#she mentioned it casually as part of another story and I was like HUH

[trans-yllz]

also found out today that my besties ex KISSED SOMEONE ELSE like a Year before they broke up and she just forgot to tell me?? girl I woulda told her to kill him

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Unwanted Wingman | LN4

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 summary ━━━━━━━ At a Christmas party, Y/N is encouraged to confess her feelings to Ed, but Lando interrupts, admitting that he likes her.

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.1k

London’s winter air carried the crisp chill of December, painting the streets with a blend of frosty mist and holiday cheer. Fairy lights twinkled from shop windows. Inside a warm and festively decorated flat in South Kensington, Y/N found herself amid the buzz of a Christmas party that swayed between cozy and chaotic. She had agreed to come last minute, swayed by the promise of mulled wine and a chance to see old friends.

The host, Max Fewtrell, had outdone himself. The room was decked out with garlands, a towering Christmas tree glittering with baubles, and enough food and drinks to cater a small army. It was packed with familiar faces, some she hadn't seen in years, and others who still graced her day-to-day life.

One of those faces was Lando Norris.

Lando, the golden boy of Formula 1, had a charisma that was impossible to ignore. He was dressed casually yet effortlessly stylish, his laughter echoing through the room as he animatedly told a story to a group of friends. Though he lived in Monaco now, his visits to the UK were frequent, as his close-knit circle and family remained rooted here.

Y/N and Lando weren’t strangers. In fact, they’d been part of the same extended friend group for years. He was the type to make everyone feel at ease, his boyish charm and wit drawing people to him like moths to a flame. They were friendly, but not close—at least, not in the way where they’d share secrets or seek each other out in a crowded room. Still, there was an undeniable comfort in his presence, like he was a part of the furniture in the tapestry of her life.

At that moment, though, Y/N wasn’t thinking about Lando. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of mulled wine in hand, talking to her best friend, Pietra.

“Okay, you have to tell him tonight,” Pietra whispered, her tone conspiratorial.

“Tell who what?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence but failing miserably.

Pietra rolled her eyes. “You know who. Ed. You’ve been crushing on him for months. You can’t keep staring at him from across the room like a lovesick teenager.”

Y/N groaned, her eyes darting to where Jamie stood near the Christmas tree, laughing at something another friend said. He looked annoyingly good in his navy jumper, the kind of effortlessly handsome that made her palms sweat.

“I can’t just tell him,” Y/N protested. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if he does, and then it gets weird?”

Pietra gave her a pointed look. “You’re overthinking it. Just talk to him. You’re both adults. It’s not that deep.”

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Lando had walked into the kitchen just in time to catch the tail end of their conversation. He wasn’t eavesdropping—at least, not intentionally—but the mention of Ed’s name caught his attention.

Ed? Y/N liked Ed?

Lando frowned, a pang of annoyance flashing through him. It wasn’t like he had a reason to feel that way. He and Y/N weren’t a thing. They weren’t even close friends. But the thought of her liking someone else, someone as boringly predictable as Ed, didn’t sit well with him.

Without thinking, Lando decided to intervene.

He sauntered up to the counter, his smile wide and mischievous. “What are we gossiping about, ladies?”

Y/N jumped slightly, her cheeks flushing. “Nothing. Just... stuff.”

“Stuff?” Lando teased, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously vague.”

Pietra smirked, catching on to Lando’s nosiness. “Y/N was just saying she has a crush on someone at the party.”

“Pietra!” Y/N hissed, her face heating up.

Lando’s smile faltered for a split second before he quickly recovered. “A crush, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’m an expert in these matters.”

“An expert in what? Meddling?” Y/N shot back, trying to deflect.

“Helping,” Lando corrected, his grin returning. “And lucky for you, I happen to be an excellent wingman.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “I don’t need a wingman.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Lando said smoothly. “But imagine how much faster things could move along with my help.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Lando had already decided he was going to wingman her—whether she wanted him to or not.

Lando’s first attempt at “helping” came not long after. Ed had moved to the makeshift bar in the corner of the living room, and Y/N had finally gathered enough courage to approach him. She was halfway across the room when Lando intercepted her path.

“Hey, Y/N!” he said, stepping directly in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to sidestep him.

“Just checking in,” he said innocently. “You looked like you were on a mission.”

“I was,” she replied, trying not to sound annoyed. “I was going to talk to Ed.”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with mock concern. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he’s... well, he’s kind of boring, isn’t he?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about? Ed’s not boring.”

“I don’t know,” Lando said, shrugging. “He just doesn’t seem like your type.”

“And what exactly is my type?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

Lando opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, seemingly at a loss. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “But it’s definitely not him.”

Y/N sighed, brushing past him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Lando’s next attempt was less direct but no less effective. Y/N had finally managed to corner Ed near the dessert table, and they were chatting amiably about holiday plans when Lando swooped in.

“Ed!” Lando exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “How’s it going, mate?”

Ed smiled, though he looked slightly confused by Lando’s sudden enthusiasm. “Good, thanks. You?”

“Oh, you know, living the dream,” Lando said breezily. “Hey, did you know Y/N here is absolutely terrified of eggnog? Like, she won’t even go near it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not—”

“Is that true?” Jamie asked, amused.

“No!” Y/N said firmly, shooting Lando a glare. “He’s making that up.”

“Am I?” Lando said, feigning innocence. “Remember that time at Pietra’s party last year? You practically bolted when someone brought out a pitcher of eggnog.”

“That didn’t happen!” Y/N snapped, her cheeks burning.

Ed chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange. “Well, I’ll make sure to keep any eggnog far away from you, just in case.''

Y/N groaned inwardly as Lando grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

By the end of the night, Y/N was frustrated beyond belief. Every time she’d tried to make progress with Ed, Lando had been there, either distracting her or derailing the conversation. It wasn’t until she caught him smirking after yet another failed attempt that it clicked.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she said, cornering him in the hallway.

Lando looked at her, feigning confusion. “Doing what?”

“Sabotaging me,” she accused. “Every time I try to talk to Ed, you show up and ruin it.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his playful demeanor fading slightly. “Maybe I am,” he admitted finally.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you with him,” Lando said simply.

The admission hung in the air between them, heavy and unexpected.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, her voice quieter now.

Lando hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t think he deserves you,” he said finally. “And maybe because I don’t want you with anyone else.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing she’d expected.

“That’s completely unfair,” she said softly, though her tone lacked conviction.

“Maybe,” Lando said, stepping closer. “But I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise of the party fading into the background. Then, before she could overthink it, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips brushing against his.

Lando froze, then quickly recovered, kissing her back with a mixture of surprise and relief.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks flushed. “You’re still the worst wingman ever.”

Lando grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe, but I’m the best at this.”

And for once, Y/N couldn’t argue with him.

The hallway suddenly felt quieter than it should have, given the lively party still going on in the next room. Lando leaned against the wall, his grin softening into something more thoughtful as he looked at Y/N. She crossed her arms, both as a way to steady herself and to process what had just happened.

“So, what happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tilted his head, his expression turning serious. “That depends. Are you going to keep pretending you like Ed, or are we going to talk about what’s actually going on here?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks still warm. “First of all, I wasn’t pretending to like Ed. He’s genuinely nice, and—”

“And completely not your type,” Lando interrupted, his smirk returning.

“Oh, so you’re the expert on my type now?” she shot back.

“Obviously,” he said, leaning a little closer. “Your type is witty, charming, and—oh—probably a racing driver who lives in Monaco.”

She scoffed, though she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, apparently,” he quipped, gesturing between them.

“Lando...” Her tone shifted, her expression sobering. “Are you serious about what you said earlier? About not wanting me with anyone else?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much of himself he was willing to put out there. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, I am. I didn’t realize it until tonight, but the thought of you with someone else—it just... didn’t feel right.”

Her heart skipped a beat, his honesty catching her off guard. “You’re not just saying that because of some weird possessive thing, are you? Because I’m not interested in being anyone’s... I don’t know, territory or whatever.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. I just... I’ve liked you for a while, I think. I didn’t realize it until I thought I might lose my chance.”

Y/N studied him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. She found none. Instead, she saw the same boyish charm she’d always known, but now layered with a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before.

“And what exactly are you proposing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m proposing,” he said, stepping closer, “that you give me a chance to prove I’m worth more than just being the worst wingman ever.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his earnestness, her heart softening despite her best efforts to remain skeptical. “You know, for someone who lives in Monaco, you’re making this pretty inconvenient for me.”

“Good thing I’m in the UK a lot, then,” he replied smoothly.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “That’s just typical of you,” she said with a playful eye roll.

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, his voice low.

“Debatable,” she countered, though the smile on her face gave her away.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

She pretended to think about it, drawing out the silence just long enough to make him sweat. Finally, she nodded. “It’s a yes. But if you sabotage me like that again, I’m out.”

Lando grinned, looking like he’d just won pole position. “Deal. No more sabotaging. Unless it’s for a really good reason.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but let him pull her into another kiss, the noise of the party melting away once more.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to a flurry of texts from Pietra.

Pietra: “OMG, what happened with Ed?? Did you tell him?!”

Pietra: “Wait, I saw you talking to Lando later. What was that about?”

Pietra: “Y/N, ANSWER ME. I NEED DETAILS.”

Y/N groaned, pulling the duvet over her head. The events of the previous night came rushing back, and she felt equal parts exhilarated and nervous.

Before she could respond to Pietra, her phone buzzed with another notification. This time, it was from Lando.

Lando: “Morning :) Just checking if you’re still cool with me being the worst wingman ever. Also, breakfast? My treat.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she typed back a quick reply.

Y/N: “You’re still the worst, but fine. Breakfast sounds good.”

Moments later, another message popped up.

Lando: “Great. Pick you up in an hour. Wear something warm. And no eggnog jokes, I promise.”

Shaking her head, Y/N climbed out of bed, a small smile playing on her lips. As much as she hadn’t seen it coming, there was something about Lando—something about them—that just felt... right.

For the first time in a long while, she felt excited about what might come next. And maybe, just maybe, being wing manned by the worst wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - part two

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

part one

Word count: 7k

Warnings: the usual angst and fluff, mentions of death

Masterlist

“Okay, so, how are we doing this?” Wanda asks, standing in the doorway of your room with her arms crossed, a playful grin on her face. “Are we going for casual chic or full-on ‘look what you’re missing out on’ vibes?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you fold a sweater and set it in your suitcase. “Wanda, it’s not like that. It’s just a trip to Brooklyn. He invited me so I’m going.”

“Uh-huh,” she teases, stepping into the room and rifling through the stack of clothes on your bed. “You haven’t even told him you’re coming. This isn’t just a trip—it’s a whole moment. You’ve got to be prepared.” She holds up a dress, raising an eyebrow. “This? Too much?”

You glance at the dress, biting your lip. “Maybe a little. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

Wanda tosses the dress onto a chair and picks up a pair of jeans instead. “Fine, but you should pack at least one outfit that makes you feel amazing. You know, for the moment when you show up and his brain short-circuits because you’re there.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Sure, it’s not,” she says, grinning. “But come on, you’re not even telling him? You’re just gonna show up at the airport and be like, ‘Hey, surprise, I made it’? Bold move.”

“I just… I don’t want to make it easy for him,” you admit, tucking a pair of boots into the side of the suitcase. “He sent the ticket, so I want to see his reaction. I don’t know, it just feels... more exciting this way.”

Wanda stops sorting through your clothes and gives you a knowing look. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course, I’m nervous,” you confess, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What if it’s weird? What if he regrets inviting me?”

“Not a chance,” she says, plopping down next to you. “This guy has been sending you letters, phone calls, and plane tickets. Trust me, he’s going to be thrilled. And you’re going to have the best time.”

You smile at her, feeling a little lighter. “Thanks, Wanda.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says, standing up and tossing another sweater into your suitcase. “Now, let’s make sure you’re packed and ready to knock his socks off.”

Bucky sits on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He’s been staring at his phone for the past ten minutes, willing it to buzz with a message from you.

Sam walks in from the kitchen, a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Alright, what’s up? You’ve been in that same position all morning. Did something happen?”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sent her a plane ticket.”

Sam stops mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Wait. You did what?”

“I sent her a ticket to come to Brooklyn,” Bucky says, sitting back and crossing his arms. “She mentioned her fall break was coming up, and... I don’t know, it just felt like the right time.”

“Man, that’s bold. I like it. But judging by the look on your face, you haven’t heard back yet?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing. I thought maybe she’d at least send a text or something. Now I’m thinking I overstepped.”

“Bucky, relax,” Sam says, sitting down across from him. “She’s probably just processing. You’ve been talking for months, right? She wouldn’t just ghost you over this.”

“What if I freaked her out?” Bucky mutters, running a hand through his hair. “What if it was too much?”

“Dude,” Sam says, leaning forward. “She’s been sending you letters, talking to you on the phone, sharing all this personal stuff. If anything, she’s probably just as nervous as you are. Give her time.”

Bucky nods slowly but doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“And in the meantime,” Sam adds, standing up and patting Bucky on the shoulder, “you should probably start getting this place ready. If she does decide to come, you don’t want her walking into this disaster zone.”

The guest room hasn’t been used in months but Bucky spends the whole week cleaning it out. He dusts off the shelves, changes the bedding, and even picks up a small plant from the store to set on the nightstand.

He moves through the rest of the apartment with the same energy, scrubbing the counters, vacuuming the rug, and organizing the books and papers that have been piling up on the coffee table. Every so often, he glances at his phone, hoping for a message from you.

When Sam walks back in later that night, he whistles, looking around the spotless living room. “Wow, you really went all out. This place actually looks... livable.”

Bucky smirks, tossing the cleaning rag onto the counter. “Hopefully not all for nothing.”

“She’s gonna show up,” Sam says confidently, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “And when she does, you’re gonna be glad you went for it.”

Bucky leans against the counter, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile. “Yeah. I hope so.”

But as the night before your flight is scheduled to arrive wears on and the silence stretches, he can’t help but feel a twinge of doubt. 

The airport is buzzing with life—announcements echoing overhead, the sound of luggage wheels, and the chatter of travelers all around. Your heart races as you weave through the crowd, gripping the strap of your bag so tightly your knuckles ache. Every step closer to the arrival gate feels surreal, like walking into a dream you’ve been building piece by piece for months.

You haven’t seen a picture of him, and the mystery somehow makes this moment feel bigger. As you turn the corner to the gate, your eyes sweep the area—and then you see him.

Bucky’s standing a few feet away, holding a small sign with your name on it, the letters scrawled in his handwriting. In his other hand is a bouquet of lilies, slightly rumpled, as though he’s been gripping them a little too hard. He’s shifting his weight nervously, his head turning every time someone walks past.

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s taller than you imagined, with broad shoulders and a scruffy jawline. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes.

You take a deep breath and step forward, your legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. As you approach, his eyes finally land on you—and something shifts. His body stiffens slightly, like he’s bracing himself, but then his gaze softens. You smile first and his lips curve into a nervous but genuine grin.

“Hi,” you say, your voice a little breathless as you stop in front of him.

Bucky blinks, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s not sure what to say. “You’re… here,” he finally manages.

“I wanted to keep it a surprise. Did it work?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, it definitely worked.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both stand there, staring at each other, the chaos of the airport fading into the background. His free hand brushes the back of his neck, a nervous gesture, and he holds out the flowers awkwardly. “Uh… these are for you.”

Your smile widens as you take them. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” he blurts out, then immediately flushes, looking away from your face and toward the ground.

You laugh, cheeks heating up from his admission. “You’re exactly how I pictured you,” you say, cutting off his rambling. “Maybe even better.”

He glances back at you, his smile a little shyer. “I could say the same.” Bucky shifts, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the exit. “Let me grab that for you.” He takes your luggage and leads you toward the exit. 

Once you make it to his car, he opens your door and you thank him softly. He packs your luggage in and starts the drive to his apartment. 

“I hope you’re okay with staying at mine. I have the guest room and Sam comes and goes all the time. I should warn you about him though. He’s excited to meet you.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” you say, glancing at him. “Your letters made it sound like your place has character. Besides, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to meet the infamous Sam.”

Bucky laughs, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sam’s loud, charming, and impossible to ignore.”

You smile, resting your head back against the seat. “Sounds like the complete opposite of you.”

He glances at you briefly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad,” you reply quickly, your tone light. “Just… you’re more calm. Steady. I can tell already.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips as he focuses on the road. After a moment, he asks, “What about you? Any quirks I should prepare for?”

You hum, pretending to think it over. “Well, I sing along to music—badly, I might add—especially when I’m nervous. So if I break out into a Taylor Swift song, just ignore me.”

Bucky chuckles, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing. “Noted. Guess I’ll have to test that theory later.”

The conversation flows easily after that, the nervous energy from earlier dissolves. He points out little landmarks as you drive through Brooklyn, like the park where he likes to run or the coffee shop he swears has the best bagels in the city. Each detail is another piece of his world unfolding in front of you, and you find yourself smiling more than you thought possible.

When you finally pull up in front of his apartment building, Bucky turns off the car and glances at you. “Ready?”

You nod, clutching the bouquet a little tighter. 

He steps out and grabs your bag from the trunk before leading you inside. The building has a quiet charm—slightly worn but full of character. As you climb the stairs, he pauses in front of the door, turning to you with a small, crooked smile.

“Just… don’t judge me too harshly, okay? I cleaned, but, you know… it’s still a bachelor pad.”

You laugh softly. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”

With that, he opens the door, and you step inside. The apartment is cozy and lived-in, with mismatched furniture. A stack of textbooks sits on the coffee table next to an empty mug, and a faded poster of a Brooklyn landmark hangs on the wall.

Before Bucky can say anything else, a voice calls out from the kitchen. “Bucky! Is that Y/N?!”

You glance toward the doorway, where a tall, grinning man appears, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“And that,” Bucky mutters under his breath, “is Sam.”

Sam strides over, his grin widening as he takes you in. “Well, well, so you’re the mystery pen pal. Welcome to Brooklyn!”

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through you at the easy, welcoming energy from Sam. “Thanks. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine,” Sam says, shooting Bucky a teasing look. “This guy’s been a nervous wreck all week. You’re even better in person, though. He did not oversell you.”

Bucky groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Sam, I swear to—”

You cut in with a laugh, holding up a hand. “It’s okay. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Sam grins, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, it was. You two have fun—I’m heading out, but don’t worry, I’ll interrogate you properly later.”

With that, he grabs his keys and leaves, leaving you and Bucky alone again.

Bucky clears his throat, looking sheepish. “Sorry about him. He’s a lot.”

You shake your head, smiling. “I like him. He’s… fun.”

“Yeah, he is,” Bucky hesitates, then gestures toward the kitchen. “You hungry? I figured I could cook, or we could order something. Your call.”

“Cooking sounds good,” you respond, following him and find a stool at the countertop and you sit down. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The morning comes quietly with sunlight slipping through the cracks of the blinds. You stir in the unfamiliar bed of the guest room, the faint hum of city noise filtering in through the window. For a moment, you forget where you are. But then it clicks—you’re in Brooklyn. In Bucky’s apartment.

A smile tugs at your lips as you stretch, the smell of coffee wafting through the air. You pull on a hoodie over your sleep shirt and pad out of the guest room. The living room is quiet, the soft sound of a spoon clinking against a mug drawing you toward the kitchen.

There he is.

Bucky’s standing at the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs, his hair still messy from sleep. He’s wearing a worn hoodie and plaid pajama pants, and you notice the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. He glances up when he hears your footsteps, his face breaking into a welcoming smile.

“Morning,” he rasps.

“Morning,” your smile mirroring his.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up yet,” he holds up the second mug. “Coffee?”

“Always,” you say, stepping closer to take it from him. The warmth of the mug seeps into your hands as you inhale the rich smell.

He leans against the counter, his fingers wrapped around his own mug. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Better than I thought I would,” you admit, taking a sip. “Your guest room is surprisingly cozy.”

Bucky chuckles, looking a little relieved. “Good. I was worried it’d be too… I don’t know, plain.”

“It’s perfect,” you assure him, setting your mug down on the counter. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re here.” There’s a pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. 

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “What's the plan for today? You did send me a whole map, after all.”

“Yeah, I might’ve gone overboard with that.”

“No way,” you say, shaking your head. “I loved it. But I’m leaving the itinerary up to you, tour guide.”

“Alright,” he says, a spark of excitement creeping into his voice. “We’ll start easy. Breakfast at my favorite coffee shop. Then maybe we’ll walk around Prospect Park. Unless…” He hesitates, his brows furrowing slightly. “Unless you’d rather take it slow today?”

“Hmm… breakfast sounds good. But don’t go easy on me, Barnes. I didn’t come all the way to Brooklyn to take it slow.”

“Alright. You asked for it.” With that, he backs away, walking toward his room. “Take your time getting ready. Meet you back out here in a few.” 

“Deal,” you say, watching as he disappears.

As you head back to the guest room to change, you can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation buzzing in your chest. Excited for the day ahead. 

The coffee shop is tucked away on a quiet side street downtown, its brick exterior softened by a canopy of ivy. A small chalkboard sign leans against the brick, announcing the specials of the day in cursive writing. Inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a soft strum of a guitar from the speakers overhead, capture your senses. 

