#there is one more snippet i could share..maybe

[awardenandacrow]

You know what 18 is fun too. It’s “Rook tries to impress someone.” Or, in Naimy’s case, two someone’s.

@erin-unknown sorry for taking so long on this one, it’s been kicking around for a little bit in the brain but it was in a lot of little pieces so I wanted to have it a little more together before sharing. Still three pieces but that’s better than it was!

[snippet 47: at the Ossuary, Naimeryn tries for convince herself… and Neve, and Lucanis, that she is capable of leading the team and NOT a total screw up]

CW/TW: strong language, death by drowning, other violence

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“I’ve seen demons possess corpses. *Ashes.* even hair once.”

“At least this one has good taste,” Neve remarked with a smirk. Naimeryn did not succeed in suppressing a nervous giggle. That he did. She’d never been so grateful to see a Venatori guard in her life, to avoid whatever awkward exchange would have followed. Instead she ran forward, blasting Magic into the ground behind them, sending one flying *through* the Ossuary wall. She gasped and covered her mouth as she watched him drown. She spun back to Neve and Lucanis, eyes wide.

“*I didn’t know the enchantments were just — just —*” she waved her hands emphatically at Neve and then the wall.

“Not solid?” Neve asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“*Yes*!” Naimeryn snapped.

“Rook, *you* pointed out at the entrance that some of the walls were leaking.”

“Yes but I — I just thought — you know what?” Naimeryn rubbed her forehead and tried to still her panicking heartbeat. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. Let’s get the damn phylactery, kill this Calivan asshole, and get the fuck out of here.”

“I get that this is a rescue,” Lucanis smirked a little as they began walking again, “but you could leave a little for the rest of us, Rook.”

Naimeryn flushed at the remark. She felt like all she’d done was embarrass herself since she and Neve had arrived. But he seemed to… maybe think differently?

“Hey, Rook,” Neve said, falling into step beside her. “I can’t help but notice you rely pretty heavily on your staff attack.”

Naimeryn tightened her grip on the offending weapon. “Oh, uh, do I?”

“You *know* you do,” Neve frowned. “Are you more comfortable with your mageknife and orb? Why don’t you use them instead?”

“Oooooh, no,” Naimeryn laughed. “You do *not* want me brandishing this thing around.”

She patted it where it sat on her hip nervously. “This is mostly just for looks. I promise, I’m *way worse* at magic with this.”

“I didn’t say you were *bad* at ma— Rook, you’re about to—!”

Before Naimeryn could turn back away from Neve to look where she was going, she found herself tumbling down another slide made of sand. Blight and damnation, why would the Venatori build their prison in a ruin like this??? She skittered to a halt just before falling off yet another ledge. She started to sit up, then ducked to avoid a spell hurtled at her from the Venatori guards below.

“Hey!” She yelled down at them, throwing herself off the ledge and tossing magic of her own onto their heads to break her fall. All three screamed as the blast threw them all off the edges of the platform they’d been standing on.

“Serves you right for not even giving a girl a chance to get back on her feet,” she snapped to no one in particular.

“You can’t deny *that* was impressive,” she heard Lucanis say to Neve, and she flushed at the praise. No one had *ever* called her impressive before. At anything.

No, wait. Antoine had called her plan to save the village impressive. Why did this feel different?

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Neve replied drily, inspecting the ledge above for an easier way down to where Naimeryn stood.

“Oh, I’ve got you!” Naimeryn called up, waving her staff at a crumbled pile of what had once been a tall pillar. She floated the pieces over to Neve to create a suspended temporary staircase.

“Thank you,” Neve said, beginning to descend, “but I could have jumped.”

“I didn’t mean to imply I thought you couldn’t,” Naimeryn said nervously. Had she offended her? “It’s just, earlier when we had to, it seemed like it hurt? So I didn’t want you to have to do it again.”

“You really *are* sweet,” Neve chuckled.

“I just… uh…” *Damn it, Naimeryn, get it together.* Why did she have to be so awkward with Neve? All she’d done since they got to Antiva was make a fool of herself. “I’m used to just doing… practical stuff. To help out, you know? It’s just a… reflex. Um. Anyway.”

She was keenly aware of Lucanis studying her curiously. Just great. An amazingly talented, drop dead gorgeous, unbelievably smart mage she was growing to immensely look up to, and an incredibly attractive, clearly competent, used-to-taking-out-much-more-powerful-than-her mages, *man.* These were the people she was falling, stumbling, stammering, relying-on-her-basic-staff-attack in front of. Very confidence inspiring. Excellent leader material.

…

He was too strong. Even with Spite seemingly intent on helping, Lucanis couldn’t get close enough to Calivan to hit him. Any time Neve got close, he would blast her back and summon another demon to block her path. The Venatori guard grabbed her staff, and Naimeryn punched him in the nose, quickly bringing her attention back to Calivan. Maybe if she could do something to distract him, Lucanis could take his shot. She ducked under the sweep of another guard’s scythe, surveying the room for a second time.

Calivan’s desk was on a raised platform behind him, accessible by a curving staircase to either side. If she could drop down from above, pull his attention away from the other two… yes, that could work.

Naimeryn swung her staff, catching the guard she’d punched in the side of the head. He went down like a ton of bricks. The one with the scythe swung at her again, and she narrowly managed to parry, the blow sending vibrations up her arm. She planted her staff and pushed off the ground, swinging around it to plant both of her feet into his chest. He fell, and she sent a blast of magic from her hand into his face, rendering him unconscious as well. She leapt to her feet and ran, dodging ranged attacks from demons and wraiths, climbing the stairs two at a time. Just as she reached the top, she saw Calivan pivot, drawing closer to the side she was on. Rather than getting to his desk and jumping from there, Naimeryn readied her staff and leapt down towards him.

Calivan spun, a wicked smile cracking his face. He reached up and caught her, throat first, knocking the wind out of her and sending such pain through her spine as she was jarred to a stop that she saw stars.

“An incompetent mage,” Calivan sneered into her face as he pulled her in close, his fingers crushing her throat even as hers fought to loosen them. Out of the corner of her good eye, she could see Neve trying to get past the demon he’d summoned, fighting to get to her. “Zara will have *such* fun with *you.*”

“Nah,” Naimeryn wheezed, “I may be incompetent… but I’m *resourceful*.”

She quickly pulled her mage knife out of her belt and thrust it as hard as she could manage into his side. With a gasp, he dropped her, and they both crumpled to the ground. The demons he’d summoned disappeared. Naimeryn coughed and rubbed her neck as Lucanis stepped into her line of sight to stand over Calivan.

…

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to use this?” Lucanis asked, wrenching her mageknife free and wiping the blood on Calivan’s clothes for her.

“Not for *magical* things,” she said hoarsely, accepting it as he flipped the hilt towards her. “I know which end to stab people with; I’m not a *complete* idiot.”

“Maybe try convincing him of that when you haven’t just thrown yourself into close quarters with a powerful blood mage,” Neve shook her head. “That was reckless, Rook.”

“We needed an opening,” Naimeryn frowned. “I got us an opening.”

Neve gave her a hard look and curled two fingers under her chin, making her tilt her head back. She squirmed under the scrutiny.

“Really, I’ll be all right,” she insisted, giving Neve’s shoulder what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve faced down worse bullies than *him.*”

Yay! Either 11 or 18 for the prompts, if you like 😊

Ooooh I likey! 11: Rook is recognized for an accomplishment. This is off the cuff so forgive me if it’s a little rough!

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“Rook will be making breakfast this morning!” Bellara beamed, giving a little hop of excitement. Naimeryn smiled nervously at the team, feeling absolutely foolish.

“So, eggs?” Harding smirked.

“*No*,” Naimeryn snapped, but Neve and Harding snickered.

“I’m missing something,” Taash crossed their arms over their chest.

“Rook does not cook,” Lucanis said gently, giving her an encouraging smile that made her heart do a summersault. “When I first arrived, the only thing she knew how to make was eggs. But Bellara has been teaching her some things.”

“Ah, excellent!” Emmrich clapped his hands together. “It is ever so important to always be open to learning new things!”

“I… don’t want anyone getting their hopes up too high,” Naimeryn said nervously. “Bellara is an excellent teacher, but I’m still learning.”

“If I die, I promise I’m going to haunt you,” Davrin said skeptically.

“I’ll withhold the poison then,” Lucanis said smoothly, “as I could not live with myself having subjected her to *that.*”

A chorus of laughter and Davrin’s good-natured protests filled the dining hall.

“Come on,” Bellara nudged her into the kitchen. You’ve got this!”

Under Bellara’s watchful eye, Naimeryn whisked and fried and flipped and sizzled. She was nervous — only Bellara had eaten her food thus far, and the thought of the whole team trying it was… admittedly terrifying. But the last batch had been pretty good, and bacon was much easier than she’d believed. She took a deep breath as she pulled the last pancakes off the griddle, and Bellara brought the syrup they’d bought in Arlathan to the table.

“Pancakes?!” She heard Neve cry immediately. “Did you actually teach her to make pancakes?”

“And bacon,” Naimeryn affirmed, turning to the table with a plate of each in her hands. “I made some crispier and some less so, so hopefully everyone has it how they like it.”

Naimeryn and Bellara served the rest of the team, then Naimeryn took her usual seat at the head of the table. Bellara, her plate in hand, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she sat to her left.

“*Rook!*” Harding spoke first, her eyes wide.

“Is it okay?” Naimeryn asked nervously, twisting her hands in her lap. She thought she might be sick.

“I’ve never had pancakes before,” Taash said, “but these are really, really good!”

“Really?” Naimeryn perked.

“You done did good,” Davrin nodded, shoveling a whole pancake into his mouth in one bite. Naimeryn didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him.

“I’m proud of you, Rook,” Neve said, taking a bite of bacon and smirking at her. “Your hard work really has paid off.”

“Not burnt, or stuck, or the wrong consistency,” Lucanis smirked. “You’ve truly come a long way.”

Naimeryn’s face burned. “I’m no *you.*”

“So, ah, is this gonna be a regular thing?” Taash wanted to know, holding up their empty plate. “‘Cos I want more. Please.”

As everyone began to laugh again, Naimeryn brought Taash her plate. “I’ll make myself more,” she smiled at the Qunari. “Apparently I can do that, now.”

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I hope you guys enjoy! Guess we’ll call this snippet… 33? ;)

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[friend-dogor]

Oliver Burkeman: There’s so much wisdom in this idea that’s been so prevalent in recent years — that one should praise children for their effort as much as for their attainment, so that they don’t get the idea that they’ve got to maintain a certain standard as a minimum for being acceptable. That doing what they can and bringing themselves to the task is the thing that really matters. And yet I wonder if that doesn’t reinforce the notion that, if something is worth doing, it’s going to feel difficult or grueling or hard in some sense. Ezra Klein: It’s interesting you bring up that wrinkle of modern parenting. To expand on what you’re saying: There’s a very influential school of thought right now among wealthy parents that you don’t want to ever praise children for innate qualities — “You’re smart,” or “You’re such a wonderful human being.” You want to praise them for trying — for their growth mind-set: “I saw that you really worked to do something nice” or “You’re doing such a good job trying hard at this.” What you’re trying to encourage in them is the effort. [Oliver Burkeman makes a noise of discomfort] I get it. And, like you, some part of me is completely repulsed. [Ezra Laughs.] Oliver Burkeman: If we knew how, I think what we would want to do as parents would be to guarantee that we were always just praising our children for being them — as opposed to either putting in the effort or demonstrating certain innate qualities.

a snippet from a recent episode of The Ezra Klein Show called "Burned Out? Start Here."

[moonlightwritingf1]

Birthday Sex in Monaco | LN4

♥️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N's parents take her to Monaco for her birthday. On her second day there, she meets Lando Norris, an F1 driver. Things escalate quickly as the chemistry between them grows.

♥️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

♥️ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.2k

♥️ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), rough sex, multiple orgasms

Based on this request.

“So, do you always flirt with strangers in Monaco, or am I just special?” Y/N tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned against the bar. The warmth of the Monaco evening wrapped around them, the sound of the Mediterranean lapping against the harbor in the distance.

Lando raised an eyebrow, his blue-green eyes glinting with amusement under the soft glow of the bar lights. He swirled the drink in his hand, the ice clinking against the glass. “Oh, you’re definitely special,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “But I wouldn’t call you a stranger. I’ve been watching you all evening.”

She laughed, the sound light and carefree, and it caught him off guard. Most people he met were eager to impress him, but Y/N? She didn’t seem to care who he was. And that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. “Watching me? Creepy much?” she teased, taking a sip of her cocktail.

“Not creepy,” he countered, leaning in slightly, his forearm brushing against hers on the bar. “Just…observant.”

The spark between them was undeniable, and Y/N could feel it—every word, every glance, every brush of his hand against hers sent a jolt of electricity through her. But she wasn’t about to let him win this easily. “Observant, huh? So, what have you observed, Mr. Formula One Driver?”

He grinned, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. “Well, for starters, you’re not from around here. Your accent gives you away.”

“Wow, Sherlock,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “Next, you’re gonna tell me what I had for breakfast.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Croissant, right? You strike me as a croissant kind of girl.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Okay, that was actually kind of impressive.”

Lando shrugged, a smug smile on his face. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, the teasing banter laced with an undercurrent of something neither of them had expected. Y/N found herself drawn to him—not because of his fame or his looks, though those certainly didn’t hurt—but because of the way he made her laugh, the way he listened to her, the way he seemed genuinely interested in her.

---

It had been her second day in Monte Carlo, and Y/N was already captivated by the city. Her parents had wanted to treat her to a lavish vacation for her birthday, and Monaco had been at the top of their list. She’d spent the day wandering the cobblestone streets, marveling at the yachts in the harbor, and indulging in the decadent food. But it wasn’t until that evening, when she’d wandered into a chic bar, that her trip took an unexpected turn.

She’d recognized him immediately—how could she not? Lando Norris, the Formula One driver, was practically a household name. But she hadn’t expected him to approach her, let alone strike up a conversation. Yet there he was, sliding into the seat beside her at the bar, flashing her that boyish grin and asking her name.

They’d talked for hours, the conversation never faltering. He’d told her about his life on the track, the thrill of racing, the pressure of being in the spotlight. She’d shared snippets of her own life.  And now, here they were, the chemistry between them undeniable, the teasing banter turning flirtatious.

“So, it’s your birthday, huh?” Lando asked, his tone softening as he leaned in closer.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You mentioned it earlier,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “I was wondering…if you’re not busy, maybe you’d let me take you somewhere? As a birthday surprise.”

She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Is this really happening? She’d never been one for spontaneous decisions, but there was something about Lando that made her want to throw caution to the wind.

“Okay,” she said finally, a smile spreading across her face. “But it better be a good surprise.”

He grinned, standing and offering her his hand. “Oh, it will be.”

---

The apartment was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the city and the sea beyond. Y/N stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as she took it all in. “Wow,” she murmured, turning to look at Lando. “This is…incredible.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind them. “Glad you like it.” He moved closer, his eyes darkening with something she couldn’t quite place. “So, how’s your birthday so far?”

She smiled, her pulse quickening as he stepped into her space. “It’s been…unexpected. But in a good way.”

