snapped at him.

“Thank you?!” 

God, you were beautiful—even pissed off. 

Toji knows he should be more focused on what you were saying in the moment, as you heatedly gave him a piece of your mind. However, Toji zoned out momentarily, unable to quiet his internal thoughts that screamed to him how pretty you were with your brow furrowed and cheeks puffed in indignation. 

“... and furthermore you think you can just buy me, is that it?! That just because I have to rely on Sukuna and accept living in a building full of side hoes to give Yuji a comfortable life that I’ll just giggle and go along with anything like the rest of those bitches?!”

Shit. 

You were actually pissed. 

Ah fuck. 

Toji had greatly underestimated your self-worth. Once again, you proved him wrong—and once more, that pleased him. It further highlighted how you were in fact a pearl among The Nursery pigs.

“Uh, Fuck mamas, er–I-I…no–”

Yet you proved to be such a wildcard that you had Toji of all people stuttering as he scrambled to find the right words to appease you.

“—then what?! Say something!”

Toji had to think fast. 

He could see how it looked bad now, but in a rare form from his usual nature, Toji’s intentions had been honest. Toji really just wanted to show you he had the means and could take care of you—not to buy you. 

Nonetheless, Toji only had himself to blame as he’s sure you’ve heard of his far less than pious reputation. 

Ostracized or not, the bougie women of The Nursery were terrible gossips and he was sure you’d overheard plenty less than savory information about him. 

Of course, with all things considered, you’d assume the worst of him.  

But Toji had never even bothered to learn any of those bitches names, much less buy them anything—they would give him gifts.

In this situation though, to quell your anger and regain your favor, Toji devised a quick lie, hoping it would smooth things over.

“Tch,” he began, scratching the back of his head and awkwardly looking away from you.

He had to be sure to sell it. 

“No, it’s just ah, the guy—er, the teller. He assumed we were together.” 

Toji shifted his stance, adjusting a drowsy Megumi in his arms.

“So, you told him we were…?” 

You raised a brow, huffing but you didn’t seem as angry as before. Toji saw your eyes soften a bit, distracted by a cute lil' yawn from Megumi who sleepily burrowed his face deeper into his shoulder.

Good kid, lookin out for y’er old man, aye Gumi?

Seeing how Megumi was disarming you, Toji knew this was his chance at redemption. Like a gentle giant, Toji’s large hand dwarfed his son’s small head with affection pats—an action he had picked up from observing you.

“Not exactly—but I supposed it looked that way, ma. What with the kids n’ya leaving all y’er shit with me n’all. Easier to just pay then explain.”

Toji continued before you could say anything, seeing as you didn’t look quite convinced.

“Trust me, from all of what you told me today, I know ya can take care of y’erself mamas… even if you are with that asshole.”

You regarded Toji with a scrutinizing gaze for all of a minute, yet that minute felt like hours to him. 

He couldn’t remember feeling this uneasy ever—and being in the Yakuza put him in several situations in the past he thought he wouldn’t make it out of. 

“Fine,” you resigned with a sigh, “It’s whatever then.” 

Seeing that you had set aside the words you originally intended to scold him with, Toji felt that this was the best possible outcome he could have hoped for.

Well shit, bullet dodged.

“Uh yeah, well…I’ll see you around then Fushiguro—”

Toji couldn’t just let you leave like this, on uneasy terms with your frustration still evident.

“—Wait ma!”

And even more so as Toji stopped you once again.

“Look…I ain’t too big to admit I fucked up, mamas. Let me make it up to ya, yeah? Give ya a ride back so ya don’t hafta walk back in this heat?”

Toji knew you wanted to reject his offer out of pride, but he was serious now—there was no fuckin’ way he was gonna let you walk back. 

Your load of groceries was way more than your usual trips, and on top of carrying Yuji, a sizable boy for his age, your purse and pushing the stroller would turn a 15 minute walk into a 25 minute one easily. 

The scorching summer sun perched high at its peak at this time of day and the thick, near suffocating, humidity could easily turn to heat exhaustion—especially for a young toddler.

He knew you knew that too.

You’d have to accept, per Toji’s calculations.

And you did.

“Okay, why not...” 

Yet the reluctance was clear in your voice. 

The ride back began uneventfully, yet the calm atmosphere inside the car was tinged with awkwardness. 

Megumi was snoozing in his car seat, while Yuji sat on your lap in the passenger seat. 

Despite the lingering tension, Toji could see the relief on your face. The transition from the sweltering heat to the cool comfort of his air-conditioned Mercedes had clearly brought you much-needed respite.

The domesticality of it all was something Toji didn’t realize he would miss as much as he did, and it pissed him off that it was something Sukuna of all people had and took for granted. 

However, when Toji glanced over at you, he tightened his grip on the wheel with both hands.

Your actions were purely innocent as you entertained Yuji, bouncing him on your knees. However, the movement caused your sundress to lift and bunch damn near to your hips. 

Toji swore he could feel the steering wheel crack under his grip as he fought the urge to slide a hand onto your thigh, or at minimum over his soon-to-be-bricked-up cock. 

Fuck. Get it together. 

But there was nothing Toji could have done to stop his dissociative daydreams, which had grown increasingly vivid since laying eyes on you, from consuming him. 

The sleek hardness of the leather steering wheel morphed to be malleable like the inner flesh of your thighs. Toji gripped the wheel tighter, which only made the visualization of how soft your skin would be in contrast to the texture of his calloused hand more apparent. The same hand which would so graciously sink into the warm plush of your skin with reassuring squeezes. 

Finally, Toji would also get his answer as to whether or not you had been wearing panties. Toji’s wandering hand would only need to travel up the tiniest bit higher to press his knuckles right against your core.

And when it came down to it, whether you had them on or not mattered little to Toji—regardless of the result, he still intended to bully his thick middle knuckle directly into your clit. 

Toji would take satisfaction in keeping his main attention on the road as he engaged you in casual conversation—all the while drawing slow absent minded circles around your bud. He would only pause if he felt the lil’ thing swell up enough—to the point where the soft clicking sounds from your slick could be heard if there wasn’t music playing. 

He’d edge you with subtle, yet incessant, pleasure all the way home. Seeing just how much of his teasing your messy cunt could handle.

Toji's mind was stuck so badly in-between your thighs that he’d actually been caught off guard when you finally broke the silence, eagerly asking about his playlist as “How Do U Want It” pumped through the car speakers. 

And that's how Toji managed to worm his way back into your good graces.

You seemed genuinely surprised to discover he was also a fan of ’90s hip-hop when he told you he was. 

Of course, being a fan of ’90s hip-hop wasn’t a lie—but he had heard this particular song playing from your apartment before, so he made sure to add it to a playlist for whenever he’d be able to get you into his car or apartment. 

Much to Toji’s enjoyment, before long you were laughing again as he attempted—very, very poorly—to rap along to some of the lyrics in English. 

Pleased to have won you back over, Toji purposely missed at least two turns just to keep you in his car a bit longer.

If the day had ended there, he would have considered it a win. 

But, of course, with his luck, things would prove to be anything but victorious.

Naturally, once you both returned, Toji carried your bags upstairs. However, that didn’t stop him from playfully teasing you.

Toji joked that—‘Miss Independent didn’t want him paying for her groceries, but she sure as hell didn’t mind him carrying them’—and was rewarded again with the soft snorts of your laughter.

It’s not like you didn’t have your hands full though, cradling both Megumi and Yuji, who were now fast asleep—one on each of your shoulders.

It was…cute.

Fuck, when even was the last time Toji even thought something was cute? 

You were cute though, especially with the kids. 

That he didn’t mind admitting. 

Toji regretted that he didn't snap a picture of the moment. He knew it would likely be over soon.

Heh, maybe it didn’t have to be though.

With both boys asleep in your arms, Toji considered the likelihood of coaxing you to invite him in. You’d surely need help carrying both Yuji and your bags inside—but he didn’t want to push his luck, especially after he had already majorly fucked things up with you once today.

Although, Toji realized you wouldn’t need any convincing when you looked at him with a kind smile that reached all the way into your bright eyes. That was all the encouragement he needed to step across the threshold, technically uninvited, as he held the door open for you.

Toji would have entered too, had the energy not immediately shifted. 

“—and just what the fuck is this?”

Motherfucker.

Down the hallway, Sukuna had since stepped out of the elevator with his right hand, Uraume, close behind. Sukuna appeared already agitated, barking rushed orders over the phone. 

But Sukuna abruptly ended the call the moment he saw Toji about to enter the condo with you. And as if he owned the entire building himself, Sukuna exuded obnoxious dominance in every stride as he approached. 

Toji may have outranked him but Sukuna rivaled Toji in both size and presence, sauntering over to loom behind you with an unmistakable air of possessiveness.

Tch, Sukuna shouldn’t even be here. 

Toji had miscalculated—a rare miscalculation, but a big one nonetheless—what he gets, he supposed, for trusting a less than thurough intel source. 

According to his, now incorrect intel, Sukuna was supposed to be in Shinjuku at headquarters. The fact that he was here, interfering with his time he had so meticulously planned with you, infuriated Toji. 

Shit—he hadn’t wanted Sukuna to see you two together just yet.

Despite Toji being unable to hide his disdain, he offered a respectful nod to Sukuna, as was customary between fellow upper-ranked yakuza. 

Sukuna returned the gesture in-kind, along with a smug grin that had plastered itself across his face.

Tension saturated the air and Toji noticed that your once-gentle smiles had faded, replaced by wary glances exchanged between him and Sukuna. 

Toji’s hand causally brushed yours as you carefully handed Megumi back to him before you faced Sukuna.

He noticed you running over the spot on your hand where your skin had touched.

Did you also feel the electricity between the two of you burn your skin?

Toji had.

“If I knew you were coming, you could have picked me up from the store, Ryo! Then I wouldn’t have had to be a bother to Fushiguro...”

You could never be a bother to Toji.

Looking you over, Toji scrutinized your every movement. He knew you were merely trying to shift focus and keep the peace—but to do it for him? 

After everything today, and how he unintentionally put his foot in his mouth with his actions?

Were—were you falling for him, already?

The slightly strained smile on your face still looked sweet enough, and Toji might have mistaken it for genuine—if not for the real warmth you’d shown him just moments before Sukuna’s arrival. 

You really had saved your smiles just for him, isn’t that right mama?

Toji’s heart beats wildly at the thought, however his good temperaments were greatly diminished as he noted how the light in your eyes dimmed.

Seeing you shrink yourself to answer to Sukuna, no matter how insignificant—pissed him off.

Well, at least thanks to him, you wouldn’t have to suffer Sukuna much longer.

As Toji had expected, Sukuna didn’t try to suppress his asshole-like nature, even towards you. Your attempted olive branch had been rebuffed by the heavy hand on your shoulder. It was evident Sukuna was unconcerned with your excuses as he focused solely on Toji.

“Ah Fushiguro, I see you’ve met my son and his mother.”

Even though Sukuna had failed to give you a title, the intent behind his words and demeanor was unmistakable: 

Sukuna owned you.

So that's how it is, eh? 

Toji couldn’t say he was surprised.

Although his possessive nature wasn't driven by affection for you, Sukuna simply never liked to share his toys. Sukuna must have thought you were just another plaything for Toji, well aware of what Toji got up to typically at The Nursery, 

Eh, and were you any other woman, Sukuna would have been right. 

But you were never toy to Toji, he wanted much more than just to fuck you, even before he realized it himself. 

Toji would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to that too though. 

“Heh, we’ve already had our introductions before, isn’t that right…?” 

Toji was pleased by the flushed, wide-eyed expression on your face when he dared to address you by your first name—just as he was pleased that Sukuna’s smirk faltered into a scowl at Toji’s bold familiarity with you.

Toji mainly did it to piss Sukuna off. However seeing you flustered, knowing he could have an effect on you even in front of Sukuna, had been a much sweeter treat. 

“Oh? Then she must know not to pay heed to old roosters who are now forced to spend more time in the hen house than running the farm these days. Although, a rooster who cannot crow effectively is of little use anywhere else, I suppose.”

Toji’s expression held firm onto the casual smugness he wore, but inside he was boiling. 

Toji knew exactly what Sukuna was referring to.

Since his late wife passed, Toji had been only sent for specialized jobs that required his immense powerhouse abilities. Although he could easily air out a room of 20 men, Toji was considered to be more of a loose cannon than ever before.

Simply not caring—Toji took his anger out on more than just his targeted kills with no second thoughts given to the collateral damage of the environment he was in nor the civilian casualties around. Thus Toji made the damage control messier and harder on the organization in cases where more precision was needed. 

Some would have called that a liability and had him dealt with, yet the bigger liability still would be trying to ‘deal with’ Toji in the first place. Many had tried over the years for one reason or another—and it had been a guaranteed death sentence for each one of them. 

Regardless, Toji had remained dog loyal to the organization though, with little care for power or status, even though it came to him anyway. 

As long as he was paid, Toji had been content—and in turn, so had the organization. This resulted in Toji mostly being able to do as he pleased, even when he went a little rogue at times. 

“Rooster, eh—”

Toji knew Sukuna’s condescending smug attitude stemmed from the special privileges he’d been given to sit in on the executive meetings to solve the current unrest of having to do with whatever old fuck of an executive had gotten himself offed.

Regardless, it could still be seen as a loss of status not being in those meetings. More importantly—Toji’s rogue behaviors could easily be manipulated into a target on his back should Sukuna assert he’d been a part of the internal treason.

Toji knew he had to tread cautiously with Sukuna, but Toji still did not feel threatened in the least.

“—I’d like to think of myself here as more of a fox though, it suits me better don’t ya think?” 

Toji’s gaze had briefly met your own, and you quickly turned away, his grin growing even wider.

But then again, if Sukuna wanted to think Toji was down and out—Toji would let him. 

It would work to Toji’s advantage in the long run with securing you as his anyway. Toji wasn’t worried as he had nothing to do with that old geezer getting wacked and he was glad they’d left him out of it.

Besides, Sukuna being brought into the inner circle could have just as easily been a way to keep a closer watch on him. After all, Sukuna wasn’t an executive—and while Toji was, his role was to eliminate threats, not uncover them. It made more sense for Toji to stay away than for Sukuna to be involved at all.

All which was a net win for Toji, as he found himself with more opportunities to spend time with you, while the organization conveniently kept Sukuna occupied.

With a swift, smooth motion, Toji bent down to retrieve the stray apple that had rolled from your grocery bag. He polished it against his suit jacket before handing it back to you with a sly smile.

“Ya know, I am just next door lil’ hen. This ol’fox is still capable of being a good neighbor. I’ll always have plenty of sugar for you too, should you ever find yourself in need…”

Toji turns to Sukuna.

“...Especially since Sukuna has his hands full on the upper levels of the farm these days, eh? S’a wonder at all how ya manage to visit the hens on this floor too.”

Toji watched with amusement as your eyes widened at the blatant innuendos given right in front of Sukuna, who merely was left growling as his cell audibly and persistently vibrated.

Sukuna deemed the call more important than the coded banter with Toji, as he all but dragged you and Yuji into the condo—leaving the groceries for Uraume to bring in.

Although he had won the battle of the day, Toji regretted his actions later that evening when he inevitably lost the war.

Sukuna made sure to let it be known Toji lost too, as Sukuna had fucked you against the adjoining wall of the master bedroom so hard the entire wall shook.

Your pained yet pleasure-filled moans seeped through the thick insulation of the walls.

Using you like you were just one of his toys, Sukuna was quite literally pounding the point home that you belonged to him with every forceful quake.

Point taken, but what angered Toji more was Sukuna was being too rough with you.

Toji could have sworn he heard you plead for Sukuna to slow down and the irony of his concern was not lost on Toji. 

Toji was never known for being a particularly gentle lover himself, but your body had been through enough—you’re a mother now. You deserved better than the careless treatment of some cheap plastic fuck doll. 

Nevertheless, despite the roughness, it was clear from the diluted moans through the insulation—you had liked it.

Sukuna was still making you cum. 

And oh god, did Toji ever want to prove to your precious pussy that his thick inches would fuck her even harder if that’s what she asked of him.

Toji had to repress a frustrated groan when he realized he was painfully hard. 

Your damped cries had Toji palming himself for relief before he even knew what he was doing.

Yet for all the perverse arousal he felt, Toji did feel some semblance of guilt. 

His taunting of Sukuna ensured that this punishment was a lesson for the both of you.

But—Fuck. 

Toji couldn’t deny his sadistic side.

He was a killer after all. 

Even the distressed tremor of your euphoric moans sounded absolutely heavenly to him, and it wasn’t long before Toji fumbled with his own belt to drag out his heavily leaking cock. 

Thick humid breaths left Toji as he hissed from having thumbed off the viscous pre-gathering on his redden tip. 

Toji slowly spread it down his pulsing length, shuddering. 

His frustrations at not being the one touching you—not being the one making you shiver and moan, are only rivaled by his frustration of this being the first time he’s had any real fire in his loins since he’s met you.

The fierce desire to cum was overtaking his more rational brain or self-control as he’d hadn’t been this hard in weeks, even when he’d rub one out from watching old security footage of you.

Wanting any semblance of contact, Toji placed his free hand on the wall—on the exact spot he imagined Sukuna had your cheek pressed against. 

With closed eyes, Toji pictured himself cupping your face, thumb smoothing away any stray hairs or tears while he is the one thrusting into you, filling you.