“This is it,” Bucky says as he holds the door open for you. “This place has been here forever. My mom used to bring me and my sister here when we were kids while she did some work. They have the best coffee and muffins. No contest.”

Your eyes wander over the mismatched furniture and the worn wooden floor. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and every surface seems to hold charm—a vintage typewriter on a side table, a collection of postcards pinned to a corkboard near the counter, and fairy lights strung along the windows. 

“It’s perfect,” your voice soft as you take it all in.

Bucky leads you to a small table near the corner, where the sunlight filters through the window. 

“That’s where my mom used to sit,” he says, pointing to another table in the furthest corner. “She’d order the same thing every time—a black coffee and one of those cranberry scones they still make. She used to sit there with her sketchbook and just draw for hours.”

“You never told me your mom was an artist,” you add, leaning your head on your head, catching his eyes.

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She wasn’t, like, a professional or anything. But she loved it. Said it was her way of keeping sane while raising me and my sister.” His expression softens as he glances toward the counter. “She passed away a few years ago. I think that’s why I come here so much now—it reminds me of her.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” without much thought, your hand brushes against his on the table.

He looks down at where your fingers briefly touch before meeting your gaze again. “Thanks. She was… incredible. The kind of person who could see the beauty in anything. I think that’s why I like this place and Brooklyn so much. It’s where I felt closest to her, you know?”

You nod, glancing around again, this time with a deeper appreciation. “It’s like a piece of her is still here.”

“Exactly,” his voice is quieter now. After a beat, he leans back, trying to shift the mood. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s your order?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever you’re having is perfect,” you reply, smiling as he gets up to place the order. Watching him at the counter, you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest. It’s clear this place isn’t just a coffee shop to him—it’s a connection to his past, to his family, and to a part of himself he’s letting you see.

When he returns with two steaming mugs and a plate of two muffins, one chocolate chip and one blueberry, he sits down with a grin. “Alright, no pressure. I hope you like their coffee. If not, I might have to rethink everything.”

You laugh, taking a sip, and the warmth of the drink feels like an embrace on this cold, fall day. “Hazelnut. My favorite.”

Bucky’s grin widens as he picks up his own mug, blowing gently on the surface before taking a sip. “I remember you said that’s your favorite flavor. The candle you mentioned in one of your letters.” He glances at the muffins between you. “And blueberries, you said that’s your favorite fruit.”

Your heart flutters at his thoughtfulness. “You actually remembered that?” 

Bucky shrugs with a sheepish smile, his eyes flicking down to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. “Of course, I did. I like knowing the little things about people.”

For a moment, you’re speechless, warmth spreading through your chest. You tear off a piece of the blueberry muffin and pop it into your mouth, letting the sweetness mingle with the hazelnut coffee. “Okay, you’re officially right. This muffin is incredible.”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Told you. This place never disappoints.”

A few moments pass then Bucky glances toward the postcards pinned on the corkboard near the counter. “See those over there?” he points with his mug. “Customers leave those from all over the world. It started when the owners traveled to Europe and brought back a stack of postcards to decorate the place. Then people just started adding their own.”

“That’s amazing,” you crane your neck to get a better look. “Do you have one up there?”

“Yeah, from Coney Island. I left it there the day I moved out of my parents’ house. It felt… symbolic, you know? Like I was saying goodbye to one chapter and starting a new one.”

You sip your coffee, taking in the sentimental layers of this cozy shop. “Do you ever think about leaving Brooklyn?”

Bucky shakes his head immediately. “Not really. I mean, sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to live somewhere else, but Brooklyn’s always been home. It’s where my family is from, where all my memories are. I think I’m afraid if I leave, I’d lose that connection.”

You take another sip of coffee, letting his words settle in. “I get that. I’ve moved around so much that I don’t think I’ve ever really had a place that felt like home. I’ve lived in Oregon my whole life but never in one place for a long time. It must be nice to have a town you’re so familiar with and never want to leave.”

“It is,” Bucky admits. “But I think home isn’t always a place. It’s more about the people, the memories. Even if you don’t stay in one spot, you carry that with you.”

You smile, touched by the honesty in his words. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

Bucky leans forward, resting his arms on the table as his gaze locks onto yours. “Maybe this can feel like a little piece of home for you while you’re here. You know, if you let it.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his tone, and you find yourself nodding, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think it already does.”

After a while, Bucky leans back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edge of his mug. “You know, this place isn’t just about my mom. It’s kind of where everything clicked for me, too.”

“Clicked?” you rest your chin on your hand.

“Yeah, I used to come here after school when I was trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. For a while, it felt like everyone else had it all figured out, and I was just… stuck. My mom used to say, ‘Bucky, just sit still for a while. You can’t hear yourself think if you’re always running.’ So I’d come here, sit in that corner booth, and just… exist for a bit.”

“That’s when you decided on kinesiology?” you question, not wanting to disrupt his train of thought.

“Kind of. It started with me just doodling on napkins and people-watching. But then I started noticing patterns—how people moved, how they carried themselves. I realized I was fascinated by it, how the human body works and all the little ways it can go wrong or heal itself. It felt like a puzzle I wanted to figure out.” He smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Don’t be,” your voice earnestly. “I like hearing you talk about it. It’s… grounding. Like I’m seeing this part of you.”

His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the coffee shop and its patrons seem to fade away. “You’re good at that, you know,” he whispers.

“Good at what?”

“Making me feel like it’s okay to share this stuff. I don’t do that much, but with you…” He trails off, his lips twitching into a small, almost self-conscious smile.

You smile back. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you break off another piece of muffin and toss it into your mouth. “So you better get used to it.”

Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” you tease, taking another sip of the hazelnut coffee.

The crisp autumn air fills your lungs as you settle onto a hill beside Bucky, the grass cool beneath you. The pond below reflects the fiery colors of the trees, rippling gently as ducks glide across its surface. A group of kids toss breadcrumbs from the edge, their laughter carrying up the hill.

“I can see why you like it here,” you pull your knees close to your chest. “It’s peaceful.”

Bucky leans back on his hands and tilts his head up toward the sky. “Yeah, exactly. It’s like… no matter what’s going on, I can come here, and it just makes things feel smaller. In a good way.”

You glance over at him, noticing the way his features soften in the sunlight. “Did you come here a lot growing up?”

“Not as much as I wanted to,” he admits, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We didn’t live super close, and there wasn’t always time. But when I got older, I started making excuses to come out here. Even if it was just to sit and think. Especially after…” his gaze drops to the ground for a moment.

“After your mom?” 

He nods, his voice quieter now. “Yeah. She loved nature. Said it was the best place to find clarity. I think I started coming here to feel closer to her.”

Your chest tightens at his raw honesty. It’s sort of a different feeling from reading his letters about these kinds of emotions then hearing him speak about them in person. He never shared the details of his mom before so it’s striking to hear his voice waver slightly as he talks about her. “I think she’d love that you still find peace here.”

Bucky smiles at that, his gaze lifting to meet yours. “I hope so.” After a beat, he clears his throat and straightens up, as if brushing off the weight of the moment. “What about you? Is there a place back in Oregon that feels like this for you? Other than that cliffside you sent me.”

You consider it, brushing a stray leaf from your sleeve. “There’s this trail near my campus that I like. It’s not big or fancy, but there’s a bench at a secluded spot near the end of a row of trees lining the trail. I’d sit there with my notebook, trying to write something meaningful but usually just people watch as they walk by.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners and you make a mental note of that part of him. “Bet you came up with some good stories doing that.”

“Some,” you admit with a grin. “But mostly I just liked imagining what their lives were like. Where they were going, what they were thinking. I guess it’s my way of trying to understand people.”

Bucky looks at you for a long moment. “You’re good at that too.”

“What?”

“Understanding people. Seeing them for who they are or at least appear to be.” His gaze flickers to the pond, as if he’s said too much. “It’s rare. Most people don’t pay attention like that.”

The sincerity in his tone warms you more than the sunlight ever could. “I guess it takes one to know one,” you reply, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

He laughs, the sound low and easy. “Maybe.”

For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sounds of the park filling the space between you. When a breeze sweeps through, scattering leaves in your direction, you catch one midair and hold it up.

“Think it’s a sign?” you ask playfully.

Bucky leans closer to inspect the leaf, his expression mock-serious. “Definitely. It means we should grab hot chocolate before heading to the next stop on the map.”

You laugh, standing and brushing grass from your jeans. “I like the way you think.”

He grins, rising to his feet and stretching. “Good. Because the next place is even better.”

As you walk back toward the park’s entrance, Bucky falls into step beside you, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. You don’t need to ask where you’re headed next. Wherever it is, you know it’ll be just as special as this moment—because it’s with him.

The record store feels like stepping into another world—warm and intimate with nostalgia. The scent of aged vinyl wraps around the faint sound of a jazz record spinning in the background. The dim lighting gives the space a cozy glow, and the mismatched rugs scattered across the floor muffle your footsteps as you follow Bucky down one of the narrow aisles.

“You’ve got a pretty solid collection,” you comment on his records displayed at his apartment. “Do you come here a lot?”

“More than I probably should,” he admits, chuckling. “But hey, I’m a firm believer that you can never have too much music.”

You agree, letting your fingers skim over the spines of the records. Each one holding its own piece of history. When Bucky stops abruptly, you turn to see him pulling a record from the shelf, his expression lighting up like he’s just stumbled on buried treasure.

“This one,” he holds it for you to see. “My mom used to play this album all the time when we were kids. Sunday mornings, she’d put it on while making breakfast.”

You take the record carefully, tracing your thumb along the edge. “It’s like you’ve got a little piece of her right here.”

His gaze softens as he looks at the album. “Yeah. It’s funny how music does that—brings back moments you didn’t even realize you’d forgotten.”

You glance toward the corner of the store, where a small listening booth is tucked away. “Should we give it a spin?”

Bucky grins, his eyes lighting up. “Absolutely.”

He leads the way to the booth, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside first. It’s a snug space, barely big enough for the two of you. You put on a pair of headphones, handing Bucky the other pair. He carefully places the record on the turntable. There’s a small crackle as the needle drops, and then your ears are filled with the warm, soulful sound of the opening track.

As the music swells, Bucky leans back against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “She used to sing along to this one,” he remembers fondly. “Completely off-key, but she didn’t care. My sister and I would always roll our eyes, but now? I’d give anything to hear it again.”

You admire him as his eyes close and he mouths along to the lyrics. “Sounds like she had a lot of heart. And a lot of confidence.”

“She did,” his gaze is distant for a moment before it flickers back to you. “What about you? Any music your family used to play that stuck with you?”

You think for a moment, the jazzy melody filling the silence. “My dad used to play a lot of Johnny Cash. I didn’t think much of it back then, but now, whenever I hear it, it feels comforting. Funny how the things you don’t pay attention to at the time end up meaning the most later.”

“Guess that’s the magic of music.” 

As the song transitions to the next track, you glance at him. “You should sing along. For old time’s sake.”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, no. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Come on,” you tease. “I won’t judge. Much.”

He smirks, but as the chorus picks up, he hums along quietly, his voice low and a little raspy. It’s not perfect, but it’s full of feeling, and you find yourself smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“See? Not so bad,” you stare when he trails off, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. 

The two of you stand there for a while, the music wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a small moment, your eyes occasionally flutter to each other. When the album ends, Bucky carefully removes the record and slides it back into its sleeve.

“I think you should have this,” he holds it out to you.

“What? No, I can’t—this is your memory,” you protest.

He shakes his head, his gaze steady. “And now it’s ours. Besides, I’ve got plenty of memories of this place. This can be your first one.”

You take the record, your fingers brushing his briefly. “Thank you, Bucky. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will,” he says with a soft smile.

As you leave the shop together, the record tucked securely under your arm, you can’t help but feel like the music isn’t the only thing weaving its way into your heart.

The lights of Manhattan glimmer across the water as you walk along the Brooklyn Promenade, the noise of the city providing a comforting background to your conversation. Bucky leans against the railing. “So,” he breaks the comfortable silence, “How were finals?” 

You let out a small laugh, leaning your chin on your hand as you glance at him. “It was a lot. But I guess it was worth the chaos and sleepless nights.”

“Sleepless nights? I feel like those are just part of the college experience at this point. Let me guess—you pulled an all-nighter for a final project?”

“Guilty. My last paper was due for my literature class, and, of course, I couldn’t stop tweaking it until the last possible second. It’s always the same—I get an idea, and suddenly, I’m rewriting half of it.”

He tilts his head. “What was the paper about?”

“It was a character study on how grief shapes identity in modern fiction,” you explain. “It was personal, so I think that’s why I got so caught up in it.”

Bucky’s expression shifts as his gaze lingers on you. “Sounds like you put a lot of heart into it. Do you feel good about how it turned out?”

You exhale a small laugh. “I think so. My professor will probably tell me I overanalyzed it, but… yeah, it felt like something I needed to write.”

He leans his forearms on the railing, looking over at you thoughtfully. “Sometimes you just have to let it out, no matter how hard it is. Even if it’s just for yourself.”

You turn toward him, resting your elbow on the railing, your faces closer than you realize. “You must feel that way about kinesiology? How it’s become so personal to you.”

Bucky hesitates, his gaze briefly shifting to the skyline then back on you. “Yeah, I guess it does. After… everything that happened with my family, I wanted to understand how people recover. Physically, mentally, all of it. It’s not just about fixing what’s broken—it’s about finding strength in the process.”

“That’s… really brave, Bucky. To take something painful and turn it into something that helps others.”

He shrugs, but his blue eyes soften as they meet yours. “It’s not as noble as it sounds. Half the time, I feel like I’m fumbling through it. Anatomy, biomechanics—it’s a lot to learn.”

You smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Says the guy who casually runs marathons for fun. If you can do that, I’m sure you’ve got biomechanics figured out.”

His laugh is warm, easy sounding, that makes you smile wider. “Running’s just putting one foot in front of the other. You’re the one writing deep papers about grief, love and life. Don’t ask me to do that—I’d be lost after the first paragraph.”

“Fair enough,” you nudge his arm gently with your elbow. “But still, kinesiology suits you. You’ve got that whole ‘helping people’ vibe. Even if you try to hide it under the grumpy exterior.”

“Grumpy?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.”

“Hey!” you protest jokingly punching his arm softly. “I’m not grumpy. I’m selectively friendly.”

Bucky shakes his head and smiles as he stands up fully. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

You both have unconsciously drifted closer, shoulders brushing as your bodies lean against the railing. The city lights dance on the water but the moment feels far more intimate than the bustling backdrop.

“So, tell me more about Sam. He seems like a fun character to have around.” you add. 

He chuckles softly. “Sam. He’s a pain in my ass, but he’s the best. Always has my back, even when he’s giving me crap about, well, everything.”

“He sounds like a good guy. Is he always so… persuasive?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t take no for an answer. But he’s loyal. He’s been through a lot too, so I think that’s why we get each other.”

You catch the shift in his tone, the hint of something deeper, but you don’t want to push him to open up more. “My best friend’s kind of the same. Wanda, she’s loyal too. When we met, it was kind of like this, an instant connection. Like we knew each other from a past life or something.” 

“Sounds like she’s good for you. Someone who keeps you grounded.”

“She’s the kind of person who always knows when something’s wrong, even when I don’t say a word. Sam seems like that too, from what you’ve said.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers on you. “Yeah, It’s good to have someone like that. Someone who understands without you having to explain.”

You nod in agreement, eyes locked in with his. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without her. When things were rough at home, she was the one who reminded me I wasn’t alone. She’s like a sister to me, really.”

He leans a little closer, his shoulder pressing gently into yours. “Sounds like you’ve got a ride-or-die. Everyone needs one of those.”

“Yeah, she’s my constant,” you welcome his touch, leaning some of your weight against him too. “What about you? Besides Sam, do you have anyone else like that?”

“Probably my sister. Rebecca. She’s younger than me, but she always acts like the older sibling. After our mom passed, we leaned on each other a lot. She’s tough, but she’s got this soft spot when it comes to family. She’s in her junior year of high school, so still at home with our dad.” 

“She sounds amazing,” you state. “I wish I had a sibling to lean on like that.”

“She is,” his voice carries a warmth that matches his words. “She’d love to talk your ear off. She’s always been better at talking to people than me.”

You giggle, turning your head to look up at him. You can’t help but want to push the few strands of hair out of his eyes but you don’t feel brave enough. “I don’t know, you’re doing pretty well right now.”

“Guess I’m getting better at it.” His eyes meet yours, silence spreading between you as you get lost in each other's eyes. 

“Funny how life works,” you add quietly. “How people come into your life when you need them most, even if you don’t realize it at first.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, eyes glancing at your lips for half a second. He clears his throat and moves his gaze to the sky, trying to hide the heat that rushes to his cheeks. “Sometimes it’s the unexpected people who make the biggest difference.”

For a moment, the space between you feels smaller than ever. Neither of you says anything, just enjoying the closeness of each other. You glance at his side profile, watching the way the city lights reflect in his pale blue eyes. 

Without realizing it, your hand inches closer to his by your side, your fingers brushing lightly. The contact sends a spark through you, but neither of you pulls away. Instead, Bucky’s hand shifts slightly, his pinky hooking gently around yours. 

In that moment, standing side by side with the city stretching out before you, it feels like the start of something you both have been craving for. 

On the way back to his apartment, Bucky pulls you toward a food truck parked on the corner. “Best late-night falafel in the city,” he promises, handing you a napkin as you both stand in line.

The two of you eat as you walk back to his place, walking slowly as Bucky shares his comfort food with you. The falafel is warm and crispy, and you can’t help but laugh when a bit of sauce drips onto your sleeve.

“Told you it was worth it,” Bucky says, grinning but grabs your wrist, wiping the sauce off with his spare napkin.

“I’ll give you this one,” you reply, smirking. “But don’t get used to always being right.”

His laugh echos all around you and it’s becoming your new favorite sound. 

As you both continue walking, the city’s energy buzzes in the background—car horns in the distance and the occasional bark of a dog. Bucky glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his grin still lingering as he tosses the napkin into a nearby trash can.

“You know,” he says, his tone lighter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat falafel with as much enthusiasm as you just did.”

“What can I say? Good food deserves to be appreciated. Besides, you talked it up so much, I had to see if it lived up to the hype.”

“And?” he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s... okay,” you tease, drawing out the last word.

He stops walking, his hand pressing dramatically to his chest as if he’s been mortally wounded. “Just ‘okay’? You’re killing me, here.”

You laugh again, stopping to face him. “Fine. It was incredible. Best falafel I’ve ever had. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replies, his smirk widening as he circles your arm around his, surprising you but you don’t protest. 

By the time you reach his building, the city feels quieter, the streets less crowded. As you step inside, the warmth of the lobby washes over you. You didn’t realize how much colder the night got with Bucky beside you. 

As you walk up the few flights of stairs, the silence between you is comforting.

As he unlocks the door, he glances back at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks for spending the day with me. It was... good.”

“Good?” you echo, raising an eyebrow as you step inside. “I’m pretty sure I made it great.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he closes the door behind you. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

You settle back onto the couch as he heads to the kitchen to grab a couple of waters. When he returns, he hands you a bottle and sinks into the space beside you, the day’s memories hanging between you like a warm blanket.

“You’re not as grumpy as I thought,” you shoot him a teasing glance.

“Selective grumpiness,” he corrects, smirking as he leans back. “You’re just lucky you bring out the better side of me.”

His words, though teasing, carry a sincerity that makes your heart skip. The evening feels like the perfect end to the most perfect day.

part three

Thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog or comment below, I love hearing your thoughts and feedback!

[corzydoie]

Plain Sight: Pt. 2 - Cracking Silence

Author's Note: I said I was going to publish this in the same week as part one but a bunch of huge plans started coming at me at once. BUT HERE IT FINALLY IS! You can probably tell that I am a former K-Pop stan by the way I write the media and fans in this story.

Summary: Amid growing scrutiny from the public, Fernando and Y/n navigate the challenges of being apart and maintaining a deeply private relationship while under the curious eyes of an ever looming public presence.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning(s): A Few of the Drivers Are (Jokingly) Rude, Mentions of Stalking, Overbearing Journalists, Kinda Shit but Hopefully Still Enjoyable!

Don't Forget to Interact and Follow! Hope You Enjoy!

The next evening, the drivers gathered around the private dining area of a local restaurant. The atmosphere was casual, a little less formal than usual, as they all relaxed after a busy weekend. The clink of silverware and laughter mixed with the soft hum of conversation, but something felt different.

Carlos, ever the chatterbox, leaned back in his chair, poking fun at Lando for yet another lost bet during a game they’d played earlier and slightly tipsy from the wine he’d been nursing. “You know, it’s funny,” he began, a sly grin on his face, “Fernando is even more secretive now. I saw his partner last night, at the sustainability event. Can’t say I saw that coming.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the table fell into a stunned silence. They all turned their attention to the eldest driver as he slowly lifted his gaze from his phone–a faint smile dropping from his features.

Lando, who was still nursing his drink, nearly spat it out. “What do you mean, his partner? You’re saying he’s got someone on the side?” he asked, his eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets.