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I’m about to make it even better.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, soft and insistent, and everything else faded away. The kiss was electric, sending shivers down her spine as his hands came up to cradle her face. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his dark curls as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

He pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “You know that, right?”

She laughed breathlessly, her heart racing. “You’re not so bad yourself, Norris.”

He grinned, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, Y/N…you have no idea what you’re in for.”

And then he was kissing her again, deeper this time, his hands roaming over her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She gasped as he lifted her onto the counter, his lips trailing down her neck as his hands found the hem of her dress.

“Lando,” she breathed, her head falling back as his teeth grazed her skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s your birthday. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

She looked at him, her eyes dark with desire. “I want you.”

His grin widened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because you’re about to have the best birthday of your life.”

Lando’s lips crashed into hers again, hot and demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His hands roamed her body, sliding down her back and gripping her waist, pulling her closer. She arched into him, her breath hitching as his kiss deepened, his tongue tangling with hers in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. He broke away just enough to trail his lips down her jawline, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to her shoulders where the thin straps of her dress rested. He hooked his fingers under them and slowly pulled them down, letting the fabric pool at her waist. She inhaled sharply as the cool air hit her bare skin, her nipples hardening under his gaze.

His eyes darkened as he took her in, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. “Perfect,” he said, almost to himself, before leaning down to flick his tongue over one nipple. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked and licked, his mouth hot and insistent.

“Lando,” she moaned, her head falling back as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. His hands kept her steady, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he was memorizing every inch of her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet completely safe in his arms.

He pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. “Want more?”

Her only response was a breathless nod, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made her stomach flip, before scooping her up in his arms. She let out a surprised laugh, clutching his shoulders as he carried her to the living room.

He set her down gently on the plush sofa, his eyes never leaving hers as he knelt between her legs. His hands gripped the hem of her dress, and in one smooth motion, he pulled it off, leaving her in nothing but her black lace thong. She felt a flush of heat spread through her body as his gaze roamed over her, his expression a mix of hunger and admiration.

“You’re… fucking stunning,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her thong and tugged it down her legs, tossing it aside. Now completely bare, she felt a thrill of anticipation as he leaned in, his breath warm against her inner thigh.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin as he moved closer. And then his mouth was on her, hot and wet, his tongue exploring every fold and curve. She let out a moan, her hands flying to his hair, not pulling, just holding on as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

He licked and sucked with an intensity that left her gasping, his tongue flicking over her clit in maddening circles. She arched off the sofa, her hips moving instinctively against his mouth. “Oh god,” she cried, her fingers tightening in his hair as he worked her with relentless focus.

She looked down, her breath hitching at the sight of him between her legs, his dark curls brushing her thighs, his blue-green eyes looking up at her with a fierce determination. “You taste fucking incredible,” he growled, the vibrations of his voice sending jolts of pleasure through her.

Her other hand wandered to her breast, her fingers teasing her nipple as she watched him. His eyes darkened further, his rhythm faltering for a moment as he saw what she was doing. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained.

She smirked, her own confidence growing as she saw the effect she had on him. “Like what you see?” she teased, her voice breathy but laced with playfulness.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he increased the pressure of his tongue, his lips closing around her clit as he sucked gently. She cried out, her back arching off the sofa, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his mouth as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. She felt herself teetering on the edge, her entire body trembling with anticipation.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her, his voice low and commanding. And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of pure ecstasy. She cried out his name, her body convulsing as he continued to work her through it, until every last tremor subsided.

She collapsed back onto the sofa, her chest heaving, her limbs feeling like jelly. Lando looked up at her, his lips glistening, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Happy birthday,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief.

She laughed breathlessly, her hand reaching out to brush a curl from his forehead. “You’re incredible,” she murmured, her voice still shaky.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, climbing up to kneel over her. His hands braced on either side of her head, his face inches from hers. “But we’re just getting started.”

Lando’s smirk deepened as he hovered over her, his eyes dark with desire. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I was planning to make this night unforgettable for you, but I think you’re the one who’s making it unforgettable for me.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her fingers tracing the planes of his chest. “Oh, really? And here I thought you’d be used to this kind of thing by now.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’m not used to someone like you.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “But I think I have now.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word. “Well, maybe you should prove that to me.”

His eyes flickered with amusement and something deeper, more primal. “Oh, I intend to,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But first, I want to see what that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Is that so? And what makes you think I’d want to do that?”

His laughter was low, almost predatory. “Because I saw the way you were looking at me earlier. You want this just as much as I do.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then lower, to where his arousal was pressing against her. She bit her lip, her heart racing. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But only because it’s my birthday.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down her sides as he shifted to sit back on the sofa. His eyes never left hers, dark and full of promise. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly got to her knees in front of him. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. The sight of his bare chest, the way his muscles rippled as he moved, made her mouth go dry. She dropped the shirt to the floor, her hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. She undid the button and zipper, her fingers brushing against the hard length of him through the fabric of his boxers.

Lando’s breath hitched, and he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the sofa. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

She smirked, pulling his trousers down and tossing them aside. Then, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, slowly sliding them down until his hard, thick cock sprang free. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth watering at the sight of him. He was bigger than she’d imagined, and the way he twitched as she reached for him made her pulse race.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice rough with need.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. “I might need a moment to adjust.”

He chuckled, but it quickly turned into a groan as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. She licked her lips, tasting the salty pre-cum that had gathered there. His hands tightened on the edge of the sofa, his hips bucking slightly as she licked a slow, deliberate stripe from the base to the tip.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smirked, her tongue swirling around the head before taking him into her mouth. His groan was deep, his head falling back as she started to move, her lips sliding down his length. She took him as far as she could, her hand working the base as she sucked him off. The feel of him in her mouth, the way he filled her, sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

He reached down, his fingers tangling in her hair as he guided her movements. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “Just like that. You’re doing so fucking good.”

His words sent a thrill through her, and she moaned around him, the vibrations making him groan. She pulled back, swirling her tongue around the head before taking him deep again. She could feel him getting harder, hotter, and she knew he was close. She reached down, her fingers brushing against his balls, and he let out a strangled cry.

“Fuck, Y/N, stop,” he gasped, his hands gripping her shoulders. ‘’I’m going to cum, and I want to feel you cum on my cock first.’’

She pulled back, licking her lips as she looked up at him. “You sure?” she teased, her voice husky.

“Positive,” he growled, pulling her up and onto his lap. She straddled him, her hands on his shoulders as she positioned herself over him. He gripped his cock, guiding it to her entrance as she lowered herself onto him. She gasped as he filled her, the stretch and fullness taking her breath away.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“So do you,” he muttered, his hands gripping her hips as she started to move. She rocked against him, her movements slow and deliberate, her breath hitching with every thrust. 

“Fuck,” Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips as she was  moving, her body rocking against his in a rhythm that had them both moaning. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N. So tight, so wet for me.”

She whimpered, her hands braced on his shoulders as she rode him, her body moving in time with his thrusts. “Lando,” she gasped, her head falling back as he hit a spot deep inside her that had her seeing stars. “Oh my God, just like that.”

Her tits bounced with each movement, and Lando’s eyes were drawn to them. His hands moved to cup them, fingers teasing and pinching her nipples as she moaned, her body trembling with pleasure.

“Your tits are fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough with arousal. “I could play with them all day.”

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growled, his gaze dark with desire as he watched her. “The way you move, the way you feel around me—I could fuck you like this forever.”

His hands cupped her breasts more firmly as she rode him. Leaning in, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it until she let out a loud moan.

“Lando,” she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” he murmured, switching to her other nipple. “Because I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

She moaned, her movements becoming more erratic as he continued to tease her. She could feel the tension building inside her, her orgasm looming just out of reach. She was so close, so fucking close, and she could tell he was too.

She moaned, her head falling back as his fingers teased her nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through her. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice filled with need. “Fuck me harder.”

He growled, his hands moving to her hips as he began to thrust up into her, his movements harder, faster. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt him hit that sweet spot inside her.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice filled with a primal need. “Take it. Take every fucking inch of me.”

She moaned, her hips moving in time with his as they fell into a rhythm that was all consuming. She could feel her orgasm building, the pleasure coiling deep inside her as he thrust into her again and again.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “Let me feel you.”

She cried out, her second orgasm crashing over her as she tightened around him, her body convulsing with pleasure. He groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt her clenching around him.

But he wasn’t done. As soon as she started to come down, his hands tightened around her hips, lifting her effortlessly from the couch, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he stood. Her breath caught, feeling him still buried deep inside her, the weight of him stretching her, filling her in the most delicious way. “Hold on,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, the rasp sending a shiver down her spine.

He lowered her onto the sofa, her back sinking into the plush cushions as he laid her down with a gentleness that contrasted the wild hunger in his eyes. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he settled between her thighs, his hips already finding their rhythm again.

'You’re mine,' he muttered, his voice rough with possession, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her hard, the force of it making her cry out.

Her head fell back, her moans spilling freely as he pounded into her, the pace relentless, every stroke hitting that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her body arching to meet his as he took her with a hunger that left her breathless.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against hers. “You’re so fucking tight. I can’t—”

Lando’s thrusts grew harder, more urgent, each one driving deeper into her, claiming her in a way that made her gasp and arch into him. He reached for her wrists, pinning them to her stomach as her chest heaved with each powerful thrust. “Look at you,” he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her tits bounce with the rhythm of their bodies slamming together. “So fucking perfect.”

She could feel every inch of him, every ridge and pulse of his cock as he fucked her with a raw, unrelenting intensity.

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and rough, “you feel fucking incredible. So fucking tight around me.”

Her breath hitched, the sound of his words sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel the heat building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. She loved the way he took control, the way he gave her no choice but to surrender to the pleasure.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice trembling as her hips rocked to meet his. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He smirked, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Didn’t plan on it, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Not until you cum for me again.”

His words sent a rush of wetness between her thighs, her body responding to him like he was the only thing that mattered. She could feel the tension building again, the pressure growing until it was almost unbearable.

Lando’s thrusts grew faster, harder, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. She gasped, her nails digging into her own skin as she tried to hold on.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. “Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel you.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her third orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing as she cried out his name. Her pussy clenched around him, pulling him deeper as wave after wave of pleasure tore through her.

Lando groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt her cum around him. “Fuck, baby,” he panted, his forehead pressed against hers. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

He kept thrusting, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling beneath him, her body spent but still craving more.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you. Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a deep groan, he pulled out of her, his cock slick with her arousal. He gripped himself, stroking quickly as he looked down at her, his eyes burning with need.

“Where do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering down to her chest. “On me,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “Please, Lando.”

He groaned, his hand moving faster as he let out a low curse. “Fuck, Y/N,” he panted, his hips jerking as he came. Thick ropes of cum shot onto her tits, hot and sticky against her skin.

She moaned at the sight, her body trembling as she watched him. He looked so beautiful like this, his face twisted with pleasure, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Lando’s eyes met hers, a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he leaned down, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. His hand slid up her stomach, his fingers brushing against the cum he’d left on her skin.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

She smiled, her heart swelling at his words. “Good,” she teased, her voice soft but playful. “Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he kissed her again, his lips soft and lingering against hers. She could feel the warmth of his body pressed against her, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice tender as he pulled back to look at her. “I hope I’m making it one to remember.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice sending a rush of warmth through her. “You are,” she admitted, her voice soft but honest. “More than I could’ve imagined.”

[shizumi123yuki]

“Tiktok Trend”

Simon “Ghost” Riley as your anonymous husband on social media.

Summary: You as a popular influencer shares the snippets of your life with your “mysterious” husband, Simon Riley, on TikTok.

—————

It started as a harmless hobby. Your TikToks, cute little glimpses of your life, had quickly turned into a whole vibe. Over 500K followers. You were in your element, and your fans loved the behind-the-scenes look at your life with Simon. Of course, Simon didn't know everything you posted. Some moments were just for you—and a bit for your followers, who were obsessed with your mysterious husband.

Simon wasn't the easiest person to get on camera, and you respected that. He worked in a world where anonymity was crucial. He'd warned you multiple times: "Don't post my face, love. You never know who's watching." You'd always agreed, filming around his face, never quite catching the glimpses you so desperately wanted to share. But his back muscles... his strong hands... his easy grace as he moved around the kitchen. Those were the things you had to share.

One of your most popular TikToks was of him cooking dinner, his back flexing with each motion, his strong shoulders shifting as he chopped vegetables. You weren't subtle, your focus clearly on the way the muscles of his back moved under his t-shirt.

"Look at him," you whispered to the camera, "I think i have a crush on my husband." You knew your followers were dying to know more about him, and you kept teasing them with bits and pieces—never too much, always keeping Simon's identity a mystery.

You knew he hated trends. But the “A boy who’s jacked and kind” trend had been all over your feed. It was cheesy, sure, but Simon had that perfect mix of strength and gentleness. His muscles were made for it, and his soft smile, the one he reserved for you, was nothing short of divine.

"Come on, Simon," you begged, sitting on the kitchen counter as he cooked. "Just once. Do it for me? Please?" You pouted, trying to force him.

He was stirring a pot, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over his shoulder at you. "What’s that supposed to be?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It’s a trend. You pick me up and I sit on your shoulder." You grinned, pushing your luck. "It’ll be cute, and your fans will love it."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You’re kidding, right? That’s cringe."

You tried to play it off, but inside you felt a little twinge of disappointment. “It’s not that bad,” you teased, but you could see he wasn’t having it.

He shook his head, muttering something about how ridiculous it all was. “You know what? Never mind.” You hopped off the counter, sulking, your mood deflating like a balloon.

——————

For the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. It wasn’t just about the trend. It was that Simon, your husband, the man who shared so much of his life with you—his quiet moments, his fierce protectiveness—was so closed off about this one thing. It was the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t understand why these little things mattered to you.

You wanted to show him off. Not in a superficial way, but because to you, he was perfect. The way he moved, the way his presence filled the room, the way he cared for you—it all felt special. You wanted to share it with the world, yes, but more than that, you wanted him to let you. You wanted him to feel comfortable enough with you, with the relationship, to just let go of his guard for a second. But when he shot down your request, it felt like another wall had gone up.

When you climbed into bed that night, you pulled the covers up to your chin, staring at the ceiling. You felt a pang in your chest that had nothing to do with the trend and everything to do with how distant he seemed, even though he was right there next to you. You could feel his warmth beside you, but the space between you felt too wide, too heavy.

Simon didn’t push you. He let you stew in silence for a while. You thought maybe he'd let it go—maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. But as you were drifting off, you felt the familiar pressure of his body against yours, his chest gently nudging your back.

His breath was warm on your neck as he whispered, "You mad at me?"

"Not mad," you mumbled, trying to sound unaffected. "Just... tired."

He didn’t buy it. "You are mad, love."

You tried to ignore the tightness in your throat, swallowing it down. "I’m not sulking."

But he knew better. He always did.

His hand reached for you, pulling you closer, his voice a little softer now. "Come on. Im sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you."

The way he said it made your heart ache. You could hear the frustration in his voice—the way he always wanted to fix things, to make things better. But in that moment, you didn’t need fixing. You needed him to see you, to understand why it stung so much when he brushed off something you’d thought would be fun, something you’d hoped would bring you closer.