His large hand encompassed his length while he thrusted into his rough palm, faster now that the speed of the thumping had increased—signaling Sukuna was close to finishing you.

Swallowing a frustrated roar, your muted cries for Sukuna through the wall brought Toji out of his fantasies and back to the harsh reality that Sukuna was the one balls deep in your tight milf pussy—while he was only in his own hand.

Nevertheless, Toji was determined to cum and even more so, determined to soon be the one making you scream in pleasure. 

If you were this loud now—you’d be much louder on his cock. 

Toji leaned in even closer, resting his head on his forearm against the wall, the wall that still shuddered with the force of Sukuna ruthlessly rearranging your guts. 

Forcing himself to dissociate once more, so he could finish—Toji squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he bit his lip to the point of drawing blood. In the daydream, in Toji’s mind, it wasn’t the coarse skin of his palm that stroked his cock but the silky, wet heat of your cozy lil’ cunt. 

Toji convinced himself that the sloshing noises that rang throughout his bedroom were from him stretching your pussy to his shape as his fat tip slammed against your cervix— and not from the embarrassing amount of pearlescent fluid spilling over his hand. 

He hadn’t even cum yet—a testament to how backed up he truly was. 

Toji should have been ashamed at the way his girth had pulsed in his palm, but he was so close, and so determined to finish with you, there was no room for ego.

Picking up speed to nearly the point of chafing, Toji jerked his cock feverishly. Toji came when he heard the loudest moan yet vibrate through the wall, and the banging had ceased with a final jarring shake. 

Rolling back his eyes, Toji released his load all over the wall of his master bedroom, finally sated. Toji had allowed himself a strangled groan of relief, once he believed you both were no longer near the wall.

Panting and half-delirious with euphoric release, Toji’s eyes followed the trail of his thick cum splatter slowly trickling down the wall as his once engorged cock deflated in his hand. 

With a curled lip and narrowed eyes, the white fluid turns red in his mind’s eye. 

A dark chuckle escaped his lips and Toji fantasized what it would be like to put a slug right between Sukuna’s eyes. Toji’s large load pooled onto the floor in a similar fashion to how Sukuna’s brains would leak, spilling out as it also formed a similarly morbid pool of fluids.

Yet even despite his more ruthless inclinations, upon inhaling a deep breath, Toji felt an unfamiliar zen wash over him.

Killing was just business to Toji, and he couldn’t recall the last time the thought of offing someone had brought him this much pleasure or any semblance of peace.

Yet the fact revealed itself to him then, in that moment—the truth that he’d kill everyone in this goddamn organization for you if that's what it took.

Toji knew Sukuna wasn’t one of those cowardly fucks who would just roll over while someone moved in on his woman either, so Toji would likely be forced to kill him should Sukuna ever find out his true plans for you. 

Toji sighs reluctantly—it was just a mere fantasy.

Not that he gave two fucks what would happen to Sukuna, but killing him would only fan the flames and might even cause an all-out internal war within the organization. 

A war that as the top assassin, he’d be expected to quell with force—for god knows how long.

Ultimately, that would mean a loss for Toji too.

The more involved with the organization he was, the less time he’d get with you.

Brute force was never the ideal way to deal with someone like Sukuna, and it would be better for everyone if you seemingly left him of your own accord. 

But what other choice did he have? 

He’d do what it took to get you at the end of the day.

And while these complications may have deterred a younger Toji, you, as well as the challenge itself, breathed new life into his aging bones.

That life extended into all areas of his current one. Even the usually reserved Megumi had become less quiet and more responsive to Toji with his changed demeanor and increased presence around The Nursery.

You didn’t even know how much you were fixing his life even if you were only on the outskirts of it now. 

You had made him better—so in turn, he would give you better.

Toji had no real interests, hobbies, nor friends. 

Your moving-in had been the most exciting thing that had happened to him since she had been alive and Toji had lived the last year of his life on autopilot—but no more. 

Now that he had something, well, someone that made him feel energized once again. 

⟡

The familiar trill of a cell phone—one of the many burners he used for his yakuza dealings—pulls Toji out of his thoughts once again.

His lip curls in annoyance at the person on the line.

This is why Toji likes working alone. 

Others were not only liabilities, but they were rarely ever self-sufficient. 

Always wanting to ‘check-in’ and ‘confirm the plan’, rather than just taking the damn action themselves like they were supposed to. 

But alas, the task of getting rid of Sukuna was something Toji knew he couldn’t do alone, he needed the intel source, even if they were unreliable at best. 

Toji answers the call, but keeps it brief with his clipped replies.

By the time it ended, he was already scoffing, indifferent to the voice still speaking on the other end as he cut the call short and hung up as soon as he got the info he needed. 

Shoving the phone into his back pocket, Toji sparks another cigarette.

His 'partner' had so kindly reminded him of the loose ends he still needed to tie up.

But that could wait. 

For now, Toji remained where he was, stationed on his balcony—ready to stay out here all night for the small chance you may need him.

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

⟢ end credits: please comment, like and reblog and lmk what you think! I'd really appreciate the feedback as this fic has been my baby working on it.

i will likely end up completing another work while i work on episode 3 as my adhd ass usually needs to break it up in order not to get writers block and unlike e2 i had only done the outline so far, so if i post something else in the meantime just know i'm still working on episode 3!

[heartysworld]

Match points and podiums // Lewis Hamilton

A/N: I literally got the idea for this while I was watching the Wimbledon finale. I feel like I rushed it a bit, but I couldn't wait to post it for you guys, so here it is! I might edit it later on and add some bits but for now I'm quite happy with the result. Hope you enjoy it!

W.C.: 4.5k

MASTERLIST

You remember the first time you met Lewis like it was yesterday. It was at a charity event organized by mutual friends in Monaco. You were there as part of a tennis exhibition, and Lewis was there as an honor guest, fresh off another Grand Prix win. The evening was filled with laughter, champagne, and the mingling of two very different worlds—tennis and racing.

You had just finished another match, bringing home yet another win, and were chatting with some guests when Lewis approached you. He had a warm smile that reached his eyes, and there was an undeniable charm about him.

"Hello, I'm Lewis, it is very nice to meet you" he said, extending his hand. "I caught some of your match earlier. You were incredible out there."

You shook his hand, feeling a spark of something indescribable as a light pinkish color made its way to your cheeks. "Thank you, Lewis. I'm a big fan of your work on the track. Congratulations on your recent win."

From that moment on, something snapped deep inside your chest, making it impossible to look at another man the same way you looked at Lewis. His eyes sparkled with an indescribable force that felt like a magnet pulling a part inside of you towards him. His presence was otherworldly, that of a man who knew what he wanted and how to achieve it without ever giving up.

 As the months after the charity event passed you bonded over your shared dedication to your respective sports, your drive to be the best, and your love for adventure. Dates were often spontaneous, like a midnight drive along the coast or a quick flight to a secluded beach. Your love story was one of passion, mutual respect, and a deep connection that neither of you had ever felt before.

You began making appearances at each other’s’ sporting events, capturing the attention of both the media and the fans. Every time you had a free second, you were there to support Lewis- Bahrain, Silverstone, Singapore, and other locations thorough the Formula 1 season. Lewis respectively did the same, supporting you from the stands of your tennis tournaments. That was the beginning of your journey together.

One of your most cherished memories is from a summer evening in Spain. Lewis had taken you on vacation there during his summer break mid-season.

It wasn’t long before Lewis and you fell deeply in love. He admired your tenacity on the court, and you admired his precision on the track. You found comfort in each other’s presence, and soon, your lives began to intertwine even more. You met his closest friends and family members and were slowly eased into the Hamilton family dynamics. You passed the Roscoe approval test as Lewis’ mother Carmen liked to call it. The bulldog enjoyed your presence around the house whenever you were visiting, searching for you thorough the rooms of Lewis’ home whenever he heard your voice echoing from somewhere.

On your third night there, he surprised you with a candlelit dinner on the rooftop of your hotel, overlooking the city of Barcelona. The two of you talked for hours about your dreams, fears, and everything in between, the topic of your athletic careers long forgotten at that moment. Lewis had made it his priority to put his racing career on hold whenever he was with you. He refused to risk the possibility of losing one of the best things in life to his career that would end in the next couple of years. He loved racing, it’s been part of more than half his life, but you, he planned on keeping you forever.

"Do you ever think about the future?" Lewis asked, his eyes reflecting the twinkling city lights. The edges of his lips curved upwards as his eyes roamed over your features, taking note on every detail, every mole, freckle and dimple.

"All the time," you replied, reaching for his hand. "I want a family, a place to call home, and someone to share it all with. It has always been a dream of mine to become a mother. When I was a child I used to say that a family was the second thing, I desired the most after a Wimbledon trophy.’’ You said as you laughed at the last part, causing Lewis to smile even more at the thought of little you.

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently. "I want that too. And I want to make this come true with you by my side."

A year later, you and Lewis got married in a beautiful ceremony surrounded by family and friends. The wedding was a blend of elegance and simplicity, much like your relationship. You exchanged vows under a canopy of flowers, promising to support each other through every victory and defeat, every joy and challenge. The moment you exchanged your wedding vowels would forever remain engraved in your brain. You began first, holding a small piece of paper where your vows were written. You insisted on reading them as you feared your mind might betray you at the most important moment of your life.

As his fingers gently brushed against the skin of your wrist, a shiver of delight danced down your spine. It was a soft, almost ethereal caress, starting at the base of your neck and cascading downwards like a whisper of a breeze. The touch sent a warm, tingling sensation through your entire body, making your heart flutter and your breath hitch. It was as if his touch ignited tiny sparks of electricity, leaving a trail of warmth and anticipation in its wake. The connection between you felt electric, each shiver a testament to the depth of your feelings and the magic of the moment.

‘’Lewis, from the moment I met you I felt like I was being pulled towards a missing piece from myself. All my life I’ve been searching for a person who is willing to love and support me despite the hectic life I lead. I never thought I would ever meet someone as charming, loveable, and supportive as you. For the past three years you’ve done nothing but be by my side and hold my hand during the happy and sad moments I faced both in my personal and professional life. I promise to do the same for you, to be your biggest supporter in all aspects of life, to build a life with you, and make all of our dreams come true.’’

You were sobbing by the time you finished talking. As you looked at your husband-to-be you saw his eyes glistening with tears as he barely managed to hold them in. You mouthed a silent ‘’I love you’’ in his direction, receiving a gentle squeeze of your hand as a response.

Someone from the guests sobbed even louder, followed by the loud blow of their nose in a napkin, which caused everyone to laugh, including you and Lewis.

‘’My love, the light of my life, meeting you felt like finding the last missing piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to complete ever since I took my first breath on this earth. I had lost all hope of finding the right person in this lifetime, but then I met you. Today, I vow to love you with the same passion and dedication that you bring to the court. I vow to support you through every challenge, to celebrate every victory, and to be the best husband and father I can be. Together, we will create a beautiful life, full of love, laughter, and shared dreams. Today, I give you my heart, my soul, and my forever."

Not long after, you found yourself pregnant with baby Amelia. It was a moment of pure joy and excitement. Lewis was over the moon, already envisioning the adventures you’d have as a family and remembering all the conversations you’d had regarding that special moment.

By the time he finished talking, you could see your and Lewis’ parents wiping tears from underneath their eyes. This was one of the most intimate and important moments of your life and you were happy that your families were there to share it with you two.

You continued to play tennis, balancing your passion for the sport with your growing family. Lewis was your rock, always there to support you, even when you had to stop playing mid-season due to your pregnancy. He held your hand through the morning sickness, the cravings, and the emotional rollercoaster, always reminding you of the incredible journey you were on together.

The years passed in a blur of sleepless nights, first steps, and family holidays. Amelia grew up surrounded by the world of sports, watching you on the tennis court and Lewis on the racetrack. She adored both of you and often tried to emulate your moves, whether it was swinging one of your rackets or pretending to drive a race car.

One summer afternoon, as you napped after a particularly exhausting day, Lewis and Amelia sat down to watch the Wimbledon final together. The living room was filled with the sounds of the match and Amelia’s excited chatter.

“Daddy, look at that serve! Do you think I can do that one day?” she asked, her eyes wide with admiration.

Lewis chuckled, pulling her close. “Of course, sweetheart. You can do anything you set your mind to. Remember, your mom is one of the best tennis players in the world. It’s in your blood.”

“I want to play tennis, Daddy. I want to see my name on the honor board at Wimbledon, just like mommy,” she declared with determination.

Lewis smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “That’s a wonderful dream, Amelia. But first, we have to wait for baby brother to arrive. Mommy needs to take care of him and then she can get back to playing.”

Amelia’s face lit up with excitement. “I can’t wait to watch with my brother! We’ll both cheer for mommy together.”

The scent of freshly popped popcorn lingered in the air, and you could hear the soft giggles of your daughter, Amelia, mingling with the excited commentary. You stretched, feeling the weight of pregnancy slowing you down, but a smile tugged at your lips as you realized Lewis and Amelia were watching Wimbledon together.

You quietly walked into the living room, leaning against the doorway as you watched them. Lewis was sitting on the couch, Amelia snuggled up next to him, both of them fully engrossed in the match. Amelia’s eyes are wide with admiration as she watches the players on the screen, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride and love for your little family.

 “And I’ll be so proud to have both of you cheering for me,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Lewis and Amelia turned to look at you, smiles spreading across their faces. Lewis stood up and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you gently. “How was your nap, love?” he asked softly.

“It was good,” you reply, resting your head against his chest. “Hearing Amelia talk about her dreams made it even better.”

Amelia runs over and hugs your legs, looking up at you with bright eyes. “Mommy! Can we play tennis together when baby brother is here?”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through her curly hair. “Of course, sweetheart. We’ll play as much as you want.”

The match was intense, each point hard-fought, but the support of your family carried you through. You could see Lewis and Amelia in the stands, their faces filled with anticipation and pride. Next to them, your mother held Oliver, now two years old, who clapped enthusiastically every time you scored a point, your father right next to them, trying to entertain the toddler as much as possible.

Two years later, the atmosphere at Wimbledon was electric as you stepped onto the green court. You had worked tirelessly to get back into peak condition, driven by the dream of seeing your name on that honor board as Amelia had said before.

When you finally scored the last, winning point, the sound of the crowd’s cheers was deafening. Tears filled your eyes as you raised your racket in triumph, overwhelmed by the moment. You wasted no time running towards the stands and finding your family. Amelia was the first to latch onto your leg, screaming in happiness. Seconds later, you felt two strong arms envelop you in a familiar embrace you’d always recognize.

‘’ I did it Lew, I did it!’’ you sobbed as your hands cupped his face, bringing his lips towards yours in a rushed kiss, overwhelmed by all the emotions you were feeling at that moment.’’

‘’ You did it love! You fucking did it! I told you it would happen, I never lost hope in you!’’ your husband said as he pulled you against his chest. Moments later you felt everyone around you cheering and congratulating you.

During the post-match interview, a reporter asked, “How are you feeling right now, and what has it taken to get here?”

You took a deep breath, steadying your voice. “It’s hard to put into words how much this means to me. When I was little, I used to help my father build furniture to make enough money to support my passion for tennis. My parents’ unwavering support allowed me to pursue my dreams, and I couldn’t have done it without them. My husband, Lewis, and our children, Amelia and Oliver, have been my rock. Two years ago, I overheard Amelia telling Lewis that she wanted to see both our names on the honor board at Wimbledon. That moment has stayed with me and pushed me to keep going.”

BONUS

The crowd’s applause was thunderous as you finished speaking. You glanced up at Lewis, who was beaming with pride. Amelia was jumping up and down, her excitement infectious.

Later that year in Abu Dhabi, the atmosphere was tense. Lewis was on the verge of his eighth championship, and the entire world was watching. You were in the Ferrari garage with Amelia while baby Oliver stayed home in the company of both of his grandmothers. Your heart was pounding with every lap he completed.

Lewis needed to finish at least fourth to secure the championship, but you knew how much he wanted to win. The final laps were nail-biting, with Max pushing hard on the gas pedal behind your husband. But Lewis’s skill and determination shone through, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, the crowd erupted.

"Lewis Hamilton rounds the final corner, the crowd on their feet, the tension electric! And he crosses the line! Lewis Hamilton wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and secures his eighth World Drivers' Championship! What a monumental achievement! History has been made here today in the most thrilling fashion!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just witnessed one of the greatest moments in the history of motorsport. Lewis Hamilton, defying all odds, with determination, skill, and sheer brilliance, has etched his name in the annals of Formula 1 forever. Eight championships, surpassing the legends of our sport, and cementing his place as the most successful driver in F1 history.

This season has been a rollercoaster of emotions, challenges, and intense competition, but once again, Lewis has shown why he is the master of his craft. His relentless pursuit of excellence, his unwavering focus, and his incredible talent have brought him to this pinnacle moment.

Congratulations, Lewis! You are a true champion, an inspiration to millions, and a testament to what can be achieved with heart, determination, and belief. What a day, what a race, what a champion! Lewis Hamilton, the 2024 Formula 1 World Drivers' Champion!"

You could see his body shake as he stepped out of the car. His father, Anthony was the first to get to his, giving him the time he needed to process everything he was feeling, before embracing his son in much much-needed hug You pushed through the crowd, holding Amelia’s hand. When Lewis saw you, he rushed over, pulling the two of you into a tight embrace.