Carlos froze, realizing what he’d just done. He shot a panicked glance at Fernando, whose eyes were narrowed as he carefully pocketed his phone.

“No, no,” Carlos quickly corrected, “I didn’t mean it like that. He–he’s been seeing someone, for a while now. Didn’t want to say anything, but I saw her last night at the event. She was there.” Despite Carlos’ attempt at a cover, Fernando still seemed annoyed at the information he let slip past his lips.

Max, leaning forward, raised an eyebrow. “Someone? Seriously? That’s news.” He looked at Fernando, whose face had gone completely neutral. “Guess that explains a lot. I have noticed your recent attachment to your phone,” Max added, more to himself than anyone else.

“And how he seems to be sneaking back into his driver room,” Lance finally spoke. “Or out of the paddock like he’s in a rush to go home,” Ocon built off, allowing everyone else to overlap their observations of Fernando’s strange behavior.

“Is she nice?” Lewis intervened, the question coming out more genuine than prying. “I haven’t heard you mention anyone, mate.”

Fernando let out a small sigh, trying to manage the tension in the air. He wasn’t expecting the conversation to veer into this territory so quickly. “It’s complicated,” he muttered, looking down at his plate. “We’re still figuring things out.”

The table fell quiet, and the younger drivers began to whisper among themselves in their corner, with Lando and Yuki exchanging looks.

“No way,” Lando said, half-laughing. “Fernando Alonso has a girlfriend? That’s rich. How old is she though? Like, a lot younger, I’m guessing?”

Fernando glanced up, locking eyes with Lando. His tone became more serious, though it held no real anger. “It’s not like that, Lando. But I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourselves. It’s private.”

Liam, a bit used to getting on Fernando’s nerves, smirked. “She’s young, huh? I bet she’s younger than all of us if he’s trying to keep it a secret. You old man,” he teased, nudging Lando.

Lando snorted. “She probably doesn’t even know who he is outside the car.”

At that, the table erupted into laughter, but Fernando remained stoic. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes, not about this, not about her. But there was little he could do to stop it now.

Max, sensing the tension, tried to redirect the conversation. “You know, if this is all that’s going on, you’ve got to tell us, mate. We’re your friends. But I get it. You’re keeping it lowkey.”

George nodded in agreement. “And who knows, maybe she’s just someone you met recently. There’s no harm in keeping things private. But if she’s with Fernando, it’s probably ‘cause she wants to be. I’d say he’s just lucky” he directed toward the rowdy youngsters.

The rest of the evening went on in a blur, with Fernando answering more questions about his change in behavior than he would’ve liked. He wasn’t lying when he said things were complicated. Y/n wasn’t just someone he met last week or a fleeting romance–it was deeper than that. But for now, it had to stay between the drivers.

-

The next few days were a whirlwind of media attention. Fernando had noticed the shift–how the journalists seemed more interested in his personal life than usual. Questions he could dodge easily were now piercing through, like arrows aimed straight at him. It started with casual mentions, but the reporters quickly latched onto the idea of something changing, something new, and they were persistent.

“Fernando, you’ve been spotted at a cafe recently, looking quite cozy with a woman,” one reporter asked him during a press conference. “Who is she? Is there a special someone in your life?”

He deflected the question with practiced ease. “There’s nothing to say about my personal life,” he replied, though it sounded rehearsed. “I’m here to talk about racing, not who I spend my time with.”

Another journalist, sensing his discomfort, pressed further. “We’ve seen a shift in your behavior lately. Any chance you’re keeping something from the public?”

Fernando clenched his jaw but held his ground. “I’m here for F1. Let’s talk about the race, alright?”

But the damage was done. The rumors were already spreading like wildfire. Fans, always quick to dissect every detail, caught onto the subtle shifts in Fernando’s behavior. They noticed the way he would look at his phone more frequently, and the small smile he had when his mind wandered. It wasn’t long before a popular F1 fan account posted photos of Fernando and Y/n from the cafe date.

Luckily, the photos were taken just after she turned to face her boyfriend, her face just out of  sight. Unluckily, each photo contained a hand hold, arm rub, or loving look from Fernando–a relationship beyond professional clearly evident.

The pictures spread and were quickly shared among fan pages and forums, where speculations ran wild. A few hours later, gossip about the mysterious woman who’d stolen Fernando Alonso’s heart was everywhere.

Yet, neither Fernando nor Y/n said a word. They’d agreed–no official statements, not yet. Y/n was busy working, and Fernando was away at another race, just trying to keep his mind focused. They needed time to process the growing attention and decide how they wanted to navigate it.

But silence only made the media more desperate. Almost every question from the public was about the rumors, each more insistent than the last. They asked about the woman in the photos, about their relationship, about everything Fernando wanted to keep hidden.

At the next race, Y/n and Fernando were apart, working in different corners of the world. But Fernando’s mood was different. There was a constant edge to his focus, the kind he hadn’t felt before. He was aware. Now more than ever, of the eyes on him. He couldn’t get lost in the rhythm of the race as easily. There was a new weight on his shoulders.

Meanwhile, the fan page continued to track every moment. From cafe dates to casual outings, old or new, they posted pictures and shared clips–anything that seemed like a hint. Fernando could tell things were starting to escalate, and not in the way he wanted.

Y/n, seeing the constant updates, felt the pressure too. It wasn’t just the media anymore–she began to notice subtle things: a car parked outside her apartment one day, a flash of someone’s camera catching them in the distance when they were out. Her discomfort grew.

“What are we going to do?” she asked Fernando during one of their late-night calls.

“We’re going to stay quiet. For now, that’s the best we can do,” Fernando said, though his voice was tight with frustration. “We’ll address it when we’re ready.”

But the longer they stayed silent, the more the rumors thrived. The fans were relentless. The journalists were relentless, and Fernando could feel himself slowly unraveling under the pressure.

As the weeks dragged on, Fernando found himself getting more withdrawn and more cautious. He became hyper-aware of every glance, every whispered conversation. It wasn’t just the media now–it was the feeling of being watched that made him uneasy. He had to keep up the facade and pretend he was fine, but it was getting harder.

Then, one day, Y/n called.

-

The sun dipped low over the city skyline, casting long shadows along the pavement as Y/n pulled her scarf tighter around her head. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, the most distinct feature on her face. She had grown used to this routine–blending into the crowd as she slipped out for groceries or a walk along the quieter parts of town, always careful, always watching.

It started subtly. A flicker of movement in the corner of her vision, a familiar silhouette that didn’t seem to fade. She chalked it up to paranoia at first, unable to see why someone would want to spend their time following her. But as the weeks stretched and Fernando remained tied up in back-to-back races, the unease settled in her bones.

Her social media presence remained carefully curated, a private Instagram and a TikTok containing little to no identifying info. Environmental campaigns, soft glimpses of her life–nothing too personal. Never anything that revealed too much. But tonight, as she sat curled on the couch scrolling absentmindedly, her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest.

There it was. A post of her face.

It wasn’t from a major outlet, nor a tabloid. It came from the fan account, one that had gained traction in recent weeks for “spotting” Fernando’s whereabouts. A photo of her, crossing the street. Her face turned just enough that the angle caught her profile. Her eyes, unmistakably hers, stared back at her from the screen.

Y/n felt her stomach tighten, her breathing shallow. She swore she had been careful. But the photographer caught her in a vulnerable state without her sunglasses–having removed them for a wipe down.

She steered clear of the comments as they rolled in quickly, speculating, dissecting, demanding answers.

By the final weekend of the triple-header, Y/n’s nerves were frayed. She recognized the figure now–the faded blue jackets, always just a few paces behind whenever she left the apartment. They weren’t aggressive, never approached, but their presence loomed.

As the day stretched into evening, she locked the front door twice before pacing the length of the living room. The hum of the television played in the background, but her mind raced elsewhere.

Her fingers hovered over her phone for a long moment before she pressed the call button. It rang twice before Fernando’s tired but familiar voice filled the line.

“Amor?” His voice softened immediately, the static of the paddock faint behind him. “Everything okay?”

Y/n hesitated, swallowing the knot in her throat. “I think someone’s been following me.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by the soft sound of his footsteps. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just…there was a post of me online. Someone’s been taking photos.”

Fernando’s tone darkened instantly. “I’ll handle it. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll book a flight back after the race.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered, though a part of her longed for him to.

“I’m not letting you deal with this alone. I’ll call someone to watch your place tonight. Just…stay inside, okay?”

Y/n nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “I will. I just needed to hear your voice.”

Fernando exhaled, softer this time. “I’m with you, even if I’m not there right now. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

As the call ended, Y/n pulled the blanket tighter around her. The presence outside lingered, but for the first time all day, she felt a little less alone.

But on the other side of the world, Fernando’s heart sank. He knew this moment was coming. They couldn’t stay hidden forever, and his own doubts were creeping in.

Written By: CorzyDoie <3

Don't Forget to Interact and Follow! Hope You Enjoyed!

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

He Fell First (She Fell Harder)

A You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes (I'm Not a Game You Want to Lose) Oneshot

Past!Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The Five times Bitsie couldn't keep her eyes (and thoughts) off Jake and the One time Jake couldn't keep his eyes off Bitsie.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: This fic encompasses the entire timeline of the events happening in You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes. As such, there are mentions of cheating, some cursing, sex, sexual themes, as well as a look into Bitsie's mental state during the rough non-consensual sex mentioned in Love Has No Limits, Part Two of the main story.

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 7202 

A/N: Hi All! So remember when I mentioned I wasn't ready to let Jake and Bitsie go when I ended the main series? Here we are! I'm so happy to share this new installment in their story with you all! It's also my first time writing a 5 plus 1 style fic, so I hope you all love it.

A lot of this story will not make sense if you've not read the main part of the series linked below.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for reading over this oneshot as I was trying to figure out how to write a 5 plus 1 style fic!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

1. Before Bradley Bradshaw

You're not sure why the blond on the other side of the aisle at the Commissary is staring at you. He's beautiful. You know that for a fact because you have eyes, and you're a little weak at the knees at the sight of how he fills out his khaki uniform. He’s probably only staring because you're a mess, with your hair in a messy bun, standing in the commissary wearing a ratty, holey T-shirt and ripped-stained jeans. Moving sucks. It feels like your spine is just stretching out again after hours in the car. Honestly, you’re not sure why you decided to have all your things shipped to Lemoore instead of directly to North Island. Three trips in your car later, and you’ve got everything you need with you, but you now have an avalanche of boxes waiting in your living room to unpack.

Your entire life in boxes is another reason you’d retreated to the commissary. It’s already 6 in the evening, and you want nothing more than to eat something and flop onto the sofa for the night. You’re hoping, at the very least, to pick up a few important groceries, such as milk, bread, eggs, and cheese, to tide you over until you can run to Whole Foods or Wegmans off base. It’s as you’re debating what type of cereal you should buy that the blond first catches your attention. It’s a Wednesday, and there are a surprisingly large number of khaki-clad navy personnel walking up and down the aisles collecting items they need. You’re probably one of the few in casual clothing, but that doesn’t warrant his staring.

It takes far too much effort to turn your attention back to the two cereal boxes in your hands. You can still feel the prickle of his gaze against the back of your neck.

“Y’know, if you’re deciding between Honey Bunches of Oats and Frosted Mini Wheats, I have to tell you that you’re probably thinking too hard.”

You startle, fumbling with the boxes, and stumble back into a broad, firm chest. His laughter is warm and musical as he steadies you with big, warm hands. 

“I’m sorry.” You’re flushed and hoping that you’re not as sweaty and disgusting as you feel with this Adonis of a man so close to you.

“I startled you, huh?” His grin is crooked and wicked, making you grin sheepishly.

“Yeah, you kind of did.” You turn and gesture at the cereal boxes. “So, what makes you think you know the best cereal?”

“Well, I've been eating it my whole life, you know?” His eyes seem to twinkle as he responds.

“So have I. I happen to like Honey Bunches of Oats, you know?”

“All that tells me, gorgeous, is that you haven't put something truly delicious in that pretty little mouth before today.”

You squeak a little because you're not sure you've ever been so close to a man before.

“So, I would suggest Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sweet and spicy, just like you are.”

You can feel yourself flush, even as he reaches past you, pulls the correct cereal box from the shelf, and places it in your cart.

“See you around, beautiful. I hope you enjoy your time on North Island.”

You’re a flustered mess as you checkout at the counter several moments later. You think about this flirty stranger as you unpack your house and put everything away for the rest of the week and most of the weekend. A part of you isn’t sure how to handle such casual flirting. Could that stranger have been serious? Did he actually want to see you around North Island? Or was that just something he was saying to be kind?

2. Befriending the Daggers

As silly as it seems, you feel like you can taste cinnamon sugar on your tongue when you and your team are introduced to the Dagger Squad in one of the hangars at North Island.

The reason why is simple. The blond who had been haunting your thoughts all weekend is standing at attention in the front row. His cocky smirk makes your knees weak, and you’re sure that his eyes on you make you stutter as you introduce yourself. Throughout that first briefing, you can feel his gaze track across your form as you take notes in your spiky hand. You think you see him smirk when your hand cramps, and you need to shake your fingers out. Still, it catches your attention in a fleeting moment, not keeping it for longer than a few seconds before the briefing grabs you again.

What follows is a day full of briefings, the problem with the laser targeting system setting your mind ticking into overdrive. Looking at the faces of the others on your team, you can see hints of the same curiosity and the same drive to solve this problem. Of course, it would be asking a bit much to be able to view the plane telemetry data and hardware logs and hear the comms recordings so soon after your introduction to the team. Something tells you you’ll have to wait for that. 

“So, you’re joining us for drinks, right?” It’s one of the female lieutenants, Trace, you think her name is, who invites you out. “We go to this little place on the beach called The Hard Deck. Penny’s amazing!”

“You should join us, Bitsie!” His voice sounds just as good in the hangar as at the commissary, if a bit less worn and tired. The nickname is new, but coupled with the grin he’s leveling in your direction, you’re willing to accept it. You smile sweetly at the blond as he walks up behind Lieutenant Trace. 

“I’m Jake, Jake Seresin. How’d you like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Before you can respond, though, Trace muscles her way back into the conversation. “Stop making her feel awkward, Bagman.”

You smile gently over her shoulder at Jake as Natasha walks you away, talking a mile a minute. The Hard Deck is a surprisingly homey place. It’s warm and brightly lit, smelling of lemon polish and faintly of yeasty beer. It bothers you a little bit how Natasha doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Jake’s been waiting, sweetly, this whole time. You want to thank him for his cereal recommendations. But she’s introducing you to the others, and you're actually having fun.

Before long, you find yourself in a circle of women, and you’re surprised by how nice it feels. Mara, you've known and worked with for years, but you've never been close. Callie and Natasha are like two sides of the same coin. Both of them are whip-smart and take no shit. They’re the perfect counterparts to you and Mara.

 Looking back, you've never really had many female friends. Most of your colleagues are males, males who don't want anything to do with you outside of seeing you every day and inevitably getting shown up by you. So it’s nice standing at one of the bar’s high-top tables while getting to know your new colleagues and hopefully your new friends.

You’re laughing and smiling, vacantly swaying to the song's beat pouring out of the jukebox when the song cuts out. You startle, then hum as you hear the plunking of keys from the piano on the other side of the bar. When you’d walked in, talking to Natasha, you’d thought the piano was just an ornament, something defunct and unplayable. The tune leaves the wooden instrument echoing with age.

Natasha crows with glee at the sound; all the Daggers roused into a festive mood in moments. “C’mon, you two! You’re in for a real treat tonight!”

The raspy voice that starts singing melds beautifully with the old instrument, lustily belting the words of an old song into the air. It seems to be a normal occurrence. As Natasha dances and pulls you into the fray surrounding the piano, you feel relaxed enough to dance along awkwardly in her wake. The other Daggers are arrayed in a half-moon around the back of the piano, facing a man with auburn curls wearing a cheerful printed shirt. You recognize him as one of the Daggers you haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s feeling the jazzy beat of the song as his fingers dance across the yellowed ivory keys. 

When he peers over the rims of his RayBans, his eyes meet yours. In that instance, the world stops because his smile takes your breath away. You’ve never felt this seen, this beautiful. His eyes sparkle, the color of the whiskey in the glass atop the glossy wood of the piano. You’ve never heard this song before, but damn, if you don’t want to learn the lyrics via osmosis just to see him smile at you for singing along. You’re not sure when the song ends, or even that it does, notes echoing in the suddenly quiet expanse of your mind. You swallow when he stands up from the bench and downs the watered-down whiskey, tracking a droplet of the amber liquid as it drips down his neck. You have to remind yourself to be cool, to avoid glancing at his mouth as he swaggers up to you.

“Hi,” His voice is like woodsmoke, dark and gorgeous as it drips into your ears. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, but you can call me Rooster. I’m one of the Daggers, but if I’d met you before now, I’m not sure I would forget.”

“Bradley…. Bradshaw?” You’re not sure when Natasha, Callie, and Mara moved away, but when you look, you’re all alone in the corner of the bar with just Bradley Bradshaw for company. 

“It’s a family name.” He drags one of his big hands through glistening curls, his bicep bunching alluringly in the frankly silly shirt he’s wearing. “My dad wanted the alliteration. My mom loved him too much to say no. So here I am.”

“It sounds like you love them a lot.” 

His smile falters at your earnest words, a frown dipping his lips down for a few seconds before the smirk rises back into place. “Yeah, I did.”

Your mind churns, because you feel like you’ve pressed unwittingly onto a still un-healed old wound. You feel like you should apologize, like you have to apologize, but he doesn’t let you. The play of emotions on his face is lightning-fast. Before you can think, he’s already leading you to the next conversation topic: you.

“But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.” 

You flush and let your life story, a highly edited version, drip off your tongue. You’ve never felt like this before. You feel seen and inexplicably gorgeous, faced with a six-foot-tall man whose eyes seem to see right through you. He makes you feel giddy. 

“What’re you doing tucked away in this corner with Bradshaw, Bitsie?” Jake’s voice makes you smile in a completely different way than when Bradley was making you giggle earlier.

“We were just chatting, Jake.”

“Yeah, Bagman.” It surprises you to see the nearly cruel look on Bradley’s kind-looking face. “We were just chatting. Piss off.”

Jake lifts his hands as he backs away, though you don’t miss how he mouths, “Later, pretty girl” to you over Bradley’s shoulder. You don’t miss the frown creasing on his handsome face, either.

“Does he call you Bitsie often?” Bradley sounds surprisingly concerned as he curls one of his big hands around your waist.

“He just started today.” 

Bradley’s face makes you bite your lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me, Bradley. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” You can hear the rumble of his voice in your chest as he leans closer. “Sweetheart, he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t take you or your job seriously. He took your cute, little introductory speech and turned it into a mockery!”

“He isn’t making fun of me, Bradley.”

“Yeah, he is, sweetheart.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “Bagman makes fun of everyone and everything. He doesn’t know how to give a compliment seriously if he tries.”

“He’s just going to hurt you, gorgeous.” 

“No, he’s not.” You scoff.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You turn as bidden, expecting to see Jake looking at you with that same sweet look on his face. Instead, what you see is Jake smirking down at a gorgeous willowy blonde with big boobs and sweet, dainty features. 

You, in your frumpy little business casual pants set, look terrible in comparison. When his eyes rise to meet yours, the smile falls a little, but it grows into something smarmy and ingenuine as his eyes meet the man standing behind your shoulder.

“See, sweetheart? The man flirts just to flirt. That’s all he means when he calls you Bitsie. He’ll flirt and then go home with someone else. You’re not his type. But luckily, you’re mine.”

His words make you smile, and you devote the brunt of your attention to Bradley Bradshaw again. You can feel the itch of eyes on you all night long. But when you sneak furtive glances over your shoulders at where Jake is standing with that blonde bimbo draped all over him, his attention always seems to be on her. But you can still feel the itch of his gaze in between your shoulders. 

3. Dating Bradley Bradshaw

After that first night, you keep a close eye on the Daggers, especially how they interact with each other. Jake Seresin always seems to be on the outskirts of the group. Only Coyote goes out of his way to include Jake. Even when he is a central part of the conversation, Hangman seems to prefer biting commands and witty repartee, which doesn’t endear him to his squadron. You hear them all, though, noting the jokes that are so sly and cerebral that they pass the others by. You notice his concern, the tightly wound worry in every muscle as he tries his best to ensure everyone comes back home safe and sound, even in the midst of training.

Something about his attitude still bothers you, though. Or maybe it’s how he always insists on calling you Bitsie instead of your name. He can’t seem to bring himself to give you any respect, either, and it’s starting to piss you off. If you didn’t know differently, you’d assume Jake Seresin didn’t believe you belonged here, working on this team and completing vital work for the Pentagon and the US Navy. So, you dread walking into the pilot’s ready room on base for coffee. You’ve been dragging all day, and you have it on good authority that the pilot’s ready room has the best coffee on base. 

Well, your thermos from home is empty, and you could use the pick-me-up, so you head over there, hoping you can avoid Jake Seresin. All you want is a decent cup of coffee before you’re back to staring at flight diagnostics until your eyes bleed.