"I know im being childish but..i just feel like..you don’t want to do things with me, i just want us to feel closer." you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Simon paused, his hand going still on your waist. You felt his weight shift as he processed your words, and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, he sighed, a low sound of frustration mixed with something else—regret?

"Alright, that’s it." His voice was firm, but there was tenderness to it too. Without another word, he pulled you up by your waist, gently but firmly, and before you could even react, you were standing in front of him.

"Hey!" you yelped, your feet barely touching the floor as he took your phone off the nightstand.

"Shh," he said, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Im gonna do this one for you. And I’m not asking you for anything in return." His voice softened, but there was determination behind it. "You’re not gonna give me that attitude anymore, yeah?”

You blinked up at him, confused and surprised as he turned the camera app on, angling it just right. He didn’t give you time to argue as he stood behind you, his big hands slipping to your waist and effortlessly lifting you into the air.

“Simon!” you squealed, your surprise morphing into laughter. But he didn’t even grunt, didn’t show any sign of exertion as he carried you, your legs hooked over his shoulder, his hands firm on your thighs. His arms were like iron, holding you in place without any strain.

“There,” he grumbled, his voice low and steady as he looked into the camera. “Happy now?”

The sight of him, so effortlessly strong, holding you in such an intimate yet playful way, made your heart flutter. But it wasn’t just the physical act—it was the fact that he was doing this for you, even when he thought it was cheesy. He was giving you that small piece of him that you’d wanted all along: his trust, his willingness to indulge you, even when it wasn’t his thing.

You couldn’t help but smile, a genuine smile this time, one that you hadn’t felt all day.

"You look cute when you’re being a softie," you teased, unable to hide the affection in your voice.

Simon didn’t respond with words—he just smiled to himself, a rare, soft smile that made your heart melt. “Yeah, yeah. But only for you.”

(URGHH THIS MADE ME SMILE WHILE WRITING THIS🥹‼️)

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER ONE // DON’T CRY OVER SPILLED COFFEE 

series mlist 

Tags — cursing, Toge embarrasses himself (again) Words — 1.2k

After being endlessly berated and smacked over the head with a rolled up newspaper, your friends were forced to leave. You were left alone, standing idly by the kitchen entrance as you waited for any reason to do otherwise. It was a Tuesday afternoon, business was as slow as it could get. The snowfall didn’t do much to help either, halting the usual student company that travelled by foot. You could count the amount of people inside on one hand, which you figured you could actually resort to doing once your boredom reached its peak. 

In the midst of your blank staring at the wall, the sound of the bell above the door rang. You were snapped out of your daze, clearing your bleary vision with a few short blinks before you could force your feet to move. You took your time striding across the tile floor, cluttered with tables and booths alike. 

Your gaze landed on a group of people settling into seats near the furthest window. A nearly empty diner, and they chose the most inconvenient place to sit. That seemed to be how this day was going, with every order lost in translation and the lack of self control had by your pink haired friend. 

“Hi there,” you greeted, a honey-sweet smile spreading across your face as you addressed your peers. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” 

It took the break in chatter, the way they all looked inward to their own preferences, for you to really notice who was sitting before you. The green haired girl with a constant look of disdain on her face—you shared a class with her. Accompanying her was a timid boy with black hair and… a panda?, whom you didn’t recognize. And then there was the last one. The platinum blond, violet eyed boy who you’d seen before, and not exactly in a manner you’d consider a good first impression. All you knew of him was that he needed to work on two things: hiding his staring, and walking straight. Maybe then he wouldn’t end up sprawled out starfish position on the sidewalk because you’d made eye contact. 

The corners of your lips pulled up just a little further, something he caught. They all seemed to, based on the amused glances shared and met by annoyed, possibly embarrassed ones from him. 

“Coffee, please,” said the intimidating woman in the corner, unable to hide her smirk as she looked between you and Toge. 

You nodded in acknowledgment, glancing to the other three. 

“Pepsi,” the panda added, voice low and booming. 

A smaller, more boyish voice came next, much easier on the ears than the former. “Just water, please.” 

You looked to the last boy, the one you’d been mentally referring to as ‘cockroach’ as of late. He cleared his throat. “I uh… I’ll have coffee too. Thanks.” 

“Got it,” you said, turning on your heels and walking to the kitchen without a second thought. Realistically, it was to suppress the chuckle bubbling in your throat. Could he be any more awkward? He seemed friendly enough from third person, but the moment he looked you in the eye it was like something flipped. Probably the slip. 

Emerging from the large double doors that lead to the back, you balanced your strategically placed array of drinks on a tray as you walked to the back corner of the diner. Their conversation halted, falling more silent as they gratefully took the beverages from your offering hands. Things got somewhat uncomfortable once they’d received their orders, the unspoken memories of Toge’s clumsiness hanging in the air. You shuffled away silently, retreating to the back once again. The only thing you could do now was wait for Miwa to clock in and hope for a snippet of conversation before she was pulled away by business, and you by the homework awaiting you in your apartment. 

“That’s her!” Panda grinned, speaking so loud that Toge was sure you could hear him from across the building. 

“I think he saw that,” Maki deadpanned. “Did you see his face? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Toge so awkward.”

“I wasn’t that awkward,” Toge grumbled in response. “I don’t even know her, so why would I be so affected?” 

He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, resisting the urge to wince. He wasn’t the biggest fan of it, but his mind had drawn a blank when he saw you and he spat out the first thing that came to mind. Truth be told, he was affected. Very much so. But he wouldn’t admit that, of course not. 

“Look! It’s yn!” Panda feigned a gasp, pointing behind Toge. Panda, being the socially unaware animal he was, had read your name tag and decided it was perfectly acceptable to refer to you by your first name. 

Toge whipped his head around, so caught off guard that he lost his grip on the mug in hand. Not only was the space behind him lacking you, he was now lacking his drink, as it was instead rapidly spilling all over the table and his lap. The now lukewarm drink bled into his pants, and he’d never been so grateful to be wearing black. 

“Shit!” he placed a hand over his mouth, grumbling under his breath as he tried (and failed) to stop the mess with a few napkins sitting to his left. Yuta gasped from beside him, recoiling away but panicking, trying to help. Panda and Maki did nothing of the sort, relishing in his humiliation and giggling into their palms. 

“It’s not hot. It’s fine,” he sighed under his breath, shooting Yuta a thankful glance. He could feel his face heating up, glancing around the diner to see if anyone had witnessed his fumble. As if the universe was working against him, you came into view. You had a bag over your shoulder, it was apparent you’d clocked out, and he almost thought he was safe. Almost, until you caught sight of him. 

You were immediately concerned, amusement only lingering in the back of your mind as you rushed over. “Woah, hey, are you okay? Was that hot? W-“ you were silenced by a small shake of his head, though he avoided your eyes as if you were Medusa. You let out a breath of relief at that, shoulder deflating ever so slightly. “Okay, that’s good. I just clocked out, but I can get you some paper towels if you’d like? I mean, it seems like the cup was full when it spilled…” you winced, glancing down at the creamy brown puddle. 

“That would be great! He’d appreciate it,” Panda cut in, shooting you what was meant to be a reassuring grin. 

When you left, Toge had gained and lost many things. He had your name, your attention, some paper towels, wet pants, and no dignity. You had homework, a wad of cash in your pocket, a smile, and the funny memory of the flustered boy in the back of your mind. Maybe work wasn’t all boring after all. 

Yes, they indeed chose that diner because of the cockroach incident

Yn was lwk giggling to herself on the way home

They started tallying the amount of times kcp (Kurt Cobain Painters) have been banned from the diner on a chalkboard in yn and Nobara’s apartment. It’s nearly full.

Their manager is never around so they just come back 😭😭

There’s like four workers total at that damn diner and its yn, Miwa, and other randoms

Save them

I’m writing this on the same day as I released chapter zero so that I have a break… (I did in fact not have a break. The next chapter is queued.) I have like four final projects in the works rn someone kill me I hate it here 💔💔 sigh camp counsellor kuroo has double the likes of this damn series after a few days not complaining tho I love kuroo 🤤

Taglist — 34/50 (inaccurate, masterlist has correct #)

@anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @adoresia @auroratumbles @sh0ot1ngst4r @princesa14 @soobin1437 @mystic-megumi @cinnamxnangel @lizbix @s3ns4ti0n4l @anonnieghost @s4toruz @azinniya @gumims @bubybubsters @k4ss11333 @rreveurdoll @kaged-kitty @rwura @aldebrana @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @hqnge @lloversss @h1ddenverse @good-mourning0 @daisies-and-domming @vi0let-writes @strxwberryfetish @dazaisfavgf @hearts4aloise @coolgirl458 @keyaea @jealovsie

— reminder to make sure your tag setting are working!! :)

[beenbaanbuun]

it begins - opposites attract universe

a small snippet from back when darling was nothing more than a sugar baby :)

——————————————————————————-

“you look—”

“tired? miserable?” you cut hongjoong off as you toss yourself down on the rug that the man had noticed you’d taken quite a liking to. honestly before you came he was wondering whether he should move it to one of the unused guest rooms; it is quite an old thing, after all. upon seeing how much you adore it however, he can’t quite bring himself to shuffle it even an inch to the side. he knows his husband is inclined to agree…

“i was going to say overworked, but i suppose tired and miserable works too,” he chuckles lowly. something about you has him doing that so often, finding himself amused by you even when you’re not in the room. there have been so many late night recently, just him and seonghwa lay together sharing stories of how you’d brightened their day.

“well if i look overworked it’s my bosses fault,” you lift an arm to shield your face from hongjoong’s watchful gaze, but even with that extra layer of protection you can feel him staring at you with that an unfamiliar look in his eyes. he’s been looking at you like that an awful lot recently; seonghwa too.

you wonder if they know that the way they watch you has changed? eyes shifting from lust to something strange that, if you didn’t know any better, you might muddle up with adoration. each time you catch it you have to scold yourself a little, warning yourself to not let your heart swell too much. you’re here on nothing more than a business arrangement; your company for their rewards. at the end of the day, that’s all this is.

but as you shift your arm just enough for you to peek at the suited man, you find yourself realising that this moment is worth more than anything they could give you. the money, the clothes; none of adds up to more than the sight of hongjoong staring down at you with such a bright smile on his face. a smile that you know you caused.

maybe that’s why you still have your job, despite the fact that you haven’t needed it for a while, or why you still wear all your old tatty clothes from before you met them on that fateful night in the club. maybe this whole thing has nothing to do with the money at all.

maybe it never has.

“that’s a pretty dress, lamb,” you hear a second voice enter the room, a pretty pair of black stockings passing briefly through your periphery. knowing seonghwa, they’re thigh high with little lacy details in his thigh, far too high up to be revealed without pushing the hem of his skirt up. “although i must admit, i don’t recall ever buying you anything so long…”

it’s a pointed comment, letting you know that he’s well aware of the fact that you’re not adorning any of the clothes they’ve provided for you. he means nothing by it, and you’re well aware of that fact, but you still can’t help yourself from sighing at his words.

“i can’t wear any of the clothes you buy me to work,” you reply, “i don’t want a trip to HR just because mommy and daddy insist on me showing every inch of skin i have.”

and perhaps that was the wrong this to say because as seonghwa sits down gracefully next to hongjoong, he lets out a little dismissive scoff. as you let you gaze shift from hongjoong’s face to his? you notice that his expression matches the sentiment of the sound. fed up and dismissive, but not angry. never angry.

“and how is work, little lamb,” his words are sharp, “i heard you telling hongjoong you felt—what were the words you used? ah yes, tired and miserable. good day then?”

“seonghwa—”

“what?” he interrupts, “am i not allowed to speak your mind on issues that concern me? tell me, lamb,” he leans forward, elbows on knees and knuckles digging into his cheek, “should i not worry about what our darling does with her spare time?”

you freeze, not entirely sure of the meaning of the cadence of his voice or the words that it speaks. he’s always called you his, or theirs—after all, that’s what they pay you to be. never before has he said those words so possessively, though.

“cara mia,” hongjoong warns; something that you’ve never witnessed him do with seonghwa before. the taller man takes no notice of him, though, his eyes firmly rested on you.

“tell me, lamb,” he purrs dangerously, like a lion about to pounce upon its prey, “what are you here for if you’re not going to make use of our gifts? you are our sugar baby; why do you keep returning here if you don’t want to accept our part of the deal?”

your body sits up on its own; an automatic reaction to the uncomfortable tension that sits over the room like a heavy fog. you know the answer to seonghwa’s question, as you fear he does, but you daren’t say it. once it’s out in the open, there’s no taking it back. maybe that would be a good thing, to finally have your feelings out there, your soul lay bare for them. with seonghwa’s expression do unreadable, and hongjoong’s turning to worry, you’re not so sure.

“seonghwa—”

“tell me,” he cuts you off, “because if you don’t, then darling, i’m not sure i’ll be able to live with this uncertainty.”

oh.

is this it then? you either tell them that you feel more than you should or this whole thing is off? for all you know, they might call it off once they hear what you say. they might kick you out, scolding you for growing feelings where there clearly shouldn’t be any. they might roll their eyes and dismiss you as if you’re nothing but dirt on the bottom of your shoe before telling you that this arrangement won’t work anymore.

perhaps more than that, though, is the possibility of them ignoring it. acknowledging your feelings and moving on as though nothing has changed when in reality, everything has. before you thought you could make it through this with those feelings kept a secret, but if they’re going to be out in the open, then you’re not so sure. after all, a rejection is closure, ignorance is not.

“i enjoy your company,” you say, hoping it’s vague enough to satisfy his curiosity. he narrows his eyes and you can tell it’s not.

“you can enjoy our company and still take our gifts,” he says, voice short and impatient, “the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

you take in a shuddery breath and you can’t lie, part of you is tempted to crawl closer to them just to satisfy your nerves. everything seems okay when you’re bundled up in their arms.

“seong—”

“lamb,” he snaps, “please, just tell me whatever it is that you think you cannot. even if it’s not what we want to hear, i can assure you that nothing bad with happen,” a manicured hand with nails as red as blood reaches forward to catch your chin. you melt into feeling, even the slightest of touch being enough to make things seem just a little better. “you’re far too special for us to allow anything bad to happen to you.”

and just like that, your walls come crumbling to the floor. you shuffle closer to the pair, desperate for something more. you get that something in the form of hongjoong’s hand in your hair. he scrapes his nails against your scalp, humming appreciatively when you melt against the touch, eyes fluttering closed and lips parting. seonghwa, despite his desperation, can’t help but take the opportunity to trace your lower lip with his thumb, tugging it back just before you can resume your usual habit of taking it into your mouth and suckling upon it.

“nothing bad,” hongjoong repeats his husband’s words.

“your company,” you say, voice quiet and breathy as the touch of your two sugar-parents melt you down to nothing, “it means more to me than the gifts ever did. i can go without the clothes and the money, i—” you stop yourself, unsure whether you should let the next few words slip from your tongue. in the end, you know that you’ll have to, but perhaps you can relish in these few seconds in which your secret actually remains just that; a secret.