He kissed you deeply, not caring about the cameras or the crowd. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

You couldn’t hold back your tears as you nodded, “Yes, we did.”

During the trophy ceremony, Lewis pointed his trophy towards you and your daughter, his father standing proudly beside you. He then placed his hand on his heart, looking at you with so much love that it took your breath away.

In the post-race interview, Lewis shared the news that shocked the racing world. “It’s been an incredible journey, and I’m grateful for every moment. But now, it’s time to focus on my family. I couldn’t have done any of this without their support, and I’m excited for this next chapter of our lives.”

As the crowd outside gave him a standing ovation, you knew that no matter where life took you next, you’d face it together, as a family.

Back home, life settled into a new rhythm. Without the constant travel and pressure of racing, Lewis threw himself into being a full-time dad and husband. You balanced your tennis career with family life, savoring every moment.

One evening, after putting the kids to bed, you and Lewis sat on the balcony of your Monaco apartment, watching the night sky. He held your hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

“I never imagined life could be this perfect,” he said softly. “Thank you for being my rock, my partner, and my best friend.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’ve been through so much together, and I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.”

Lewis turned to you, his eyes filled with love. “Here’s to the next adventure, whatever it may be.” You clinked your glasses together, knowing that no matter what the future held, you’d face it side by side, surrounded by the love of your family.

MASTERLIST

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated

[ddarker-dreams]

Better The Devil You Know.

Yandere Chrollo x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, discussions of past minor character death, and descriptions of anxiety. Word count: 2.6k.

You awake to cold sheets and damp cheeks. 

It isn’t a peaceful transition into consciousness. You fight for each breath, a losing battle that swaddles your mind in thick fog. The vapors thin out as time drags along. It doesn’t dissipate in its entirety, preferring to linger and prolong your disorientation. 

You wipe at your face with your wrists, ignoring the sting accompanying the action. Hesitatingly, you appraise it in a ray of moonlight that snuck past the blinds. It’s clear, not crimson and thick. A normal product of a healthy body. You should feel relieved, you think. Every organ is as it should be. Your brain remains in your cranium, your lungs expand and contract, and your heart pumps, albeit at an alarming speed. 

It’s better than the chill of encroaching death. 

… 

You are alive, aren’t you? 

This question prompts an investigation. 

Nothing hurts. Your throat, maybe, but that’s a minor ache spurred from thirst. Your skin is warm and clammy. Peeling the comforter off, you squint, assessing your body’s condition. Weary eyes take in everything. Your socks, the lace trimming of your nightgown, its diaphanous midriff, then your chest. Everything appears in order.  

Would your incorporeal form accurately reflect your physical body? 

You shake your head. 

This can’t be heaven — no pantheon would be cruel enough to set the stage of your paradise with props from your captivity. 

It can’t be hell either. If it were, you wouldn’t be alone right now.

You blink.

You’re alone? 

Chrollo’s side of the bed is notably empty. He must’ve got up in a hurry, the sheets are in disarray. The adjoining restroom is dark and unoccupied, confirming he must be elsewhere. Your stomach churns. Determined to do away with this creeping anxiety, you get up, padding across the hardwood floor. 

The night gifts shivers and goosebumps. Wishing to ward off its unwanted advances, you wrap your arms around yourself. You pass through the door that connects to the common area. Although it’s dimly lit, you can tell he isn’t here. The attached balcony is similarly uninhabited. A quick foray into the study confirms your status; you’re truly by yourself. 

What should be a triumph or a relief delivers nothing but dread. 

You return to the common room to assess the situation. 

You’ve never been left alone before. Not without him telling you in advance, normally with a rough estimate of when he’ll return. There’s no way an important detail like that would slip your mind. At a loss, you dredge through your memories for some sign you may have missed. His voice pierces through your head like an arrow. You wince but ignore your body’s displeasure at anything associated with him. The unintelligible noises sharpen, forming consonants and vowels. 

The thrum of the air conditioner eases away. 

You’re left in absolute silence, until Chrollo’s voice fades away, replaced by another.

“... She was five or six, I think. Right around the age where you start losing baby teeth. There’d been this game she wanted and, y’know, kids aren’t rolling in cash. So she figured, what better way to pay for it than through the tooth fairy? I caught ‘er with my wrench, determined as anything, ready to speed up the process. It ended up being a little inside joke between us.”

Your lower lip trembles. 

“... That’s how she ended up getting identified. Her teeth, I mean. Wasn’t anything else left to go off of. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. A whole life she lived, sometimes getting into trouble, but mostly helping others outta theirs. And to have that— all that— reduced to just… just a couple, couple fuckin’— teeth? What kinda joke is that?”

You fill a glass with water until it overflows.  

“Hey, tell me. Has that fucker ever mentioned ‘er? … Probably not, right? Probably never knew she existed in the first place.” 

Head thrown back, you gulp down the liquid, fighting the lump that longs to form in your throat. 

“Who knows? Maybe I’m the one in the wrong ‘ere. Hell, you don’t look much older than her yourself. I don’t— don’t wanna hurt ya. But…” 

Tears prick the corner of your eyes. 

“There’s no other way to hurt him.” 

Someone’s beside you.

You can hear their voice, though it sounds like it’s coming from miles away, carried over by the wind. Warmth sears your bare shoulders. You smell the faint aroma of sandalwood and amber. It’s distinct, this cologne that serves as an ill-omen better than any blackbird or cracked mirror. You couldn’t scrub it from your memory if you tried. That, or the scent of old books, leather, coffee, and red wine. 

You dig your nails into something — fabric, perhaps — but nothing grounds you. It’s like you’ve been transported outside of space and time. Existing, yet far from alive. Your stomach falls while your head floats away. Up, up, up, lifting you higher and higher. From this impossible vantage point, you sway, your limbs gleefully ignoring every attempt to regain control. 

And there it is again. Your name echoes throughout the atmosphere, beckoning you to acknowledge the sound’s source. 

Maybe you should.

Even if you’ll come to regret it. 

When you first met Chrollo, his eyes stood out the most, like the universe itself deemed them worthy of veneration. You found the gray depths captivating. The undertone varied, you never could ascertain if they were a cool or warm shade. All you knew was that once they found you, they boasted a vitality siphoned at the expense of your own. 

Presently, they can’t. Their unwitting host has been exsanguinated. 

“Where were—” You silence yourself, aghast by the implication. 

You’d sought him out. So desperate for an anchor, you would’ve latched onto the culprit behind your drowning. There’s no doubt he’d find some twisted satisfaction in the accidental admission. You shrink away, but the solid counter presses against your spine, halting your retreat. He doesn’t advance, you’d barely created any distance. 

“There’d been something that required my immediate attention,” Chrollo answers your unfinished question. There’s no thinly veiled derision or curiosity in his voice. You miss the familiarity. “Does anything hurt?” 

It’s then that you recall your predicament. 

You’re on the kitchen floor, surrounded by scintillating shards of glass. A pool of water gathers to your right. Chrollo’s bent down before you, wearing a heavy coat and a tint of pink on his nose. He must’ve come from outside. He stares unblinkingly, awaiting your verdict, which you deliver by shaking your head. There’s a dull ache in your tailbone but you keep that to yourself. It’s awkward enough that he found you in this state. 

You’re sitting on the floor with one leg extended and the other bent at the knee, allowing your short nightgown to ride up. The compromising position stokes your embarrassment. You shuffle around to maintain some dignity. In doing so, you forget the pointed glass strewn about. Before you make contact, you’re hoisted up. Chrollo foresees your struggle and holds you tight enough to thwart its success. 

“You’re alright,” he reassures, his sincere gentleness unbecoming. "Everything's alright."

He places you down on the closest couch and sits beside you. While you regain your bearings, he shrugs off his jacket, then drapes it around your trembling form. His scent and warmth flood your senses. You consider throwing it off out of spite, only to decide against it. You’d be the one to suffer the most. Chrollo remains unusually silent as you cocoon yourself in the thick wool jacket. It’s big on you, but not big enough to swallow you whole like you’d prefer. 

“Should I grab your propranolol?” 

Another head shake.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Foreseeing your tepid response, he adds, “Verbally?” 

You clear your throat as quietly as you can. “I got thirsty.” 

“Hm.” 

You both know he isn’t convinced. It’d be easy for him to poke and prod until you revealed everything — intentionally or not — but his lips remain in a thin line. You shuffle in your seat. The fabric brushes against your wrists, eliciting a sharp inhale. The burn is short-lived yet the memories associated with it rage on. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He blinks, likely unused to the sound of his name on your lips. “Yes, love?” 

“If that man killed me, would it have hurt you?” 

A shadow falls over his visage, like a waxing crescent transitioning to a new moon. When you shiver, it isn’t from the cold. Dark hair frames a far darker expression. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to see you better, beyond your flesh, at the crux of your soul. You await whatever comes next, returning his stare with equal intensity. 

Finally, he slowly replies, “Yes, it would’ve.” 

“Then why was it so easy for you to kill his daughter?” You ask, the words weighing heavily upon you. “You might’ve liked her, if you’d gotten to know her.” 

The man revealed enough for you to feel like you knew her. Lana Ellis — a woman with an iron will, sharp tongue, and golden heart. She’d recently been hired to work as a waitress at a business that catered high-end events. Galas, celebrity birthdays and weddings, those sorts of things. It wasn’t going to be a permanent arrangement. Lana planned to ditch the gig after saving up tuition money, where she’d then aim for a doctorate in veterinary medicine. According to him, he’d squandered her college fund after the unexpected death of her mother; his childhood sweetheart. He said he’d never forgive himself or the Troupe. 

“She wasn’t s’posed to have been there,” he wheezed. “She never should’ve been there…!” 

Chrollo shuts his eyes. “What are you getting at, dear?” 

His words come out light, though they’re anything but. 

“She could’ve been me.” 

“Yet she wasn’t.” 

“But—!” Your voice cracks, so you take a deep breath and try again. “You… you deprive the world of people you could’ve come to like, be friends with, whatever! All for stuff you eventually do away with. How is that… how can you…” 

Righteous anger suits you. It's a sword and shield that requires no skill to wield, reaching for the instruments have become second nature. Their effectiveness doesn't matter so long as you can hold onto something.

“You don’t need to understand.” 

This isn't a parry or pivot, he's disarmed you.

“Huh?” 

“Yes… if anything, it’s best if you don’t,” he mutters, more to himself than you. His eyes find yours again. “I can’t make sense of your empathy any more than you can grasp my lack of it. If I could, you’d no longer be yourself. Your self-limiting, bleeding heart should remain as is. It’s the one part of you I’ll leave untouched.” 

You don’t know what you were expecting. 

You slump back into your seat. “... Don’t you think you’re overestimating yourself?” 

“Hardly,” he replies. Then, in a softer voice, “You torment yourself, love. This—” 

He rests his hand over your heart.

“—Hurts you more than anything I’ve ever done. Yet you believe it unthinkable I’d do away with such an inconvenience.” 

“So you’re a coward,” you mumble. The insult is uninspired but it suits your purposes. “You can’t handle it, so you took the easy way out.” 

“Rationalize it anyway you'd like.” 

Chrollo reaches for your forearm and coaxes it into view. His fingers brush along your wrists, where the man’s restraints left rope burn behind. The irritated skin is slowly recovering. The deeper wounds, those without a cure, will linger after the surface heals. They’re etched into your bones. 

“Isn’t going against your morals worse than having none?" Chrollo queries. “That girl’s father knew you had no involvement in his daughter’s death. You’re an unwilling third party, same as she was. And he was ready to hurt you regardless."

Your mouth feels dry. “He didn't hurt me—” 

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, causing head to flood your cheeks.

“—All... that... much. I don’t think he was going to...?” 

“No, not until he was intoxicated enough to stomach it,” Chrollo retorts. “We’ll never know for certain, darling. Thankfully, I interrupted before it could get to that point."

That point, that point, that point...

What could that man have done to you?

Chrollo appraises you like he's yet to decide on something.

After a moment passes, he leans in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your muscles stiffen as he pulls you close. He exerts none of the force you know him to be capable of. The gesture's languid nature gives the impression you could wriggle free if you tried. You don't test this theory. Chrollo's mood seems pensive, not amorous, hence your hesitant compliance.

He speaks your name. Then, he asks, "What's really bothering you?"

Biting your lip, you turn your head away from him.

He doesn't relent. "You can tell me anything, you know."

If you weren't so utterly exhausted, you might've laughed.

"You wouldn't be my first choice for a heart-to-heart."

"How about your second?"

You look at him like he's just suggested the world is flat. He smiles softly, allowing you time to think.

It's weird.

This is weird.

The lack of verbal finesse, designed to extract any emotion or confession he desires. You're used to his cunning, his depravity, his unfiltered self. You've come to expect it, as one would the sunrise and sunset. Briefly, you search for it. The expedition is futile. His normal tells are gone.

Truly, you could almost forget the imbalanced nature of this dynamic and pretend it's normal.

It isn't, however.

So you'll need to keep your wits about you.

"Could... er..." you trail off, uncertain of the best parlance, "Will something like that... happen... again...?"

The claustrophobia of being shut in a trunk. Blindfolded, hands and feet bound, gagged by a rag. Terrified and sobbing. Unable to breathe, unable to scream.

You feel as small now as you did then.

The man told you his reasoning. It tugged on your heart. Wringed the organ for everything it was worth. He deserved justice. He deserved revenge. At that lone instance, the playing field was even. The immeasurable gap in strength between him and the Phantom Troupe's boss meant nothing if Chrollo wasn't physically present. There was a chance for this bereaved father to return the pain unfairly inflicted on him.

But why on you?

Why do you have to be cast into hell for the sins of another?

And why was it so tempting to forgive the devil's transgressions against you, if he provided salvation just this once?

You don't know when you began shaking, but you do know it won't be easy to stop.

"You must've been scared," he murmurs.

This observation makes your throat feel impossibly tight, as if a serpent coiled around your neck. His eyelashes flutter shut and he rests his forehead against yours. He contents himself on breathing in your air while you wrestle with the odd intimacy of it all; this simplicity untainted by needling or provocations.

"I never make the same mistake twice," Chrollo eventually says. "In light of recent events, I've made it clear that you are off limits. Those who still wish to try their luck, well..."

The air itself writhes like a malicious entity. The sensation is brief, but the impression lingers, chilling you on a primordial level. You're reminded that his control, while impressive, isn't flawless. Every surface can fissure, allowing the noxious contents contained within to break free. This concentration of ill-intent isn't even focused at you. To be on the receiving end must be to face the inevitably of death.

"... They can be made examples of too."

Curiosity nips at your heels, demanding satiation.

Your part your lips.

Then his eyes reopen. They're dull, lacking any illumination, like light itself felt the urge to flee.

It's an understandable sentiment.

For that reason, you decide some questions are better left unanswered.

[writer-logbook]

5 tips for proofreading & their pros and cons

Define your objectives for each chapter. In my case, some of my chapters are better written than others. My objectives for them will differ. Before starting my proofreading, I list my needs and areas of improvements, and I write them down somewhere so I have them in front of me rather than in my head alone.

Pros : allows you to know which points you need to focus on ; provides a guideline adapted to your needs.

Cons : risk of losing homogeneity and fluidity + flaws may be shifted to other chapters that didn't have them before due to a sudden imbalance.

Plan several proofreading sessions, each one of them addressing ONE NEED AT A TIME. (E.g., one for grammar, another for style, and a final one for coherence. ) And I insist on the "one need at a time" part. Even for those who can multitask (unlike me), I really don't recommend settling for a single proofreading session. It could interfere with your concentration and let you skip some flaws. And please, always give your chapter a final read after your edits to ensure that the elements make sense as a whole, and are not repeated every two paragraphs (I plead guilty, your honor)

Pros: allows you to focus precisely on each point, and give it dedicated attention.

Cons: you can quickly get confused and risk multiple re-readings + significant time investment.

I make my corrections on a separate file. Whatever you do, it's always better to have a backup and therefore to save your files (don't blindly trust autosave) to create archives. I think it's a two-ways process : 1) you open two files simultaneously, one with your V1 and one, blank, where you'll rewrite your chapter as you make changes. Eventually, this new doc will become your V2 ; 2) you copy the parts to proofread into a new document and edit directly in there.

Pros: allows you to rewrite as you wish without being discouraged by the following paragraphs - especially in case of the first way.

Cons: requires multiple files (maybe multiple screens to be at ease) and better organization.

Change the typography. I don't know about you, but after a while, I'm struck by semantic satiation (click on the link - it's Wikipedia -, it's very interesting) and nothing makes sense anymore. After the 52,846th proofreading, I might as well read in another language. I've found a relatively effective trick - not as effective as a complete break, but sometimes you need to move forward - which consists of changing the typography. I can't remember who gave me this advice though, but be sure they've been thanked more than enough in my mind. In any case, seeing words change their shape significantly helps my brain to stay focused and attentive. (Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me but I only see the results.)

Pros: it's simple to implement.

Cons: I don't know if this trick works for everyone or if I'm the only weirdo (you can tell me in the comment section).

Take notes. This is a very personal tip but I keep a proofreading logbook. Like, I record in a few sentences the first time an element is mentioned, how it's describes, and most importantly… I MENTION THE DATES. The story I'm currently writing is heavily governed by a chronological system, so I have an absolute need to keep the day count up to date.