The ready room is quiet, barring the ever-present roaring hum of jet engines in flight, and to your satisfaction, there is a pot of coffee waiting for you. You sniff at its contents, a little disappointed because there’s only enough for half a mug once you’ve assured yourself of its relative freshness. You make your mug happily, doctoring it to your satisfaction and taking the time to look around. Bradley and Nat have told you about the days they've spent here between hops while training for the Uranium Mission. The walls are covered in pictures, and you take the time to examine them as you sip your coffee.

When the radio flickers on with an echoey buzz as it connects to the comms of the jets in flight, you startle and whirl around.

“If you’re looking for the Chicken, he’s up in the air.” You have to fight to keep your dismay from showing on your face. You must be at least a little unsuccessful since there is an imperceptible smirk growing on Hangman’s face as he looks at you from one of the sofas. “At least you’ve found the coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee on base, after all.” 

You refill your mug and try your best to ignore Hangman. But when you go to take another sip, you’re met with only the dregs at the bottom of your mug. There’s silence between you as you scramble into the cupboards, looking for the fresh coffee. When you measure the beans into the grinder and fire the grinder up, you deliberately avoid looking for the aviator lying supine on the sofa. You find a modicum of your composure as you measure the grinds into a new filter and fill the carafe of the coffee maker with fresh water. You hit the buttons decisively and hum appreciatively as the scent of fresh bitter coffee wafts from the pot. From the radio set, you can hear Phoenix and Bob on the comms, mostly Bob, as he clues his pilot onto unseen perils in the sky. On occasion, you can hear Phoenix’s measured tone and Bradley’s rough rasp, too.

“So, Bitsie, how do you take your coffee?”

 You startle, sending crystals of sugar skittering across the countertop as Hangman’s voice gets even closer to you than it was before. You’re always impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew, so you always add the creamer and sugar to the bottom of your mug before pouring in the coffee. Hangman chuckles when he sees the sugar dripping lazily out of the torn open packet in a glittering stream. 

“Sugar, huh?” He pushes you away and begins to wipe the sticky substance away but stops once he sees the bottom of your mug. “Fuck, Bitsie, do you pour any coffee into your mug at all?”

“Oh, trust me,” you snap, on the defensive at the sound of his voice so close to you, “I desperately need the caffeine to put up with you, after all.”

Something about the joking look on his face fades away at your tone, though the smile doesn’t. 

“I drink my coffee black, you know?” He chuckles, leaning against the counter as he holds your mug hostage on the other side of him. “I like my coffee hot and full-bodied, a little bitter, but oh, so smooth on my tongue.”

He takes two measured steps into your space. With how close he is, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne and the bitter tang of jet fuel. “Coincidentally, I like my women like that too.”

“And how do they like you?” One of his eyebrows rises at your statement. “Your women, Bagman. How do they like you?”

“Oh, honey.” He grins as he fills the mug up and turns around. “I promise they don’t have any complaints.”

He sips insolently out of your mug, tongue lapping at the traces of coffee left on the spoon he used to stir the steaming beverage before handing the mug filled with hot liquid back to you. Your mind stutters as Jake Seresin stares you down like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “Your coffee isn’t half bad either, Bitsie.” You can feel the warmth of his touch where his fingers brush against yours. “A little sweet, but it figures when the drinker is as sweet as you are.”

When you sip from the mug with your face on fire, it tastes even better than when you make it for yourself. You slip out of the room when a crackle of feedback attracts Jake’s attention. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in your chair and staring at the after-action reports of the Uranium Mission that you’re placing your mouth exactly where his was in an indirect kiss. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you find your mind tracking to green eyes and a sweet smile bared genuinely in your direction. Your brain feels like a stuck record, trapped futilely in the crosshairs of his gaze from when he’d been teasing you about your coffee preferences.

Worse than the bonfire lighting up in your stomach, there’s the guilt swarming in your belly after what happened. What happened with Jake in the ready room could classify as cheating, right? You’re not exactly sure because you’re not the most experienced. You also don’t want to tell Bradley because what if you have been unfaithful to him? You can’t confide in Natasha either, because she’s Bradley’s best friend. 

Suddenly, your coffee goes from tasting like god’s ichor to tasting like ash on your tongue. Fucking Jake Seresin. Why did he have to go out of his way to make your life miserable?

4. A North Island Night Out

The more time you spent around Bradley Bradshaw, the more it felt like you could fall in love. Bradley’s sweet and kind, and he never once makes you feel bad about your career choice. Sometimes, in those long afternoons stuffed inside a hangar with ceiling fans barely pushing at stagnant air, you wish you could say the same about Jake Seresin. The worst part is how he has reasons to be as cocky and arrogant as he is. He flies his jet like a man possessed, or maybe like a man with nothing to lose. Some of you can’t help but wonder what you would have faced if you'd been going out with Jake instead of Bradley. You're not sure you would have been enough to change his ways.

Bradley, on the other hand? He's like your knight in shining armor. He never minds your rambling or how you babble when you get sucked into a conversation. In fact, you'd argue that Bradley Bradshaw is the first person who has ever taken you seriously. He makes you feel superhuman, like there is never any problem you can't solve. His smile still has butterflies taking flight in thick, cloying swarms in your stomach. He makes you laugh, and god when he kisses you? You feel radiant, like one word will have you taking off faster than an F-18.

A part of you can’t believe him, even now. He hadn't laughed when you'd told him how inexperienced you were, in truth, what you wanted him to give you for your first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He'd groaned into your ear, “Just let me make you feel good, on your terms, as fast or slow as you want me to be.”

You know what he's offering. As fast or slow as you want me to be is his way of telling you to take your time. But you're sure you will explode if you have to make out with Bradley Bradshaw again while rubbing a wet patch into the thigh of his jeans, while his fingers massage over your nipples and his tongue tangles languidly with yours. 

You’ve had sex with him before, the sweet, gentle missionary kind. In fact, you’d argue that it was the perfect way to lose your virginity. But you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to sex with a man you love than a few slow moments in bed. You’re not even sure you orgasmed that night, or at least, it never felt like how you’ve made yourself climax. But ever since then, he’s kept you at arm's length. Sex was supposed to be the last step before all of the walls came down between the two of you. Maybe you can finally get Bradley to give you what you want, then? If only this date weren’t starting at The Hard Deck, though if you think back, most of yours do. It’s not like the Hard Deck isn’t a nice bar - it is. But The Hard Deck isn’t the most romantic of venues. 

When you drive up to the Hard Deck in your little car at promptly six in the evening, you’re dressed to the nines, wearing a cute little sundress with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. It pushes your tits up and is nearly completely backless. You’re not wearing much under the dress, just a little lace-edged thong and strappy heels elevating you a few inches. Stepping through the door, it seems like the entire bar falls silent. For several long moments, all you can hear is the tapping of your heels against the floor. People seem to float out of your way as you greet Penny, grabbing your drink from her, a soda in a glass bottle dripping condensation, and walk towards the pool tables in the back of the bar.

Heads turn as you walk past, and you can feel a smug smile curl your lips. On any other night, the arrangement of the Daggers around the pool table would have been normal. You’d be joining them by now, taking your place next to Bradley to hang besottedly on his every word. You’d be the only one not in uniform.

 Tonight, there isn’t a uniform in sight. Tonight, you’re dressed to impress. But you’re not dressed to impress the other Daggers, only Bradley. You hope your sexy little dress will be enough to have the romantic moment you’ve been longing for, finally. All your boyfriend needs to do is turn around and see you. 

Nat and Bob confer in hushed tones as Bradley racks up against the pool table with the cue in his hand. He’s wearing those jeans that you adore, the pair that fits like a glove and with fabric so worn that it’s soft against your hands. Hangman and Coyote are on the other side of the pool table, identical frowns on their faces as they strategize over the configuration of the balls on the worn felt emblazoned with jets.

But it’s Hangman who sees you first with a clattering of his cue as it impacts the floor. His eyes bug out, mouth parting as his eyes rake over you from head to toe. His reaction causes silence to ripple outwards with him at its epicenter. Dagger after Dagger pauses to stare at you. It’s a gratifying feeling. Nat and Callie wink at you, and Nat carefully prods a pink-cheeked Bob into resuming their conversation. The only person arrayed around the pool tables who doesn’t seem to know you’re there is the man you dressed up for. Jake is nearly mute as you clack forward, sipping on your drink greedily because something about his gaze has you feeling hot and flushed. The only time he backs off is when Bradley seems to realize you’re right there.

“Fuck, baby.” Your boyfriend groans in your ears. His voice makes your skin flare hot, and a desperate ache starts between your legs. “Look at you all pretty and gorgeous for me. Let me finish this last round, and then I’m all yours.”

One round turns to two, and then three, and before long, you’re left all alone in a corner of the bar while the Daggers, including Bradley, party like you don’t exist. All of that effort to make it a romantic night, and you’re sitting here like you don’t exist. If you have to watch another badge bunny drape herself all over your boyfriend, you are going to scream or do something drastic. Maybe making out with Jake will get his attention.

“It’s a shame, you know?” You nearly topple off of your stool at the words emanating from next to you. “You look so pretty, Bitsie, and Bradshaw can’t even open his eyes to see his girl waiting for him.”

Hangman sounds so sure of you, so sure that you’re better than Bradley Bradshaw deserves.

“He just wanted to grab another drink.”

“That was three hours ago, Bits.” When Jake chuckles, you can feel your hackles raise. “Didn’t you have dinner reservations or something like that?”

Before you can respond, because yeah, you did, Bradley’s standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bagman?” Bradley is slurring his words, listing from side to side as he stares the other man down.

“She’s mine, Bagman. Don’t you forget it!”

“If she’s yours, why are you ignoring her and walking around with badge bunnies draped all over ya?”

You can tell by how red Bradley’s face gets that he is one more word from launching himself at Jake. You’re unsure what prompts you to step in, but you do, sliding your hand up to the sweaty curls at the base of your boyfriend’s neck and whispering into his ear. You breathe your need, your want for him, into his ears. You have to ignore the scent of alcohol and sweat wafting sour from his skin, but you succeed in grabbing his attention. 

But a part of you wishes your seductive ploy hadn’t.

You got your wish; your need to have sex with your boyfriend granted. But it’s not anything like you expected it to be. Bradley left bruises on your skin and bruises on your heart. He’d been rough with his touch and his words. But more than that, you can’t help but wonder if this would have happened with Jake. If he’d make you feel better than Bradley ever could. Isn’t sex supposed to feel good? 

Faced with Bradley’s fumbling, you’d been anything but wet between your legs. You’d only started to get there when you thought, selfishly, of Jake. There was no foreplay, no making sure you’re alright. No kissing, no touching. There were no hallmarks of any of the care and gentleness Bradley usually treats you with. The whole experience has you feeling worse than you did in the car as he called you a slut for talking to a colleague and friend. Slut. It’s a word he’d used often with you in bed that night, too. A word that makes you feel guilty, dirty, and disgusting all at once. 

What does it say about you that you had to think of a colleague and friend to get wet instead of your boyfriend?

Whether you realize it or not, that’s the first crack in the shaky, perhaps already crumbling, foundations of your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw.

5. After Bradley Bradshaw

You have work to do; you know you do. But it’s been under a day since you told Jake Seresin how your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw imploded easier than if it had been bombed. Realizing Nat had known, known what he did and condoned the betrayal, his cheating, is another stab to the back that you weren’t expecting. You can't believe how Bradley could harbor less remorse and guilt over having sex with Britney than you did over some harmless, practically meaningless flirting.

What happened to ‘sisters before misters’ and all sentiments to that effect? You’re thankful, truly thankful, that Jake didn’t know and that Mickey and Mara were unaware as well. Being so far away from North Island has given you a sense of clarity you never thought you were missing. 

You’d be lying if you said Jake Seresin doesn’t have something to do with your newfound clarity, too. 

One night, a bushel-load of tears and an unburdening of your heart, and he’s already raised himself in your esteems. It’s in how he’d listened to you, which has your thoughts spinning. Back when your relationship with Bradley was still rock solid, you'd thought Bradley was the only man who could make you feel like the most important person in the world. But you didn't realize how often Bradley’s eyes would glaze over when you got excited. You’re not sure you’ve ever been able actually to talk to your ex. 

Jake let you cry, cry like you’d lost your reason for living. He’d held you while your suppressed grief had unleashed. He’d heard you spill your heart out to him and release all of your pain into the squalling storm winds. Then there was the rage in his face, in his voice, the rage he’d held tightly coiled in the corded muscles of his arm, in the jut of his proud jaw, when he found out Bradley had broken you, dominated your spirit, for a bet. 

You’re not sure why he’s been so nice. He has nothing to gain by being kind to you. He didn’t when he wanted to get you off deck in the middle of the storm last night. Though uncharitably, you’re sure he’d likely wanted you off deck so he could get off deck himself. He didn’t have to make you a cup of coffee or raid his own special stash of granola bars, either. But more than anything, you’d love to know why he let you cry snot and tears all over his uniform when it was well past lights out. You keep thinking back to how it felt to be in his arms, how good it felt.

Unbidden, you pull out the paper Jake had handed you while you were eating lunch in the commissary with Mara and Mickey. It’s nothing special, just a note written in ballpoint pen on run-of-the-mill lined notebook paper. The paper is silky smooth against the pads of your fingers, the edges ragged like he’d ripped the page out of a notebook he had lying around. You can feel the indentations the pen had left on the other side of the page. You can see how the letters slur across the page as he’d written, the ink smudging imperceptibly as he wrote hastily. They’re just lyrics transcribed on the page, and they shouldn’t be thought-provoking. 

It’s from a song you’ve heard a thousand times before, played ad nauseam on the radio with a catchy tune getting stuck in your head. More than the song lyrics, it’s the thought behind those lyrics. Honestly, you’re not sure how he got them for you. He called his sister in the middle of the night when he likely had to get special permission to do so just so he could get some stupid lyrics for you.

You can still see the twinkle in his eyes as he blushed crimson. He’d seemed proud, proud he was the reason for your laughter, proud that he’d pulled the wool from your eyes and showed you how ill Bradley had actually treated you. That look on his face made you feel like levitating. 

You can’t deny it anymore. Bradley Bradshaw may have made butterflies swarm in your stomach, but Jake Seresin made you feel like lightning arcing through the air. He makes you feel wild and free.

+1. The Day Easton is Born

A part of you feels like you should be angry that it took only four years before you stopped being the sole item of your husband’s attention. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way that Jake did, especially because the cute little thing that’s caught his attention has caught yours, too. 

He’s about four hours old with squishy cheeks, a red face, and a voice that would make his daddy proud. You’re sure that his voice is just like his dad’s, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard Jake’s voice ever hit the octaves this adorable sweetheart hits. It hurts a little bit that you’ve been ordered not to move, too, because everything in you is itching to pick your baby up and hold him in your arms. But Jake’s on baby duty at the moment. If it’s a poopy diaper, you’re more than ready to let him take that burden on.

You tilt the bed up until you’re reclining and tip your head gently to the side until you see the heart rate monitor reassuringly blinking your vital signs at you. When you turn your head to the other side, Jake's standing over the small changing table in your room, leaning down and looking into it. His face looks gentler than you've ever seen it, soft, like a man stripped bare to his basest parts. He has no walls up, no fears, just wonder as he stares down at the little bed. Well, maybe he’s looking a little less awestruck and a little more disgusted because your newborn son does, indeed, have a soiled diaper.

He’s not wearing a shirt. This fact doesn't surprise you because Jake wanders around your house half-naked all the time. At the same time, you’re both in a hospital, and it’s at least 10 degrees colder than it should be. You’re wrapped up in a soft pajama set and wearing a thick cardigan, but you’re still cold. When Jake hefts the small wriggling body of your son into his arms and settles him against his chest, now clean, your heart swells. The baby coos, a little snuffling exhale of breath that squeaks a little as he settles into Jake’s arms. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that you’re awake, either.

“Awww, hey, Buddy.” His voice is a tender rumble, big hands cradling precious cargo with the same surety he flies his jet. “Let’s not wake up Mama, huh? She’s so tired.”

“You took us by surprise, our sweet boy. We weren’t expecting you to show up in the middle of a Longhorns game, for sure. I will say that your arrival was a little more exciting than a game-winning touchdown. I wonder if your Uncle Javy will let Daddy watch the game on his DVR when you’re home? In any case, I do not look forward to replacing my Longhorns rug. You had to pick that rug to make your appearance on, didn’t you? Say, East, what’s the likelihood that your Mama would let me keep it if I wash it off?”

You have to stifle your snickers because the baby chirps and half burps in response. You can vaguely see the dark blue of the baby’s eyes as he blinks in Jake’s firm hold. East’s lips purse and part, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be in need again. But you’re so in love, and hearing Jake talk to your son might be your newest favorite thing.

“Yeah, I had that feeling. You’ll learn sooner or later that your Mama’s words are law. She’s going to be the disciplinarian between the two of us, for sure. You’re already wrapped around my fingers. I’m not sure I could tell you no for anything.”

He sighs, sounding choked up as he trails a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “I’ve got so much I want to teach you. How to smile and utilize those perfect Seresin dimples. How to talk your way out of any problem you face. How to make your Mama smile (and maybe cry) every Mother’s Day as we show her how amazing she is.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head and rocks slightly back and forth on his heels, an action that doesn’t soothe your son even a little. East is squalling already, and you have a feeling he will ratchet up a bit higher in volume if he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Hey, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you get Jake’s attention.

“Morning, Bitsie-baby.” His smile is wide as he stares down at you.

“There’s no way it’s morning, Jake.” He shrugs and rocks back and forth a little more as the baby objects a little louder with each sway. “And gimme my son.”

Jake smirked as he transferred the baby, eyes softening as you situated East against your chest, snickering as the baby latched hungrily onto your breast for his midnight snack. 

“So he’s your son when you want him, but he’s mine when he’s got a nasty diaper?”

“Sounds about right, Seresin.”

“Well, he’s a Seresin, alright.” Jake snickers when you swat at his abs. “Made right for your tits, and aren’t they a pretty sight.”

“Not in front of the baby, Jacob.”

“Well, I dunno when I’m going to see them again one on one!”

“Try me when East’s two years old. Because I’m going to need that long to recover from having your big-headed child.” Your voice is as dry as the Sahara Desert as you laugh at your husband.

“Fair enough.” He tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear and settles on the edge of the hospital bed. You snuggle into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’ll take beautiful over the complete mess I probably am.”

“You look gorgeous, Bitsie!”

You snort. “Jake, I haven’t showered in 48 hours, I was in labor for most of it, and I just had a baby. So what about me looks beautiful to you at this moment?”

“Everything.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve given me the best things in my life. You gave me your heart and a second chance with you. You gave me a family in you and our little Easton. You’ve changed my life.”

“If I didn’t find you gorgeous because of all of our relationship, then I’d definitely argue it is the memory of the lingerie you were wearing under your dress at last year's Navy Gala.”

“I think that lingerie was pretty life-changing for both of us, Cowboy.” You cradle Easton close and gesture for one of the many burp cloths arrayed on the table on Jake’s other side. “I’m about 90% sure that was the night we made East.” You pat the baby’s bottom gently, grimacing when he lets loose a surprisingly loud belch before cooing angelically. “Well, you certainly burp like your dad, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Jake tugs the baby out of your arms, swaying side to side as the baby’s eyes droop closed. He snuggles East close before laying him into the crib. You watch approvingly as he pulls the crib closer, the same worries about your newborn son in his mind as yours. “I’ll have you know, kiddo, that your mama loves my burps.”

“Don’t lie to our son. He’s not even a day old, Seresin, and you’re already lying to him!”

“Am I lying if I’m telling him the truth? His mama does love me.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he settles back into the hospital bed next to you.

“Yeah, she does.” You kiss his torso, nuzzling in close as he holds you close.

“I love you so much, Jake. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I’m not likely to stop now. Having this,” you gesture to the hospital room at large, “is better than my best dreams. Though, I would prefer it if you could convince your mom and sister to let us have some time with East alone before they descend on us.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He runs his hands gently up and down your back. God, you're not sure you can give him up, not anymore. Right now, you're pretty sure that if Jake gets out of the hospital bed, you'll freeze solid.

“You were always my dream, Bitsie baby. Forever and always.” You barely hear the words, sleep pulling you under riptide-fast. But a part of you knows Jake doesn't mind. It's always been a not-so-secret fantasy of his, having his family at arm's reach. 

Honestly, you could get used to it too. Your Jake Seresin pillow is the best of the best, after all.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@greenbaby12 @eli2447 @the-romanian-is-bae @luckyladycreator2 @lunamoonbby @angeliccks @daisydaisygoose @inky-sun @fighterpilothoe @pulisvertz @wildxwidow @angelbabyange @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @dempy @shanimallina87 @abaker74 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[hanaruri-tunes]

Degrading Leviathan (Levi x reader)

I am BACK from my uni exams, and I’m pretty sure I passed them all so please applause this genius over here. (Or don’t. That’s fine too :')

Anyway, as promised this is supposed to be the part 2 to the humiliating Leviathan fic, but it is smut so I’m pretty sure you can also read it without any prior knowledge of the other one fuehdhd Plot is not really important here after all.

⚠️ Also, if this wasn’t already obvious -> MDNI please!