“you?” seonghwa urges, his hand flattening out against your cheek to stroke it. “what about you, lamb?”

you take a second, maybe two, to build yourself up for the plunge. it feels as though you’re stood on a pier, staring into the murky depths below. your don’t know what’s beneath the water, but what you do know is that seonghwa and hongjoong are already down there. they’re waiting for you to jump; to join them in the only abyss. you want to take that leap, even if you have no clue how deep the water really is. perhaps you will hit something and break your legs, but as you stare into seonghwa’s eyes you realise that they were telling the truth. nothing bad will happen when they’re there to catch you.

“i don’t think i can go without you,” you mutter, “and i think that’s been the case since the very beginning.”

“without us?” seonghwa asks as if the statement isn’t clear as day. what more could he want from you? “you mean to say that this isn’t what we thought it was?”

“well, it was still sugaring,” you try to appease him. he simply shakes his head with a smile.

“but if we’re in it for your company, and you’re in it for ours,” seonghwa breaks eye contact with you for just a moment or so. there’s an almost giddy look on his face as he glances towards the man he married and it remains once his eyes are back on you, “is this not just a relationship? are you not just ours?”

you suppose he has a point.

“is that what you want me to be?” you ask.

“more than anything, dove,” hongjoong replies, “is that what you want to be?”

“yes,” it’s a simple answer, but it says all you need to say, “more than anything.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

FOOLISH SPRING WINDS, BLOW MY WAY ; SATORU GOJO

summary; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo — who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends (..but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided), fluffy n sweet overall, satoru doesn’t know how to make friends + thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, he’s a little shit but he means well, switching povs, lots of gojo slander (but reader sees the light eventually), big shoujo vibes, they’re both tsunderes <33

a/n; i ended up scrapping the series i wrote this fic for originally, so i thought i’d rewrite it and repost it on its own!! teentoru is such a grumpy little kitten i need to squish his paws

satoru gojo is annoying.

it might seem blunt, but after many weeks of careful thinking, you’ve decided no description could possibly fit him better. 

when you first met him, on that first day of school, you had no idea what to think. no real expressions or tonal shifts to clue you in on who he was, how he felt — nothing but the slightest peek of a terrifying blue to set your nerves on edge. 

in hindsight, you’re almost certain it was intentional. he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand — observing you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his surname. 

it’s a kind of power; a safety measure.

… but evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. the very next morning, he was already beginning to loosen up, after getting more accustomed to the new environment and classmates. showing you his true colours; just a little hint of cerulean, a single dip of paint on the blank canvas of his soul.

and with the revelation of his genuine personality — your unease around him festered even more.

where could you even begin to describe him? for one, he’s childish. and cocky. and loud. arrogant, selfish and flamboyant — just generally an asshole? you could go on and on. none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly up to something, eager to push someone’s buttons, to get attention. like a bratty toddler. uninterested in manners, or even common courtesy; he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it. 

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless. 

as if that wasn’t annoying enough — you have no choice but to admit that he does have a certain presence to him. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though. you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. freaky, long limbs. like a noodle and an alien had a baby.

but, more than anything — above all else — what frustrates you most is the fact that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it… gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those baby blues eyes and those snowy locks of hair. and he has no issue getting what he wants. 

absolutely zero. 

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way. like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. you can only assume he’s never given much thought to the prospect of being a decent guy, because that’s the only thing he sucks at.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

… annoying is still the most fitting word, though. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone, in his entire life. 

and, yes — maybe you’re being a little harsh to him. but why should you bother being jovial when he won’t return the favour?

gojo is annoying; and when you say that, you mean annoying to basically everyone. as a basis for existing. always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. you’re no exception to this rule, of course. but you’re almost certain that he has it out for you specifically.

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re sure of it.

compared to geto or shoko, you aren’t very self-assured — and you think he must have sensed it the moment he laid eyes on you. sensed that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease. 

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin. it started as soon as introductions were over, and it still hasn’t gotten better. he loves catching you off guard, throwing you an unneeded comment or two, just to see what reaction you’ll give him next. almost like he’s solving an equation — said equation being you, the limit of your patience. and you keep giving him what he wants; a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. you can never seem to successfully ignore him. he’s just far, far too good at being insufferable.

… and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. even when you try to get along with him, it backfires. you don’t have a single thing in common. you don’t understand him at all. 

(and that suits you just fine.)

a heavy sigh slips from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the surface of the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, your mind muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts and discomforting feelings.

you’re exhausted. completely and utterly spent, even though the day’s barely begun — running on three pitiful hours of sleep, all broken up and jumbled by nightmares that wouldn’t stop spooking you. not a single wink of proper rest. 

and it’s painfully obvious. in your face, your posture, the dark crescents beneath your eyes; in the way you can’t help but drag your legs as you walk, your hair disheveled, little sighs and grumbles slipping from your lips for every step you take. all you can do is sluggishly blink the exhaustion away.

you just feel so tired.

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, no real reason to get out of your comfy bed, leave the safety of your cozy little dorm room. but you need breakfast, right now, or else you’ll literally explode — so you still get up on shaky legs and try to mimic the appearance of someone… even moderately well-rested.

it doesn’t work, but that’s besides the point. 

so you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen. walking idly — clumsily — enjoying the sight of fleeting, fluttering cherry blossoms through the windows you pass. little pink butterflies.

once you’ve crossed the threshold, you’re relieved to find the open space entirely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, not even a mischievous gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world — but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t want anyone seeing you like this, tired and meek, a little vulnerable.

(least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.)

with laboured, groggy movements, you waltz around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. enjoying the soothing melody of the pan sizzling, singing along to the purring of espresso being made. it’s nice and pleasant to your sensitive ears, as you blink under the rays of sunlight shining in, throwing together a lazy breakfast. 

you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables once you’re finished. eager to soak in the peace and quiet, wolf down a sandwich and copious amounts of caffeine.

but, as always — the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes out across the open air is a chipper one, a familiar one. a voice you were desperately hoping not to hear today. 

all you can do is continue to sip from your cup of coffee, inwardly wincing, silently going through all five stages of grief simultaneously — before accepting your unfortunate predicament. 

(that’s just your luck, isn’t it?)

finally, you raise your weary head, knowing exactly what sight you’ll be met with once you do. 

and, lo and behold — there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, a little woflish, wearing those ugly sunglasses and making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, hate and worship at the same time. he plops down next to you like it’s nothing, a little too close for comfort, unconcerned about your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in that sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s a teasing tilt to it, too — the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

under normal circumstances, you’d flip him off. maybe even just glare at him, silently, or raise a brow in challenge.

but you’re far, far too tired to. too anxious. too in need of sleep, in need of a peaceful breakfast that he oh so cruelly ripped from you. all you can muster is the energy to glance his way.

for just a second, your eyes meet. not like you can actually see them, from behind his glasses — but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny, bright and excited. too much to handle, right now.

”… morning.”

as soon as the mutter has left your lips, you take a tentative bite of your sandwich. gaze trailing sluggishly back to your plate.

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff — but no such luck. 

you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, study your face, the way those twitchy fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of the cup you’re drinking out of. the way your eyes shift from place to place, unfocused, your eyelids flicking shut every couple seconds. slow.

he’s always been observant — but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired. 

gojo is silent, for no more than a mere moment; contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. did something happen?

…

(— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.)

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, a little teasing, showing off the white of his teeth. even though you look out of it, he can’t help himself — despite his own intuition telling him to let you be. 

you’re just too fun to tease. suguru and shoko only ever raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog, but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, distract him when his mind is too full of noise. 

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness inside his chest.

but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets. 

what he expects is for you to glare at him. tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation — either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day. 

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. that traitor. shoko is nowhere to be seen, either, probably off smoking in some random alleyway. or hanging out with one of the kyoto losers.

… the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years… but maybe he’d feel just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while after waking up, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. no one to talk to, no one to look at. he was practically dying of boredom. but then he entered the kitchen — and saw his saving grace. his dear little irritable classmate. 

he was so relieved. content in the knowledge that he’d get to push your buttons to his heart’s desire, bask in your playful banter and cold, joking little looks until suguru finally comes home.

only this time — you don’t react at all. 

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. you just keep eating your breakfast, and drinking your coffee, in total silence. 

gojo waits, just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything. 

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows, as his glossy, cherry-tasting lips curl down into a little pout.

honestly, he’s kind of annoyed. just what is your problem? what is with you, today? 

… it’s no fun if you’re not playing along. 

gojo can’t help but grumble, a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

…

whatever. so what if you’re not talking to him? so what if you won’t even spare him a glance? gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest. 

not even a little bit.

…

but, really — would it take so much effort for you to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired. 

or, what — did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive… are you? or is that it? 

what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. he knows you know. so why are you acting so…. 

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it can reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you, not right now — doesn’t want to feel that discomforting pang in his chest.)

a strange sensation bubbles up in his chest. something frustrated, a little unnerved; at your lack of a reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more. 

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

(… it’s fun when you do.)

the silence lingers on, stretches out across the room, festers and grows as you gulp down your breakfast. all while gojo keeps on sulking, still sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, but you pay no mind to it; methodically washing your dishes in silence. 

you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either. still sitting there, seemingly deep in thought, grumbling something under his breath. 

he watches as you leave, gaze trailing after you, until you’re completely out of sight. 

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried so hard not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek, meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

this time, no nightmares came to haunt you. having practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, your body finally decided to give you some peace of mind, some well needed rest. thankfully.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs — enjoying the feeling of your veins waking up, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than enough to give you the little jolt of energy that you need.

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time just rotting in bed — maybe you could take a walk around the schoolyard instead? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and the grounds of the school are just littered with them.

even just the mental image is enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, reaching a hand out to push your door open. excitement stirring in your veins.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

all you hear is a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of something colliding with the door. a low curiosity overtakes you — eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place, just laying unassumingly on the dusty floorboards. as you crouch down to get a better look, you recognize it instantly; a small carton of strawberry milk. a plastic straw plastered on its side, and an evil looking cow mascot staring at you from the front. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines — your personal favorite. you drink it every time you need a tiny pick-me-up, the sweet taste always managing to soothe your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it, silently, in deep contemplation. holding it in your hand as the gears turn inside your head. could someone have dropped it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

… did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

…

your mind stills. 

(no way.)

when you think about it — that’s the only explanation that makes sense. shoko and geto aren’t there, and you barely know any of your senior students. yaga-sensei would never give you strawberry milk without a lecture on the dangers of cavities, either.

that just leaves one possible culprit.

but you can’t wrap your head around it. why would he do something like that? he doesn’t like you — you know that much. so it couldn’t possibly be him.

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you like it, contrary to your other classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto wouldn’t go for strawberry milk if he could choose something else. it might as well be the only thing you and gojo have in common — the one thing that binds you two together. 

a single carton of strawberry milk. 

it’s almost comical.

(if it’s really true — if he really did do it… then you wonder why. maybe he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy. 

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you, to believe that it’s true — if only because you kinda like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision. 

where could he be? in the kitchen, still? in his dorm?

just as you begin to wonder, a flash of white dances in the corners of your vision. when you glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud, in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about. 

you stop.

then you start walking again. with more decision, this time. hurrying to the exit.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging idly as he gazes at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. pink petals dance all around him, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking. 

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights, instantly regretting your decision. blinking nervously. you walked here almost entirely on impulse, but now that you’re face to face…

(it’s a little scary.)

… still, it’s far too late to back out now. you can’t do much except join him, so that’s exactly what you do — albeit a little hesitantly.

trying to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. feeling the steady bench beneath you, breathing in the scent of sweet-smelling cherries and soap.

an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something. 

it’s a little tough. mustering up the courage to say anything, even just to face him. the decisiveness you felt just a moment ago has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re too nervous to verbalize anything.

but eventually, after a deep breath or two, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?” 

it’s almost a whisper. soft and fragile, mumbled beneath your breath as you stare at the cherry trees in front of you. you know his eyes are on you, though. you can feel them, almost feel their weight in the palm of your hand. like marbles.

weakly, you raise up the carton of strawberry milk. glancing over at him, not quite managing a smile, but trying your best to look somewhat appreciative. 

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back up at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes. 

then he turns his head away, swiftly, his hair tousled by the movement — a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard him speak through.

when you look a little closer — you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. it makes your lips curl up into a small smile, but you barely feel it.

(like this, he’s actually kind of cute.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow his bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but you can’t help but stare, as sneakily as you can muster.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. fleeting, hard to get a grasp on, so pretty, and so out of reach — despite being so close. 

if you wanted to, you could reach over and touch him. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul — and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you, straight away, blooming on your tongue. you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing even further — it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles, a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate. 

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes, as they float up into the sky; as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light. 

gojo is the first one to break it — in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”… you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher the sudden statement. you can’t get a good read on his expression, with those eyes of his conveniently hidden; he must have regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place. 

and you burst into laughter.

gojo blinks at you, caught off guard, his eyelashes flapping like a little dove scrambling to get off the ground — staring at you like you just grew a second head. that makes you laugh harder, a bout of giggles spilling past your lips — you just can’t help it. 

”did —” you wheeze, softly, thoroughly amused. trying and failing to bite back the laughter. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you. a little stunned, for a moment. the sight only makes your smile bloom further, eyes crinkled as you meet his gaze. from the angle you’re viewing him through, leaning back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes. they’re awfully pretty — blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, tiny splotches of white. 

they look like the blue sky. 

you called them menacing, before, but now you aren’t so sure. they seem soft, in the sunlight, especially when seen like this — right after catching him off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious. something to savour.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though. 

after a moment of two, he scoffs — turning away yet again. a soft, soft pout on his lips.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding nothing but irritated, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you. now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly — the tips of his ears turning redder at the sound. 

(he really isn’t so bad, after all.)

for a while, you don’t say anything else. afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than ever before — and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees. childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you’re starting to think that you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet. a little sweeter than usual, though you choose not to dwell on it.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. not dishonest.

you suspect that gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you aren’t sure. after all, you’re vehemently avoiding his gaze — a little embarrassed by your own sincerity. 

he doesn’t know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel unsure of himself. your tone is soft, almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you again. as always. afraid to let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though, more of a vaguely amused huff than anything. 

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you only chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.” 

gojo should be irked, should grumble and bite back, but you don’t give him the chance to. 

”i just… you know,” you taste the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”… and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.” 

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little flustered. gnawing on your bottom lip.

”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap. feeling a heat on your nape.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all. 

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust off your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation. 

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex — before he has to accept that it exists. only this time, he doesn’t succeed. the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. he hears them loud and clear.

and he flushes under the light of the sun.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.) 

what actually ends up leaving his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it. 

”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered. it doesn’t.

one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

tossing the now-empty carton into a trash can, you try to calm yourself down. feeling oddly excited, as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. but you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him. there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye, hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes, a blur of colours and facial features, sparks and dots.

you wonder if the whole world looks like a painting, to him. 

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities. it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement. to see how well it holds up. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it. it’s there, despite everything — in those eyes, in that single carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. all eyes on him, at all times. 

you think that sounds just a little exhausting. 

even as you return to the safety of your dorm room, you still can’t help but wonder. there’s still so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. almost lonely, in a way. you wonder what he looks like, when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for. 

(what is an actor without their audience?)

and, despite everything, after all is said and done — you really, really don’t understand satoru gojo. not at all, not in the slightest. not one bit.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

[luveline]

Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty 

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible. 