Pros: helps avoid inconsistencies and oversights.

Cons: very tedious to maintain and creates (a lot) of extra work.

I've started my prooreading journey yesterday and I already want to die. If I find in the edits something that is worth making a post, be sure that I will. Or let me know if you're simply curious.

Gentle reminder : Best is the worst enemy of good so, at some point, you'll have to let it go and let your chapter live its life to its fullest. Don't be hard on yourself and be proud of your work - or know that I am.

[imaginesmai]

You stared at yourself through the long-standing mirror that had a crack on the left side. The dress was long, but simple, and had a lacey design of sunflowers that matched the bouquet Gemma had chosen for you. The long sleeves made with lace looked elegant and soft, covering your whole arm and finishing right at your wrists. There was no long train, no veil or crown, nothing but the dress that made you feel like a princess.

It didn’t belong to Jax’s room, where last night events were still present. The empty bottles, the cigarettes on the ground, the crumpled sheets on the corner of the bed.

A pair of your panties on the chair.

Last night was wild, but you were much more at ease that right then. In front of the mirror, in your weeding dress, you felt like throwing up.

“You look beautiful” Gemma said from the door. “Are you ready?”

“I look like a flower vase. And I guess I am”

You didn’t look at her as she came closer. She was wearing a black, tight dress that left little to imagination, but that made her look like the queen. Standing in front of his mirror, in his room, the doubts appeared for the first time. Because, what if you were rushing things? What if you were invading his family?

It hadn’t been a rushed decision, months of planning and years of dating, but with Jax it was never easy. You had known each other since you were children, playing in the street with Opie and Thomas. As Piney’s daughter, you had grown in the club, between bikes and guns. And through the years, you had found your home in Jax’s arms, and he had made its way into your heart.

Gemma turned you around until you were looking at her, and she gave you a soft smile. The first tear decided to roll down your cheek, threatening to ruin your make-up. You tried not to think about the past, about your father being killed by Clay or your brother dying in a rotten cell from a cruel beating.

Last year had been heavy on you, on the club. You had delayed the weeding until everything was solved, and you thanked Jax for being so patient. But now, minutes away, you didn’t know if you were ready.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she caught the tear before it could do any damage.

“I don’t know” you said, feeling your chest becoming tight and heavy. “I don’t know”

“It’s okay to feel nervous. You’re about to take a huge step”

“I just – I know the club if my family, Gem, but… I wished they’d be here” you tried to stop the next tear. “They aren’t”

“Oh, Y/N. Come here”

You let yourself fall against her shoulder, careful not to ruin the dress.

There were things that you were certain about, like loving Jax, wanting a life together and doing anything for Abel. But you weren’t sure about many others. The constant beef with other clubs and organizations, your role in Abel’s life, the responsibilities of becoming the wife of the club’s president. Just last night, naked and drunk, Jax and you had dreamt about your shared life from now on, and you would have thought you were invincible.

But you had learnt that good things didn’t match your lifestyle, that you weren’t that lucky.

You didn’t know how much time you spent between Gemma’s arms, just hugging her tightly and waiting for your fears to go away. It was stupid, because you had gone through horrible things together, but somehow marrying felt like the last straw.

Once you were sure you weren’t going to break down, you took a deep breath and broke away.

“You sure you’re ready?” she asked, gripping your forearm.

“Yeah. Just – yeah”

Both of you had decided that you wanted a simple weeding, just the club and a few friends, so the club had been the chosen place. A friend of the club would officiate the wedding, and then, you had rented a catering service for the day. It was simple, and easy, but you couldn’t convince your heart to play along.

You walked down the familiar hallways, now empty, holding onto Gemma’s arm. In silence, you begged yourself to enjoy the day and forget about the past.

When you saw him waiting for you, with white shirt and denim trousers, you felt those worries slipping away.

Jax had been worried that you would change your mind, that something had happened, so he had sent his mother looking for you. After last night, he had left you to get changed and get everything ready with the boys, who didn’t help calm his nerves. What did help was finally seeing you walking towards him, as pretty as a dream.

He had chosen the only shirt he owned, had ironed his trousers and cleaned his sneakers, and he felt like the tramp as you were his lady. No matter how well he cleaned himself or how much effort he put into the details – he would never catch up with you.

Abel, who was holding the wedding rings next to his father, moved around with a nervous laugh.

“She looks beautiful, right?” Jax told him, not tearing his eyes away from you.

After what felt like forever, you finally made it to his side. Gemma took away the bouquet and you leaned for a kick kiss from Abel, who laughed once more before leaving. Everyone got up as the priest started talking, but you only had eyes for each other.

For Jax, it was hard to believe he was actually there, that he deserved it. That you had said yes and were about to become his wife. You stared at his blue eyes as he told you about it without a word, just with his side smile and the utter devotion he looked at you with.

“Not too late to change your mind” he half-joked, holding your hand.

“Same thing” you whispered back, squeezing it. “You sure about this?”

You were sure, and Jax too, but in your line of life, it was hard to believe when things turned out to be good. He had been your anchor through the years, and having a ring on your finger wouldn’t change it or make it better. It was only another step you were willing to take with him, one of many you had yet to take.

The way Jax stared at you while the priest continued with the ceremony cleared any doubt you had about it.

“I love you, darling” he answered after a moment. “I’m not going anywhere”

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 4/?

Wordcount: 2,992 / 10,288

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

When the two humans left the room you quickly tried to think of a way out of this. Ford had been ignorant enough to leave the top off of the jar, whether so you could breathe or he just genuinely forgot you didn't care. 

You doubted he would care that much to leave the top off so you could get some air. He probably just forgot to put it on in the first place.

You knew the walls of the jar were much too slippery to gain any actual footing on them. When you did stand to test out your theory you realized much too quickly exactly why you weren't standing to begin with. 

Your injured ankle was quick to bring you back to reality as it squealed its discomfort. The pain splintering up your leg with fervent anger. 

When Ford had dropped you into the jar you had landed on your injured ankle. It seemed to now be coming back to bite you in the ass as you fell back to the bottom of the jar. 

You could use your hook, but you doubted it would even catch on the rim if you couldn't stand to toss it. You weren't at all keen on staying around them for longer than necessary, but maybe being around Fiddleford wouldn't be that bad. You could probably trick him to let you out. 

He hadn’t done anything to hurt you yet, but you haven't seen him behind closed doors. Your anxiety eating and worming its way back into your chest at the thought of being stuck with the two humans. 

Before you could harden your resolve and push yourself to get out of the jar despite the pain, the two scientists were back. 

The taller one, Ford, was the first to enter the room. An unnervingly friendly smile on his face. You could tell it wasn't genuine, at least not in the way you were used to. 

It was meant to put you at ease, but all it did was make you tense up and push against the glass wall a bit harder. 

The second human to enter was the exasperated assistant, Fiddleford. Despite your anxieties, he seemed the most normal of the two. 

Ford continued towards your jar, making your feelings of discomfort and fear kick up. Your hand subconsciously gripped the needle on your hip, if he was going to grab you he was going to pay the price. 

He took notice of this as he sat on a chair next to the table you currently sat prisoner on. 

“Is the needle a comforting item to you? I noticed you trying to grab it as well when I had you in my hand.”  

It felt… weird being referred to not as an ‘it’ anymore by the scientist. Sparing a cautious glance to Fiddleford you could see the man clicking the coffee machine on once again. The horrid machine whirred to life in the semi-quiet kitchen. 

“... That's none of- None of your business.” 

Of course, your voice had to crack in the middle of talking to the human. Your face would most definitely have a blush if it wasn't for the fact you were so dehydrated and angry. The embarrassment of a simple voice crack paled in comparison to the bitterness you held for this man. 

He seemed to find it humorous though as his smile widened just a smidge. He adjusted his glasses as well as he looked down at you. 

“I was told we got off on the wrong foot, my name is Stanford Pines. Anomaly researcher studying Gravity Falls.”

…Anomaly researcher? That wasn’t too far off from your guess of him being a scientist at least. It did little to put you at ease. 

“…I know.” 

You glared at the man and warily glanced at his hands. Watching as he folded them on top of each other as they rested on the table. He wasn’t making any moves to grab the jar, which was good. 

You still weren’t comfortable with him and he seemed to know it. 

Your glaring was interrupted by the sounds of Fiddleford pouring two cups of coffee before setting one down beside Ford's hand. Your gaze is now on the steam that billowed out of the cup. 

It wasn’t lost to you that compared to Ford's hand, Fiddleford only had five fingers on both. Looks like Ford was just special. 

Fiddleford pulled up a chair to the left of you but before he sat down he spoke.

”Would ya like somethin’ to drink? M’sure I can find somethin’ you could use as a cup,” 

He looked around the kitchen as if already searching for something he could use before you could even respond. 

“…Some water would be nice, thanks.” 

You spoke curtly but not without a tinge of gratefulness. Fiddleford truthfully was trying to accommodate your needs, which couldn’t be said about his friend. Whose eyes seemed to light up a bit. 

“How have you been getting water before? I’m assuming you need it regularly unless your body has accommodated to-“  

You were honestly about to tell the guy to shove it but he was cut off by Fiddleford before you could get the chance. The other man gave him a harsh glare.

If looks could kill Ford would be in the ground by now.

It felt nice to have someone in your corner for once and you turned your gaze to follow what Fiddleford was doing. Opting to ignore the other researcher in the room.

He was rummaging in what you could only assume to be a junk drawer before finding what he was searching for. His back turned to both you and Ford. 

“I think this’ll work just fine…” 

You debated trying to see what he had but you didn't want to stand. He now moved to the sink to wash whatever he had grabbed. 

”Yknow it’ll be hard for them to drink in that jar, Ford can ya let 'em’ out for me?”

Out? Fiddleford wanted to let you out. Oh, this couldn’t be any better. You could feel your body practically buzzing at the idea of getting out and leaving. 

It seemed it wasn’t lost on Ford you were excited to get out. The man gave Fiddleford a conflicted look. 

“I would rather them stay in there for now. Couldn’t you just hand it to them?”

Fiddleford finally turned around and you could see the man holding a small thimble. You had one in your house in the walls, but this one looked newer—no doubt one Ford bought to replace the one you took.

”If you don't let em’ out I will, I ain’t keepin’ our quest in a jar all night.” 

A guest was an interesting way to describe your situation. You wouldn’t exactly say you were a guest more like a prisoner. 

…You didn't say that to Fiddleford though. 

You watched as Ford sighed and screwed his eyes shut for a moment, before reaching out to the jar. Your body tensed as his hand grabbed the glass. The warmth already emitting from his skin before he had even fully grabbed it. 

He seemed to think for a moment about how to get you out. You were scared he was going to just reach in before Fiddleford piped up as he sat back down at the table. 

“M’sure you can just tip it to the side, that sound alright to you?” 

It still unnerved you to be regarded in a way that made you seem human.

It felt nice not to fool yourself, but you were much more used to Ford’s behavior until this point.

You realized you were quiet for too long when Fiddleford tilted his head a bit, making you finally respond. 

“Yeah-.. Sorry, that's fine.” 

Your voice was still terribly scratchy. Regardless you prepared for the jar to be turned on its side. 

After a few moments of hesitation from Ford, you felt your world shift. It took everything in your power to not go tumbling into the glass. Somehow you managed to stay halfway upright until it was fully turned. 

You crawled out hesitantly, keeping your eyes on both of them. Gods, you forgot just how big humans were. 

You could feel the vertigo hitting your brain and stomach as you looked up at Fiddleford. The man gives you a gentle smile before moving his hand towards you. 

Staggering backward you saw him hesitate. Focusing on his hand you saw him holding a small thimble of water. 

He didn't try to reach any closer to you. He just set the small thimble down and folded his hands back around his cup of coffee. 

You slowly walked to the thimble before taking it between your own two hands and sitting down. 

It took a considerable effort to lift it to your lips. You weren’t weak by any means, climbing and running every day tends to build some muscles. 

You were however running off of pure adrenaline and spite for the past few hours. So your body was about to collapse at any moment. 

The cold water hit your tongue and before you registered it you were gulping down the little that was in the thimble. 

The refreshing chill worked its way down your throat and soothed your throat like a mother to a child. 

Bliss. 

You were pulled back to reality as you finished what was in the thimble. Fiddleford was adding sugar to his coffee, his eyes not on you. 

…You felt a pair of eyes on you regardless. 

You didn't even have to look to know who it was, but you did anyway. 

Ford's eyes were focused on you, surprisingly not in awe or fascination. 

He honestly looked a bit remorseful, you didn't know why. 

You felt your arms shaking again and set the thimble down, the comforting weight of the metal leaving your fingertips. With nothing else to fidget with you picked your nails. 

Fiddleford was the one to break the silence with a cough, you turned away from Ford to look at him. 

“I can grab ya’ some more water, here,” 

He reached for the thimble and you steeled yourself to stay sitting. He hadn’t manhandled you at all yet, it was the least you could do to not be so skittish. 

…He didn't close the distance though, anxiety still buzzed under your skin as he stopped halfway. 

“Push it a bit closer i can grab ya some water,” 

Doing as you were told you pushed it a bit closer to his hand before pulling back. 

He was true to his word and grabbed the thimble before going back over to the sink. 

Weirdly enough it made you sheepish to be cared about this much by a human. Neither of them where reaching for you or anything, which was nice. Just not what you expected. 

Fiddleford came back to the table and set the thimble halfway to you again. 

The thimble was still cold as you took it, this time sipping on it instead of gulping it down like a dying man. 

Fiddleford took a sip of his coffee, and you decided to break the silence. 

“...I don't know how you can drink that stuff. Smells awful,” 

He practically choked on the drink as he laughed at your comment. You didn't know what was so funny about what you said but whatever. 

“Have you ever had coffee?” 

Of course, Mr.Researcher had to put his question in. You didn't forget he was there by any means but you were much more comfortable around Fiddleford. 

You chose to humor him anyway, not wanting to upset him. 

“Don't have to and wouldn't dream of it, smells all I need to know it's bitter and horrible.” 

Fiddleford wiped some coffee from his mouth as he reigned in his giggles. 

“It keeps us awake on long nights, m’surprised your not tired after all ya’ve been through today.” 

Honestly, now that he mentioned it you were exhausted now that the adrenaline had been sapped from your body. 

“...Do you want to try some?” 

You tilted your head at Ford as he pushed his cup closer to you. 

…You debated it honestly. Coffee, even though it smelt horrible and the machine that made it was loud and janky, was rare. 

Most borrowers would never have the chance to try food or beverages like this, it almost felt wrong to turn down the opportunity. 

You gave a small nod and drank the rest of the water in your thimble. Deciding you would use it to take a small bit. 

You were moving out of the cottage when you could so you might as well indulge in what you can. Maybe you could tell your family about it. 

Ford's eyes lit up a bit as he pushed it closer, seeming almost excited to gauge your reaction. 

You waited until he had his hands away from the cup before pushing off of the table and standing. 

Dipping your thimble into the dark liquid the smell was still pungent and strong as ever. It was pleasantly warm as you pulled the thimble out. 

Walking back to your spot on the table you took a small sip. 

…It was earthy and warm. In direct contrast to the water you drank earlier, it warmed your bones pleasantly. 

It wasnt bad to be honest, you didn't gulp it down like you did the water but you took a larger sip before setting it down. 

“Well?” 

Ford asked, curiosity and intrigue evident in his voice. 

“... It's alright.” 

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of saying you enjoyed it. He didn't need to know that. 

Fiddleford smiled watching you and Ford interacting semi-normally. 

“I can dump it if ya’ want, get you some water,”

“No!- it's fine- Wouldnt want to be a bother,” 

You pulled the thimble closer to your chest, telling yourself you were only finishing it out of politeness. 

Ford knew you liked the coffee though and pushed his cup closer. Deciding if you wanted more you could have it, it was the least he could do honestly to build up a rapport after what he did. 

“Anyways. You know who we are now, can I know precisely how long you’ve lived in my house?” 

The questions you had been dreading finally started pouring from Ford. You started to wonder if he would ask any at all, to be honest.

You took another sip of the coffee to calm your nerves. 

“... I've been here the whole time, just- yknow, hidden. Like I'm supposed to be.” 

“Why-”

Fiddleford had a concerned look on his face as he cut Ford off. 

“How have ya’ survived this long on your own? Dont ya’ got any family?” 

You shrugged as Fiddleford now shot you a question of his own. 

“I mean I do, just not here. They’re in the woods, I got kicke-... moved, a few months ago.” 

Fiddleford had an expression of sympathy on his face, which you didn't like. 

You might’ve been small but you weren't some kicked puppy. You’ve survived all this time on your own you didn't need help. 

“Why did you have to stay hidden?” 

Ford finished his question while Fiddleford was too busy feeling sorry for you. You guessed it didn't help how disheveled you looked at this particular moment. That's what happens though when you're manhandled by a researcher for the better half of the night. 

“Borrowers run off of rules, it's how we’ve survived so long around humans. The biggest being if your seen, you move. Which, now that I've been seen, you don't have to worry about me anymore.” 

You finished the last of the coffee in your thimble before standing again, looking for your fishhook and thread. 

“Now hold on-” 

“This isn't the first time you’ve been seen though, why didn't you leave then?” 

You scowled and shot the man another glare, your nose wrinkling in anger. 