If you want to read it though, here’s the first part. (Hopefully the link works.)

If you want to jump right into this one, here’s a quick summary of part 1 (or a quick reminder for those who did read it): Basically our MC here is pretty sadistic, she found some of her "belongings" in Levi’s room and understood that he was obviously using it to touch himself, she acts like she’s disgusted and disappointed in him, then makes him do some "stuff" for her so she’ll forgive him. And all the while, she’s mocking him (Levi’s into that, of course.) It ends with her revealing that she was acting and Levi is reassured (but still turned on. Yep.)

This is the direct continuation of that! Here are the warnings: praise, degradation, two dicks, a bit of petplay (dog Levi), raw, bj, usage of tail, overstimulation (and if I forgot some stuff don’t hesitate to tell me!)

MC/ Y/N is cisfemale in this one like the first part!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Now that the charade was over, Levi kept hanging onto you as you two were making out. This might have lasted either 5 minutes or half an hour, you're not quite sure. Slowly regaining your senses, Leviathan had naturally calmed down and turned back into his usual form and casual attire… though his dicks were still hanging out of his pants. You laughed.

"Isn't it about time you put those things away?"

Leviathan chuckled nervously.

"Oh… But I-I thought we weren't done?"

…

Huh?

"Well uh, aren't you tired? You came quite a lot… Not to mention from both of them so…"

He looked into your eyes, a pitiful air hanging around him while still holding into his wish firmly.

"No… I can finally kiss you, and touch you freely and even…"

He looked down to your skirt, under which he knows how wet you had gotten after the make-out session you just had despite the fact that you had just climaxed earlier from his tongue.

"Anyway! What I'm trying to say is- I can still go on for way longer. Probably more than you think. If anything, once is quite literally nothing now that I have you. I've dreamed of this for so long♡"

You take a pause to ponder it. It’s not like you couldn’t take him but you still wondered how you should go about this since, well, he has two of them. Plus you wanted to keep things interesting and that box you had found earlier with his "filthy" belongings had some interesting costumes. You stood up, making Levi worried that you might leave only to see him cheer back up when he understood where you’re heading towards.

"You’ve got a lot of slutty outfits in there, huh?"

You take some dog ears and a tail out of it.

"Are they meant for me or for you?"

Leviathan grins at your pick, excited and eager. He reaches deeper into the box, knowing exactly the placement of each object. He could probably navigate in it even with a blindfold on. Not so shockingly, he pulls out a collar and a leash out of it.

"Whichever is fine ehe. I even got a leash to go with it so um, y'know. We can use it right away i-if you want."

Clearly, although he had said that whichever was fine, his eyes were telling another story. Anyone could’ve seen that what he truly wanted was to wear it and get ordered around by you. Not like it was hard for you to do so might as well. You gently put the ears on him.

"Try barking?"

"Woof!♡"

"Cute. You’re the dog then."

His smile widens, happy that you picked the role for him and chose the one he wanted. It takes barely a minute for him to take his clothes off, now he’s only left with the costume and his boxers that clearly outline his cocks. You take a hold of the leash, pulling him as you walk back towards the seat where both of you were making out earlier. He follows you on his hands and knees, already nailing the role. You sit while he stays on the floor.

"Sit."

He sits.

"Look down."

He looks down.

"Paw?"

He puts his hand on yours.

"Good boyyy! So smart."

You scratch him under the chin as if he’s really just a pet.

"W-woofff…♡"

He brings his face to your legs, lovingly rubbing his head and cheek against them. Both of his dicks are already hard and leaking for you, even through the boxers it’s so apparent, it’s almost embarrassing how turned on he got from being treated like an animal. Not like he minds, if that gets you to mock him he’ll take it. Actually, he’ll take anything from you, be it praise or insults.

"Aww is baby all excited to play with me? You wanna feel good inside your owner?"

He nods against your thighs, helplessly craving your touch. Babying himself up to make you feel sorry for his poor state.

"...Alright. Stand up Levia-chan, I’ll suck you off and stroke you for a minute. If you manage to hold it in, I'll let both of them inside me."

He perks up. Had the ears and tail been real, his ears would have perked up as well and the tail would be wagging. He stands up, finally speaking like a human being. That is, if we ignore the drooling and the leash you’re still holding onto.

"N-No way?! Ha… ahhh… Sorry. I’ve gotta calm down. O-Okay. One minute. One minute, you can do this Leviathan."

He mutters to himself, psyching himself up while you’re pulling half down his boxers, taking his upper dick into your mouth and stroking the lower one through his boxers with your free hand, the one that’s not holding the leash.

He keeps his eyes tightly shut, probably realizing that if he opens them and sees your cute face sucking on his gross cock he’ll ejaculate immediately. He breathes heavily and repeats "IcandothisIcandothisoneminutejustoneminutegodplease". You retain your smile, but he’s just so cute. You count up to 60 in your head, it probably wasn’t super accurate but you’re proud of his restraint regardless.

Once you stop, he slowly calms himself down and starts breathing normally again.

"D-did I make it??"

"Yeah. Despite being such a slutty dog, good job hah."

He grins at your mocking tone, enjoying it. Then he opens his eyes, his gaze goes straight to your open legs. As soon as he had calmed down, he got excited again, seeing you ready to take him fully in. He comes closer, his hard cocks hovering over your slippery pussy and ass.

His eyes go a bit crazy for a second, as if he’s in a frenzy, or hypnotized.

"Ahh… Ahh… fuck. Fuck fuck. Really? I can put both of them in?"

You chuckle at how nervous and eager he is.

"Knock yourself out."

He starts to laugh softly, exhilarated.

"Hah. Haha… Oh my god. I’ve always dreamed of shoving my disgusting cocks into your cute and pretty pussy. I’m such a lucky fucking bastard."

He firmly grabs your waist, frankly you’ve never seen him being so sure of something. He slides them in slowly, both in each hole. You squirm and whimper under his unbreakable gaze on your whole being. Your holes gladly taking him in, your soft body, your cute facial expressions as you’re feeling better and better as he’s pushing himself in, he watches all of it so closely that it almost makes you shy.

"S-Stop staring so closely you dirty mutt."

"Y-Yeah. You’re right, I’m a dirty dog~ Please abuse me with your words some more…"

Geez, this guy has a problem… A problem that you find unbearably hot and cute.

He pounds into your holes, holding your legs up from the back of your knees, pushing them upwards, near your face. All the while you’re still holding onto the leash that is strapped on his collar.

"Come on. Please please please… I’m begging Y/N! Just a little bit."

He’s already enjoying himself so much inside you yet he wants even more, he sure is spoiled. But well, you want to see him go even crazier over you. So you do as he wants.

"You absolute gross fuck. You’re more of a pig than a dog you know? I’ve never seen anyone make such an elated face while fucking someone. You should just get over with it and serve me as a sextoy."

He submerges himself in your fake disgusted face, grinning as you’re completely disrespecting him as a human being, or, well, a demonic being. Then he happily glues his body against yours, his lips near your ears as he begs for more insulting words.

"More please, embarrass me more."

Your mind is already wandering off from getting fucked so good. It’s getting harder to think as both of his dicks are pleasuring your insides, making you pump out so much of your juices, more than you ever have. Yet you somehow manage to answer his needs.

"Y-You… You’re just a gross little fuck- A lame creepy otaku with two dicks who gets off on his crush’s insulting words. You s-sure are good at acting cute and pure while all you really are is a masochistic whore- Mmh!"

You can’t see his face but you can feel him smiling and drooling against your neck and shoulders. Suddenly, the air around him turns dark as he takes on his demon form. Completely lost in his lust and pleasure.

He sticks the tip of his scaly tail into your mouth, making you unable to degrade him any further and his pace quickens. He pounds into you harder and faster, his cocks getting ready to unload themselves into your pretty holes.

"A-And yet you’re so kind that you’re letting a lame, gross and disgusting fuck like me pump both of his dicks into you and you’re wholeheartedly sucking on his monstruous tail. Aaaaahh…~ You’re so nice Y/N, I’ll be your toy all you want! Iloveyousomuch.♡ Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou-"

Your mind completely goes blank thanks to all of your holes being filled by his dicks and tail, at this point, fucking him is like fucking 3 guys at the same time. And as you lose yourself, he does so as well. Emptying himself inside you, grinding on you over and over as he keeps cumming for a solid 20 to 30 seconds, you never even thought it was possible for someone to ejaculate for so long… Well he is a beast and a demon.

When he pulls out, his juices flow out of you for a while, maybe even longer than it took for him to cum since his loads have been mingled in with yours inside of you. He hurries over to his phone, taking pictures of you completely fucked out so he can use them later… Well, hopefully he won’t have to, since from now on you’ll always call for him when you need to use his dicks, right?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Done! As usual please don’t hesitate to leave comments or some tags (or messages in my askbox if you’re shy!) This is tumblr, I can assure you no one will make fun of you or judge you, we’re all chilling in our trash here 🫰

[mystermoose]

The country of cunning victors...is an anxious mess? 3

Part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/mystermoose/735465215641124864/the-country-of-cunning-victorsis-an-anxious?source=share

Info: Carmedenon (you) sex: female age: 20s

When the people in the room heard the door open, all eyes were immediately on you. Under normal circumstances you would be shaking with your nerves as they prepare to skyrocket to the sky. But due to the chaos your eyes are being exposed to, you were too busy being baffled as you stare at the baffling sight before you to be nervous right now.

Two blond men men had their hands on eachother's throats, another blond with rectangular glasses is currently presenting his presentation with images of what seems like the power rangers (from what you know of), and finally a whiny ginger headed man balling his eyes out while pointing at the ruined plate of pasta that was so close to hitting you on the face, to the bigger blond man who looks about this close (👌🏻) to exploding.

'What...is this? Is this some sort of greenlighting room for some cartoon or something? Why is everyone...so disorganized?' you thought to yourself as you continue scanning the room and observing the other people there. And as if confirming the crazy world around you, the surrounding audience aren't any better than the up in the front. Some were casually talking, some were sleeping, some were arguing and...you get the picture. It was a room full chaotic beings. Definitely not a room fit for political discussions.

'Then that means, I must be...' your cheeks started to turn pink at the thought that you must've made an embarrassing mistake. Giving the on lookers a shaky shy smile, you stepped back and hid you body behind the door.

"S-sorry! Wrong room, just pretend I never stumbled in here um er...well I'll be on my way now. Sorry again, bye" and then left.

After you left, everyone in the room was silent for a while. Until the man doing his presentation spoke up "Huh, well that was awkward. But anyway! As I was saying, I still think a super-"

"Hey, didn't that girl looked familiar" one of the blond men who was in a choking competition a while ago commented.

"Ve~ she looked like the bella who completely froze up on tv" commented the Italian who a while ago was crying over ruined pasta. However his words seem to stiffen the certain German he was crying to.

"Vait, if she was the girl on tv then that means...mein gott! That was Carmedenon!" he said in a panic as he realized the gravity of the situation. For 1: the first thing that happened to you when you walked in the room was that pasta was just inches away from hitting your face and 2: you thought you arrived in the wrong room and walked away. Clearly indicating that they've already made a bad impression of themselves, enough to make you not see them as serious figures of the world.

Unfortunately for him, he was the only one who has this realization. As the rest of the world were only left to chatter in excitement as the most mysterious and most victorious country of the world is really here to meet them. In person!

"Dude, shut up! Carmedenon? You mean the country who kicked Britain's ass with scarecrows!" said the man with the presentation, eyes gleaming with excitement. While the man mentioned in the story glared daggers at him.

"Could you not say it like that, you git! She did not beat me up with scarecrows, she bested me with them! Big difference!" he yelled, but the American did not care what he had to say "Pssh same difference, bro. She still kicked your ass with scarecrows". He said, further angering the man enough that he was on his way to choke him now.

But before he could start doing so, the German stopped them from making another fight "Need I remind you that Ms. Carmedenon just walked away from the meeting room? On the day we are suppose to formally meet her?! We have no time for more fights! Not that we had the time in the first place. But we need her back here and get her to cooperate with us, now!" he said voice filled with resolute.

"Oh yeah, gotcha! Let me go get her" but before America even took a step, Britain caught his arm stopping him. "Oh no you don't! I heard from her queen that she has quite the delicate nerve. Someone like you is bound to scare her away!" he said, then another voice has voiced their opinion.

"Then I will go get her, after all I have a way with all kinds of ladies~" said France as he started making his way to the door, before he himself got stopped by the same man. "Like hell I'd let you! You're the last person she needs to first meet. This nation has isolated herself for all her life, and a pervert like you has a high chance of pushing her back in her shell!" he said, then a new argument ensues.

"Oh, and who do you think is fit to introduce her to us? You? The one who tried to invade her and famously failed to do so?"

"Don't talk as if you hadn't done the same! And where do you think you're going? Do you really think you can just walk off of this conversation?"

"Well it sounds to me that both of you were assholes to the dudette. And since I've never done anything to her, I'm probably your best bet of getting her to come here"

"You'll scare her away!"

"Whatever, dudes! I've always wanted to meet her! And now that she's literally out that door, I'm taking my chances and finally become her friend!" after his proclamation, he took off and ran out the door to look for you. The other two following after him.

"You know what? I'm gonna go meet her to! After all I've met her brother and he always brags about her without introducing her. It's time to satisfy some ancient aged curiosity aru!"

"I have also kept hearing so much about this nation and her victories, I guess now would be a good time to fulfill my own curiosities. Maybe she'll even want to be one with me~"

And just like that, two other individuals followed suit. An Asian man with one Russian.

"Germany-san, if what I'm hearing about her social anxiety is true. Then wouldn't it be bad if any of those people were able to get to her at any moment?"

After hearing that statement, the German suddenly remembered what her queen had said to him the day after they landed.

"Hello Mr. Germany! I assume you have seen the news of our landing? If so, then you have probably seen the face of our country, and well...you saw how she is. Try to make her as comfortable as possible, ok? It took a lot of effort to get her to agree, and we made a compromise that if things get too uncomfortable. We'll leave"

They'll leave. And if they leave...there's a chance the country herself will never agree to open her borders ever again!

"Scheisse! This is bad! We need to get to her before they do!"

With that being said, they bolted after them leaving the room and everyone else in it.

"Ve-?! Hey! Wait for-a me!"

As for you, you've been walking around looking for the "right" meeting room for a long while now. But no matter where you go, you can't find anything that resembled a room full of diplomatic exchanges.

"Am I even in the right venue? I can't seem find them anywhere" you pondered as you stop walking to rest your feet and to think clearly. Did the driver actually drove you to the place? No way, they've been your driver for 5 years now and they never brought you to the wrong place. Were you that late that the meeting was already over and it was that crowd turn to use the room? If that's the case, guess you'll have to make a written apology to Elinor and the other nations for not being able to make it.

Entertaining the thought, you lifted your wrist to take a look at your watch and...wait? It's still far too early to dismiss the meeting, even if you were really tardy.

'Wait...does that mean?..t-those people were actually-...No, no way! T-they can't p-possibly be-'

And at that moment, your worst fears came to confirm your worst nightmare.

"Hey dudette! Funny story, you were actually in the right room!"

Turning your head, you saw the same blond man who was presenting something in the room. Followed by the two other men who were previously trying to choke the life oout of each other. These chaotic individuals with full energy were running towards your direction.

Running towards you

All of the sudden your heart picked up it's paced and a terrible pack of anxiety suddenly dropped down to the pit of your stomach. Although your body may have stopped functioning and froze you on your spot, your legs didn't. And before you knew it, you were running away from them. With one thought, the very same thought you kept having throughout this trip, crossing your mind:

'I should've stayed home!!!'

Part 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/mystermoose/735668751809282048/the-country-of-cunning-victorsis-an-anxious?source=share

[tightjeansjavi]

That Girl is a Problem

Part 2: “Angel Baby”

(AU street racing! Joel x f! tattoo artist reader)

A/N: I don’t know jack shit about cars but @pedgeitopascal knows I did research just for this chapter alone LOL 🤠 I went back and forth on what kinda car I wanted Joel to race in and this is what I came up with. Thank you so much for the feedback on chapter 1! This story is already sooo much fun for me to write xx

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: Joel Miller & Tommy Miller left their Texas homestead seeking new thrills. They find themselves working at an auto body shop on Hollywood Blvd. Joel meets you, a self taught tattoo artist working on the strip. You might be just the adrenaline rush that he was searching for. Or, his ultimate heartbreak.

Warnings: Early 1990’s Los Angeles violence/scandals. Drug use, drinking, smoking, mentions of tattooing and needles, street racing, infidelity, adrenaline junkies, Joel & reader have emotional baggage, reader is a badass, love triangle between reader, Joel, and readers boyfriend, flirting, teasing, banter, jealousy, rage, trauma, dark themes, domestic emotional/physical abuse from readers boyfriend, pining, unrequited feelings, excessive drinking/drug use, sustained injuries from street racing, bar fights, jealous! Joel, darkish! Joel, possessive! Joel, eventual smut, consent, eventual established relationship, no use of (y/n) readers nickname is Angel, (+18) minors dni!

That Girl is a Problem Playlist:

𝙄'𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚...

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢.

Los Angeles, California: Summer of 1993

“You’ll never guess where I just was.” Joel strode into the open garage area of the auto body shop with a deli sandwich and cold bottle of coke in his hand. He leaned back against the tool bench as he took a bite from the sandwich, crossing ankles over one another casually.

“The zoo?” Tommy, the younger Miller brother grumbled from underneath the car he was working on. It needed an oil change desperately and the stupid teen that dropped it off earlier was being a prick about the whole thing.

“No, you asshat. Not the fuckin’ zoo Tommy.” Joel spoke with a mouthful of turkey from his sandwich.

Tommy cursed under his breath as he rolled himself out from under the car. His hands and shirt were covered in grit and grease and he smelled of burnt oil. “So then go on and spit it out man. Where did you venture off to?” Tommy grabbed a rag to wipe his hands off, sitting up on the bench as he looked over at his older brother.

“Well, I found a tattoo shop just a few blocks from here. It’s called ‘Sinful Colors’ and a super cool chick owns the gig. That ain’t even the best part. I signed up for some street racing while I was there. Guess it's a thing folks around here do every Friday and Saturday on the Hollywood strip.” Joel took a refreshing sip of his ice cold coke. Bottled coke was always the best. Hands down, nothing compared to it.

“A tattoo shop owned by a super cool chick huh? Sounds like something right up your alley Joel. What the hell do ya mean you signed up for street racing? You don’t have a car.”

“She’s fucking gorgeous too Tommy. I’m talkin’ like drop dead fucking beautiful. She is completely tatted up too. The kicker is she’s got a boyfriend that honestly sounds like a total tool. Anyway, she said all you need to race is a car, or a bike. I got a bike so—”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous huh? Well, of course she’s taken man. All the good ones are. She’s tatted up too? Joel, you’re not gonna fuckin’ race with your bike. You know how fuckin’ insane that sounds? I ain’t about to bring you back home in a fuckin’ body bag. I know you’re searching for a good thrill and all but I ain’t about to let you die out here just cause you wanna impress some chick you just met.”

“I don’t think her boyfriend is really gonna pose a problem for me. She seemed to forget all about him when I showed up. Okay, not entirely but she was 100% flirting with me Tommy. She called me handsome and a pretty boy. She was totally checkin’ me out too. What the hell else am I supposed to drive if I wanna race?”

“Joel, she’s taken. I’m all for you healing in your own way from—” Tommy was cut off by his brother talking over him.

“Alright. I’m gonna stop ya right there before you say her name. Don’t do it Tommy, please.” Joel stared his brother down threateningly. He raised his eyebrow in his direction as if to challenge him to continue.

Seeking thrills wasn’t the only reason why Joel and Tommy moved out to California. Joel had an ex back in Texas. Delaney, Joel’s highschool sweetheart. They were engaged and set to be married in the summer. She was the love of his life, or so he thought. He caught her fucking his best friend in their home. In his bed. Joel had a fun trip to jail for the night after beating the shit out of his ex-best friend. He deserved it after all. Especially after Joel found out that Delaney was having a fucking affair for 6 months. 6 fucking months. After Tommy bailed him out the following morning, the two brothers mutually decided it was time to get the hell out of dodge. Thus, landing them in the sunny City of Angels.

The truth was, Joel was heartbroken. He loved Delaney and he thought that she was his endgame. The woman he was gonna marry and have kids with one day. Fuck her. He didn’t want to waste his breath over her any longer. He gave her everything, his all and how did she repay him? Oh, right. Having an affair with his best friend for 6 fucking months. So yes, Joel’s heart was pretty much fucking smashed into tiny little pieces but he refused to let his past rule him. Los Angeles was fresh, new, exciting, and he fully was ready to take life by horns again.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t say her name, okay? I just think you should be careful with this chick. Don’t go and get yourself caught up in this Joel. I don’t want to see you hurt again is all. You’ve been through enough as it is. The last thing you need is some pretty thing playin’ with your heart. That’s all I’m sayin’ as your brother.” Tommy spoke sincerely.