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts. 

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential. 

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer? 

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord? 

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other. 

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world. 

“Yeah, hi. You okay?” 

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.” 

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?” 

“Do you want to get takeout?” 

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.” 

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.” 

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises. 

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight? 

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger. 

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in. 

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear. 

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.” 

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.” 

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.” 

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position. 

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.” 

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly. 

“I’m trying to.” 

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.” 

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.” 

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again. 

[hoshinasblade]

second best |2| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building.  you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Small firsts - Lewis Hamilton

Lots of fluffs. 10 of them to warm our hearts this rainy weekend.

request: "'All these little things' made me think of the small moments that are milestones in a relationship but aren't celebrated as such. Maybe, you could do something like that?"

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +4K

a/n: Writing these warmed my heart. Celebrate the small moments guys, they make the path worth it

Also there's +20 more fluffs just like these ones here - Ways to say I love you & Ways to say I love you pt. 2 - and here - All these little things & All these little things pt. 2 .

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The first time he played a personal song of his to you

Lewis's strumming sounds on his guitar drifted out onto the balcony, a melody muffled by the crash of the ocean on Monaco's shores. You sat on one of the plush chairs, bathed in the soft glow of the sunset, your laptop open and fingers flitting across the keyboard.

The sound had become a familiar soundtrack to evenings with him.

Lewis poured his emotions into his music, something he’d usually only share with those closest to him. You'd heard him play snippets so far, familiar tunes or warm-up riffs, but never a complete, original song, not yet.

Not until a melody caught your attention, something unfamiliar. It was softer, melancholic yet strangely hopeful, with a recurring guitar line that tugged at something.

You paused your work, peaking from the laptop you saw Lewis playing on the couch across the space, his face half colored by the remaining lights half in the dark shadows.

His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in concentration as his fingers danced across the guitar strings. But as the song was about to reach what seemed to be a chorus, he glanced up, his gaze meeting yours, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He stopped playing, the silence echoing for a moment before he spoke, his voice a low murmur. "Didn't know you were an audience."

"It's beautiful" you said, caught by surprise by the huskiness in your own voice.

Lewis's smile faltered slightly. He ran a hand through his shorts, a nervous gesture you rarely saw. "It's... something I wrote a while back."

He looked away, then back at you, as if wondering if he should share that with you, if he could anyway.

Without a word, you closed your laptop and stood up. Crossing the room, you settled on the couch next to him, still leaving a comfortable space between you.

Lewis watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a small smile played on his lips again. He lifted his hand and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, a silent thank you for understanding.

He didn't need to say anything more. The music spoke for him, a tribute to someone he still loved or had loved dearly.

As the melody filled the room again, you leaned closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

This wasn't just music; it was a glimpse into Lewis, a gift he was choosing to share with you. A side of him he rarely showed the world.

The city lights had started to twinkle below, but all you could see was the gentle smile playing on Lewis's lips as his fingers strummed in the cords of that guitar.

The song ended softly; the silence afterwards filled with unspoken emotions for you both.

He squeezed your hand, a grateful glint in his eyes. "Thank you for listening."

The first time you do each other's laundry.

The crisp Colorado winter wind howled outside, rattling the windows of Lewis's house. Inside, Lewis's furrowed his brow at the pile of laundry that seemed to be multiplying on the floor.

“Why did I even let that much laundry pile up?!" he muttered to himself, sorting through a mountain of workout gear. He reached for a familiar worn-in sweatshirt, a smile forming on his lips. It was the one Y/n had practically adopted, leaving her scent as a constant reminder to him.

Beside his own clothes, a smaller pile of delicates caught his attention. Nestled amongst his t-shirts, lay a few lacy underwear, some of which he vaguely recalled seeing in her body, or peeking out from under her sweater.

But, practicality reared its head.

He stared at the lacy contraption, feeling a touch out of his depth. Sure, he could handle sweaty race suits and gym socks, but lingerie? That was uncharted territory. But he wanted to take care of her things too, to make sure they stayed as soft and delicate as they felt in her skin.

Just then, Y/n walked in, her cheeks and nose a touch flushed from the cold, a steaming pot tea in her hands. She stopped short, amused by the sight of clothes scattered on the floor and Lewis looking defeated.

"Laundry day already?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

"More like laundry mountain day" Lewis replied wryly, gesturing at the pile. "Thought I'd tackle it while the storm has us stuck inside."

He caught her eye flicker to the lacy item, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Oh” she teased, setting the mug down on nearer surface. "You’ve found my delicates…"

Lewis, ever so slightly flustered, held up one of his favorites pieces of hers. " About that" he stammered, "how exactly do you wash... them?"

Y/n burst into laughter, the sound warm and genuine. "Oh, Lew" she said, shaking her head as she walked towards him, taking the bralette from his hand as her fingers brushed against his in the process.

She explained the delicate cycle settings on his washing machine, her voice soft and patient. She showed him the difference between hand washing and machine washing, a playful glint in her eyes as she demonstrated with some of her more delicate pieces.

Lewis found himself completely entranced. Here he was, a world champion, only now learning the intricacies of lace washing. And somehow, it felt more nerve wrecking than any qualifying session.

"There you go" Y/n finally said, placing a folded lacy bra in a basket. "See, not so scary, is it?"

Lewis shook his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "Thanks" he mumbled, clearly still a bit embarrassed "Appreciate it, love."

"Thank you, for doing my laundry" she replied, leaning in and nuzzling her nose against his neck. "Besides," she whispered, her voice husky, "now you have more reasons to admire those pieces."

Lewis laughed, wrapping his arms around her. "That," he admitted, pulling her close, "might be the best part."

The first time it's not his friends, but ours.

The rain hammered against the London house's windows, a steady rhythm that masked the city's usual symphony of honking horns and sirens. You fumbled with your keys, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside, greeted by the warmth and distant sound of music.

Lewis's laughter cut through the melody, drawing you towards the source. There he was, surrounded by his friends, sprawled on the floor, instruments scattered around them, clearly in the midst of a brainstorming session.

Miles's head snapped up first, a wide grin splitting his face. "Y/n!" The room erupted in a chorus of greetings as they scrambled to their feet.

"Hey guys, how's the music coming along?" you asked, stepping into the chaos.

"Slow," Daniel admitted with a wink. " Your lover boy here is being particularly stubborn about this riff." He nudged Lewis playfully.

"It needs work" Lewis protested, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Been avoiding us, have you?" Daniel teased, opening his arms to engulf in a bear hug when you detached from Lewis.

You scoffed playfully. "Avoiding you? Never. Just swamped with work myself."

"Uh-huh," Daniel drawled, unconvinced.

You were about to retort when Lewis cut in. "Now she’s confirmed it, lay off you all." He said pulling you closer to leave a soft kiss to the back of your head.

The music resumed as you settled onto the couch, content to watch them work their magic.

Later that night, as you snuggled into bed with Lewis you couldn’t help but feel how lighter he always looked when he had time with his friends.

"You know," you said softly, "I had a really nice time tonight. Your friends are…"

"Amazing?" Lewis finished, a smile in his voice.

"Yeah" you agreed, chuckling. "I’ll let you gloat on this one, they really are amazing”

Lewis reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "And they're your friends too, you know." he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

You looked up at his eyes. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled softly. "They haven't called you 'Lewis' girl' for a while now. It's been only 'Y/n'. They like you."

A warmth bloomed in your chest. Your fingers circling his naked chest. "Really?"

"Hm" he confirmed, his gaze holding yours. "Don't think of them as just my friends. They’re ours."

The first time he refers to you as “mommy” to a pet

You peeked through the doorway, a silent observer in the warm glow of the late morning in the living room. Lewis was sprawled on the rug, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he wrestled with Roscoe.

Toys were scattered around them like colorful confetti, and Roscoe, tongue lolling out in pure joy, was putting up a valiant fight against Lewis.

"Alright, alright, rascal!" Lewis chuckled, giving Roscoe a back rub that sent the dog into a fit of happy wiggles. "Who's the bests boys in the whole wide world, huh?"

Roscoe barked in agreement, short and enthusiastic barks that vibrated his entire chunky body.

"That's right, yous ares" Lewis said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "The bestest boys. But you know what you need to be an even better boy?"

Roscoe tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"You need to listen to Mommy," Lewis continued, his voice dropping a playful octave. You froze at the doorway, a blush creeping up your neck. Mommy?

Lewis reached out and scratched Roscoe behind the ear. "Yeah, Mommy said we should pick up all these toys before lunch times. What do yous says, champ? Wanna helps Mommys cleans ups?"

Roscoe whined and nudged Lewis's hand with his wet nose, tail thumping against the floor. Lewis ruffled the dog's fur.

"That's a good boys" he said, his gaze flickering towards the doorway for a brief moment. "Time to make Mommy proud."

He stood up, gathering a handful of stuffed animals, and your heart did a little flip-flop. The way he said it, so casual, so natural, you were not expecting that, at all.

You stepped into the room, a playful smile on your face. "Did someone say 'Mommy'?"

Lewis looked up, a surprised grin splitting his face. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, his hands scratching a hidden spot in his neck. "Just, uh, motivating Roscoe here."

Roscoe dropped a squeaky toy at your feet, tail wagging furiously. You knelt down and scratched him behind the ears, earning a happy snuffle.

"He seems pretty motivated already" you teased, glancing at the half-cleaned pile of toys.

Lewis cleared his throat. "Right, well, he just needs a little help from his favorite humans, right, Roscoe?"

The bulldog barked again, his excitement for playtime clearly evident. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, alright," you said, picking up a plush bone.

Lewis's grin widened. "Knew you wouldn’t resist" he said, his voice warm and inviting.

The three of you spent the next twenty minutes engaged in a playful battle against the scattered toys. Roscoe snatching them back just as you were about to put them away.

Finally, as Roscoe settled in his lap as he sat on the floor in the kitchen you leaned against the counter, watching the peaceful scene. He glanced up, catching your gaze.

"So, 'Mommy', huh?" she said, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Well," he shrugged, playfully mimicking her earlier tone "someone has to take care of us two."

She chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Can't argue with that."

He reached out a hand, silently inviting you to join him. You crossed the room and slipped down into his embrace, the warmth of him surrounding you. Roscoe whined and shuffled closer, his large head now resting comfortably on your legs.

The first time you admit to someone else you love them.

The apartment was filled with the comforting hum of conversation and the clinking of wine glasses. Y/n sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, surrounded by her closest friends and the nearly empty bottle they were sharing.

“So, how’s everything going with Lewis?” asked Y/N/F, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Y/n smiled at the mention of his name alone “It’s going really well,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s still early days, but things are… really well.”

Another woman leaned in; her interest showing. “What do you mean by that?”

Y/n took a sip of her wine, savoring the taste as she thought about how to explain it. “I don’t know. He’s just...he’s attentive and caring. Like, he remembers the little things, you know?! The things I never go without at home there’s always a stock at his place, he knows my schedule even if he doesn’t know his own…”

Her friends exchanged knowing looks, but Y/n was too lost in her thoughts to notice. “He just remembers things I say, things I need, without me having to remind him.”

“He sounds like a keeper” one of them said, her voice tinged with amusement. “What else?”

Y/n’s smile widened as she continued. “He’s introduced me to his family, and they’re all so wonderful. And he’s met mine, too. We’ve been taking these little steps, and it feels so natural. We’re not rushing, but we’re also not holding back.”

Some eyes narrowed playfully. “Lovely, you’re glowing just talking about him.”

Y/n chuckled embarrassed, ducking her head. “I guess, he makes me feel special.”

Y/N/F put her glass down and leaned forward, her expression serious. “Y/n, it sounds like you’re in love with him.”

Y/n blinked, the words hanging in the air between them. “What? No, it’s too soon for that” she protested weakly, no certainty whatsover.

She reached out, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. “It’s not about time, it’s about how he makes you feel. And from what you’re saying, it sounds like love to me.”

Y/n’s mind raced as she replayed her words, the moments she had shared with Lewis, the way her heart felt safe every time she saw him. She bit her lip, a shy smile forming. “Maybe” she admitted softly.

The first time they make you cry.

The argument had started over something small. A casual comment about how Lewis seemed to be running himself ragged with his schedule. But somehow it spiraled into something much more intense.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, Lewis,” Y/n said, her voice tinged with frustration. “You need to take a break and focus on your mental health. You can’t keep going like this.”

Lewis sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ve been living like this for years, Y/n. I’m fine. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

Her heart ached at his words. “But I’m here to help. That’s what being in a relationship is supposed to be, us taking care of each other.”

“I’ve managed just fine on my own” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. “I don’t need fixing.”

Y/n felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Who said anything about fixing you, Lewis. It’s about being there for you. Supporting you. Why can’t you see that?”

He turned away, his shoulders tense. “Because I don’t need it. I’m not like that.”

The tears spilled over, and she wiped them away angrily. “Do you not trust me? Because this is about trust too.”

Lewis whirled around, his expression softening as he saw her tears. “It’s not that. At all. It’s just… I’ve always handled things on my own.”

She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m not asking you to change who you are. I’m asking you to let me in. In the good and the bad.”

His anger melted away, his features softening. “Please don’t cry” he said quietly, stepping closer and reaching for her hand.

Y/n shook her head, trying to hold back more tears. “I’m crying because I care about you, so damn much, and it hurts to see you struggling and not letting me at least try and help.”

Lewis pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, the warmth of his embrace a welcome contrast to the cold distance of their argument. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

She clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt. “I just want to be there for you. To share the load.”

He sighed, holding her tighter. “I know. I’m just not used to it. But I’ll try. Promise, okay?!”

Y/n pulled back slightly, looking at him to find sincerity in his eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”

He cupped her face, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I do trust you. It’s just hard to let go of old habits.”

The first time you share a hangover so painful you actually think you might die.

The throbbing in her head felt like a techno beat gone rogue. Every breath felt like knives torturing each cell, from her temples straight down to her toes. And to top it off she was pretty sure she'd swallowed a swarm of angry bees, that were now very, very unhappy residing in her skull.

"Ugh," Y/n groaned, pulling the covers further over her head.

A faint chirp from the doorway alerted to Lewis's presence. He peeked in; concern etched on his face.

"Hey," he said softly. "How's it going?"

"I think I’m dying" she mumbled from the depths of the covers. "Or at least the feeling is just like I imagine dying to be like."

Lewis chuckled, a sound that surprisingly didn't send her brain into a protest. "Sounds rough."

"Rough is putting it mildly" Y/n croaked. "I think I might have made a deal with the devil for another tequila. And apparently, he holds a grudge."

He approached the bed holding a tray that looked like it had come straight from a health spa – a steaming mug, a glass of water, and a plate of suspiciously green fruit salad.

"Is that… kale?" she peeked at the salad with suspicion.

"Don't knock it till you try it, babe," he said, setting the tray down on the nightstand. "It's packed with just what your body needs right now."

Y/n grimaced. The thought of kale was about as appealing as a root canal right now. But she appreciated the effort.

"Fine" she mumbled, reaching for the glass of water. "No promises though."

Lewis helped her sit up, propping pillows behind her back. He handed her the mug first, the smell of ginger and honey filling your senses.