“Because someone took notes about me. If you publish them im screwed, and so is my entire species. I already tried to take it though, which got me caught.” 

Ford noticed you looking around and pulled something from his inner coat pocket. You immediately knew what it was by the way it glinted in the moonlight. 

Your hook. 

“Continuing off of that thought you had no right to take that!- I worked hard to make it!” 

You grew bolder as you walked over to him. Now standing by his coffee cup a few inches short of his hand that rested on the table. 

He held up his hand in a placating motion as you took out your needle. 

“Stanford!-” 

Fiddleford spoke irritated and shocked at him having something of yours. 

“I'll make you a deal, calm down first.” 

You stopped advancing for his hand, even though the idea of stabbing it sounded amazing right now. 

“I'll get rid of the page in my journal, if you stay and let me keep learning about you. I can give you all the food you need, you don't even need to hide in the walls.” 

You felt the anger leaving your body a bit at that. Leaving in its wake confusion. 

“... What's the catch?” 

“No catch.” 

He held your fishhook out to you. Holding it a few inches short of your body. 

“... I'm not a housepet. I don't need to be fed. As long as the page is gone'll stick around I guess.” 

Fiddleford spoke up again, shocked at the discussion he was hearing. 

“Fords gettin’ rid of the page regardless. You don't haveta make any deal. We would love havin’ ya around but nothins holding you here.” 

You kept eye contact with Ford as you looked at your fishhook. You heard what Fiddleford was saying, but the idea of cementing the page being gone fulfilled you more than an empty promise. 

You reached for the fishhook, feeling the cold metal under your fingertips. 

“Deal.” 

--

woof im going to bed oh my goodness..,,

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd / @kmsthisyr

[rainbowchaox]

Analysis of Pissa So Far.

This is a essay looking at our favorite death dads and how their relationship changed and their different nuances from to start to most recent. This will primarily look at the major three times we had Phil and Missa interact from the start with being paired for the eggs to recently the Mexican Independence Party. So bare with me and come with me down memory lane.

I rewatched day 1 of the pairing up of pissa to mainly cope with CERTAIN lore that happened recently. And yes it’s as fluffy and cute as I remembered. But let’s start at the beginning. Before the pairing up Missa and Phil knew of each other casually like acquaintances. In real life along with in general their characters/cubitos. (Again major thanks for the server in general bringing all these wonderful creators together.) Anyways the first time Phil met Missa was when he jumped off the wall and gave them food. I like to imagine missa had a non-serious crush on the man. But they didn’t really interact. And it’s fair to understand why.

But then the egg event happened. Which honestly in my opinion was the best event to bring the Spanish and English sides together organically. And looking back now it WORKED. So back on track everyone goes to the adoption center and like most Qsmp events it’s total chaos. Phil chooses his ticket and when I rewatched it Missa literally like spammed clicked it to break it and get Phil. Atleast that is what it looks like to me. So we already have the seeds of simp Missa from the very start. Also can we all take a break and just realize they both got tickets with D? And literally they are Deathduo? The more I rewatch the pairing lottery the more I think it was rigged by the admins and not actually by chance. Every duo either had similar humor or charm.

Immediately Phil and Missa find out they both have D. And it’s casual no romantic undertones the cubitos are still getting to know each other. But Missa being a sweetheart immediately is like you can choose whatever egg. And I think this is when Phil starts to soften and gets majorly endeared towards the clumsy reaper. Like not a crush. Not love. But the seeds of the adoration and love we see from Phil down the road. The fact of the matter Phil let Missa choose Chayanne name. The fact literally the newly formed death family was being fluffy and saying chayanne will be the best egg while literally everyone was screaming in the background. Its the main thing that would later define the dynamic of the ship. The gentle understanding and teamwork. That would later be a staple whether you ship them platonically or romantically.

And chayanne is the best way to show why pissa was meant to always work. Chayanne personality and hobbies all came from his two dads (Literally the reason chayanne was interested in cooking so much was because Missa taught him to cook). And like Phil once he was thrust into parenthood with Missa immediately found him endeared by his assigned husband? The amount of times he laughed because of Missa. Another theme so important to why pissa works so well.

Missa is Philzas calm balm. He relaxes Phil so much. And that’s so rare for that to happen. So of course a hour or so in taking care of their son. Phil visibly softens and gets endeared to the man. Phil immediately starts worrying about missa when he left. Missa may have fallen first but Phil fell harder. Like more time Phil spends with Missa the more comfortable and at ease he gets. Missa fully was like I have the best husband ever let me casually call you pet names.

Not to mention two popular scenes burned into the minds of fans. The moment when Mariana called Phil my love and tried to steal him. And Phil being Phil immediately was I’m okay with my partner thank you very much. And both Missa and Phil cuddled close. I still think Missa fell day 1 but Phil was quickly getting a crush on his assigned husband. Secondly Phil literally invited Missa to bed.

Their dynamic was one of like relaxation of trust and just both trying their best for Chayanne. They easily slid into a cute dynamic as both got endeared to the others. And also in day 1 Phil never said platonic it’s only after day 1 he started using that. And only when he wasn’t with Missa. He is a repressed romantic guy struggling with a crush. Not to mention the crows practically grew so attached to Missa it was insane to see.

Anyways like most couples they had to both take care of chayanne until Missa canonically got kidnapped by wolves for four months. During the time Missa was there he was pining HARD for Phil. Calling him his love and darling in Spanish. Phil meanwhile keep saying it was platonic and most of the fans accepted that. But then Missa was gone.

And cubito Phil missed him so fucking much. It’s at this point I fully believe is when Phil finally realized he loved him. He kept referencing Missa. He made armor for Missa. He dyed his backpack black with a skull because of Missa. It’s truly my belief that Philza realized he fucking adored the man in Missas absence. He never gave up waiting for Missa. And Missa eventually kept his promise and came back to his family.

And this is when you see some of nuance or facets change slightly in their dynamic. The core is the same all the way back from day 1 but it does change. It somehow becomes softer and domestic. Sure Philza even before his grand realization in Missa absence SPOILED missa. Missa made him soft. But when the reunion happened? Somehow Philza softens even more. Somehow he spoils Missa even more. This is why I believe that Philza finally realized he loves Missa. Because there is a clear increase in the affectionate displays between them.

Philza and the rest of the server went on the mission once Missa appeared. It was legit like Philza forgot that he was a mission. Philza when Missa appeared immediately softened so much. Of course Philza isn’t angry he’s gone. He just missed his husband. And voila once asked by Cellbit “oh this is your husband?!” He immediately agreed. This is important because for months if someone asked about who is Missa he would always and never fail to say Missa is his platonic partner/husband.

But in the reunion Philza just said husband. Because in my opinion Philza fully thought of Missa his romantic partner. The fact that Philza showed everyone including Missa the skull on the black backpack almost like a bird showing off his feathers. And Missa was immediately all gushy. The fact he only looked at Missa when he said you can go into my boat. And felps not realizing the sorta of energy the two of them was having immediately was cursed to be a third wheel.

Like literally felps was in the back of the boat being all “just ignore that I’m here” when literally Philza and Missa were lost in their own fucking world. Gently flirting with each other. Felps was regretting majorly getting in the boat with them so no wonder he bounced as soon as possible. And literally they were left by themselves still on a mission to save people. But I won’t lie it was a date.

Just them loving in each other company. And Philza being so gentle and loving and protective towards Missa. Their dynamic at their core is the same yes. But it’s undeniably more romantic. And Missa side of the dynamic also changes. He starts trying his best to protect Philza. The man who has from the start been protecting him and their son.

Missa slowly starts to become more brave and actually comments on how attractive Phil is in front of him. (I can see your pecs….yes Missa we get it you love Phil). They are closer than ever. Phil also immediately accepts Missa as Tallulah other dad. Do you guys know how massive that is? He trusts and loves Missa so darn much to let him easily be part of his whole family.

And eventually Missa had to go for a bit. But the amount of pissa interaction we get during the renuion stream doesn’t end. We have loads more to dissect. Missa comes back in hope to see his son and new daughter but sadly they were sleeping but later on despite showing Tubbo around. Once he saw Missa was whispering to him in chat immediately left as soon as possible to get to his husband. Also Cellbit who was with him and tubbo was immediately like “oh you need to help your husband understandable” while tubbo was just like so confused.

Meanwhile before this Missa was crying wanting to go back to Phil. Phil is his safety blanket. Phil never fails to make him feel safe and secure and protected. There’s reasons why Missa fell so quickly. And they met up. And to bring up my earlier point above. What Phil does nest is one of my primarily reasons why I believe Phil fully realizes he loves Missa.

Yes Phil spoils Missa. It’s his love lanuage but all the gifts and upgrades he did late at night (which Phil made a mission to give stuff to Missa before he logged off.) and even the armor he made so long ago. The amount of spoiling and pampering just screams love, adoration, and affection.

And of course they get sorta matching backpacks. And of course Missa says he loves him so fast so the translator doesn’t pick it up. This leds to when Missa showed up by himself had a loony toon day before being called out by roier. He fully says he loves Philza. LOVES PHILZA. TE AMO. Romantic.

Most of the fans knew because just look how Missa acted. But once it was confirmed Missa feels romantic feelings for Philza? That’s when the majority starting fully accepting them as romantic soulmates. And started seeing Philza actions how they are. Romantic. (Though if you prefer them as platonic that’s also very valid).

The only reason a pissa wedding or confession haven’t happened is because Missa loves Philza so much he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable or burden him with his feelings for him. If philza said let’s get married he would accept immediately. But knowing Phil he will say nothing about loving Missa because he is scared he won’t be able to be protect.

And more recently. The Mexican Independence Day party. I won’t lie the times they were together they were always flirting. They were so cute. And both in my eyes were getting brave with their love for the other in their own ways. Missa literally screaming VIVA TE AMO on stage when Roier said Philza. Or Philza making sure he follows Missa during the dance. The fact Philza was so gentle explaining the recent egg disappearance and made a comment of being shock that Missa came back (he misses Missa so much each time he is gone.).

And their dynamic switches slightly again. Because Phil the whole time was worried and hovering around Missa when ingesting everything lore at once. And Missa is again getting brave he fully said he going on a date with Phil. It’s romantic. There’s no way I can personally can see it otherwise (though again if you like them platonic you are hella valid). At the start there was seeds but their romance has grown. They love each other. They need to confess for my sanity. And I fully trusts that Missa will have some sort of role in saving his love. And maybe perhaps we can get a confession or wedding in the future-

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: In a world marked by chaos, HQ stood as a fortress of new beginnings. Here, amidst laughter and shared purpose, you found more than just shelter; you discovered a family in the 141 Mafia, one that welcomed you into a life filled with warmth and connection.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 5 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 10

Part 9: A New Home

HQ wasn’t just a building. It was a fortress of concrete and steel, standing tall against the storms of a world that had been nothing but unforgiving, furnished with the luxuries you only dreamed of having yourself. Moving into HQ was like stepping into a new life—a life far removed from the quiet chaos you had once known. The old world, with its relentless grind of bartending shifts and unpaid bills, felt like a distant memory now, cast in the shadows of the life you were building within these walls.

From the moment you arrived, everything felt different. This wasn’t just a temporary shelter, a place to crash until you got back on your feet. It was something more—a home. The members of the 141 Mafia, who had once just been regular patrons in the periphery of your job, had become your family. And with that family came new responsibilities, new roles that allowed you to grow in ways you never expected.

You found your place among them quickly, slipping into the rhythm of HQ like a missing puzzle piece finally falling into place to complete the picture. The mornings were filled with reports and operational planning, tasks that might have felt mundane or tedious to anyone else, but to you, they were something more. They were a way to contribute, a way to stay grounded and involved. Every document you organized, every briefing you prepared, felt like a small victory, a way to reclaim the control that had once been stripped from your life.

Price had given you these tasks initially as a way to ease you into this new world, but it quickly became apparent that you were thriving in a way none of them had anticipated. Your meticulous nature, your attention to detail, made the team run smoother. Reports that had once been a chore for the others became a well-oiled machine under your watch. But more than that, you brought a sense of warmth, a sense of belonging that had been missing from the cold, mission-driven atmosphere of HQ.

You could feel the change in the air as the days passed. The bonds within the team grew stronger, more palpable, like an invisible thread connecting each of you in ways that went beyond the professional. You weren’t just another cog in the machine; you were the glue holding it all together, in ways both big and small.

Ghost, the most enigmatic of them all, was the first to let his guard down. His silent, stoic presence had always commanded the room, but you saw the cracks beneath the surface. Late at night, when the halls of HQ were quiet and the weight of the world felt distant, Ghost would sit with you, his mask still in place, but his voice soft and unguarded. He began to confide in you in ways he had never confided in anyone else, sharing fragments of nightmares that haunted him, memories he had buried deep. It wasn’t just the act of confiding—it was trust. A trust that ran deeper than words.

And in return, you gave him something he hadn’t realized he needed—laughter. Your sharp, snappy jokes, the ones that came so easily to you, began to melt the icy walls Ghost had built around himself. There were moments, fleeting but precious, when you would catch the faintest glimmer of a smile beneath his mask, a rare flicker of light in his otherwise shadowed existence. The laughter wasn’t forced; it was real, genuine, something that came naturally between the two of you.

Soap, on the other hand, had always been the loud one, the joker, the heart of the team. But even he had his limits, and you found yourself breaking through them without even trying. With you around, Soap found a new kind of ease—a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Your quick wit matched his perfectly, and soon, his laughter became a constant presence in the halls of HQ. It was infectious, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still room for joy. Soap often teased you, calling you his “partner in crime,” but there was something deeper behind the playful banter. He had found someone who could meet him on his level, and that bond only grew stronger with time.

Gaz, ever the meticulous and thoughtful one, appreciated your attention to detail more than anyone else. He admired the way you approached every task with precision, every operation with a sharp eye for detail. You had a way of anticipating what needed to be done before anyone else even thought about it. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Gaz, who often found himself relying on you more than he’d like to admit. But it wasn’t just about efficiency—it was about the quiet understanding you shared. He respected you, not just for what you did, but for who you were, and that respect grew into a friendship built on mutual admiration.

Then there was Price. The leader, the one who carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. For Price, HQ had always been a place of work, of missions, of responsibilities. But with you there, it became something more. You brought a sense of family, a warmth that had been missing for far too long. Price, who had spent his life leading, found comfort in your presence. You made the daily grind feel less like a mission and more like a purpose, a reason to keep going beyond the next objective. There was a quiet bond between you, an unspoken understanding that didn’t need words. In your presence, Price found a sense of peace, a reminder that even in a life filled with danger, there were moments of calm, moments of connection.

Each member of the team grew fonder of you in their own way. You weren’t just a part of the team—you were the heart of it. You were the steady presence that kept them grounded, the laughter that broke through the tension, the meticulous hand that ensured everything ran smoothly. And in return, they became the family you never had before.

HQ, once a place of missions and briefings, had become something more—a home. The walls that had once felt cold now held the warmth of shared meals, late-night conversations, and quiet moments of understanding. The halls, once filled with the echo of footsteps, now echoed with laughter, with camaraderie, with life.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. You weren’t just surviving—you were thriving, building a new life within the walls of HQ. A life filled with purpose, with friendship, with family. A life where each day felt like a mission accomplished, not because of the tasks completed, but because of the bonds you had forged.

This was your new home. And you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Read Part 10

As the day faded into night, you reflected on your journey within HQ. No longer an outsider, you had become part of a family that thrived on trust and laughter. The walls that once felt cold were now alive with memories and bonds that made you feel at home. For the first time, you were not just surviving—you were truly living, ready to embrace whatever came next together.

Tag List:

@strawberryrnilk

@rafaelacallinybbay

@stormy-stardust

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list lovely!

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[rat-king-writes]

Genji x male reader who is also an cyborg ninja like Raiden Metal Gear Rising Revengeance

( Thank you for the ask . )

Synopsis ; You are a half cyborg ninja , the other cyborg ninja ( Genji ) takes interest in you because of this .

Cw ; Minor violence ( I am so sorry I keep including some violence . )

-Being half human half cyborg was a tough way to live. You were constantly being eyeballed by both human and omnics alike, and people would avoid you on the streets like a plague. Your life has changed ever since the incident, and you often found yourself hopping from hotel to hotel, or even on the streets. Though this lifestyle seemed dangerous to outsiders, you weren't in any sort of trouble usually. You had grown up learning how to wield blades and other weapons, so you were safe from attackers who thought they could take advantage of you.

-Eventually your skills caught the eye of none other than Talon, a primarily morally bad organization that wants your talent for their own gain. And being that you are alone, broke, and essentially homeless; you take the offer to join them. Your first few days were rough. Being flung into a new environment full of people who didn’t care for rules or anything was a less than ideal situation. But what else could you do? You weren’t about to go back to hotel hopping. So you just steered clear of everyone outside of missions where you were forced to interact, but it was usually just yelled orders in your direction.

-On one terrible morning in Talon, you were called down for a debrief for a mission against Overwatch. A name you heard many times, but never really encountered on the field yet. Everytime Doomfist would mention the organization, he would do it in a way that taught you to despise them, so you knew they had to be absolute assholes, right? But you were also an asshole working with Talon, and your own research on overwatch concluded they wanted to save the world, but according to Doom they weren’t doing it right. This job was incredibly confusing. The mission was simple: infiltrate an Overwatch weapons facility and steal weaponry and maybe any intel Sombra - another Talon agent - could find. Simple, right?