Joel let out a grumble of annoyance. He knew Tommy was probably right about you. You were a bright red fucking flag in his books. The only problem was that Joel was a creature of habit, like most human beings were. A fatal flaw to possess. You were off limits, sure. That wasn’t going to stop him from seeing you. He felt like a moth drawn to a flame. A really hot, scalding, touch it and you will shrivel up and die on the spot, flame. Fuck it. He had nothing to lose, other than his pride and ego.

“I’ll be careful, okay Tommy? I ain’t goin’ and gettin’ my heart invested in nothin’. She’s just real easy on the eyes. I can just admire her from a distance and not cause any problems. Kay?”

Tommy let out a sigh as he looked at his brother, shaking his head. “Yeah, alright Joel. Whatever you say. Now about this race, you’re not entering with your bike man. I will 100% be putting my foot down about that bullshit.”

“What’s this you kids talkin’ about a race?” Wilson, the old man that owned the auto body shop, leaned against the opened garage door, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Your brother is right Joel. You can’t enter your bike into a street race. She’s fast, sure. You will end up getting yourself killed out there though.”

“With all due respect sir—” Joel was cut off by the old man sending a glare in his direction.

“Did I say you could talk, boy? You didn’t let me finish. You can’t race on your bike but I got just the thing you can race in. She’s a real beauty too.” The old man flicked his cigarette to the side before gesturing to the two Miller brothers to follow him.

Joel gave his brother a slight shrug of his shoulders before they followed the old man to another part of the shop. One that was seemingly off limits, till now. The car was covered with a thick tan tarp that was covered in dust and debris from sitting in the garage for so long. “So she might need a bit of work. Nothing major and mostly just cosmetic. Paint touch ups here and there but she runs fast, and smooth.”

“Are you really offering me a car right now Wilson?” Joel asked in disbelief.

“I sure as hell am, sonny. This baby hasn’t seen the light of day in a long time. You’ll love her, I can promise you that.” The old man pulled the tarp down, revealing a cherry red, 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz.

Joel and Tommy’s eyes bugged out of their fucking skulls when they realized just what make and model of car this was. “Sir, you do realize what the fuck you have here, right? Holy fucking shit.” Both the miller boys said in unison.

“A 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz.” Wilson deadpanned to the younger men.

“You seriously want me to race in this? Holy fuck. Wait, aren’t these kinds of races usually done with more modern sports cars? Not that she ain’t fast or anythin.’”

“The hell else are you gonna race in, kid? The races around here don’t use any of those crapshoot fancy modern sports cars. Only vintage sports cars and motorcycles can race. Didn’t Angel tell you the rules son?”

Joel was already running his fingers across the untouched red and white leather seats. Feeling how smooth they were against his skin. His head snapped in the old man’s direction, looking at him like he had suddenly grown 5 heads. “Hold on just a second there. You know Angel?”

“Do I look like I was just born yesterday? Course I know Angel. Her boyfriend is one of my local clients here and her dad endorsed my shop here.”

Joel grumbled under his breath, shaking his head a little. So, you really were that well known around here huh? “So you’re just gonna hand this beauty over to me? Sir, this car is worth a fucking fortune.”

“Well, like I said, she needs a little work. Nothing you two boys can’t handle. I know how much she’s worth. Could easily sell her off to one of those fancy smancy celebs around here for 3 times the amount I paid for her. If I do that, she just sits around like a collectors item and never sees the light of day. She deserves so much better than that.”

“So what is she gonna cost me? I don’t have much to offer unfortunately so I don’t even know if I can afford her—”

“She ain’t costin’ you a pretty penny, Joel. She’s all yours. Just take good care of her and then we won’t have any issues. Got it?”

“You got yourself a deal, Wilson. I promise I’ll take extra good care of her.”

“I know you will. Keys are in the glovebox. Why don’t you boys go take her out for a spin? See how she purrs.” The old man shot the two Miller brothers a wink before he headed back to his office.

“Holy fucking shit, Tommy! Did that seriously just happen? I must be dreaming. This is fucking insane.”

“Shut up and get the keys Joel! You heard the old man, let’s see how this babe purrs!” Tommy was already hopping in the passenger seat while Joel climbed into the driver's seat. Both brothers looked like two giddy kids in a candy shop as Joel inserted the key into the ignition as the engine purred to life. He couldn’t help but rev the engine a bit, just to see what she was capable of.

He backed the car out onto Hollywood blvd and drove right past your shop. You were working on Joel’s sketch for his knuckle tats when a blur of bright, cherry red zoomed past the shop's window. You had no idea who the hell was driving the car, but the one thing you did know was that the driver had to be undeniably hot.

After taking her for a joy ride through the Hollywood Hills, the Miller brothers returned to the shop, pumped full of adrenaline. After a few paint touch ups, and an engine check, she was good to go. Joel, however, wanted to add just a bit of flare. While Tommy was on his break, his older brother had taken it upon himself to add a decal on one of the wings on the back of the car. Angel Baby. How perfectly fitting.

Tag List:@chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @lovers-liability @korynnekorynne @loquaciousferret @cutesyscreenname @atinylittlepain @yazsos @kirsteng42 @777-wonders @last-girl @pedgeitopascalreads @tinygarbage @wonder-harley @casa-boiardi @alwaysdjarin @bellaramseygfsblog

[leaderoffestivals]

Poltergeist Chapter 11

The Neverland of Grudges Ch 3

Arashi: [ Once upon a time, there lived a Princess with a very beautiful heart.  Of course, she was not only beautiful on the inside, but in her outward appearance too,… … and the name of this Princess was Narukami Arashi. ]

Scenario Writer: Akira Season: Winter Characters: Mikejima Madara, Narukami Arashi, Sakasaki Natsume, Aoba Tsumugi

< The video: Early afternoon that day. In the Common Room at Dancing Cranes Home. >

Arashi: [ Once upon a time, there lived a Princess with a very beautiful heart. 

Of course, she was not only beautiful on the inside, but in her outward appearance too,… … and the name of this Princess was Narukami Arashi. ]

Arashi: [ However, there was someone who did not like the Princess at all. That person was the Queen of the country, who had a beautiful appearance but possessed an ugly and twisted heart. 

—Hmm? The Queen’s name? Well, for now, let’s call her Madara ♪

And although the Queen was the stepmother of the beautiful Princess, there was no familial love between them—

—because the black-hearted Queen was wildly jealous of her step-daughter’s great beauty.

Today, as she always did, the Queen asked of her magic mirror which only reflects the truth—

“Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

—Eh? You’re saying that would be Narukami Arashi?

Grrr~! So infuriating! If only that person weren’t here, I would surely be the most beautiful in the whole wide world! ]

Arashi: [ That’s it, I should get rid of that beautiful Narukami Arashi! Then, I will be the most beautiful person in the world! MA~MAMAMAMAMA! (1) (Laughter) ]

Tsumugi: What an interesting story! It’s full of openings for a straight man (2) to interact with!

Natsume: SeriousLY? How can you lie to the children like thIS? What’s this about the Princess’ name being Narukami Arashi?

Arashi: Hmph! That’s fine, isn’t it! Fairy tales are for living your dreams, aren’t they! I want to be a Princess too!

Natsume: WeLL, I do understand how you feEL, but won’t the children be confused to hear you’re playing the Princess roLE?

Arashi: Hold on! Why would that result in any confusion, is there a law that says a Princess must be female?! What does it matter anyway; fairy tales are fantasies, after all!

Madara: Urm. By the way, why am I laughing like that humongous character in One P*ece (1)? That’s a reeeally strange character to be portraying me as, isn’t it?

Arashi: Fufu! While I was reading the manga, the thought, “Ah, this person is just like Mama” went through my mind!

Madara: All the same, I’m not that huge either, am I?

Arashi: Ohh seriously, that’s enough. Stop interrupting and watch quietly!

Arashi: Erm, actually... One of the reasons I’m showing you guys this segment of the video was because I wanted to showcase how especially charming I was as I read the picture book to the children. However—

—There’s another reason as to why I want you to see this. 

Somehow, as I was reading the picture book to the children, some of them had very strange reactions to the story… …

Madara: Huh? Strange reactions—? 

Arashi: Yes. I mentioned encountering an “unusual incident” earlier, didn’t I? 

By the way, you might have already guessed it by now, but the title of the fairy tale I was reading to the children was “Snow White”. 

There were a few pages missing in the picture book for some reason, so I improvised by doing up a few sketches and adding them in. 

Look, this scene in particular is my favourite—

The scene where Narukami Arashi, with the seven cute dwarves—Sorry, I mean the four foolish Knights—repel the assassins dispatched by the evil Queen together ♪

Natsume: That’s amaziNG. You’re casually altering the plot of the story as you pleaSE. 

Madara: Er, how can you just get rid of the assassins sooo easily? The story would just end there, wouldn't it?

Arashi: That doesn’t matter~, the ending’s the only part that needs to make sense in the end—No, in fact all will be well as long as the story ends well.

Most people will be satisfied as long as the story ends with—”And they all lived happily ever after.”

Tsumugi: Indeed. That much is true. 

Madara: But then, what about the strange reactions you mentioned the children having earlier? Right now, the only thing I find odd is how they’re able to listen to this story so attentively to the very end, though?

Arashi: That’s what’s coming up next. See, it’s the last scene of the most beautiful Princess in the world, Narukami Arashi’s—or rather Snow White’s—story now. It seems this picture book is pretty faithful to the original, truly scary “dark fairy tales” because—

The Princess made the Queen dance on a scorching hot iron plate as revenge for all the terrible things she had done. 

It’s meant to be a satisfying scene where good triumphs over evil, and the evil villain gets their just desserts, right?

Arashi: However, as I was enthusiastically reading that scene out loud, several of the children started crying—

—and they definitely weren't tears of joy.

Arashi: They weren’t quietly sobbing either. They started shrieking loudly all of a sudden, as if possessed by demons, or evil spirits—

Some of the children even started throwing up uncontrollably.

I was at a total loss for what to do—I almost started crying myself.

Fortunately, one of the staff came hurrying over right away and soothed the agitated children, calming them down.

Natsume: OhHH? How impressiVE. I guess that’s a genuine professional childcare worker for yOU. 

Tsumugi: Hmm~. Getting children to stop crying once they start is no easy task, though… …

Arashi: No. The children’s crying stopped instantly. It seemed as if a magic spell had been cast on them.

Natsume: … … Could it be the children were administered an inhalant sedatiVE?

Arashi: No, it didn’t seem like that at all.

Looking back on it now, the method of it was really baffling, though… …

That staff worker simply went around whispering something into the children’s ears, but they recovered and stopped crying immediately. 

What was that all about, I wonder? With everything that’s happened, and now, the children’s strange reactions—there’s definitely something odd going on here. 

Madara: Hmmm… … Can I just ask—were all the children in the room crying at the same time when the tears started? 

Arashi: Why are you asking about that? If I think back on it though, among the children… … I recall it seemed to be the older kids who started crying first—?

Up until that moment, they had been behaving very maturely, in a manner way beyond their years, which was why their reaction came as such a sudden shock to me. 

The younger ones must’ve felt the same way too, and started to panic and cry themselves when they saw the older children cry—

—And they were the ones who continued crying for a long time after, for some reason. 

Madara: Hmmm. I see. A great deal is starting to fall into place nowww. 

Tsumugi: Oh my… …? Do you have any idea about what transpired during that strange event, Mikejima-kun? 

Madara: Well, there’re some things which seem reeeally odd to me, which is why I’m just inquiring casually about them. 

I’ll start looking into the situation more closely tomorrow, taking into account what I’ve heard from Arashi-san. 

Indeed. This is only just a ‘hunch’ of mine, but—

—there’s a possibility an unbelievably tragic incident or accident might have taken place in the history of that Dancing Cranes Home. 

—————-To be continued——————-

Chapter 10 / Chapter 12

Translator’s Notes:

Arashi is mimicking the laugh of Charlotte LinLin, https://onepiece.fandom.com/wiki/Charlotte_Linlin/Abilities_and_Powers a OnePiece character with tremendous strength and endurance. Her nickname is Big Mom (Biggu Mamu, haha), and her height is 8.80m (28 feet 10 inches) tall. 

Tsumugi says “tsukkomi” which comes from “boke and tsukkomi” or “Wise Guy and Straight Man” of the Japanese comedic duo routine known as “Manzai” (漫才) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manzai

It's not proofed, so if you have any feedback, please DM me.

[gtbutterfly]

Quincy and the forest Giant part five

finally came up with a proper title for this series. anyways, here's the comfort part of "hurt/comfort", as promised in the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it. criticism is appreciated.

previous part

tw: mentioning death and squeezing, though none actually happens.

______________________________________________________________

It felt like a couple of hours later. I was still under the pillow, holding myself. I had stopped crying a while ago, now I was just numb. It was still raining outside, thunder roaring every so often. Occasionally, I would hear Ella walking by. She didn’t speak to me for a while, sometimes I would feel her walking behind the couch behind me, or see her looking at me from the other side of the room while I hid from her under the pillow. Finally, she left the room and came back a couple of minutes later with a massive paper towel with some more stale bread on it.

“Hey,” the giant said, sitting on her knees in front of the couch, and placing the plate next to the pillow. She was rubbing her neck. “It’s about lunchtime. You should eat something.”

I stayed silent. I was actually hungry, even if all there was to eat was the large, stale bread, but I didn’t want to come out of my hiding spot. I didn’t want to expose myself to her. I heard the giant sign in response to my silence.

“Come on, come out of there, I want to talk to you,” Ella said, sounding more annoyed. “You're not in trouble or anything, just come out.” I still didn’t budge from my spot.

“I….I am not h-hungry…” I lied, trying to get Ella to go away. She groaned with more annoyance.

“Look, I’m trying to be nice to you after what happened, and you’re going to accept it, ok?” Ella said. “Don’t make me yank you out from under there, kid.”

I hesitantly crawled out from under the throw pillow and looked down in nervousness, avoiding eye contact with the giant. 

“There you are,” Ella said, glaring down at me. “I got you some food,” she pushed the piece of bread towards me. I stared at it for a moment before stepping onto the paper towel and picking the bread up, taking a small bite. It was hard and nearly crunchy. 

“Do you not like it?” Ella asked. I looked up at her.

“Um…its…..uh, its ... .um…a bit stale….” I said sheepishly.

“Do you want me to get you something else? Water? Fruit from outside?” The giant asked.

“Um, no thanks, I’m fine,” I said, taking another bite. The giant sighed and leaned on her elbow on the couch. She seemed like she didn’t know how to say what she wanted to.

“So…about earlier, your… you're fine now, right?” she asked.

“Wh-what?” I said, confused as to what she meant.

“You're not like, traumatized or anything from what I did to you, right? I mean,your not crying anymore,”

“...yeah, I’m not… crying…” I said,

“So you're fine? We’re good?” Ella asked. I struggled with wwhatto say to her. I was silent for a few moments before I heard her sigh. “You’re still afraid, aren’t you?”

“Um….well….um….” I stumbled over my words while answering her, “your…very big…and you…um…you can be….um”

“I can be what?” Ella asked sternly. “Intimidating? Mean?”

“Well...um…..” I nodded and shrugged at the same time. Ella sighed again.

“We should talk about this somewhere else,” she said, reaching her hand towards me.

“Huh? Wait, don’t-” 

The giant suddenly picked me up, wrapping her hand around my torso and giving me a light squeeze as she casually walked into the kitchen and plopped me onto the table. She sat down in a chair while I tried to stand back up. She sighed before talking. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to go that far when I was…threatening you earlier,” she said, looking down as if she was ashamed. “I wouldn’t actually hurt you, let alone ‘make you go missing’ like I said. I was just trying to get you to listen to me and stop asking questions. I didn’t mean to make you cry or anything, ok?”

“Um…ok…” I said, still scared.

“Good, I just wanted you to understand that.” she said. “As long as you're here, I’m in charge of you, and you have to listen to me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll hurt you, understand?”

“...sure…” I said, looking down. Ella sighed slightly and looked closer at me.

“Don’t lie to me, Quincy.” the giant said.

“I…I’m not…” I gulped to calm myself down, “I’m not lying,”

“You still think that I’d hurt you,” Ella said sternly. “You're shaking and mumbling when you try to talk. If you trusted me not to hurt you, you wouldn’t be doing that.”

“I…you…well ... .your…you're not doing a very good job convincing me.” I said,

“Look, I explained myself, I told you I didn’t mean to make you cry like that, I don’t know what else you would want from me to give me your trust.”

“You…you didn’t even…apologize…you…you’re acting like you didn’t do anything wrong, and this is just some kind of misunderstanding…” I said, looking down.

“Is that not what this is?” Ella asked, even more stern. “You misunderstood me, and thought I would hurt you.”

“You….you threatened me…you squeezed me….” I said, closing my eyes to brace myself for Ellas reaction.

“Squeeze you? What are you talking about?” Ella asked. “You mean when I was holding you tight earlier to bring you here? That was so I don’t drop you. You wouldn’t want to fall from that height, kid,”

“No…when you were yelling at me,” I said, “you…you were holding me tight again, and….your grip squeezed me while you were yelling…..and it hurt…like you were going to crush me…” Ella was silent for a moment hearing this. Her expression lightened and her eyes got wider as she looked at me.

“What? You mean I hurt you?” Ella asked, suddenly sounding horrified. “Are you still hurt? Did I break anything?”

“Um, no…I’m fine now…..a little sore, I guess,” I said,

“Why didn’t you say anything?�� Ella asked,

“You…you were mad at me…” I said.

“You…you thought I did that on purpose?” Ella said, sounding both horrified and angry at the same time. “I…I wouldn’t…I honestly didn’t mean to…” her expression softened more as she sighed, looking at me with guilt. “are you sure you're not hurt? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

“No, I…I’m fine, it's ok,” I said. 

“It's not ok, I hurt you,” Ella said in a serious, yet sympathetic tone, “I could have actually injured you, or crush you, I…” The giant sighed again, closing her eyes and looking down with guilt, before looking back at me. “I’m sorry, Quincy.”

“For….for squeezing me?” I asked.

“For squeezing you, for making you cry, and for yelling at you in the first place.” Ella said. “I really, truly, sorry.”

“Um, it's okay, Ella,” I said looking up at her, “it only hurt for a moment anyway. It's fine.”

“It's not fine, Quincy. Your 13, you’re just a kid.” Ella said, full of guilt and anger at herself. “I yelled at a child. I made a child cry and hide from me. I almost killed a child…” 

It seemed like she was more so talking to herself at this point, trying to come to terms with what she did. What she could have done. There was still sternness in her voice, but none of it was directed towards me anymore. It was all towards herself. She was angry at herself. 

“It's ok, its…its over now. You don’t have to worry anymore,” I said, trying to calm the giant down.

“This is exactly why I’m not supposed to be around normal humans,” she muttered under her breath. I guess if she was normal size, I wouldn’t have heard it. But she's not, and I heard what she said perfectly. 

“...not allowed?” I asked. Ella looked at me for a second embarrassed and still ashamed of herself. She sighed and looked down.

“Quincy…” he sighed again, frustrated. “The reason I didn’t want you asking those questions..” she paused, “is that..the more you know about me, about this, about my job, where we are, what I am, the more you know about those things, the more danger you will be in.”

“Danger from what?” I asked.

“...not me, hopefully.” the giant sighed. “With what you know now, there's a good chance you’ll be fine…for the most part. But if you find anything else out, you won’t be. Bad things will happen to you, and I don’t want those things to happen, but I can’t keep them from happening unless you stay unaware of these things. Do you understand?”

It took me a moment to answer, “ok…I understand…” Ella grew a soft smile as I nodded. 

“Good, I’m glad we could work this out,” The giant said, still looking sympathetic. “If there's anything I could do to…y’know, make things up to you for what I did earlier before those people come to get you tomorrow, just tell me, m’kay kid?”

“Um…ok, Ella,” I said. “Um, could we…do something to pass the time…until then…”

“Sure kid. sure.”

[writersdare]

Paris Broke My Heart (p.2) | Calum Hood

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (she/her)

Summary: A whole year apart. Is there even a chance for Calum and Y/N to be together?

Warning: angst (happy end), fluff, friends to lovers, a bit of cursing and mentioning of alcohol

Word Count: 1 868

Requested: yes and yes

Author’s Note: Read the 1st part here! Without it the story wouldn't really make any sense ♡ I liked the dramatic ending, but I think I like this one better. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, too ♡

Time was making a cruel joke of Calum and Y/N. It wasn’t flying fast like they hoped, on the contrary, it was going extremely slow, torturing day by day. The more weeks were passing by, the more painful it was to be so far from each other.

“How is your new apartment?” the girl called Cal right after landing in Paris and entering her new home. She looked around, having truly no idea how to answer his question. The flat was fine, light and rather spacious. Back to Los Angeles, she dreamed of a normal place to live in, not a small studio with crazy neighbours. However, having a good apartment in Paris did not make her happy. In fact, she didn’t feel anyhow better in another country. The heart was still aching. And Cal’s words “please, don’t go” were still bouncing in her head.

“It’s alright,” Y/N mumbled and bit her lips. “Don’t forget to take care of the plants I gave to you, alright? I worked really hard to keep them alive,” she smiled, but the joy sounded fake.

“Sure, don’t worry.”