"It'll help with the nausea." he said, his voice gentle and reassuring.

Y/n took a tentative sip. It wasn't bad at all. Dare she say, it was kind of good?!

As she finished the drink, Lewis picked up the spoon and started feeding her the fruit salad.

"Hm, Lew” she whined, swatting playfully at his hand. "Do I look like a baby bird?"

"Not really," he grinned, dodging her hand. "But you do look like a very cuddly koala who needs help."

And cuddly she was. Deprived of her usual snark and fueled solely by the desire for her pain to end, she found herself clinging to Lewis for the rest of the day.

Y/n buried her face in his shoulder, nuzzling it like a giant human teddy bear. "See?" Lewis said, wrapping his arms around her. "Much better now, salad and all."

She mumbled something incoherent but contented against his chest. The warmth of his embrace, the gentle pressure of his hand rubbing circles on her back, it all felt strangely soothing.

After a while, the pain in her head seemed to dull a little. Maybe it was the tea, maybe it was Lewis's cuddling skills, but she started to drift off to sleep.

"Feeling better?" Lewis whispered, his voice barely a murmur.

"Just don't let me do any more tequila. Ever.” Y/n mumbled back, sleep almost pulling her under until she turned into his chest to look at him with a smirk “Unless is Almave”.

The first time you realize you have a side to the bed.

The crisp morning air snuck through the thin hotel curtains, hitting in stripe like figures across Lewis's face. He stirred; the warmth of Y/n pressed against his back a comforting weight. He instinctively reached out, his fingers trailing along the curve of her arm, a silent morning greeting.

A muffled groan escaped Y/n's lips; her face buried in the crook of his neck. Lewis chuckled softly, already familiar with her morning routine. He was an early riser, Y/n, however, reveled in sleeping in whenever possible.

"Morning sunshine" he whispered, his voice husky with sleep.

A sleepy mumbled response was all he got before peace settled again. Lewis smiled, content to simply lie with her, enjoying the quiet moments with her in his arms. He was about to drift back to sleep when a small wrinkle appeared on Y/n's forehead.

With a sigh that spoke volumes about her reluctance, Y/n began to roll over. But before she could fully turn into the sunny spots, Lewis's arm instinctively tightened around her, gently but firmly stopping her movement.

"Wrong side," he murmured, his voice still laced with sleep.

Y/n blinked, momentarily disoriented.

Sun. It was way too early for sun.

She squinted towards the window, the golden light streaming in directly at her.

"Oh," she mumbled, her confusion finally dissipating.

"See" Lewis chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This side's better for you. Less light in the mornings."

She connected the dots. All this time, she'd assumed it was a coincidence that she always ended up on the darker side of the bed. But Lewis, bless his soul, had evidently been making sure of it.

"You knew?" she asked, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her still sleepy features.

"Always," he confirmed, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"You never said anything."

"Didn't have to" he replied smugly. "Seemed to be working just fine."

She snuggled closer. It was a small thing, but it spoke volumes about his attentiveness, about the way he already knew her preferences.

"Thank you, my savior” she teased, rolling onto her back and gazing up at him.

He met her gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just making sure you get your beauty sleep."

"Oh, so that's it?" she challenged, a playful glint in her eyes. "Not just protecting your own slumber?"

"Maybe a little bit of both," he admitted with a disarming grin. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss.

"Well," she murmured, as he pulled back, "thanks for looking after me, even when I'm clueless."

Lewis brushed a stray strand of loose hair. "Always," he promised, his voice a low rumble.

The first time you have to suck it up and say sorry.

The fluorescent lights of the medical center buzzed overhead, nothing like the snowy wonderland you were just minutes before in the Colorado snow winter.

A throbbing ache pulsed behind her forehead, a constant reminder of her spectacular faceplant earlier on the slopes. She’d tried to impress Lewis and his friends with a daring jump, ending up in a tangled heap of limbs and snow.

"You okay?" Lewis had appeared at her side in a flash, his face etched with worry.

"Yeah, just a little tumble," She'd mumbled, brushing snow off her jacket. The truth was, the world had tilted a bit when she hit the ground, but she hated feeling like a damsel in distress. Especially not on a trip Lewis had been planning for months.

A few hours later, the world wasn't just tilting; it was doing a full-on waltz. Nausea churned in her stomach, making it hard to even think straight.

She excused myself from the group, claiming a bathroom break, her head swimming with every step.

At the medical center, a stern-faced doctor delivered the news – a possible concussion, observation for a few hours. Finally, frustration giving way to helplessness, she finally dialed Lewis's number.

He answered with a clipped greeting, his voice laced with tension. "Y/n, where are you?"

"Uh, hey Lewis," she started, voice small. "I'm, uh, at the medical center."

A beat of stunned silence followed, then a torrent of words. "Medical center? What happened? Are you okay? It’s about that fall, isn’t it?!"

She winced at his sharp tone, but knew it came from a place of concern. "I… I just didn't want to ruin the day," she mumbled, guilt twisting in my gut.

"Ruin the day?" There was a pause, then a sigh. "Babe. You're more important than any ski trip."

Shame burned in her face. "I know, I just…" she trailed off, unable to articulate the stubborn independence that had gotten her into this mess.

"Just… just stay put," Lewis finally said, the anger replaced with a tired resignation. "I'm on my way."

The wait felt like an eternity. Finally, the door burst open, revealing a furious and concerned Lewis. His face softened when he saw her, the anger replaced with a wave of relief so palpable she could almost touch it.

He rushed to her side. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I did a faceplant off a mountain," she admitted, a weak smile tugging at her lips hoping to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "That sounds about right." Then, a softer note entered his voice. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling good?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "I'm sorry, Lew" she apologized meeting his gaze. "I just… didn't want to hold you back. I know how much you were looking forward to this trip."

He cupped her face in his hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You're never going to hold me back," he said, his voice low and serious. "Promise me you'll tell me next time."

The first time you look at them and think of forever

Snow fell around the cozy cabin, a relentless drumming that created a comforting rhythm.

Inside, curled up on the oversized couch with a mug of hot cocoa clutched in her hands, Y/n watched Lewis.

He wasn't doing anything particularly extraordinary, simply mending a tear in a pair of his skying pants, his brow furrowed in concentration as he threaded the needle. He didn't even notice her watching, his full attention focused on the task at hand.

And yet, in that ordinary moment, a warmth flooded her chest, stealing her breath away. Here he was, a man who commanded the attention of millions, bent over a sewing kit with a needle as delicate as a butterfly's wing.

She'd seen him conquer podiums and defy physics, but the sight of him patiently mending a simple tear, a frown adorably creasing his forehead… that was something different, entirely.

A glimpse into a side of him rarely seen, a quiet vulnerability of a man who wasn't afraid to solve things, to mend not just clothes, but maybe something broken in other places too.

A shy smile spread across her face as the realization hit her. This, this right here, the Lewis who faced his fears on the track and mended his own clothes, was the man she was falling for. He wasn't just the celebrity, he was real, flawed, and utterly endearing.

"You're staring," Lewis finally said, catching her eye. He looked up, a playful smile on his lips. His cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in.

"Just admiring your skills" she teased, taking a sip of her cocoa.

"Didn't know you were a fan, sewing skills are highly underrated" he replied, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Maybe I am" she confessed; her voice soft. "Maybe I am a fan of everything you do."

He put down the needle and thread, the unfinished pant left in his lap. He leaned in, his gaze holding hers captive. "Everything?" he murmured, his voice husky.

She held his gaze, feeling heat creep up her neck. "Even the mundane stuff. Specially those, actually." she whispered back, winking before closing in.

A slow smile spread across his face. He leaned in further, the space between their lips connecting with a gentle warm touch; a quiet understanding that went beyond words.

As they pulled away, his thumb brushed away a stray strand of hair from her face. "Forever might be a crazy promise, Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But if I were to make it, it would be with you."

______________________________________________________________

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[esamastation]

fanciestgeckofella: desmond transmigrates into liu qingge

(This is not that, sorry, but I do have a snippet where Desmond transmigrated into Yue Qingyuan which I don't think I ever posted, so, have that one instead.)

-

First thing to go through Desmond's mind is something along the lines of, Oh fuck, here we go again. Next is complete and absolute bafflement. Because he's pretty sure he's supposed to be dead right now.

That alone is very confusing. Then there is… this thing.

[Welcome to the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! This System is designed to guide you as you go about your existence in this world. Operating under the guiding principle, You Can You Up, No Can No BB, this System hopes to provide you with an pleasant user experience!]

Desmond blinks at the floating screen in front of him. It… doesn't exactly look like any kind of Animus screen he's ever seen - it actually kind of looks like it's from computer from pre-2000s or something, with blocky grey boarder like something he's seen in old TV shows. No Animus programmer would be caught dead using aesthetic like that. Right?

… Well, actually. He could totally see some retro-loving techie liking it. Not Rebecca, though, she's a futurist through and through, but if she'd been into the old style Window XP or something, it probably wouldn't have taken much effort for her to install some sort of theme - aaand that's completely beside the point.

It's an Animus. He's in the Animus again… somehow. Hm.

"Um," Desmond says out loud, and clears his throat. His voice is weird, different from how it should be. Not that unusual, in the Animus, that, but it feels… more than just having an ancestor transposed over himself. Man, they must've upgraded the Animus a lot while he was, uh… "I'm… aren't I supposed to be… dead?" he asks slowly and feels a bit silly doing it, because he's clearly still around, and yet…

[You have indeed died! Your consciousness has been transferred, and your role has been bound: Yue Qingyuan, the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.]

… Okay, that's a bit different, but he can almost understand it. Consciousness transfer, role bound, that's probably new term for running around in your ancestor's skin. Yue Qingyuan, that's his ancestor this time around then. Cool. Sounds Chinese, which is interesting, Desmond didn't know they had any family there, but hey, Rebecca did say he had ridiculously low pedigree collapse, so that would mean his ancestry spread pretty far, right?

Ezio did have a Chinese student, Shao Jun, so, some pre-existing connections there. Maybe few generations down the line, they became bit closer. Rubbing a hand over his face and finding some of those familiar markers he shared with Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhake:ton - full lips, aquiline nose, high cheekbones… Desmond nods to himself. Yeah, yeah, seems about right.

And yet there's still something just a bit… off.

"Okay," he says, drawing a breath. "I'm still kind of stuck up on the being dead part. Did you reboot my DNA or something? How am I here being, like, a living - or at least a thinking - person?"

The System window seems to consider this for a moment before answering.

[Your consciousness was captured from your dead body and transferred into your new role.]

Oh.

Desmond squints. "Captured how?"

[Your consciousness was captured from your dead body and transferred into your new role.]

… helpful.

So it was the Grand Temple - the Grand Temple did something? He'd been digitised like Clay and Juno, maybe? Okay, yeah, cool, that makes sense. Not sure how well he likes it yet, but hey, he's around, he's thinking, maybe sorta-kinda living and breathing - it's a step above from not… doing those things. Yeah. He can do this. "Nice. And who's Yue Qi-qin - how do you say that name, again? Who is he?"

[Yue Qingyuan is the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, also known as the Xuan Su sword.]

Desmond hums in understanding, eying the window, waiting for more. Nothing more comes, so he says slowly. "… Okay. And what am I supposed to do with him? I mean. What are we after here? Another piece of Eden, or… what?" he asks, folding his - folding Yue Qingyuan's - arms. "What is the mission status?"

[…]

That's all he gets. Literal ellipses, before the System window slowly flattens and disappear, leaving him blinking at empty air.

"… O-kay…?" Desmond mutters, making a face. "That was weird."

He'd never been left hanging in the Animus before. Not cool. The whole initialisation here process was a bit weird, really. Almost feels like they'd left him with an automated answering machine version of the Animus UI, or something. Was he even talking to an actual person there? What the heck. Why resurrect his consciousness at all, if they're not going to tell him what he's supposed to do here? Even Vidic didn't leave him completely in the dark…

Who resurrected him anyway? The Assassins or the Templars?

Uncertain, Desmond glances around for some sort of guidance or clue. The place is nice, and the graphic quality has gone through some incredible upgrades, like, damn. You'd almost mistake it for reality. But there is something seriously off about this. Not just the weird answering machine Animus, but… everything, really.

It doesn't feel like any Animus he's ever been in either. Usually when he starts out, it's as a passive viewer in his ancestor's memory - it takes a bit before he gets control and even then it's sorta not… not full control. Desmond is more used to being the passenger to his ancestor's actual driver. There's never not a moment where he doesn't feel like a second wheel on a unicycle.

Here, it's just him at the steering wheel, just him on the pedals. There's no other mind, no framework of another life - no shell of a person that once was. It's just him, in another body. Weird.

The terminology used was weird too - nothing like the lingo Rebecca or Shaun would've used. You can you up? No can no BB? What does that even mean?

Desmond rubs at his chin for a moment - baby smooth, not even a stubble - and then shrugs his shoulders and goes to get up. Might as well take a look around and try and figure out the limitations of this version of Animus. And it's not like he knew anything about Altaïr or the others either, not before getting the synchronisation up and running, so… better get started with that.

It's still a bit weird though. Usually he gets thrown into a cut scene first to get started with. Waking up in someone's - frankly rather fancy - bedroom is new. Ezio not counting.

Oh well.

-

And then he walks out under dressed and scandalises all the disciples on Qiong Ding Peak.

Alas that is as far as it got really, but the idea of Desmond as Yue Qingyuan is still weirdly dear to me.

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 1

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up.

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse.

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

next part

A/N: i'm so excited to share my first full fic! this series is very very lowkey inspired by one day and highkey inspired by peter by taylor swift. comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this! hope you guys like it :)

divider credit @ cafekitsune!

Age 10

“I still don't see why we had to move here." a sullen, 10 year old Y/N replied, pouting as she stared out the window from the backseat. her father couldn't help an amused smile at the little girl as he drove towards her new school. "i told you darling, daddy’s got a very important new job here in king’s landing." "yes but why did I have to move here." the older man let out a patient sigh. this had been going on weeks leading to their move. "you haven't even given the city a chance yet, kiddo. why do you hate it already?" "because..." the little girl started with an exasperated whine. ".... i don't have any friends here!" "you have me." her father offered with an assuring grin. the unamused look he got in return was not grateful in the least. "you're dad. i want friends." the seriousness with which Y/N declared her dilemma earned her a laugh from the front seat.

her father pulled into the curb by the grand iron gates of Red Keep Academy, the best private school in the city. as Y/N hopped out the backseat, looking deflated, he lowered the car window, "hey c'mon now, you can't start your first day all sad. who knows, maybe you'll come back with a hoard of friends, even more than you had back home." Y/N only looked ahead at him, unconvinced. "bye, dad."

as she made her way towards the main archway to the school, she thought of all the things she was missing about home. not the new townhouse they had in the city, her real home, back in the reach. she thought of the swing behind her house, the smell from the bakery next door, the big oak tree she saw on the way to school every morning, the fountain in the park – when suddenly someone ran past her, fast enough to knock her down.