-Wrong. Not simple, because when you arrived on scene, there were already guards there. No biggie, you could climb the wall and get in yourself while Sombra does her hack things. So you do; scaling the wall with ease and slipping into an open window. You landed on a grated platform, above all the weapons and equipment. Some guards were gathered there, so you carefully crouched down, readying your blade and swiftly taking each guard out before they could raise a gun to you. You pull back and place your sword in the holster, taking out your radio to tell your teammates the room is clear for extraction.

-When the other Talon agents arrive and start looting, you're instructed to keep watch, perching yourself back onto the grated high ground you had once been on. Everything was going well. Until there was a slice in the air and someone was lunging towards you. The speed caught you off guard, but you were able to quickly dodge before whoever was attacking you grabbed you. You lunged back, unsheathing your sword and looking at the assailant.

-You were shocked to see a man clad in a robotic like suit, similar to yours. You weren’t the only shocked one, as the attacker also seemed to be in the same position of confusion. You both stare at each other for a solid minute before you both, at the same time lunge forward; you both promptly stop in shock once more, a bit in awe at the similarity. It’s the presumed Overwatch agent that strikes first, throwing three shuriken at you. You lunged out of the way, but one managed to slice its way into the metal of your upper arm. Quickly regaining your senses, you run at him with a sword and, of course, he also has a sword.

-After a bit of back and forth a shout came from one of your team members signifying that it was time to go. You dash off of the grated platform and onto a vehicle containing the stolen goods and your team members. All the while you keep your eyes glued onto the green and grey robot man, he doesn’t do anything, he lets you go. The ride back to base was filled with laughter and pride. But you stayed quiet, something about the man you encountered left you stunned, and oddly, you wanted to see him again. You chalked these intruding thoughts up to years of loneliness and mistreatment clouding your judgment. Yet you still sit in your seat, hand delicately tracing the shuriken he had lodged in your arm, pondering what would have happened if you and that man met under different circumstances.

-Later that night you left the house in search of. Well, peace. The base had gotten louder because of the successful heist, and you just needed to get away for a bit. You head to your usual spot, a cliff-like area where you could sit down and relax. You were there for about 30 minutes before you were suddenly disrupted by someone walking up behind you, their footsteps were oddly quiet so you were sure it was someone trying to mug you or something. It was a shock when the person didn’t rob you, but instead sat down next to you. It was the robot man from earlier. You were very confused but he didn’t seem violent and you two just sat there for a bit. You kept your guard up, but you found yourself enjoying the company. No one talked, and it would stay like that until the man left. You also left after a bit, in a much better mood than before.

-The next following months each and every night you would sit at that spot and the man would join you. The first few weeks you two didn’t speak, but eventually you both introduced yourselves. You had learned through one of your many conversations the reason why Genji was the way he is, and you had also confided in him of your own story. In many of your conversations Genji would ask you to quit Talon and transfer to Overwatch, or just leave Talon and disappear somewhere ( Of course he told you to keep contact with him ). However each time you would shut it down, you had heard way too many speeches about the repercussions of splitting off, and you didn't think anyone in Overwatch would be fond of you joining.

-That is until a few weeks later Genji had told you of an ex Talon member who was welcomed easily into the Overwatch agency ( Not without some backlash from Talon itself ). So after careful consideration, and Genji's persistence, you two devised a plan. Firstly, Genji would tell Overwatch about your situation, and then you would pack; later that night you would sneak away and never return. Genji, the absolute sweetheart, was even able to stick you in a base that was farther away as it would help you steer clear of any Talon agents while your disappearance is processed.

-There were a few Overwatch agents there already, as well as Genji who also stayed with you. so you were well protected if anything were to happen. Thankfully it didn't. The base was nice, quiet, and the people there were much friendlier but a bit overwhelming so you usually hung out with Genji in your room. During that time you two just kept getting closer and closer, and eventually Genji showed you his face. That moment your heart was pounding, he was unbelievably gorgeous, and though he hated his scars you absolutely adored them. You worried him though, your long seconds of silence made you believe that you were uncomfortable, but you assured him you were just in so much shock someone could be that handsome.

-From that day on there was a new bloom to your relationship, you two sat closer, Genji would take off his mask, and you would take off your own prosthetics. It was something new, but something you realized you needed, and looked forward to. When you were finally cleared for safety, you and Genji went back to the main base and your feelings only grew from there. Missions with him felt more meaningful, watching him save people or show off was a thrill you never knew you could enjoy. And everytime you did something good, he would praise you after making your heart beat in your chest loudly.

-Of course your feelings got too unbearable to ignore, and one humid night you asked him out. Out to the same cliff he had joined you in originally. You both sat in silence until you mustered enough courage to spill your heart to him. It was fast, clumsy, and probably confusing. But in the end Genji takes off his face plate and smiles at you, telling you he feels the same. Time seems to stop for a minute, but you smile back and grab his hand, dragging him back to base. You would only really be affectionate in private, the quiet 'I love you's' hidden behind closed doors. However sometimes during battle Genji will bump his faceplate into your cheek until you give it a kiss.

[espionn]

RainWing tribe sheet!

honestly i'm not 100% sure i like this sheet visually. its ok but not my best. i do like my more in-depth headcanon stuff for rainwings, though, so i hope people like it anyway!

fyi the next few tribes are giving me a bit of trouble so i might post these a little slower, but i still plan to get out all 10 tribes!! they just might be more than a few days apart.

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-RainWings live in the dense and tropical rainforest. Similarly to chameleons, they have prehensile tails and claws well-adapted to cling to branches; and, most strikingly, their coloration can be changed at will, to any color under the sun. This can be used for perfect and uncanny camouflage, for intimidation, for beauty and expression, and to communicate emotions. (Below is a chart of emotions corresponding with their colors; note, though, that they can be combined with each other, and patterned, to mean slightly different and more complex things.)

-Like birds of paradise, they are fond of bright and bold colors, but when they want they can also make themselves virtually undetectable. What exactly this skill is used for depends on the period of history; showing off, playing hide-and-seek, hunting, silent warfare.

-RainWings also have fangs that can be used to expel “venom” - called such for lack of a better word. It does not need to be injected to be deadly, unlike most venom, and rather seems to have a burning, warping and generally destructive effect on cells upon contact. Whether it is deadly depends on the level and location of exposure.

-Neck, chest and sometimes tail frills are used for expression and dance; the floatiness of these frills, and their color-changing abilities, make them hypnotizing. Neck ruffs in particular are commonly used for communication: perked up to show curiosity, drooping to show discomfort or sadness, and flared to show anger and to intimidate. 

-Their fifth claw - the dew claw - is larger and more opposable than those of other tribes, more like a human thumb. This, and their extra (and also more dextrous) wing claw, lets them climb and cling to trees with swiftness and ease. It also makes it easier to use tools, and crack open fruits and nuts, while keeping themselves steady and balanced. 

Life Cycle:

-RainWings are typically laid in clutches of 4-9 eggs. They take the longest of any tribe to develop within the egg; they incubate for nearly half a year, and still are hatched with pale and dull colors. As they grow, though, they get better control over their color-changing abilities through play under the watch of the rest of the tribe.

-RainWings do not form partnerships at all, and rarely mate with the same dragon twice. They also do not raise dragonets on their own; all dragonets are raised communally by the wider tribe. RainWings make friends and have positive relationships, but the idea of parental or romantic relationships are odd to the vast majority of them. Romantic partnerships are not completely unheard of, but they’re seen as unusual.

-Dragonets are naturally playful and learn to harness their abilities through games and competitions. This, though other tribes scoff at it, is quite effective, and other than a lack of structure and discipline in certain eras depending on the queen, RainWings are not less powerful than any other tribes, through nature or nurture. 

-The oldest they usually live is to 90 -100. It's uncommon to go much longer than that, which makes RainWings one of the shorter-lived tribes. Old RainWings tend to live together in their own communities within the tribe, and likewise, younger RainWings prefer each other's company. These boundaries aren't strict, but social norms expect dragons to generally stick to their age groups.

Society and Culture:

-RainWings’ societal structure has varied through time. Their ranged venom and near-invisibility makes them excellent assassins and spies, and several times in history they have been organized or hired in this way. Their nature, though, tends to be easygoing and nonviolent on the whole, and their culture tends to drift in that direction in the absence of external pressure. 

-RainWings are social dragons, and while they do not have a particularly ranked and organized society structure, like SeaWings, their social and personal dynamics are complex and important. Popular and well-liked RainWings are more successful in their tribe than those who are disliked and outcast. Their emotions are very openly communicated, and the idea of hiding thoughts and feelings is strange to them. That isn’t to say they lack subtlety and tact, but they rarely try to suppress their natural scale fluctuations. 

-A lot of RainWing culture rests on colors. They use colors to communicate and associate objects with different emotions based on their color. They sometimes set distinct color palettes in order to appear a certain way in front of others, but some level of fluctuation is impossible to avoid.

-RainWings are the only tribe that has no written language. They are completely illiterate not out of laziness or inability, but because historically they have never had need for communication that isn’t direct and in the present. Their visual signals are so complex that they might be called a crude type of sign language, less refined than Aquatic but not entirely dissimilar, but the only RainWings taught to read and write are those involved in diplomacy or other inter-tribe interactions where it may be necessary. For their own tribe affairs, verbal communication is all they need.

-One of the ultimate staples of RainWing culture is performance - theater and dance. Their dances, often synchronized, with their agile bodies, floating frills and shifting colors, are famously breathtaking and mesmerizing. There was a time when RainWing dancers would travel and perform for different tribes, and dragons scrambled to watch them. For RainWings themselves, though, the performances take on their own meanings, as emotional expression comes through in the colors and some dances tell elaborate stories through these visual cues. Silent theater, similarly, relies on color to tell stories, and these shows aren’t as popular among other tribes simply because other dragons can’t fully comprehend the meanings of different scenes.

-RainWings don’t use facial expressions much, because their scales are so adept at showing emotion, and sometimes that causes communication issues with dragons from other tribes. Similarly, they struggle to separate different tribes from their color associations; for example, it’s hard to get over the subconscious assumptions that all SkyWings are angry, all IceWings are in pain/distress, and all NightWings are constantly overflowing with rage and hatred. (@puzzled-pegasus inspired this one - hope you don’t mind me adopting it!)

-Sleep schedules are loose to non-existent, best compared to that of cats; RainWings generally sleep at midnight and midday, and are awake at dawn and dusk, but short naps throughout the day are considered normal and acceptable.

-Because of the diversity of plant life in the rainforest, RainWings have a more in-depth knowledge of toxins and medicines than any other tribe, and their medics can cure a vast number of ailments. They also have access to - and use - a great variety of stimulants and hallucinogens, usually in a festive or celebratory context.

Diet: Selectively herbivorous. RainWings can eat meat, and sometimes do, but generally they prefer to put time and energy toward gathering rather than hunting. They eat just about every type of fruit under the sun, having adapted to a high-glucose and low-protein diet, and their dishes are elaborate and flavorful with spices and sweeteners; just about every other tribe that eats plants is happy to invite RainWing fruit merchants into their towns. RainWings were also the first Pyrrhian tribe to produce chocolate.

[violettduchess]

Hello hello!!

May I request Cyran // courage // Gangster AU? ^^

A/N: My entry for the Wish Upon an Aide CC hosted by the wonderful @lorei-writes and @wordycheeseblob

Cyran x Reader, Gangster AU; Prompt: Courage

I went a less obvious route with the prompt. It's not exactly nsft but it is suggestive. A kind of follow up to this Cyran Gangster fic.

WC: ~1k

In order for there to be courage, there must be fear. Darkness needs light to exist, light cannot shine without darkness. They are intertwined, interconnected, essential to one another like the moon and the tide, like oxygen and life.

In the shadows of your bedroom, the glow from the neon sign across the street slides its way through the blinds, bathes your skin in red. 

Red means danger. 

It means warning.

It means stop. 

But Cyran couldn't stop now, not for all the money in the world. His hands travel down the smooth plane of your waist, slide across the round curves of your hips. It is a road he has only traveled once before but one he has never, ever forgotten. He feels the pressure of your arms around his neck, the way your fingers curl into the ends of his hair. More red.

His mouth follows the pulse in the side of your neck. He presses his tongue flat against it, then sucks hard. The sound you make should be illegal. It fogs his mind with desire, smothers the rational thought that thrives in the cold light of day.

Being the doctor they call, you are already in too deep with The Organization. No good can come of dragging you selfishly deeper, through the unpredictable danger of his job, under the waves of fear and anxiety that every assignment floods him with. He is certain that being with him will bring you nothing but heartache. 

And yet……how can he stop an avalanche’s momentum? How can he push back the tide? How can he stop drinking in the taste of your lips? Stop drowning in your breathless whisper of his name?

He is a criminal, one who walks the opaque fog between right and wrong....but with you, everything becomes crystal-clear.

And he is not strong enough to deny what his body and soul so loudly cry for.

Cyran’s hands have divested you of all clothing. Only the golden rose necklace they gave you lays against your skin. He sweeps it aside, pressing a line of desperate kisses across your collarbone, first one, then the other.

He walks you backwards towards your bed, his clothing falling like flower petals along the way until he is as bare as you. When the back of your knees bumps into the mattress, you pause to drink in the sight of him, disheveled and alight with desire, his broad chest rising and falling with each labored breath.

God, is he beautiful. All sculpted muscle. Powerful lines. You unconsciously bite down on your lower lip as your fingertips trace the Rhodolitian rose tattooed on his shoulder. Unlike some of the other gang members, his rose is not blood red, but has been rendered in shades of gray. You follow the line of the petals, then glide down over the curved stem lined with sharp thorns. In reality, they would have torn your fingers to shreds. But right now, all you feel is warm skin. All you feel is him.

He can’t take the sight of your lip between your teeth. He wants it for himself. Surging forward, he kisses you and you fall back onto the bed, your body catching fire, your heart aflame.

The neon sign has blinked out, replaced by the pale yellow of early morning sunlight. Cyran is sound asleep, his red hair a bright spot among your white pillows. Propped up on one elbow, you watch him as he sleeps. You haven’t been able to tear your gaze away since you woke up, your body heavy with satisfaction, sore with the remnants of last night’s storm.

His face is softer now, carrying none of the hard, concentrated lines of responsibility, duty. He is at ease, for once, lost in the clouds of dreaming. He looks younger somehow. Almost innocent. You allow yourself the luxury of staring, of gazing at the line of his jaw, covered in stubble, the slope of his neck down to his broad shoulders. You notice the small crescent-moon marks there, the ones from your fingers as they clutched him, held him tightly against your body. A smile ghosts across your lips.

You follow the relaxed surface of his bare chest down to where your bed sheets are draped modestly over his hips. One long leg, bent at the knee, sticks out from the covers and you're struck by an overwhelming wave of emotion, something warm and bright that sends your heart into a gentle swoon.

Wanting him. Dare you even think….loving him…..is dangerous. You know it. There are a hundred reasons why falling for him is nothing but jagged peril, a treacherous road you should not walk. 

But the way he rasped your name is still ringing in your ears.

Your fingers remember the grip of his own when they intertwine with yours.

You know the way his body feels against you. It is now written across your heart like a swathe of stars in the night sky, burned into your skin like a brand.

He sighs in his sleep, shifting to roll onto his side, and a lock of red hair falls across his forehead. You reach out instinctively to brush it away and something inside you is kindled, like a forge slowly coming to life. 

Yes, it is risky to give yourself over to what you are feeling, to fight for a place in his heart and life. 

But you are brave. 

Your hand gently cups the side of his face and your heart sinks into the flame of the forge, becoming something strong, a sword to face the danger, a light to wield in the dark. Courage and determination flow through your veins as mightily as desire had just a few short hours ago.

Cyran is worth loving. He is worth every twist and turn if only for the feel of him under your palm, the light in his eyes as they flutter open and see you, his slow, sleepy, unburdened smile.

“Good morning,” you murmur, leaning down even as he reaches for you, a kiss already waiting on his lips.

This is worth all your courage. This will be your light.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Daughter Part 3 - Torchbearer + Clancy + Nico!Daughter

Warnings: Anything Dema related

Word Count: 2367

A/N: Welcome to part 3! I can't wait to continue this story guys!! Using this for the bandito battle bc it's killing two birds with one stone (and it means the judges should reader parts 1 and 2 hehe)

PART 1 + PART 2 + Part 4 + Part 5

It had been three months since I’d returned to the towers—three long, tension-filled months. Three months since I’d spoken with the Torchbearer Three months since I’d reluctantly uttered the words I swore I never would to my father: “You were right.” Since then, communication from either Keons or Clancy had been scarce, leaving me in a haze of uncertainty. After each meeting, my father would return, coolly recounting the details as if they were simple business transactions, not matters of life and death.

“I’m glad you’ve come back, Y/N. It’s good to see you’ve regained your senses.” His voice was calm, measured, as always. He gestured dismissively to the maid who had set the table before us, a choreographed flick of his wrist sending her out of the room without a word. “We could use someone like you here. As a role model.”

I forced a smile, though my insides churned with dread. The weight of the room felt oppressive, thick with the air of expectations I hadn’t agreed to shoulder. “Thank you. I’m... grateful for the opportunity,” I replied, carefully modulating my voice. Beneath my practiced calm, fear was an undercurrent that threatened to drag me under. One wrong move, one misplaced word, and it could all be over. The rules in Dema were brutal, and mistakes here had a way of ending in blood.