He moved the plants to Ashton’s apartment. Cal knew it was pathetic and ridiculous, but even stupid flowers were hurting him, reminding about Y/N. He was angry with himself for letting her go. Other days, if he had too much of alcohol in his blood, he’d be mad at her for ruining everything they had. And that night at the club… She didn’t even talk about it. Did she regret that much?

The first two weeks Y/N was crying every single night, missing her friends, missing Calum. She didn’t regret what had happened between them, however, she hoped it’d have happened much earlier, not few days before her leaving.

Despite some awkwardness in their goodbyes, Calum and Y/N stayed in touch. Or better to say they tried to. The difference in time zones were killing them, it was so much worse comparing with the period when he was on tour. At first, they tried to keep up with their casual messages once a day – when it was morning for her and evening for him – but slowly the texts were shorter and rare. The phone calls became less pleasant and later disappeared at all. After some time, months being in Paris, Y/N got used to her life more or less. At some point she even let the friends know she met a nice guy, and more and more often Calum would see on social media her photos always next to that guy. Few times Cal was thinking to remove Y/N from his following list just to stop seeing her happy face, while he was so devastated. 

“Please, tell me it meant something for you.”

Y/N opened her eyes lazily, but closed them immediately, feeling extremely sleepy. However, recognising the voice on the phone, the girl jumped in bed and glanced at the French boyfriend, lying next to her. Thankfully the guy didn’t wake up from the call.

“Calum,” she whispered and, putting on a first shirt she found in her closet, hurried up to leave the bedroom. “Are you drunk?”

“Is that what matters to you, huh? Only this?”

“It’s night here, Cal, I can’t talk now,” she whispered.

“Sure, you can’t. Is he there? In your bed?”

Y/N clenched a hand into a fist, trying to hold back the tears.

“It’s not your business, Cal.”

“It is mine. It supposed to be mine,” he mumbled and sobbed, feeling like shit. He was drunk, it was a rather normal condition of his lately, on the days off. “You left me, as if I never meant anything to you. How could you? After all… after all we had together…”

“I left you?” Y/N outraged in a whisper, going to the kitchen. “Do you think I wanted to leave so much? But you didn’t say a thing. You didn’t tell if it was important to you that I stay.”

“You sent this application at first place!” he snapped.

“And you never asked why I did that, Calum! I couldn’t stay any longer, it was killing me! You were killing me!” she couldn’t hold back the pain any longer. “I chose this path, because it’s better this way. I’m moving on, and you should, too.”

“So, this is it? You saying you don’t give a damn about what happened in the club, Y/N?”

“It was everything to me,” she said and closed the eyes for a moment. “But it doesn’t matter anymore,” Y/N finished the call and came back to the bedroom, texting Luke on her way to look after Cal as, apparently, he couldn’t do that himself.

Surely Y/N did not stop having feelings for Calum, it’d be naïve to think so. But the life kept going, she knew she needed to halt looking back. They couldn’t be together; Cal didn’t even offer to visit her in Paris or invite to his place for the weekends. He was playing his part again, being all cold and detached from her, and that time the girl decided to let it be.

However, it was rather ignorant for Y/N to believe she could find her happiness with someone else. And even if she didn’t think so, she at least hoped she’d be able to hold on to her imaginary love for a little longer. Just few months passed before saying to the French boyfriend rather trivial “I’m sorry, but I’m in love with my best friend”.

Y/N did not come to LA on winter holidays, she thought it would be for the best. Otherwise, she’d start crying again, would experience the feelings towards Calum even stronger, and it’d broke her completely, irrevocably. She did not visit the city of angels during her days off or other vacations, and Cal did not fly to Paris to see her. Funny enough, both realised pretty soon that they were suffering not because of the distance between them, but simply because of the feelings towards each other.

And the whole year passed just like that, yet it felt like eternity. In spite of that, when Y/N sent Calum the only message about her flying to LA next morning because Paris was not her home, the musician felt like he was back to the past.

To the happy one, where Y/N was not leaving, and he felt like he had all time in the world to be with her. To the time, when they were hiding from rain in some old local store with a gumball machine.

“Look!” she wiped wet hands on soggy jeans and started to search coins in her pockets. Calum was quicker, though, so he put few in the machine, and the girl began filling her mouth with yellow, green and red gums that looked more like some plastic. No matter how passionate Cal could be about the taste of each – he claimed that the red one had a strawberry flavour, the green one was apple-flavoured and the yellow was a lemon – to Y/N they all tasted the same. The tongue was changing its colours like a chameleon, though. The girl gave a blue one to her friend, so he took it by his lips, and they switched places. It was Y/N’s turn to put the coins in the machine, while Calum would catch the gums for himself. 

“It makes my hungry,” he mumbled, trying to chew ten of them at once, while the girl was spending her last coins on few more gumballs.

“Let’s wait a bit longer, the sun is already peeking out of the clouds,” she noticed, and they both glances at the window, which possibly wasn’t washed since the opening of that store. Usually, a summer downpour wouldn’t last long, so they were sure they’d be able to leave the place quite soon.

“I’d die for a cup of tea and some soup now,” the musician giggled and shock his head actively, when Y/N tried to put the last gum in his mouth. “I don’t have a place in there anymore! Y/N!” he laughed and closed the mouth with a palm.

Just few hours after that he wasn’t smiling anymore, finding out the girl was going to Paris for the whole damn year.

Here he was, though, in the airport where he experienced maybe his very first real heartbreak. Calum saw the girl’s sleepy face and smile that would always light up his dark world. Approaching him, she touched a shirt collar first just to make sure Cal was real. They hugged each other tight, closing the eyes and trying to forget the whole year being apart. Y/N was hearing his rushed heartbeat and thinking how stupid she was believing she could stop feeling anything romantic towards her best friend.

“I love you,” she wanted to say, but only whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, but thought. “I wish I could just say how much I love you.”

An hour in taxi, and they were home. Her apartment did not really change much, even though it looked a bit alien after such a long absence. 

“Why didn’t you visit?” when superficial conversation was over, the girl could not help asking. She didn’t mean to start a fight, but that question was bothering her for the whole year, and she finally felt brave enough to ask that. 

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to come back to LA then,” Cal mumbled quietly, almost whispering.

“You do understand how stupid it sounds, don’t you?”

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” he smirked. “I just couldn’t come. Couldn’t. You left; you made your choice. I had to accept it.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. She sobbed and shook her head.

Cal swallowed and closed the eyes for a moment.

“I called my ex your name, Y/N.”

“When?...”

“When we were making love,” he chuckled sadly and turned the head towards the girl. “Every night… I was imagining you instead of her,” Calum’s cheeks flared up with a blush. The guy knew how wrong it was, of course, he knew.

“I guess she was very mad,” Y/N looked away, remembering the girl from his old posts. She didn’t buy it even for a slight second and was sure they were dating just for marketing reasons. Yet, she did notice Calum not liking Y/N’s photos where she was in an embrace of her ex. So stupid.

 “I said my ex that I’m in love with you, so he threw away the tickets to Milan. It wasn’t very romantic.”

“I guess I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Of course, I’m not,” he smiled a bit, feeling better for the first time after finding out she got a boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. “I love you,” Cal said all of a sudden and took her palms in his. “I love you,” he repeated, simply bursting out the secret. The guy was ready to say it over and over again until she’d finally listen. 

 “I can’t believe you’re here. I won’t survive without you next time.”

“There won’t be the next time,” Calum warned and covered her silly lips with his after she replied,

“I love you, too, my best friend.”

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

Moodboard ♡

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw the 2nd here @ghost-of-you –

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Prompt List

[ladydaybreaker]

Well, I finally got around to reading "Cross the Jaded Stars" and so I really wanted to leave a comment, but I felt like since I also wanted to ask a couple of questions, I decided it would be better to do it here.

I'll start by saying that this is probably the most unique RoleSwapAU for MD that I've ever seen and damn, I love that J is the main character. It was quite funny while reading to think about who is who and it was fun when I guessed, especially with the fact that Beau, N and Khan are also SD and I already have bets on Doll and Yeva. Also, of course, I can't help but note the differences from the original story, which only add to the fanfic's pluses.

But as I said earlier, I also had a couple of questions:

How did you come up with the idea of ​​who should take whose role? Especially interesting regarding DD, since the use of secondary characters was quite unexpected for me.

Why did J, N and V get these names? I can also guess about J and V since the beginning of their names is identical to how these letters are read, but how N became Emmett is a mystery to me (there is not even an N there).

Why does Jaelyn have this corporate slang? And what is her attitude towards people and JC Jenson in general? In canon, her loyalty made sense, but there must be another reason for this.

Since Cyn is just a drone from the colony, then if this is not a spoiler, then can we see or at least mention Johanna and Simon? Perhaps this can also be expanded to Ava.

Sorry if this is too much for one message, I needed to put these thoughts somewhere and understand a few things.

Oh my guy, do not feel bad for asking all the questions haha. I am always constantly checking ao3 to see if there are questions to answer (I'm a bit bad about it here but I try to get better!) So, let me see if I can answer your questions! (below the line for spoilers and for ease of access for the mobile users!

Ok so, J being the Uzi swap was a bit of a joke because @mephiles97 (SilverTails), DoodlingNutjob (She doesn't have tumblr from what I know) and I were all talking about how funny it was that each of Tessa's bots got with the Doorman kid or were the Doorman kid in our respective stories. Silver's got Serial Designation: C falling for the Doorman kid in Through the Looking Glass (There's Cyn). DoodlingNutjob, Heart, had Vera Doorman in Flipside (there's V). And I had of course N and Uzi for Ad Astra. Then we realized that...huh. J's alone.

I made the joke a loooong while back that the only one that could make J chill tf out other than Tessa would be Sam. So that started talks of the crack ship we called "Business Casual"...

As for the DDs, well, Sam was a given. I came up with Emily next mainly because I went "V swap...could play with the shy girl becomes monster...final girl...final monster Emily let's go." Lot of Emily's look I got inspiration from Sidney Prescott from Scream. So she became Serial Designation: E. And since I didn't want to do the common thing of Lizzy being the J swap Rebecca was the next one on the list...so she came to be known as Serial Designation: R.

My Solvers were...interesting. Mainly because I had the idea, because no one had done it before...having N be the Doll swap. And it tied in what I wanted for the Host...which I'll talk about in a bit :3 Part of me wanted Beau to be in here in some respect as a nod to both my co-conspirators Silver and Heart since they have him in prominent places in their swaps...that being the Doorman Kid for Through the Looking Glass and the Doll swap in Flipside. But with N taking the original place I wondered...what if I made him N's brother? So Beau became the second half of the Doll swap and Alice (and Luke!) became their parents as the Yeva and Alexei swaps which meant they unfortunately met their ends by E pre-story (plus, Nori and Alice being best friends was hilarious to me considering how hostile they are to each other anywhere else).

Cyn and V were fun to place. V taking Thad's original role (with N sharing it somewhat) but still being ready and willing to crack a few skulls was funny to me. And Cyn...well...I had Beau as half the Doll swap...seemed fitting that Cyn became the Lizzy swap. Except for the fact she's queen bee but is by no way the typical mean girl. She's just popular because of her friendliness and kindness...though can be a regular gremlin as Beau can tell you.

The Solver Host was probably the one after J I made. And with her...I kinda figured out where N went because I'm a sucker for tragic romances. I was very surprised that no one (that I had seen) had made Uzi the Solver Host...where Doll was rampant as the Host. Lumineary Arts and Heart being some of the big ones there that had her as it. I knew I wanted to do something big and dramatic because, c'mon, it's Uzi. So...I did two things. One: She has an illusion she constantly keeps up as a form of 'protection' and reassurance...that being of the scariest thing she can think of, a dragon. And two...I didn't do the 'Big Brother'-'Little Sister' relationship between her and S(am). I turned that into the Manor eNVy. And that fueled R(ebecca) and her manipulation tactics against S. "I won't hurt you like she did."

So I will admit for V I was lazy and Victoria seemed to sound right to me. Could go with 'Vicky' or 'Tori' (like I do with Ad Astra V's kiddo). But Vicky's got another thing going for her...she's undefeated in a fight (until the bar. And then against E. Which she is incredibly bitter over). J and N both have the same reasoning for them. I wanted something unique...but I do have nods to friends' works with J (Jaelyn uses many names to get into the bunkers. Joy is Silver's J, Jade is Heart's and Jeannette is The_Caretaker @existence-overwhelming and the name he uses for his series Eschatology.) I hadn't seen anyone use "Jaelyn" before so I used that. Emmett was the fun one because I was fruuuuustrated with the fact I couldn't find a normal name that no one had used. And I didn't feel like going obscure and hard to pronounce. So I played a bit with it. The reason it is what it is and why it has no N? Little two year old Beau couldn't say "Emmett" and it lisped out as "N". Alice and Luke didn't have the heart to correct him.

So the reason for Jae still having the jargon thing is it's a glitch in her system that she hates. If she gets worked up, frustrated or scared enough she'll start speaking corporate jargon. Nori and Khan found this effing adorable when she was a kid despite the fact they don't like the megacorp. Jae doesn't care for them either but eh, what can you do? They're a million miles away and Jae's only one drone (Unlike Uzi in canon Jae's realized "The heck exactly am I going to do?"). It's also a thing of, if I didn't have the little corpo speak glitch people would eat me alive. It's my little reminder that "Guys, remember this is J, not Uzi." (I've had so many people go "but she shouldn't be so callous and willing to murder!")

Ah Joanna and Simon, my sweet little sibling units...Unfortunately Cyn's alone in this world, so if they were a thing they likely were killed by a DD or in a raid on the colony. Poor Cyn...you do not get your sibling units in my stories. As for Ava...Ava would have been on Earth or amongst the stars much like she is in Ad Astra...whether or not that means she's alive...well...that's just something that has yet to be seen :3

I hope that answered your questions! Please feel free to ask more, I like to gab about my stuff. I've been feeling kinda down on JS lately because it feels it's not getting the same amount of traction as Ad Astra or iNtersubJeCtiVe requital do. And I've been putting a lot of worldbuilding stuff into this one to make it unique as a swap. So, thank you. That made my day and renewed my hope a bit in this one.

[f3mcelbambi]

story time: is anam in love with me?

so for context i was supposed to spend the next few months off all electronic devices so i can focus on myself. this included texting. i told anam that on sunday night and she seemed okay with it. but it didn’t last long

so on monday when this started, i was walking to the gym and i see that i had a missed call from anam. i was confused and kinda scared because anam never calls me. i call her back and at first she just didn’t speak even after i said hello? then she said in a very quiet voice that she would EMAIL (???) me and then she ended the call. very ominous

i check my emails and i see this..

and i’m like bro it’s not even been 12 HOURS how has chaos already started wtf???

we sorted out the issue but inevitably we just went back to texting and i had to retell her that we shouldn’t be doing this and that i’m not supposed to be on my phone.. and she just kinda ignored it. she texted me something random and i didn’t reply for the rest of the day. i also told her that she can only email me if there is an emergency

so on tuesday she emailed me again about her dad and it turns out that it’s not that he can read her messages but he can see her search history and i sent her something with my name in it and yeah. again she went astray and started emailing me casually and i didn’t respond. however she just randomly asked if i was going to the gym today and i said yeah and i told her when i was going. she was like that’s fine and i was like huh, wdym that’s fine? why would it not be fine if i was going to the gym

so i was at the gym doing my thing and i was looking at the monitor on the treadmill and in the reflection i could see her a girl with her back turned to me on another treadmill. and i was like she looks familiar.. i turn around and it’s ANAM??? she never told me that she wanted to go to the gym with me. so did she plan going to the gym at the same time as me??? anyways i was panicking because this is probably the second time ever that i’ve seen anam out of school and the only time i’ve seen her by herself. i was sweaty and gross and was extremely self conscious. i pretended not to see her so i carried on

when i finished my workout i saw in the corner of my eye that she was sat down waiting for me to finish.. then she started walking up to me. IMMEDIATELY i speedwalked out of the gym and went straight to the bathroom. then i started screaming and wiping the sweat off my face but not before long anam opens the bathroom door and she’s all hot and red and flushed and flustered. and she was so shy looking at the floor like “hi 😌” and i had to pretend like i wasn’t purposely avoiding her and i had to act all surprised like i had just seen her for the first time. she was really shy and awkward when we first met.

eventually we went to sit down and i remember i sat opposite girl at first and then she suggested i sit next to her. so i did, but still kept some distance. after a lot of cute small talk she told me that eliza wanted to hang out with her. idk if i’ve mentioned but eliza is extremely jealous of me. anam told eliza that she was with me and she was like oh! but she still agreed that i could come. then as we were waiting for eliza, anam got sly and moved to sit really close to me. and i was like ahahahahashahshshshshsjfkwmfnkekfnremkf but before anything could happen, eliza arrived

what happened with eliza was boring but my favourite part was making her jealous of purpose by making anam wear my coat and hold my stuff, then eliza ripped it out of anams hands and took my coat AND HER STUFF then held all of it. then me and anam were just behind her laughing

on wendesday i was just chilling but then got the sudden urge to check messages.. and i caved. and anam sent me a message “i already miss you” AND I WAS AWWWWING FOR THE WHOLE DAY. like my baby misses me my baby my baby. she also sent me a thirst trap which.. girl i was ready to fold right there and then.

on thursday anam emails me saying “emergency.” with absolutely not context. i saw that email an hour later and i started freaking out so i spam emailed her and spam called her but it wouldn’t ring it would just say “user busy” and i genuinely thought she died. then she emailed me 5 minutes later saying “oh hi it wasn’t an emergency i just miss you sorry” at first i was furious because i was genuinely terrified but then my heart melted and realised how cute that was

then she called me.. and we facetimed. and it was the cutest thing ever. she got a new haircut and she is such a shy girl i had to beg her to show her face. and when she did (after like half an hour) she was as red as a tomato and she had the cutest smile on her face.

then she brought up the fact that she sent me something on messages. and i realised that she was talking about the thirst trap. but to her, i haven’t checked my messages, so i had to play dumb. AND THEN SHE SCREENSHARED AND MADE ME LIVE REACT TO THE THIRST TRAP. and then it got very sensual very quickly. she tried being dominating but i made her fold so quickly. anyways 😊

then she decided she wanted to study at like 11pm and i was just watching her and she is honestly the most beautiful girl ever i was just staring at her until i fell asleep on facetime

FRIDAY MY FAVOURITE DAY HEHEH this is where i was convinced that she fell in love with me. so in the early part of the day, we were talking about how i was watching her study on face time the night before. she was calling me adorable and cute and stuff. she kept telling me she missed me so i suggested we facetime again later that night. but i guess she couldn’t wait. she kept emailing me telling me to reply faster (she’d do this if i didn’t reply back within 2 minutes) and i called her out for being needy and she got really shy about it. and called me hot. for saying that. anywaysss we were flirting yada yada yada you know the vibes. i played roblox with her sister and then she emailed me this..

and i was furious. i immediately left the game and ended the call and such she started spam emailing me telling me she’s sad. i made her write a formal 100 word apology and she delivered. i gave it 7/10 and continued playing with her sister. after she went to sleep me and anam facetimed again and as you would assume, i watched her study again but i didn’t fall asleep. i watched her until she finished. she ended the call but it didn’t stop there

AND SHE DID THE SAME THING TOO. whenever she’d look at me she would be all smiley and her eyes would smile too. this is the point where i thought she had fallen in love with me too. she kept telling me that i’m special because she never facetimes people or calls them. telling me that she never thought people noticed her like that. and assured to her she’s the most beautiful thing i’d ever laid my eyes on.

on saturday she was being hella needy and petty. she told me she wanted to me watch this movie about two gay people and i was like oh okay so. then she yelled at me saying that i should watch it without her. which means she wanted to watch it together. cutie. then i toyed with her and pretended like i had already started watching. then she started being dramatic saying that i might as well have just stabbed her and then she told me she was gonna ignore me. she ignored me for 3 minutes. her dad also knows about the fact that she’s always on the phone with me. her dad was like “is this who you’re always on the phone with” and she was like no…

after a bit we were talking about music and she asked if i had any songs that i dedicated to her and she dedicated a song to me (flawless - the neighbourhood). however i couldn’t tell her because if i do, i’d spoil to present i wanted to give her during the summer. i’ll link it here. so then she got hella petty and said she was gonna ignore me again. she ignored me for 11 minutes. SHES SO FUNNY.

this is where it gets a bit rough because anam was talking to other people and trying to make me jealous and i started crying for hours. she called me a whore as a joke and uh

then it got a bit deep because she realised that it’s unhealthy for me to do that but we moved past it. she went straight back to trying to make me jealous and i cried again.

i got very jealous and convinced her to get us a virtual pet to take care of so we can have something together. because her and eliza have matching phone cases, and her other friend laiba have matching home AND lock screens.

then she kinda stopped emailing (she was studying the whole time) and i started getting needy so i called her. she didn’t answer. then i started crying again. she asked why i called her then didn’t answer again i continued to cry. i told her i missed her and wanted her attention. she told me she missed me too but called me needy and a drama queen, as a joke.

she told me that she wanted to start focusing on studying so she will have to text less which upset me initially but i forgot about it because then we called and i helped her with maths

then i got the “u up?” email (LMAO) and she was calling me mommy and telling me she that she loves me and heheheheh

then TODAY, sunday, i was supposed to not text anam throughout the week then text her on sundays. and also to allow myself to go back on my phone freely. i texted anam instead of email and she seemed very excited to actually text me. she spammed me with a load of things she was saving from her camera roll. but after no more than 15 minutes she got dry. and was like i’m gonna stop texting me in5 minutes? and not come back for the rest of the day?? i was so obviously upset by this because i waited all week to just casually text her and now she’s gone. then she called me out for being a hyprocrite because i literally said the same thing last week. she said “so you’re allowed to leave but i’m not” and i felt really bad. but we left things hostile.