"ouch!" she cried out from the floor, rubbing her shoulder where she had been hit. "aegon!" a woman suddenly rushed to her side, glowering at the little boy who had pushed past her. "are you okay, honey? were you hurt?" the first thing Y/N noticed was how kind the woman looked with her big brown eyes, and so very pretty. "i'm okay." she reassured in a small voice, before turning to give this 'Aegon', the dirtiest look she could muster.

the boy had to be her age, pale blonde hair that looked like someone had tried to comb it but had not been given enough time to finish the job. he wore a matching school uniform to Y/N, navy blue blazer, white shirt and dark green pants. his shirt though was untucked and seemed to already have mud stains.

she thought he seemed mostly unbothered by his own actions, but stood there attempting to look sheepish nonetheless for his mother.

"apologise to this young lady." his mother demanded. "sorry..." he mumbled almost incomprehensibly. already upset and now physically hurt, Y/N wordlessly got up and hurried away, trying to stop hot tears from spilling out.

as she walked away she heard the boy's mother scold him, "that was not an apology, Aegon. go say sorry, properly this time." she heard a childish groan in response, "do I have to?".  his mother must have given him one hell of a look, Y/N thought because she heard her say nothing else but small footsteps came jogging up to her.

as the blonde boy walked next to her, she waited for him to say something while she kept walking ahead, but he seemed to just wordlessly fall in stride with her. After a minute he suddenly asked, “do you even know where you’re going?”

now that he mentioned it, she didn’t.

she suddenly stopped and looked around herself, confused. He stopped with her and studied her for a second. “I don’t know you.” He observed. “are you new?”. She decided to stay silent, hoping he would go away if she ignored him but she was wrong. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you’re going in the wrong direction, new girl. That way –” he pointed to where she had been headed “—is the middle school building. Primary school is this way.” He started walking down a hallway, and Y/N took hurried steps to follow him.

He gave her a sideway glance, “what grade are you in anyway? Third?” he smugly asked, proudly looking down at her as a mature fifth-grader. “fifth.” She snapped at him. “oh”, he responded, surprised. “who’s class?” “Miss Reyne.” “no kidding!” he gave her a toothy grin. “so am I.”

Y/N didn’t like this Aegon, she decided. As he kept chatting away about how boring Miss Reyne was, she gave him no replies and generally walked as if she were alone and had no association with the silver haired boy beside her. As they settled into class, she was determined to avoid him for the rest of her day. Aegon though, was determined for quiet the opposite.

He took a seat next to hers, kept making comments, providing her a running, private commentary about each teacher and student. He wasn’t affected by Y/N’s lack of a response, or if he was, he didn’t let it show. Y/N had to admit though, he was funny. she couldn’t help but crack a smile when he told her about the time Jason Lannister got gum stuck in his hair, and had to suppress a giggle when Aegon impersonated Mr. Bolton falling asleep mid-way through teaching a class. At these small instances of Y/N’s guard breaking, he flashed her a bright smile, pleased with himself.

Y/N though, didn’t utter a word to him. Until Art class that was.

They had been asked to paint an animal, and when Y/N looked up from the goldfish she had been painting, she saw Aegon’s work. “a dragon isn’t a real animal.” She disproved. The boy merely shrugged, “that’s not an animal either, it’s a fish.”

“a fish is an animal.” She frowned at her work. “it’s just an animal under water.”

“oh well, let’s add some of its natural habitat then.” He smirked, grabbing the bowl of water they’d been sharing to clean their brushes. “NO! stop!” in an attempt to block him from pouring water on her work, the brush in her hand smeared some of the yellow paint on his face.

He froze in his action immediately, bringing up his fingers to feel the paint streak running down from his brow to across his nose. This time Y/N couldn’t suppress her laughter at the sight, his blinking expression making it all the more funnier. “well, if that’s how you want to do this!” he declared as he scooped some of the red paint on his two fingers before smearing it on her cheek.

Within five minutes, their respective art works had been abandoned and both sets of uniform utterly ruined. The two had to be separated by their teacher, then ordered to walk down to the washrooms and clean themselves right up.

The second she left the girls washroom though, Y/N found the silver haired boy waiting for her by the door, some green paint still visibly stuck in his pale locks. “race you to class?” he mischievously suggested. “Hmm” Y/N pretended to think about the challenge for a second, before saying “okay” and dashing towards their class.

With a self-satisfied smile at having beaten Aegon, she took her seat. Sulking at his defeat, Aegon slinked back in his chair, “you cheated, didn’t wait for the ‘go’…”

“win’s a win.” Y/N declared, grabbing golden glitter for her fish. 

He didn’t stay grumpy for long though, before she knew it he was back to his talkative self, this time with Y/N chiming in with her own comments. The hours flew by with Aegon by her side, and as the day came to an end Y/N realised she’d enjoyed herself after all.

As they walked towards the school gate to leave, Aegon suddenly changed the topic. “you like video games?” “yeah…?” she hesitantly replied. “great, you’re coming over tomorrow to play some.” He beamed. At the end of the sentence Y/N observed he hadn’t actually asked her a question. “okay.” She found herself agreeing.

“cool, see you tomorrow.” Aegon had started running in the direction of one of the cars, when he suddenly stopped and turned around. “never asked your name.” he sheepishly realised.

 “Y/N!” she distractedly answered as she sped up, having found her mom’s car in the parking lot.

“Y/N…” Aegon muttered to himself as he walked away, liking the way the name rolled of his tongue.

Age 15

“You’re late.” Y/N didn’t even bother to look up when she heard the window to her bedroom open, but did glance at the subsequent sound of someone falling face first onto her carpet. “have you been drinking? Its 2pm.”

Down on the ground laid her best friend of five years, with his messy platinum hair and stick-thin lanky limbs, carrying in the distinct smell of smoke when he entered her room. Though they were the same age, aegon looked more boyish still even as he had started to race towards every vice of the adult world he could get his hands on.

Aegon merely rubbed his now injured nose, as he lifted his head off the ground. “No I haven’t been drinking… still drunk from last night. Big difference.” Y/N sighed and shook her head in vexation before returning to her homework.  Aegon had recently taken up drinking and despite Y/N’s repeated rebukes, he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much to stop. He continued to wave off her concern and she was starting to tire of voicing it.

“Let’s say I believed you… you wanna tell me what made you so late, then? I do have other things to do with my day than wait around to teach you biology, y’know.” Aegon grabbed a chair and dragged it to sit next to her at her desk. “I was actually busy being taught biology as it happens… albeit of a different kind.” His smug, self-satisfied grin as he pulled a cigarette from his front pocket  and placed it between his teeth, told Y/N all she needed to know. “Elinda Massey was the most enthusiastic of teachers.” Y/N couldn’t help but grit her teeth at the mention of Aegon’s latest distraction.

With a swift motion she grabbed the cigarette and threw it in the bin, ignoring his protests. “you know you’re not allowed to smoke in here, my parents would kill me if they smelled it.” Aegon snorted at the statement, “yeah but, that’s never stopped me before.” The casualness with which Aegon dismissed her, pinched Y/N. It was certainly true that Y/N usually found it hard to say no to Aegon, no matter how the consequences might harm her; but she didn’t like how he took the same for granted, as if it was a given.

“What’s got you all prissy today?”

“you. You wanna pass biology this year or not?” Y/N replied, visibly irritated. “yeah like there’s a chance in hell they’ll actually fail me. Grandfather would have the place shut within the week.” “then why do you even need a tutor? Go off with Elinda or whoever.” Y/N huffed, her eyes remaining trained so hard on her textbook that she was half certain she was going to burn holes into it, her hand clutching around the pencil in her hand.

“Elinda? That’s what you’re so annoyed about?” aegon snickered. Y/N turned to now glare directly into his blue eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks and her nostrils flaring. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to push aegon right out the window he came from so she could be alone instead of having to deal with this. “No, I just think you’re wasting your time here right now, when you could be doing…. Biology with Elinda instead.” Aegon brow furrowed at her reaction, but instead of another retort his hand reached out to gently grab her arm. “hey…” his features softened from their usual impish nature to highlight his concern “…what’s actually up with you?” in the face of such kindliness from him, she couldn’t muster any more scathing replies.

He’d seen right through her, like only he could. For weeks now she’d been stressed, but found the topic too awkward to discuss with Aegon. But she knew she’d have to open up to him sooner or later about her problem. Keeping secrets from Aegon was simply not something she did. Or even possibly could if she tried, she thought.

“promise you won’t laugh.” She first demanded in a nervous tone. Raising his three fingers, her best friend solemnly confirmed, “scouts honour.” She swallowed, her eyes looking beyond Aegon’s shoulder rather than at him as she slowly admitted. “I’ve not had my first kiss.”

Aegon merely blinked back at her, “what, is there supposed to be more to that or…?” “I’ve not had my first kiss.” She repeated as if those words were supposed to be self-explanatory. “yeah and I’ve never been to the Summer Isles, what’re you on about?” Y/N couldn’t help a groan as she momentarily hid her face behind her hands, thinking the more she would explain herself the more embarrassed she would get.

“It’s just, I’m 15, and I should have had it by now, I’ve never even been on a date.. and… and… and you’ve got Elinda and Maria before that, and Jeyne and, and…. I just can’t believe you’ve gone to third base before I’ve even had my first kiss!” her words came out rushed in the end, out of frustration and a need to just get the shameful confession over with.

She had expected Aegon to laugh it off, or worse, agree that her situation was absolutely the height of shame. Instead, he looked confused that such a thing was bothering her in the first place “what, that’s it? why didn’t you just say so before?”

nonchalantly, aegon put an arm behind Y/N’s chair. Eyes closed, he suddenly leaned in towards her, lips puckered, causing her eyes to go wide. “what the –” as a reflex response she pushed back at his shoulders, making him fall of the chair.

“the fuck was that for!” he shouted from the floor, his ego and back bruised.  “why did you try to kiss me?” Y/N was shocked, horrified even, at the prospect. Aegon was her best friend, she couldn’t even imagine looking at him in that light. it was Aegon, he was simply too familiar for her.

Aegon raised his hands out as if the answer was obvious. “you said it yourself you wanted to have your first kiss!”. Y/N’s nose scrunched up, “not with you!”.

“well how was I supposed to get that! Fuck me, I’ll never understand you women”

“‘you women?’” at that, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. This scene before her, this response by her best friend was too ridiculous. Yet, she noted as she offered a hand to help him back up which he grumblingly took, this was very much in character for Aegon. She knew he always wanted to help her, he might not have always understood how to go about it, but his heart was in the right place.

“I don’t need you to fix it, aegon.” She affably told him, a faint grateful smile on her face for her friend’s valiant effort nonetheless. “yeah, no-shit, because there’s nothing to fix. You’re not broken, Y/N.” Y/N didn’t know that she needed to hear those words until Aegon said it and it felt as if a burden was lifted off her shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong. Doing all this, the kissing and the more-than-kissing, it’s fun. Honestly it’s so, so much fun, like I can’t even—” “you wanna get to your point?” “–so it’s great and all but, not doing it doesn’t mean you’re any less for it. You’re still Y/N, you’ll always still be Y/N to me.”

The anxiety she had been feeling, the fear of being left behind and the worry about other’s judgement, even her own – it all started to look so small and insignificant when Aegon told her she was still the same to him. This was her only constant in life, this bond between her and Aegon, the one person she couldn’t hide who she was from. In that moment, she felt glad to have him by her side.

“Besides if you were ever truly that desperate, you could always just try Jace. he’s had a thing for you like forever” Aegon revealed, rolling his eyes in apparent annoyance of the fact. Y/N though, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Jace… has a thing for me?” The thought of it seemed to please her, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as a red blush started to creep onto her cheeks once more.

Aegon looked disgusted at her response, and grimaced, “yeah okay, no need to flatter yourself too much …. It’s Jace.” He stuck his tongue out at the distaste of the thought of his best friend with his nephew. Y/N didn’t pay him any attention, having taken to doodling hearts in the margins of her notebook while engrossed in thought. Aegon immediately regretted having said anything, snatching the notebook from under her hand, “alright are we going to do some biology or what?”

Age 17

Y/N had been fast asleep when the familiar sound of pebbles against her window awoke her. she looked at the time on the watch as it read 2:17 am, quickly rising from her bed. there was only one person who had to be out there, and she knew why too. her heart sank, knowing already that aegon must have had another fight with his father. she opened the window and as expected, aegon targaryen precariously balanced his steps on the tree branch just outside.

"aegon, what are you doing? It's late," she whispered-shouted, trying not to wake her parents but already held out a hand to help him in. "Needed to see you," he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. She wanted to chide him for endangering himself by climbing up so high when he’d drunk so much, but looking at his condition she decided to stay quiet. He climbed into her room, stumbling slightly as he landed. Y/N caught his arm, steadying him. "You've been drinking again," she said, more as a statement than a question.

aegon’s normally sparkling blue eyes were unfocused, his silver hair dishevelled. He'd grown taller of late, she missed the days when she could stand shoulder to shoulder with him. she now had to look up at him, as she put one of his arms around her shoulder to guide him towards the bed as his own steps fumbled.

“He doesn’t get it, Y/N. None of them do. To him, nothing i've done or will do matters for shit. i'm just not the son he wanted. he regrets me, i can see it in his eyes, I—”  a sob escaped his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She gently sat him down on the edge of her bed, his weight pressing down on the soft mattress.  As she looked into his sad, bloodshot eyes, she harboured such hatred for Viserys as she thought impossible for anyone else to hold. she kneeled down in front of him, her heart breaking to see him so.

"I know, i know. But you can’t keep doing this, aegon. If you keep drinking like this, you could seriously hurt yourself one of these days." and she didn't think she could survive that.

she reached out to hold his hands in her own. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you. Always." if aegon heard her, he gave no indication, instead staring at their intertwined hands.

"can I crash here tonight?" he suddenly asked, looking more innocent than she'd ever seen him as he lifted his eyes to look up at her. Gone was the bravado and arrogance that was usual of him, even expected. In that moment he looked more lost than ever, and was looking to her as if she was his only hope for shelter.

she knew her parents wouldn't be thrilled about this impromptu sleepover, but then again she'd never had the ability to deny him anything. "of course," she tenderly smiled.

he kicked off his shoes and moved back up the bed, still holding onto her hand, pulling her with him. he lied down on her pillow, refusing to let go of her hand as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. he looked so peaceful, Y/N couldn’t help but reach out her free hand to run it through his hair in admiration. She wasn’t blind, she knew how handsome he looked, causing the girls to flock to him like moths to a flame. But his looks were just an objective fact to her, she never found herself attracted to him in the same way as the girl at school. But somehow in the pale moonlight, he looked more beautiful than she’d ever seen him, and it caused her chest to swell overwhelmingly.

she looked down to notice he'd opened his eyes again. "Don't leave," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"I won't" she promised, pulling the blanket over them both. he nodded in satisfaction of her reply, nestling against the crook of her neck, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Sleep evaded Y/N though, on the one hand she was wracked with worry over Aegon and his drinking habits, on the other.... she could feel his breath tickling her neck, as his one hand held her own while his other wrapped around her waist, his feet entangled with hers. his body pressed to her own under the covers, making the cramped space on her single bed too hot. Aegon had never been this physically close to her, this vulnerable. she thought how his safe space, the place he ran to when he wanted an escape was her, same as he was for her. it had always been this way, yet, in the darkness of the night she sensed something had shifted between them. she couldn't name it yet, though.