“You know,” my father began, easing himself into a seat at the head of the long table, “that Clancy boy I’ve been dealing with? He’s starting to see the world as it truly is.” He paused for effect, tearing off a piece of bread and glancing at me sideways. “He talks about you. A lot.”

My heart stuttered. Clancy talks about me? What did that mean? Was he closer to organizing an escape? Was Keons still in play, ready to intervene if everything went sideways? Desperation clawed at my chest, but I couldn’t let it show.

“Really?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, though my mind was racing with a dozen questions I couldn’t afford to ask. Instead, I turned my focus to the plate in front of me, stomach grumbling in protest. But I couldn’t eat. Not yet. Not until I had more information.

“Go on, my child. Eat,” my father said, chewing a piece of bread, his gaze sharp as he watched me. I took a small bite, more out of obligation than hunger, though the tension in my body remained. “You and Clancy—” He paused, as if testing the words in his mouth. “I believe you’d be good for each other. I want you to meet him tomorrow.”

I nodded, swallowing my food along with the knot in my throat. “I’d like that,” I said, though my mind was already spiraling. Tomorrow. What would it mean to see Clancy again? To stand in front of him under my father’s ever-watchful gaze?

As dinner wound down, the maid returned to clear the table. My father stood swiftly, signaling that the evening was over. He didn’t need to say anything—his movements were always enough. I scrambled to my feet, following him through the cold, labyrinthine hallways of the tower. The stone walls, stark and severe, were softened only by the red tapestries and oil paintings that lined the corridors, relics of Dema’s past and its so-called traditions. I had grown up surrounded by these symbols of control, but now, they only served to remind me how deeply rooted this place was in its own lies.

When we reached the door to my room, he stopped abruptly. His arms, always encased in the heavy, blood-red silk of his robes, reached out—hesitantly. A gesture I hadn’t seen in years: a hug. The embrace felt strange, foreign. The silk wrapped around me like a shroud, cold and constricting.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he muttered, releasing me before turning to walk away, his footsteps echoing down the empty hall.

“Goodnight, Dad,” I whispered, watching his retreating figure. As the door clicked shut behind me, I was left standing alone in the suffocating silence of the tower.

My mind drifted to the Torchbearer—the name whispered among the rebels, a symbol of resistance. I hadn’t heard from him since that night. My father’s reports confirmed what I feared: the rebels had been silent. Too silent. Which meant one of two things—they were either meticulously planning something big, or they were falling apart. Either way, the quiet was unnerving. But despite everything, I still thought about him. About the banditos, about the Torchbearer’s defiance, and the spark of hope that lingered whenever I remembered the sound of his voice. He was the one who knew my past, the one who had seen what I tried to bury, and yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that he’d abandoned me–that I was alone in this fight. 

It wasn’t until I saw Clancy that I realized how much he’d convinced my dad of his brainwashing. I’d been made to wear dark clothes, a black jacket and a black pair of jeans–something I rarely wore. 

“Clancy, this is my daughter, Y/N.” Dad placed a cold hand on my back, chills running through my body. I attempted a smile as I looked at Clancy, wearing similar dark clothes except they echoed our cement surroundings. 

“It is good to finally meet you Y/N, I’ve heard so much about you,” he nodded at me, arms carefully held behind his back. 

“I could say the same for you,” I said. My heart raced beneath the cool fabric of the black jacket as I met his eyes. He looked composed, but I noticed it–the flicker of recognition of hope that passed through his gaze. I’d missed him. Despite only ever having one conversation before, I’d missed him. Now, here I was, standing in front of him with my father’s watchful eye burning a hole into my back. My smile felt like a mask—one I had perfected over weeks of playing the obedient daughter.

“Clancy has been a great asset to us,” my father said, his voice carrying a hint of smugness. “He has requested you join him on his strategic meetings starting today. I trust you’ll help her acclimate.” My stomach twisted at the mention of Trench. I hadn’t expected to be escaping today. Clancy nodded, his lips pressing together as if fighting to hold back words that could get him killed. We both knew he hadn’t been brainwashed, not really. But my father, the rest of the bishops, and Dema’s regime believed otherwise. They thought they had broken us. 

Clancy nodded, his expression unreadable. “Of course. I look forward to it.” My eyes flicked to Clancy’s hands—still clasped behind his back, but I saw the subtle, almost imperceptible motion of his thumb rubbing against the base of his other hand. A signal. A wave. Dad gave a slight bow of his head, satisfied, before dismissing himself and leaving the two of us alone for a moment. The heavy, oppressive silence of the tower seemed to close in on us as Clancy stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You look good Y/N,” he stood tall, arms folded across his chest as he looked me up and down. 

“You look starved,” I replied, my eyes taking in his skinny figure. 

“I look like an average citizen,” he justified, “regardless, I’ve been busy.” His tone was clipped, almost mechanical to keep up appearances. “Keons has everything set.” After weeks of playing this dangerous game, today was the day.

“Can we trust him?” I asked, referring to Keons. There had been rumors—rumors I didn’t want to believe, but Dema had ways of getting into people’s heads. Clancy’s eyes met mine, steel and fire behind them. “We have to.” 

Before I could respond Clancy grasped my hand leading me into one of the smaller towers–Keons’ tower. We moved quickly through the shadowed corridors, the weight of what was about to happen pressed down on my chest. This was it. No more waiting, no more pretending. The plan was already in motion. Clancy kept his eyes forward, his pace swift but careful. His hand brushed against mine briefly, just enough to remind me that he was there, that this was real, and I wasn’t alone in this. The tower seemed eerily quiet, the air thick with the tension of everything that was about to break. At last, we reached the lower level where the exit awaited. The rusted door creaked open with a low groan, and the chill of the night air rushed in, biting at my skin. For the first time in what felt like years, I could see the world beyond Dema, the empty wasteland stretching out before me, a vast and bleak freedom.

Clancy didn’t hesitate as he guided us toward the car parked just beyond the outer wall, hidden in the shadow of the tower. It wasn’t much—an old, beaten-up vehicle, its paint chipped and rust clinging to the edges—but it was enough to get us out of here. Enough to get us to the outskirts of Dema where the rest of the plan would unfold. Without a word, Clancy opened the door for me, his eyes sharp and focused. I slid into the passenger seat, my heart pounding in my chest. The reality of our escape washed over me like a wave. I had planned for this moment, rehearsed it in my head a thousand times, but nothing had prepared me for the intensity of actually doing it.

Clancy got into the driver’s seat and started the car. The engine sputtered to life with a rough growl, and the car lurched forward, tires kicking up dust as we sped toward the edge of the city. The oppressive towers of Dema loomed behind us, fading into the distance as he drove further into the wastelands. For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe, to believe that maybe, just maybe, we were going to make it out of here. We drove onto a road–probably more of a highway–and sped as fast as we could away from the city. But then, something reflected in the windshield, something yellow. 

“Shit, what is that?” Clancy muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Suddenly, the car jerked violently as Clancy swerved, narrowly avoiding a roadblock that had been set up ahead. The tires screeched against the dirt, and the car fishtailed for a moment before Clancy regained control. My breath hitched as I glanced behind us–nothing. Clancy’s foot slammed down on the gas, but the old car was struggling to keep up. I felt the vehicle shake beneath me, its engine groaning as it pushed toward its limits.

“Hold on!” Clancy yelled, his eyes darting between the road ahead. 

“I don’t see anything Clancy!” My eyes frantically scanned the road as Clancy veered to the side. 

“Y/N, take the wheel!” he shouted, and before I could even think, he was crawling into the back seat, leaving me to steer the car as he yanked a bag out from under the seat. My hands trembled as I grabbed the wheel, trying to keep the car steady. 

“What the hell is going on with you?” I screamed, trying to focus on the road ahead of me. It had been a long long time since I’d driven a car. With a sharp crack, you heard it—a shot. The front tire exploded, sending the car careening out of control. I screamed as the vehicle spun out, skidding off the road and crashing into the dirt. Everything went silent for a moment. The world was a blur of dust and darkness. I blinked, trying to steady myself, to make sense of what had just happened. The car had come to a stop, smoke rising from the hood.

Clancy was already moving, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the wreckage. “We have to go!” he shouted, his voice hoarse with urgency. The two of us stumbled out of the car, my legs weak and shaking. 

“What the fuck was that Clancy? What the hell!” I shouted, throwing his hand off me. The night air was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and burning rubber. In the distance, the towers of Dema loomed like a dark promise.

And then it happened—just like in a dream.

The car erupted into flames.

The heat washed over me, the fire climbing higher into the night sky, casting an orange glow over the wasteland. Clancy didn’t flinch, his focus unbroken as he moved toward the back of the car, his hands already working on the trunk.

“What are you doing?” I asked, frustrated that he wasn’t explaining anything to me. My voice was barely audible over the roar of the flames.

“We need the supplies,” he said, his voice calm but intense. “If we don’t have them, we’re dead before we even make it to Trench.” Clancy was right. Without the supplies, the escape wouldn’t matter. We had come too far to turn back now. He pried open the trunk, grabbing the bags of gear he had stashed there—the food, the water, everything we needed to survive the journey ahead. The heat from the burning car was unbearable, but I helped him, my hands moving on autopilot as I stuffed the supplies into my pack. With one final glance at the burning wreckage, Clancy grabbed a camo green jacket, the shoulders covered in yellow tape. He hoisted a duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbed my hand. “We need to move. Now.”

“You’re not going to explain anything to me?” I asked, planting my feet on the road below us. 

“I said now, Y/N. I don’t have–We don’t have time.” He spoke firmly, looking around us like a vulture. That was the moment I decided to trust him. That I would rather trust Clancy than become a glorious gone. The two of us ran, the sound of the fire crackling behind us as we disappeared into the darkness of the wasteland. The glow of Dema’s towers faded into the distance, swallowed by the night.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, we were free.

//

REQUEST OPEN

Tags for bandito battle:

@banditobattlemotherfuckers @the-paladin-gay

[mpregtales]

Aaron & David II Part 5

[Part 1]   [Part 2]   [Part 3]   [Part 4]   ⬤

As Aaron entered the ninth month of his pregnancy, the anticipation in the household was palpable. The baby’s arrival was just around the corner, and everyone could feel the excitement building. Despite carrying just one child—or so they thought—Aaron’s belly had grown to an impressive size. The weight of the pregnancy was undeniable, and even though Aaron had carried triplets before, he found himself marveling at how heavy and full he felt with just one baby this time.

Michael and Josh had been preparing for the baby’s arrival with the same level of excitement and nervousness as new parents. They spent hours in the nursery, carefully arranging clothes, organizing toys, and making sure everything was ready for their little one. Aaron often found them discussing parenting strategies and sharing their hopes for the future, their love for each other growing stronger with each passing day.

Aaron and Michael’s bond had deepened over the months. Despite the unusual dynamic of Aaron carrying Michael and Josh’s child, they had found a comfortable rhythm in their relationship. Michael often sought Aaron’s advice, especially as the birth grew closer. Aaron’s experience and calm demeanor provided Michael with the reassurance he needed, and their late-night conversations had become a cherished routine.

One evening, as Aaron rested on the couch, he felt an odd sensation—his belly, which had been sitting high for weeks, seemed to shift downward, pressing heavily on his pelvis. It was a sensation he recognized well, one that signaled the baby was preparing for birth. Aaron placed a hand on his belly, feeling the baby’s movements more acutely than ever before.

“David,” Aaron called out, his voice laced with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I think it’s happening.”

David rushed into the room, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of Aaron’s dropped belly. He placed a hand on Aaron’s belly, feeling the shift himself. “It’s time,” he said softly, his voice full of love and anticipation. “Let’s get you ready.”

Aaron nodded, his heart racing with the realization that the moment they had all been waiting for was finally here. He felt a wave of emotion wash over him as he thought about the journey they had been on—the love that had brought them to this point, the challenges they had overcome, and the new life that was about to enter the world.

As they gathered their things, Aaron felt a sudden, sharp contraction, followed by a rush of warmth between his legs. He gasped, clutching David’s arm for support as his water broke.

“We need to get to the hospital,” Aaron said, his voice breathless but steady. “The baby’s coming.”

David didn’t hesitate. He helped Aaron into the car, and they were on their way to the hospital within minutes. The drive was tense, filled with the excitement and nervousness that always accompanies a birth. Aaron could feel the contractions growing stronger, each one a reminder that their baby was on its way.

When they arrived at the hospital, Aaron was quickly taken to a private room. The midwife and nurses prepared the birthing pool, knowing that a water birth would be the most comfortable option for Aaron, given his previous experience with triplets. The warm water provided immediate relief as Aaron lowered himself into the pool, the tension in his body easing slightly as the contractions continued to build.

David stayed by Aaron’s side, offering words of encouragement and holding his hand as the contractions grew more intense. The pain was sharp, each contraction coming faster and stronger than the last. Aaron could feel the baby descending with each push, the pressure in his pelvis almost overwhelming.

Michael and Josh arrived at the hospital shortly after, their faces filled with a mix of excitement and concern. They stood by the side of the pool, watching as Aaron worked through the contractions, their hands clasped tightly together. Michael’s heart raced as he watched Aaron, his mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions—gratitude, awe, and a deep, overwhelming love for the man who was bringing his child into the world.

As the labor progressed, Aaron felt the baby move lower, the sensation of the head pressing against his pelvis becoming more pronounced. The pressure was immense, radiating through his entire body as he prepared to push. With David’s support and the guidance of the midwife, Aaron positioned himself on all fours in the water, his belly hanging low and heavy beneath him.

The water provided some relief, but the intensity of the contractions was undeniable. Aaron’s muscles strained with each push, his body instinctively working to bring the baby into the world. His glutes, now fuller and more prominent than ever, moved rhythmically with each effort, the soft flesh pressing against the water as he shifted his weight.

Feeling a deep contraction, Aaron instinctively arched his back, pushing his glutes out as he prepared to deliver the baby. His belly hung low, the muscles contracting powerfully as he began to bear down, feeling the baby move down inside him. The sensation was overwhelming—both familiar and new—as his body worked to guide the baby through the birth canal.

The baby’s head pressed lower, creating immense pressure in his pelvis. With each push, Aaron’s glutes flexed and pulsed, the powerful muscles aiding in the descent of his grandchild. The feeling of the baby moving through his body was intense, a combination of pain, pressure, and the profound realization of what was happening.

David remained by Aaron’s side, his hands offering comforting touches on Aaron’s back, helping him focus through the waves of contractions. Aaron’s hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, as he continued to push, the energy needed to deliver the baby evident in every fiber of his being.

As the baby’s head began to crown, Aaron felt a sharp, burning sensation as the delicate folds of his skin stretched to accommodate the baby’s passage. He reached back with both hands, parting his cheeks to ease the baby’s descent. The pressure was almost unbearable, but Aaron pushed through it, focusing on the moment when he would finally hold the baby in his arms.

Another strong contraction ripped through his body, and Aaron bore down with all his might, his glutes flexing and straining as the baby’s head began to emerge. The sensation was intense—his body opening to allow the baby to pass through. The pain was sharp, but there was also an undeniable feeling of progress, of bringing life into the world.

Aaron adjusted his footing, moving into a wide squat, his body trembling with the effort. The baby’s head slid further out, parting his cheeks as it reached full crown. A tear came to Aaron’s eyes as the pain peaked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. With another powerful push, the baby’s head popped out, followed by the shoulders turning within him.

He adjusted his footing again, feeling a cramp well up deep inside him. Aaron gave a big, hard push and a final squeeze of his glutes, feeling his grandson’s shoulders slip free, followed by the rest of the body. The baby slipped into the water with a gentle splash, Aaron’s cheeks jiggling one final time as the baby emerged, his muscles finally able to relax.

The midwife gently lifted the baby out of the water and placed it on Aaron’s chest. “It’s a boy,” she announced, her voice filled with warmth. Aaron looked down at the tiny, wriggling life in his arms, overcome with emotion. The baby had a shock of dark hair and the same deep blue eyes as both Michael and Josh. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the mix of features—the softness of Michael’s cheeks, the strength of Josh’s jawline, and the warmth of their shared love reflected in the baby’s face.

David leaned in, tears in his eyes as he kissed Aaron’s temple. “He’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice trembling with love.

But before they could fully take in the moment, Aaron noticed that he still had a considerable belly that felt just as full. He felt another contraction, sharp and unexpected. He gasped, his eyes widening as he realized what was happening.

“There’s another one,” Aaron breathed, his voice filled with surprise. “There’s another baby.”

The midwife quickly checked Aaron, her eyes widening as she confirmed the presence of a second baby. “You’re right,” she said, her tone urgent but calm. “There’s another baby. You need to push again.”

Aaron felt a surge of determination as he prepared to deliver the second baby. The contractions were coming fast now, the pressure intense as the second baby moved into position. Aaron’s body was exhausted, but he pushed through the fatigue, focusing on the task at hand.

The pressure was immense as the contractions grew stronger, the baby’s head descending rapidly. Aaron gritted his teeth, feeling the intense burn as the baby’s head began to crown. His glutes, already stretched to their limit, worked in perfect harmony with his body as he gave another powerful push, feeling the baby’s head slowly emerge. The pain was sharp, the pressure almost overwhelming, but Aaron pushed through it, his focus unwavering as the baby’s head slowly began to emerge.