..and then she became an absolute beg after a couple minutes. she texted, emailed, then CALLED me. and i called back then she didn’t answer? then she called ME back and i answered and i caught and attitudeee but she apologised. then she called me.. twice more. because she missed me. but i made sure i left the call making her know i was annoyed.

but yeah, now we are gonna text at 9.30 hehehe

so guys does she like love me now? she can’t stay away from me despite being miss-nonchalant-avoidant-attachment-style

[kitkatt0430]

So I started replaying the second Ni No Kuni game today which naturally made me think of the plot to the first game and, huh... wouldn't that be an interesting plot to rework with Flash characters?

Barry's mother dies in a tragic accident that is, to some degree, entirely Barry's fault. Eleven year old Barry, struggling with his grief, pulls out one of the stuffed animals his mom gave him when he was very, very little. A little weird looking creature that she'd told him was a magical fairy that would help him when he was sad.

So Barry's curled around this toy, crying, and his tears bring it to life. Freeing it from the curse that bound it in toy form. And he announces that his name is Mxyzptlk, a fairy from another world. And he, of course, knows about Barry's mom dying tragically. But!!! There might be a chance to still save her, because Barry has magic. That's how he broke the curse on Mxy. Together they can open the door between worlds and venture to Mxy's world. If they act quickly enough, they can find Nora Allen's soulmate - the version of her that lives in Mxy's world who just so happens to be a great sorceress - and she might be able to bring Nora back to life with her amazing gifts.

Barry is skeptical but he wants his mom back. So he agrees. Of course, it's not until they get to the other world that Mxy casually mentions the last time he saw this great and powerful sorceress who was Nora's soulmate... she was in battle with the ancient Sorcerer of Evil, Savitar. And that was when Mxy was turned into a doll. So he's pretty sure that they're gonna have to take out Savitar to save the Sorceress and resurrect Nora.

The first game is really good and such a fascinating interrogation of the grieving process (the second game is something of a King Arthur/high king story, though it's very fun to play too) so it fits very well with Barry's struggle to grieve for his parents on the show... and his struggle to accept the parts of him that aren't necessarily good and kind. Which also makes the position of the game's main antagonist perfect for Savitar and could give him nuance the show didn't really manage. (Well, first main antagonist in the game before the secondary story kicks off, though the secondary story is more like post game content really...)

I could see Cisco, Caitlin, and Iris being Barry's best friends in the real world, so their soulmates would, naturally, be drawn to help Barry in the other world. And there'd always be this lingering question of if this is all really happening or if it's just Barry's way of working himself through his grief and guilt.

[away-ward]

Nightfall headcanon! Do you know/believe in MBTI personality types? I do, but not to a T. If you do, what do you think willemmy's mbti would be? I feel like em would be INTP/INFP, and will would be ENFJ/ENFP. Like theyre mostly the complete opposite, but because they are both very curious people, they always aim for more, better, higher. One knowledge or trouble is not enough for people like them, they need to be in constant adventure. I think it suits them so much because even when they werent shown to be adventurous (action-wise) given the circumstances, when they do, it was always full of adrenaline. Not to mention, willemmy was CRAZY! They were literally going through so much shit, plus all those mind games in blackchurch from everyone, and they came out ok, and be like "yeah fun". I cannot imagine kaibanks having the same reaction with them honestly, lmaooo! Like would kaibanks have fun? Yea maybe, but would they be crackheads about it like willemmy? Nah. Even michaelrika would be crying over each other honestly. And damonwinter would be more protective and doting of each other. Idk, theres something crazy about willemmy that scratches a very specific part of my brain. Like they literally are THAT couple in the series thats ACTUALLY fucking unhinged. The other three are unhinged too, but were they on willemmy's level? No. Like if you noticed, Nightfall is considered boring to many, but thats the thing, if you read in a different pov, the story was unhinged from the start until the end. One trouble after another. It's a constant thing, not like Corrupt, Hideaway or Kill Switch where the troubles are two or three at most, and thats why Nightfall "Little Trouble" is just! So! Willemmy!

Unpopular opinion, readers when they enter Nightfall, are already so desentisized with unhinge things because of the past 3.5 books that they dont realised the more extreme and constant high stakes of Nightfall. For me, this element was what made dynamic good too, because they really like to cause trouble everywhere 🤣 for themselves, for each other and literally for everyone. No wonder their family wanna jump kick them (fondly) sometimes ahaha! I remember Michael being frustrated at Emmy during the chase and run with Martin at the end of the book because she took the time to daydream 😭🤣 and kai being frustrated with will too 🤣 and who fit in with willemmy well from the start again? Damon! Exactly, hahaha! And thats why i'll always think willemmy's the most unhinged, because all the characters have to think about their morals yada yada for years, but willemmy was like huh? That was only ONE trouble though? No big deal 😭☠️🤣 they onky took years to find courage for the other but whenit comes to chaos? No one had to instigate anything 🤣😂 ahahhaha the more i think about it, the funnier it gets. It's even funnier when emmy thought nothing abiut her fits in with them, when she LITERALLY was a little shit too (fondly) like the rest of her current family 🥹 Like Willemmy's the couples that made people like kai wanna choke them to death (lovingly ofc), michael want to bonk their sometimes, and damon wants to jump in the truck with, ahahaha. Little trouble really suits Emory so much because of this. When PD wrote about if Will didnt find trouble, trouble will find him 😂 No truer thoughts have been spoken!

Back to willemmy's MBTIs, Willemmy's minds and hearts are always churning too, for more and better things. Because of their N type function, they got each other in a more sincerely deep and complex relationship than others because casual or shallow things dont work for them in a long run. Like the things they talk about, their hobbies, passion, feelings about everything is deeper than just the surface, and they really need someone to share these kind of personality with. It's not because they were trying to be different either, they were just naturally curious people with big thirst and interest in mysteries or the nature of things. It's because their need to be and do more is like top priority. So people either dont bother to speak more to them because theyre not as interested as them in certain topics, they assume they cant handle it because of their introverted/extroverted qualities, or are just intimidated to talk them about certain things because theyre smart people or smth like that. These MBTIs can usually only genuinely connect and build a long fulfilling lasting relationship with others with the same function of them (N type) and I wasnt surprised at all when willemmy never found any deep curious connection with others even if they might have friends and families surrounding them for so long. This doesnt mean they felt unloved or anything, but rather, in things that they were very invested in (which are many), they might feel very lonely because they have no one who they can communicate with in super complex manner. The horsemen and cowgirls are friends and fanily with will, but he cant always nerd or geek out about everything that he likes, hates or wtf, to them because they might think he wasnt able to handle it, or because they cant keep up with the way he works out his feelings, logic and interests in general. Will is like thos people who's fucking deranged about something but his friends response to say, godzilla will be "haha, that was fun" and he'll be like? JUST fun? Why? Like he literally ate up challenges and curiosity like snacks yeah, and a lot of his conversation with his friends so far in the books were very surface level things even though he mentioned many times he craves for something more complex than that. Rather than putting a blame to anyone about how he feels, or the way others treated it, i think it's more accurate to say that he just needs to find someone who can fulfill this needs, outside of his friendship with his friends. Because what he differs from his friends or personality wasnt just the way they and he percieve each other, but rather a very personal need that he never really realised he needed, until he met emmy and took all those years in prison and after to sort what kind of relationship and person he want to be with to feel fulfilled in life. So then comes Emory Scott. Unhinged and curious, likes to argue, just as prideful, smart, creative, confident in her abilities, loyal and everything else that he loves about the her world and want to actively be apart of. Whatever thing that emmy lacks when it comes to processing complicated feelings, will balanced it. Whatever will lacked with critical thinking, emmy made up for it. They challenged each other and make each other feel so fulfilled and happy. (Imma cry for willemmy as i write this). Em was more lax in her work too, even she plans things, if she felt or thought she couldnt continue it, she just stops in the midst of some plans, and on the opposite, will was a bit random with his life, but when he got a plan, he really sticks to it. Willemmy is the most Perfect for each other. The end. Lmao.

Edited for grammar, spelling and word choice; but also re-reading the ask made me unbelievably happy! Thanks to the anon that sent it in, if you're still around!

I used to be really into MBTI types, and I think they’re a great place to start when trying to understand a character*. But I haven’t thought about it in years and haven’t considered what their types would be. I used to take online test and answer as I think the characters would and then check a few of the neighboring types to see if any fit really well. I might still do that now...

I feel like em would be INTP/INFP, and will would be ENFJ/ENFP. Like theyre mostly the complete opposite, but because they are both very curious people, they always aim for more, better, higher.

I agree that Em would be more on the I-T side and Will E-F, but the other functions in the stack are hard to figure out.

However, you’ve got me thinking! Em is so incredibly curious. With people who have such serve trauma, it’s impossible to tell what traits are natural to them and what traits they developed to survive. I wonder if Em would have always been as logical and hard if she didn’t need to quickly develop those traits to combat Martin.

Would she lean more towards playful, as we kind of see her behave at the Cove on Homecoming, or even in Blackchurch at times?

Or was that just those circumstance that allowed her to let go for a short time, and she would have always developed this tendency towards logic over emotions?

It’s hard to tell, because she’s so jealous over the other kid’s freedom, but at the same time, she attributes her desire to stand out in areas like band, swim, and academics as just apart of who she is without outside influence of Martin and his abuse. She’s competitive by nature, and a lot of time, competitive people fall within the Thinking function.

they got each other in a more sincerely deep and complex relationship than others because casual or shallow things dont work for them in a long run. Like the things they talk about, their hobbies, passion, feelings about everything is deeper than just the surface, and they really need someone to share these kind of personality with. It's not because they were trying to be different either, they were just naturally curious people with big thirst and interest in mysteries or the nature of things.

Will and Em compliment each other really well, as you pointed out! On the surface, they seem like the opposites attract trope, but in they’re not really opposites. They’re nerds on different ends of the spectrum.

For example, I spent some time thinking about their love of movies. I didn’t catch it my first few times reading, but Will’s family owns the theater. At first, I thought Will just saw her go in, followed her, and that’s how he knew about Godzilla. He also knows that she likes movies, so he could have been staking out one of her favorite haunts. But what if he was already there, in the projection room?

When he takes her to the theater, he calls someone to open the open the doors for him. At first, I thought “Will’s connected. This is just a guy he knows.” But then I realized he says his parents took away his keys.

Because the Grayson’s own the theater. (admittedly a head canon, but still it works so well!)

Which seems like such a random thing for them to own. Later in NF, he says that his mother made him sit with her through a Doris Day marathon. Like…I love my mom, but I wouldn’t sit with her through an entire marathon of Doris Day. Which leads me to believe...the Grayson’s love movies. Or at least his mom does (which also new head canon:…maybe his dad bought his mom the movie theater because she loves movies and it was gift. And maybe Will loves monster movies so that’s why they have monster movie marathons during October…like this family is so ‘we love each other and we love this town so everyone benefits’. Now I think the Grayson's are adorable.).

When Emory is sprouting off facts about 80s action movies, Will isn’t a silent onlooker, in awe of her knowledge. He actively participates in that conversation.

Rather than putting a blame to anyone about how he feels, or the way others treated it, i think it's more accurate to say that he just needs to find someone who can fulfill this needs, outside of his friendship with his friends.

Yeah, maybe Emory geeks out over old stuff, antiques and architecture, or even movies and books. But Will has his stuff that geeks out over too. Like really geeks out – rambles on and on, has done 2am research, can drop random trivia, etc. Like you said, he’s just not surrounded by people who get it, so he keeps it to himself.

Here's a list of things I think Will would geek out over:

Theme/adventure parks. Will is the type to have a rollercoaster bucket list. He’d want to take a summer to drive the country and hit as many as he could.

Exploring and abandoned places. Especially if they're rumored to be haunted. He loves mysteries and mayhem.

He loves traditions. His being able to tell the Reverie Cross story from memory speaks to how much he studied it. I doubt any of the boys wanted to listen to him go on and on about it after a while but he was so invested in the town lore. He started a new tradition in Fire Night, and it seemed like he was very enthused and serious about visiting Edward's grave.

Which brings me to the next thing: He loves Thunder Bay. He probably knows that town history forwards and back. When Em goes on about a specific architecture design and its history and why it was used and why it should be preserved, Will listens intently and hypes her up, not only because she’s his girl, but because this is so interesting. He is genuinely interested in what she has to say, even when she's rambling.

Emory Sophia Scott 'nuff said on that.

I don’t think anyone in the group geeks out over this kind of stuff like the two of them. I can definitely see how the stuff that Will gets excited over being deemed ‘immature’ by Michael and Kai. Like you said, it doesn’t mean they don’t love him, just that they’re not getting that side of him. I always thought the way Michael indulged Will in Corrupt was very telling of their bond. While Kai said ‘no’ immediately because he understood the repercussion, legally but mainly emotionally for Will, Michael knew that it was something he needed. And when Rika asked, he said Will “loves the girl who built it.” Not ‘loved’ not ‘had a crush.’ Loves. They boys do a lot to understand each other, but they’re not at all the same.

Will and Em are curious and eager to learn and uncover mysteries. They don’t want to stay in the same place for too long. They don’t let the fear of ‘trouble’ stop them from discovering new things. Em went with her gut feeling to discover the Carfax room. Will found Coldfield on his own because of the mystery and because it served a purpose. Meanwhile, Kai only wanted at The Pope when he had a reason for it. Michael found St. Killain’s and stayed there forever, literally making it his home.

These two little history nerds, action movie buffs, explorers and adventurers would never stop moving. At least not for long. Will traveled the world before going to Blackchruch because he craves new experiences, and he was hoping something would spark an interest for him. And the second he gets Emory in a safe place, his first thought is “Do you wanna travel and see things? Where do you wanna go? Some place old? Some place wild? Everywhere? Do you wanna go everywhere???? ‘Cause I wanna take you everywhere.”

They’re so cute. And crazy. Probably the most eager to explore anything, followed by Damon (and Alex. I think fire night or the epilogue specifically says she is the ‘adventurer’ but whatever 😒 Is there anything Alex isn't, according to PD?). Emmy does fit in with the group as a whole, but she had to accept that side of herself first and stop judging other people for ‘having fun.’

These two balance each other so well! I will never stop loving that about them.

already so desentisized with unhinge things because of the past 3.5 books that they dont realised the more extreme and constant high stakes of Nightfall.

PD tends to use the same devices over again in this series, just with new faces and names. It’s all the same but different. The things that were ‘unhinged’ in NF were in the other books too, it was just slightly altered. So there really wasn’t anything new in terms of the couples interactions and they dynamics at play. Even if it was posed as different, it wasn’t really. I can understand why people felt tired/bored of that, even if they couldn't identify why exactly it felt that way.

NF was unique because there was no down time between major events. There also was no build-up (if you're like me and read NF without reading Conclave first). We were dropped straight in the middle of the plot; Will’s been MIA for over a year, we know practically nothing about Emory, and we have a completely new cast. It's a closed location, forced proximity, and dubious characters and the action never stops. The Blackchurch timeline is like 5 days. And it did raise the stakes. With the others, at least by the 50% mark, we knew basically who the our heroes were going to be in the end. NF did leave Aydin up in the air until the last second. I don't have positive feelings for Evans as the last antagonist, or Aydin at all, so the stakes fell flat for me at the end.

My main issue with NF has always been we traded characters who we were eager to see how they interacted with Will and especially Emory, with characters we don’t know and therefore didn't care about at first. I can’t tell you how much more I want to know how Emory would interact with the rest of the cast in normal circumstances. Not when people are angry, not when they’re preparing for a wedding, just…like the rest of the books, I wanted everyday stuff and I never got it. And unlike a lot of the fandom, I never came to care about Aydin, Micah, or Rory. Maybe I would have if we had more time, but I felt exhausted by the whole thing.

And thats why i'll always think willemmy's the most unhinged, because all the characters have to think about their morals yada yada for years, but willemmy was like huh? That was only ONE trouble though? No big deal

I mean, I definitely feel that of all the couples, Willemmy fit together the most? The things that kept them apart were out of their control, but when they are around each other, there's a clear connection. They can overcome anything if they're working together. Sometimes if feels like the other couples, especially Michael and Rika, work against each other, or look for ways to undermine or hide things from each other. I never got the impression that Willemmy would do that after they were married.

Little trouble really suits Emory so much because of this. When PD wrote about if Will didnt find trouble, trouble will find him

I love this! Like so much. Trouble will find him❤️

Thanks so much for this ask! It was a lot of fun to respond to!!!

-KO

*I specifically say character because I don’t encourage trying to type real people unless you have psychology training, but typing a character is harmless.

[aliceaktorka]

Layton Secret Santa 2022

Hello! Here's my gift for the @layton-secretsanta 2022! My giftee was @puzzle-004! I thought it'd be fun and cute to write a little conversation between Lucy and Ernest! Story info Characters: Lucy, Ernest Ships: None Genre: Slice-of-life Hope you enjoy!

Lucy walked along London’s streets, watching as snowflakes danced through the air. She’d always found winter a beautiful season, albeit rather cold. The city was tucked underneath a white fluffy blanket. Walking through it created a satisfying crunching sound. She could see her breath in puffs of air. As a kid, she’d dash across her snow covered yard, arms outstretched like wings while breathing out air. She would giggle in delight as the snow crunched under her boots with every large stomp she made. When her mother asked what she was doing, she’d turn her head, a big bright grin on her face and proclaim, “I’m a winter dragon!” Then, she’d return to her imaginary world again.

Lucy shook her head to herself, a fond smile on her face as she recalled the memory. 

It didn’t take long before she arrived at her destination, a small brick building with green trim, a golden circular sign hanging above it. She approached the door and knocked three times. A few seconds later, a young, green haired man opened the door, a confused look on his face. “Miss Baker?” he asked. “I’m so sorry but the agency is closed right now.”

“Hello Ernest!” Lucy chirped. “No, I don’t need any help from the agency. Kat and I were t’ meet up here and catch up wi’ each other.”

Ernest’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh! That’s right! She did mention you’d be stopping by. Sorry, it seems I’d forgotten.” A nervous laugh escaped him, and he rubbed the back of his head. “Miss Layton has stepped out, but I’m sure she’ll be back shortly.” He stepped back, holding the door open for Lucy. “It must be cold outside. Please, do come in and warm yourself up.”

“Aye! Ta very much.” Lucy said with a nod. She stomped the snow from her shoes, dusted off her coat and cap, then entered the agency.

“Eh-up! I see you’ve been decorating!” Lucy observed, taking in her surroundings. Christmas garland hung on the fireplace, and three stockings awaited gifts. Each had a name embroidered into them, indicating whom they belonged to. “Awww!” Lucy chirped. “There’s even one for Sherl!” “Miss Layton made those, and she insisted he get one too. He's part of the agency after all.” Ernest mused with a small smile. Lucy spun around on her heels as she got a full look at the interior. “It all looks so festive!” “Thank you!” Ernest replied, nodding his head. Then, he hesitated. His shoulders slumped with shame. “Though, I’m afraid I’m not quite finished. I…do apologize.” Lucy blinked. “Eh? Oh! No no! You did nowt wrong!” She said. “This were supposed to be a fun casual meeting between friends before we settle in for the holidays. Anything else is a bonus.”

A sigh of relief escaped from Ernest. “Oh, well, I’m glad to hear it then.” He opened another box of decorations. “I should still get back to it.” “Whatever for?” “I don’t like leaving it incomplete. Besides, small tasks can be enjoyable. I find them relaxing.” Lucy hummed in thought. “Aye, I can see your point.” Then, her ears wiggled and she pointed out in excitement. “By ‘eck! I’ve got it!”

“Huh? Got what?” Realizing what she just did, Lucy moved her arm back, a sheepish smile on her face. “Oh! Whoops! Force of habit from t’ Mystery Room.” Clearing her throat, she amended, “I mean, I think I know what we could do while we wait for Kat t’ return.”

“And what’s that?” Ernest inquired, glancing at Lucy in puzzlement. “We decorate together! It can be our little surprise for her t’ see the agency all dressed up!” “That’s awfully kind for you to offer Miss Baker, but you mustn’t feel obligated. I can handle it.”

Lucy shook her head, her brow furrowed in determination. “I insist! Besides, two heads are better than one as t’ saying goes, aye? Plus, it’ll be nice t’ do summat more laid back than solving murder mysteries. Not that I’m complaining! I love my job! But it’s good t’ take a break, you know?” Ernest paused for a moment, but nodded with a laugh. “Yes, that’s true.” He grinned. “Let’s do it then.”