David continued to encourage Aaron, his voice a steady presence in the background as he placed a hand on Aaron’s belly, rubbing gently to help ease the pain. Aaron reached back again, his hand trembling slightly, feeling the baby’s head as it pushed against the tender opening. He let out a low, primal groan and gave a hard push and squeeze of his glutes as he felt the baby’s head finally slip free, the rest of the body following quickly after.

As the second baby slipped into the water, the midwife quickly lifted it out, revealing another tiny, perfect life. “It’s a girl,” she announced, placing the baby in Aaron’s arms alongside her brother.

Aaron was in awe as he looked down at the two babies in his arms – the grandchildren he just birthed. The little girl had the same dark hair and blue eyes, but there was a softness to her features that reminded Aaron of Michael. As he held the two babies close, Aaron felt a deep connection to them—a bond that was as strong as the love he had for David.

David was speechless as he looked at the two babies, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Aaron nodded, tears streaming down his face as he cradled the two babies against his chest. The birth had been intense, but the reward was more than worth it. As he looked at his new grandson and granddaughter, Aaron felt a deep, unshakable bond with them—a bond that would only grow stronger with time.

The midwife gently took the babies to clean and check them, giving Aaron a moment to rest. But before he could fully relax, he felt a final series of contractions, signaling the delivery of the placenta.

David was right there by Aaron’s side, rubbing his back and tenderly massaging his cheeks to help ease the discomfort. Aaron felt the contractions grow stronger, his body working to expel the placenta. With one final push, he felt the large, fleshy organ slip out, the sensation a mix of relief and exhaustion.

The midwife quickly removed the placenta from the water, and Aaron finally allowed himself to relax, the weight of the pregnancy lifting from his body. He let out a deep breath, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him as he lay back in the water.

David gently helped clean Aaron up, his touch soft and loving as he rubbed his belly and cheeks, helping to ease the tension from his muscles. Aaron felt a deep sense of gratitude for David, his love and support a constant presence throughout the entire process.

As they finally left the hospital, Michael and Josh holding their newborn twins close, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the miracle of life they had just witnessed. The love they felt for their children was overwhelming, and they knew that their lives would never be the same again.

The journey was just beginning for them, and as they settled into their new home in Chicago, they were filled with hope and excitement for the future. Michael and Josh’s relationship had grown stronger than ever, their love deepening with each passing day. They were ready to start their new life together, and with the support of their family, they knew that they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As they settled into their new home, Michael and Josh couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for Aaron and David. The love and support they had received from their family had been a constant source of strength, and they knew that they would always have a special bond with Aaron and David.

Michael and Josh’s relationship had grown stronger than ever, their love deepening with each passing day. They were ready to start their new life together, and with the support of their family, they knew that they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Third installment in this series: Aaron & Lucas

The Aaron Trilogy: Aaron & David I ; Aaron & David II ; Aaron & Lucas

[bananaactivity]

Scene Draw + Excerpt

Kai didn’t even flinch as Marcus continued to stare, as though he knew what was going on inside Marcus’ head. He simply let him look, neither enjoying nor rejecting it, just... observing, in his typical cool and collected way. Marcus couldn’t quite figure out if he was making Kai uncomfortable or if Kai was just playing with him, letting him stew in the silence.

Finally, Kai broke the stillness, his voice cutting through the air like smooth silk. “You gonna say something, or are you gonna keep staring?” The words were dry, matter-of-fact, almost as if he was bored by Marcus’ lack of response.

Before he could find his voice, Kai smoothly glided over to his record player, pulling it out of its corner with practiced ease. He sifted through the stack of vinyl records, his fingers pausing, as though considering each one carefully before selecting a particular record. He looked up at Marcus, holding the album up in a way that didn’t quite demand attention but certainly got it.

“You look like a Radiohead... In Rainbows?” Kai asked, his tone nonchalant, but there was a slight edge of amusement in his voice.

Marcus blinked, completely caught off guard. He hadn't remembered sharing his taste in music with Kai, and yet, there he was, reading him like an open book. Marcus’ heart skipped a beat as he tried to gather his thoughts. He nodded slowly, still stunned that Kai had pegged him so easily. “Yeah... yeah, that’s right,” Marcus stammered, then tried to regain some composure, muttering, “In Rainbows is... yeah. It’s a good album. I- It's my favorite album” Marcus remembered the times spent in his dads old evil lair. Those few moments he used to crave back then; when he would spend time with Marcus outside of planning his stupid plots. “Coke Baby” vibrating in the background. They'd sit with their guitars and his dad would pretentiously claim that he'd known Radiohead before the Creepers; strumming on his out of tune on his guitar. Marcus didn't care one way or the other, their music was just as good no matter how popular it was. And when he was alone he’d play “Creep“ right along with “ 15 Step” and his personal favorite “Reckoner”. When he first infiltrated the Davenports he'd gotten them into it as well. Chase rattled off every fact possible about Thom Yorke like he had lived in his walls and Leo continued a long stream of jokes at Marcus expense about the hell of Radiohead fans' pretentiousness and distinct lack of bitches. Adam ate the walls. Their Dad ,Davenport, sat and watched them quietly whenever they played those tunes. Usually he tuned them out but he always came around if he caught wind of the band, and once had requested a playing of “Coke Baby” before excusing himself swiftly. Bree ignored them all when they played preferring One Direction over everything. Marcus' hard drive had stored all these memories in a file marked Music. It was his most precious file and it was like this guy had sifted through it and found just the right thing.

Kai’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, a dry purr escaping him as he lowered the record to the turntable. “Someone has good taste,” he murmured, as though it was an observation he’d made a thousand times before. It was an offhand comment, but it felt loaded especially with all the thoughts Marcus was now spinning.

LMAOO technically the first eleven chapters of my fic have been posted but it’s basically the quality of a first draft. (One person was really into tho lmao) I’m still working on the final 12 chapters while also reworking the ones I already have posted. I even have a sequel in the works and I STILL haven’t finished the original work. Lmao this ship is like the only ship that Ive ever been this invested in my whole life. If your interested in reading the first draft of the eleven available chapters it’s right here:

[darktapufifi]

5566 — Planet Ourea

Classification: Terrestrial Group - Tectonic Class - EuGaian - Paludial Gaian - Bathy pelagic

[See Resources for definitions/explanations, the post I got them from did some amazing work.]

This planet is located outside of the normal solar system, and its current location has been lost to time.

(Terra Quadrant - Māter Sector - 7° - 62° - 42°)

Terrain & Ecosystem: Boreal zone

The planet is almost entirely comprised of mountainous regions, the mountains made completely of rock, assumed at one point in history to have been the tectonic plates of the planet, but the truth has been lost to time. Between the walls of mountains there lies valleys, abundantly filled with life. Many of the valleys are filled with taiga forests and freshwater lakes, however there are some deciduous forests scattered amongst the coniferous taiga forests all over the planet amongst mountains. The mountains however only take up around half of the planet, the other half is an abundant and deep ocean, with some manmade sea stack island, as some of the more aquatic or recluse species and individuals refused to move on land or to live in the mountains.

Social Climate: Democracy

many of the areas inside the openings in the mountains lack any land to begin with, which is why they've probably adapted a way for sea life to get up to said cities, like a water elevator or smthin, or like a water proof teleportation pad

The planet adapted to the mountainous environments by building homes and cities along the mountainsides, where all walks of life lived from the sky to the land and sea. They built systems to get up and down the mountains, and even to get into the ocean from one point to another with ease, allowing ocean stacks to visit the mainland when needed. Due to the abundant resources and knowledge on the planet however, it became a supply point and rest stop, the economy boosted by the visitors coming and going from the planet. It was visited often enough that the space riders had an unofficial station located on the planet for any business they needed to conduct. Strict laws were set in place so the planet was not over harvested for its natural resources, and those laws were passed down and improved upon over thousands of years until they could have easily been considered sacred to the inhabitants of the planet, the punishment of violation often ending in exile or death, though everyone always had a vote in the matter, and all opinions were heard out. Many markets had currency exchange areas to allow those from other worlds to be able to purchase until there was a standardized currency declared and used widespread. Merchants and merchandise were subjected to laws to ensure regulation standards were followed when it came to the buying and selling of goods, but it was also to keep track on the resources heading out so they could abide by the harvesting regulations. They had a bustling economy and a diverse population up till the end.

Native race/species: Anthropoeidís

Also known as Beast Folk in layman's terms, the Anthropoeidís species is a group of highly intelligent organisms, akin to humans or critters, that originate from the planets oldest living species of animals, and evolved over thousands of years. The history of each different animal is passed down its species line to what was current day before the destruction of the planet.

Status: Destroyed - Necro Gaian

Annihilated by the Prototype. The cult laid siege to the planet, captured any inhabitants possible, then destroyed the planet. First flooded it with red smoke, then completely destroyed into rubble. Disrupted the ecosystem and killed all life.

TLDR: Planet core got pumped so full of smoke that it imploded.

Appearance & Map:

[See Resources for the site used to make the map.]

Space Riders AU by @onyxonline

~{ Resources }~

Planet classification —

Map making —

[covertleathers]

Chapter 9: L'Amour Looks Something Like You

Cards: The Star, The Lovers, Four of Wands

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Rating: 18+, Explicit, Gradually intensifying sexual tension, nudity, wet dreams, etc etc

Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/m!Rook (They/Them pronouns)

Chapter summary: After Inner Demons, Lucanis makes Rook a dessert as a token of his thanks, but also as a way to tell them how he feels.

Author's Note: We're all having a bad night. I hope you read this and it makes it a little better. I worked really hard on this chapter to convey the strangeness of sexual attraction and romantic love for the first time. Hopefully I hit that note, who knows? Also I should just change the name of this fic to "Pulling Cards".

Everyone else had left for sleep. The two were alone in the dining room and it must have been well past midnight. All night the team had been feasting on wine, paella, churros, and chioccolatta calda until they couldn't move. Warmth from the candlelight seemed to protect them from the chaos of the world outside the Lighthouse. A berth.

A berth in death. Ah, that's why he remembered the word. Rook's one of many curious Mourn Watch sayings.

Lucanis had sat at Rook's right hand. Nervously watched them eat. They had never had a churro before. An invisible sigh of relief escaped him when they exclaimed it was delicious. That was something he could give them. A tension in his chest eased.

His eyes lingering where their teeth sank into the treat. The tension would ramp up again, but its character was starkly different than before. He had to remind himself to keep his face carefully placid.

There had been many moments throughout the night that Lucanis wanted to reach out to their hand, just below the edge of the table, out of view of their colleagues. Wicked hesitation locked his hands down to his armrests if they weren't holding his coffee cup. Being near them, at their side and basking in their joy could almost make up for it.

Ziya found ways to close the gap, though, as if knowing what his mind asked for. Of course, they had been in his mind, perhaps they did. Asking him to pass them another the wine bottle in an excuse to graze his fingers or briefly touching his shoulder as they laughed. Something in the pressure of their fingers through his shirt made chills run up his spine. Even the occasional glance and smile held the weight of affectionate, unsaid sentiments.

There was a generous style in which Rook would tie him into conversations, turning to ask what he thought with that slick smile. How the mage found a way to relate anything back to assassination or stabbing was enviable, even for Lucanis. When they included him, he felt a pull from his core, a gravity to them so strong he feared it could crush him. That stripe of peril used to swell in all their moments together.

Much of his life had been determined for him. In this night, Lucanis felt a shift. He couldn't stop interrogating…everything. After what happened at the Cobbled Swan, a creature inside that was not Spite had stirred awake, grasping for insight. Had he ever envisioned a night like this? A brief moment? Not even the passing thought of a different way to be? No.

Now the possibilities felt overwhelming. Each moment at Rook's side felt like two mirrors facing each other; thousands reflecting into eternity. Caterina was alive. He needed to save her. Even so, would she accept the abomination he had become or would he have to endure her rejection? Illario had surely betrayed him. Lucanis couldn't kill his cousin, but what he did could not go unpunished. He had a contract on a god's life. He was still unsure if he would be able to strike true.

However daunting, Rook's steadfastness aided in cleansing doubts from the ghostly home of his mind. Even Spite, who had been apparently trapped in that home this entire time, seemed to be soothed. Every once in a while the demon would murmur a biting remark at Davrin, but that was much more preferred than the wild terror he would threaten before.

Instead it felt like Spite was sitting quietly like a cat after dinner. Lucanis couldn't believe he just compared a demon to a housecat. Things really were changing.

At this instant, long after the reverie died down, they sat side by side. The fire had been burning for so long that the wood had become glowing red coal casting dim crimson light across dining room. Even the torches themselves seemed to have lost most of their magical brilliance. He and Rook were left in half shadow.

Lucanis watched Rook as they stood, emerald green robes falling around their frame, and moved to stand in front of the dying flames. His eyes gingerly followed again becoming painfully aware of the small of their back. Perhaps it was that Nevarran training; every movement was fluid and graceful as if walking on air. Maybe that was just Rook.

His contract. His friend. His…?

"Lucanis."

His name as a statement. A declaration? Rook gestured for him to join them. A single ringed finger. As if entranced, he went without thinking, his body compelled to go. When they stood next to one another, Lucanis was reminded he was at eye level with their collarbone. A striking scar in the shape of lightning ran at the hollow of their throat. Framed by a gold necklace dangling the jeweled Mourn Watch beetle pressed against the skin of their chest. He swallowed.

"Rook." He couldn't meet their gaze and instead became fixated with their pair of wine glasses sitting on the dining table alone. The warmth of Rook's fingers were suddenly cupping his face. Instinct made him flinch but they held fast. There was no danger here.

"I know it's not enough…" Whatever other words he had intended to say died in his throat. For all that you've done. I owe you one thousand lifetimes. Mierda, the tears were fighting their way out again. He tried to blink them away. Lucanis did not understand why this was happening. All of it. Why he survived the Ossuary. Why Rook had worked to be at his side. How they possessed the unyielding persistence to be present for every mistake he made, then to tell him those failures were of no consequence to their feelings. Seeing him when he could not see himself. Finding him locked away in his nightmares.

Rook's face eclipsed his vision. Eyes shining. Never in these months at the Lighthouse had he imagined that Rook would have deigned to be this close to him. His fingers curled in aching agony between pulling their hands off and desperately grasping to be pressed against them. It felt like need was leaking from his pores. He knew they could feel it.

They slowly pressed their velvet lips just below his eye. Lucanis had always wondered what they felt like. Rook's mouth was much more supple than he imagined. He tried not to think about what they would feel like…elsewhere. Not that he hadn't before. Plenty of times. He nearly stopped breathing. This one precious second felt like days.

Through the mask of jest and flirtation, he realized, Rook had been holding on to this for as long as he had. Glimpses would reveal themselves, but he thought they would eventually see he was damaged and move on. But here they were standing in front of him in full view. Rook had always been soft. They became practiced at protecting it, but their center never changed.

There was relief in Ziya's voice, almost trembling as much as his heart,"Thank you."

The force of that affection was cleaving into his heart as if its intent were to kill.

Silky hands traced down his shoulder to his arms and then to his fingers. Where Rook's fingers brushed his forearms, chills ran up his nerves. The assassin realized he had never been touched this way.

What had he expected from this? He wasn't sure because he didn't think it would go this far. In all the novellas he read, none of them are resolved with a batch of fried dough and hot drinks. Though, he knew what would come after a kiss. Mierda.

"What a wonderful gift you have given me. An opportunity to hold your hands," Rook murmured. Then, slowly, a daring grin grew on their face, "It's about damn time."

That cracked a smile out of him. They turned over his left palm, examining the hard-earned callouses and brought it to their own cheek with a soulful sigh. Lucanis was rooted. When their bare skin touched electricity shot through his muscles from the contact. The surface of his palm buzzed.

Tentatively, he ran his thumb across their umber skin. His core jumped, heart tripping over itself. The need flashed again in his mind. Scenarios were emerging endlessly in his imagination; pulling them in tightly, excusing himself back to the pantry, undress and writhe against them in front of the fire. He dared not act on any of them

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Lucanis Dellamorte," they interjected when they saw him breathlessly open his mouth. "Just know that I have you."

That was the first time they said his full name. Not Sir Crow or Master of Knives. It fell from their tongue so beautifully, he barely recognized it.

"You do," he croaked. They did. Ziya could ask Lucanis to ride a dragon into the Deep Roads at this moment and he wouldn't hesitate. If it meant being close enough to experience the warmth of their laugh and the kindness of their gentle eyes, he would do anything.

With a grasp on his hand, they guided his palm down their neck to the open collar of their loose tunic. Lucanis let his hand be led across their collarbone to their chest. He dared to even lightly drag his fingers with the movement. Ziya pressed their hand over his, above their heart. Their skin was warm, almost hot to the touch at this spot. A gentle beat knocked against his palm.

Lucanis' mind was frying and his face suddenly felt like someone took a torch to it. Soft, but sound. He was fairly sure his thumb was barely grazing their nipple. When he glanced up at Rook, they had that same sharp, roguish grin. They knew this, too. Of course they did.

He leaned in, pressing hard, in acceptance of this challenge. Their shoulder rocked slightly, but the mage held their ground. "You're impossible."

"You like it," they cajoled, eyes alight.

"I do."