The next morning, when the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, aegon stirred. He blinked, confusion clouding his eyes at his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the familiar face inches from his own "Y/N?" Y/N merely hummed in response, only now starting to stir awake. "what... how did i get here?" he asked looking around the room, startled. He lifted his head as he realised he was all but laid out on top of her, before moving away to lay on his back. He looked down to find his hand had cramped from holding onto hers all night, immediately releasing it. Y/N rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she responded, "what d'you mean?"

"i mean what am i doing in your bed at the crack of dawn." aegon looked earnestly confused, Y/N realised, which worried her.  "You came here last night," she slowly replied, watching his face carefully. "You were drunk. Do you remember?"

aegon frowned, rubbing his temples. "No... I don't." he suddenly looked at Y/N, "Did I do something... did we...?" he motioned to the space between them, his brow raised. Y/N sat up from her bed in alarm, "oh, no, nothing. of course not." she reassured him. she tried not to look too wounded at his relieved expression "good, good." he nodded, staring up at the ceiling.

"you had a fight with your dad and wanted to crash here. do you not remember coming up here last night?" "I don't remember anything really. last thing I do remember is opening one of the bottles from the wine cellar and then" he shrugged. Y/N frowned at his response, "Aegon, have you started blacking out?” her stomach tied itself in knots, feeling anxiety over this new development. But she felt as if she was the only one who understood the gravity of the situation.

she searched for any fear in aegon’s eyes, but only found apathy and disinterest. he seemed unconcerned, merely rolling onto his side and closing his eyes, lazily stretching himself out to get comfortable to fall back asleep.

“do you understand what that means? it means this is getting dangerous. This is no longer all for a good time, Egg.” She attempted again, this time raising her voice to catch his attention. It seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"wake me up for lunch, yeah?" he yawned, drifting back to slumber within minutes.

A wave of anger washed over her, she wanted to knock him off her bed or  hit him with a pillow in frustration over his own self-destructive ways. Did he not understand the ending he was currently headed towards? Did he not care how this going to affect him, affect her? She was tired of being the only safety harness keeping him held back when all he seemed to want to do was jump into the abyss.

“fucking… suit yourself.” She stormed off the bed to head out of her room, shutting the door behind her loudly.

[spacedace]

Found this old snippet and don't really remember of the context for it outside of being a joking exploration of how weird the Fenton/Phantom family tree would seem to outsiders (not even getting into how relationships might be classified differently between the human side & the ghost side)

Anyway gonna drop it here as a prompt lol

Mind the quick reference to dismemberment, there's no gore or detailed description and no one is actually hurt, it's more there for comedic effect, but still wanted to give the heads up on it 👍

---

Nomad motioned to the towering, vaguely vampire-looking buff dude with literal flaming hair what the fuck, “Dan, this is everyone. Everyone this is Dan. He’s my…” Nomad trailed off and blinked, a look of confused befuddlement on her face as she let the sentence hang for too long.

“Huh…” She said considering, looking up at vampire-dude, Dan apparently, with a confused furrow on her brow. “You know this is the first time I’ve ever had to try and explain our relationship to each other and I’m drawing a blank and what exactly to call you. Uncle? Dad? Brother? Like, I think you could technically be considered all three.”

What the fuck did that mean??? Kon snapped his attention over to meet Tim’s masked gaze, the look of wild confusion Kon was sure was on his own face mirrored there. Around the meeting room confused and worried looks were being shared by the rest of the League. Which like, yeah, what in the Habsburgs was happening here for all of those terms to be applicable?

“Well, you’re Danny’s Mirror, so if you consider him your dad then it stands to reason I’m also your father.” Dan said, hand coming up to his - literally flaming, how did that work? - goatee thoughtfully.

“Yeah but like, I call Danny dad just to piss Vlad off.” Nomad countered, toying with her severed arm with her still attached hand. Kon didn’t think he’d ever get over how casual she was about being literally disarmed and just…not caring. “And I definitely don’t see you as a dad. Uncle?”

The giant of a ghost shook his head with a frown, “Implies that Danny and I are brothers, which could work but gives our relationship kind of a weird vibe. I feel more like his father than anything.”

“Gramps, then?”

“No.”

Nomad laughed, “Fair, wouldn’t want to take the title of Grampa away from CW. Besides we’re both half Vlad, so I think brother works best here.” She frowned, looking thoughtful, “Maybe half brother?”

Dan considered, “Half-brother could work. Though it gives Vlad more credit than he deserves.”

“Oh come on, can you imagine the look on his face if we went in together on suing him for child support?” Nomad asked, fanged grin wicked. Dan’s face lit up at the idea, and Kon felt like they were rapidly heading towards the two ghosts running off to go and go torment whoever this Vlad guy was rather then them help deal with the current demonic problem at hand.

“Can you please explain what any of that means?” Kon asked, more a squeak than anything else. He was starting to get a headache.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Just wanted to say I’m enjoying all of the world building and snippets from AEIWAM - it’s clear how much fun you’re having and how much though you put into it. I’ve started rereading bleach because of that, though I always wind up stopping after the rescue rukia arc 😅. Maybe I’ll make it past that this time.

Eh, I gave up after My Blorbo was killed off in deeply narratively unsatisfying fashion, so you're not alone. Anyway, have some More AEIWAM Worldbulding Nonsense:

---

The Kuchiki-Yamada-11th Division Fucktangle

-

It started with Chigiri Shijima.

The first captain of the 4th Division, part of the original Dirty Dozen Yamamoto hired off of Death Row to fight the first Quincy Invasion, was an unassuming and chronically fatigued looking woman* with a profound sense of curiosity about the limits of The Flesh:

(from Kubo's sketches of the original 13) *Chigiri might be male in canon. I don't care

She became fast friends with the young Yachiru Unohana, who shared her fascination with the limits of the flesh, though from the opposite direction. Chigiri was the first person to show Unohana how to channel her Reiatsu to prefrom Kaido, and let her sit in on /Hold people's ribcages open during /do some of the surgical cuts for Chigiri's Field Surgery sessions, much to the horror of everyone else involved.

After the War, when the Captains had to shape up from a gang of mercenaries into a real governmental organization, Chigiri met and eventually married a Similarly-Sadistically-Curious young Dentist named Fumihiro Yamada. Longtime friend and frequent visitor to the hospital Unohana attended the 100-day ceremony of their first and subsequent six children, the start of a grand tradition- Unohana, under one name or another, has been present at the Okuizome of every Yamada born for the last millennium, and delivered most of them for the last 800-odd years.

The Yamadas are one of the most prolific Shinigami families, producing more Shinigami by percentage than any other clan, and have served in all divisions of the court Guard. Eighth Division Fifth Seat Suichi Yamada is the current highest ranked Yamada, but there have been four Captains Yamada. There's also a Seated Yamada in the third divison, and another in the 12th (though there's a popular rumor that 15th Seat Tosako Yamada isn't part of the 12th so much as a Spy to keep the 4th abreast of any important developments in medical science, rather than deal with Mayuri directly).

It is little wonder then that, despite the lack of noble standing, the Yamadas are one of the most highly regarded families in the Seireitei, and even less of a wonder that, every time the gene pool starts to get a little shallow, that the Noble Houses start looking at the latest generation for potential spouses.

The Kuchiki Clan in particular has intermarried heavily with the Yamadas, to the point that Byakuya Kuchiki is actually fourth-cousins to the infamous Former Fourth Division Lieutenant and Current Head of the Private Central Medical Institute in the Noble Quarter, Seinosuke Yamada:

(Description: A cool and handsome if somewhat menacing Wizard)

...and his less-famous younger brother, current 4th Division 7th seat Hanataro Yamada.

(Description: the most bully-able looking dweeb you've ever seen)

Due to the way the Kuchikis keep marrying daughters they won't legitimize for some goddamn reason to Yamada Sons, there's an argument to be made that the Kuchiki Clan is a Branch Clan of the Yamadas...

In fact, until Rukia was adopted into the Kuchiki Clan, if something had happened to Byakuya, Seinosuke was Byakuya's closest living relative in their generation and a reasonable argument could be made that he was the Hier-Apparent.

This, of course, would not do.

The thing is, Hanataro's shy and gentle demeanor is very unusual for a Yamada. The whole clan has a reputation for being Manic Sociopaths with dubious ethics and a tendency towards sadism. They make excellently competent officers, but not exactly 'friendly', like a terrible hybrid of a Border Collie and Cane Corso. Seinosuke himself is known to take great pleasure in bringing back patients that are actively begging for death.

There is a persistent rumor that this infamous disposition is at least partially due to the influence of Captain Unohana, who has been an active member of the Yamada household for the last millennium, presumably so they're very acclimated to her nonsense by the time she starts recruiting the prize ones for the 4th. She's delivered most of them and officiated the marriages of more than a few, and given the woman's patience in cultivating the Seireitei's Most Magnificent Flower and Vegetable Garden, it's suspected she's been cultivating the Yamada line as well.

Seinosuke was her lieutenant before the current Isane Koetetsu, and the bond between them was almost legendary. They would frequently not actually bother to finish sentences around each other, or communicate entirely by gesture because they were so familiar.

---

It was little wonder then, when Seinosuke's little brother also joined the 4th Division, though it wasn't exactly happily received news. People get jealous and see favoritism where there is none- Hanataro had entered the 4th on his own merits, and actually against his brother's recommendation.

Hanataro also had the strange fortune of entering the 4th the same week as the Tragic West 66 Incident in which several captains, lieutenants and nearly all of the 9th division's seated officers were killed by the machinations of (as was believed at the time) former captains Urahara, Shihouin and the head of the Kido Corps.

Three days after that, 11th Division Captain Kenpachi Kiganjo was struck down in a duel, and infamous barbarian Kenpachi Zaraki took over the 11th.

... So the day afterwards, when the lower officer in charge of assigning jobs to trainee medics saw that apparently this Zaraki bastard needed a complete medical checkup and every vaccine ever, he thought 'Well, let's see if Little Hanataro really did get in on his own merits. He's A Yamada after all, this should be a piece of cake for him-'

-and sent first-day-on-the-job Hanataro to the famously hostile 11th Division on his own.

---

"Um, Excuse me, Mister- I mean, Captain Zaraki?" Hanataro mumbled peering in the door of the captain's room at the nest of pillows and blankets that might contain his charge.

The 11th was deserted- not really a surprise, given the heavy casualties the 11th had suffered the week before. In fact, all 20 of the surviving members of the 11th were still recovering at the 4th, and Hanataro had wandered around looking for someone for a solid half hour until a little girl with neon pink hair had playfully tackled him to the ground and then, giggling, shown him to the Captain.

"KEEEEEEN-CHAAAAAAAN!!!" Miss Yachiru shouted, leaping into the nest and tackling her adopted guardian with similar glee. "Re-Chan sent one of her guys here for something!"

There was a low rattling noise of irritation that reminded Hanataro eerily of the family's temperamental rooster, but much, much larger. The nest of fabric shifted, arching up into an alarmingly tall shape, Yachiru balancing on top and scolding it for sleeping in so late, he's probably very busy-

A lithe but powerful arm longer than Hanataro was tall suddenly lurched out from the nest and slammed on the floor in front of where he was sitting, swinging the entire torso of 11th division captain Kenpachi Zaraki around and bringing Hanataro eye-to-fearsome-yellow-eye with the giant.

"...the fuck're you?" Zaraki grunted, blinking slowly at Hanataro, not entirely awake yet.

"I- I- I'm-" Hanataro sputtered, struggling to introduce himself when he noticed something peculiar- an extra bit of translucent flesh behind Zaraki's eyelids, sliding sideways across his eye to behind his tear duct- "- I'm sorry, do you have Nictitating Membranes??" Hanataro gaped.

Zaraki glared blankly at him for a moment, before breaking into a slow grin and, very slowly closed the pearly membrane over his eye and opened it again to Hanataro's slack-jawed astonishment.

"WHAT THE FUCK THAT'S SO COOL I'VE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF HUMANS HAVING THOSE DO YOU KNOW IF IT'S GENETIC OR-" Hanataro yelped with excitement, jumping to his feet and grabbing the captain's head and staring at his eye, nose pressed to Zaraki's cheekbone for a moment before abruptly remembering where he was and letting go, dropping into a bow hard enough to audibly bonk his head on the floor. "I'msosorrysirpleaseforgivemeidon'twanttodie-"

He was interrupted by Zaraki's loud cackle of amusement and the sensation of being lifted. Zaraki was sitting- well, had extracted his gangly limbs from his nest and arranged them into a pile mostly in contact with the floor- and picked up Hanataro by the collar of his Shihakusho and set him back up on his feet. His cackle trailed off into amused clicking and he sat back, regarding the tiny medic with a peculiar sense of favor.

"Good catch Mr. Sorry." he teased, Yachiru climbing onto his right shoulder. "Dunno who my father was, but my Mom an' Sisters 're Eagles and they got 'em too."

"...Eagles?" Hanataro blinked, cocking his head sideways with confusion. "Like. Birds?"

"Kami, technically, but yeh." Zaraki shrugged, rolling his neck and stretching, still waking up. "So who're you or am I gonna be calling you Mr. Sorry forever?"

"Ohhh... That- well that doesn't exactly explain things but I think I get how- uh, sorry, I'm- I'm not sorry, I'm Hanataro Yamada from the 4th Division!" He yelped, staggering back on topic. "Captain Unohana said you needed an intake medical exam and vaccinations?"

"Yeah probably." Zaraki shugged, scratching at his neck. "Yachiru too- Tired to get as many of 'em in her as I could afford but you know how it is out in the sticks."

"Hm." Nodded Hanataro, who did not. "Um, well- If you wanted to get started, we might be able to finish up before lunch, you must be busy with a whole division to put back together-"

"Yyyyy... -nah." Zaraki yawned. "Stayed up all last night writin' letters to fill it back up and posted 'em early. No rush until I get summat back."

"Which is probably good- I don't think you've EVER gotten a shot, have you Ken-chan?" Yachiru asked, kicking her feet in the air behind his shoulder.

"...Oh." Hanataro mumbled.

-

"...Has anyone seen Yamada?" Yamada the elder enquired after Yamada the Younger, the late afternoon sun casting golden beams through the windows onto the dispatch desk of the 4th.

The incessant chatter of the nurses, medics, janitorial staff and the dispatch officer came to a sudden and extremely suspicious halt.

"It's just that he promised to meet me at the end of his shift so we could walk home together, and it's not like him to be late." Seinosuke spoke lightly, eyes casually panning over the remarkably guilty-looking faces around him.

"He- he's not back yet?" dispatch officer Hiyako Gendo gulped, eyes suddenly fixed on the clock. "I sent him out like five hours ago..."

"Sent him where?" Seinosuke asked pleasantly and the medics collectively flinched.

"Uh, to the- um-" Officer Gendo sputtered, color draining from his face.

"You haven't misplaced my brother, have you?" Seinosuke smiled with gentle menace.

"No!" Gendo yelped. "I- uh- well- the new captain needed an intake exam-!"

"...Which new captain?" Seinosuke spoke softly, looming over to the dispatch counter. "We have promoted an unprecedented SEVEN new captains this week and I would not want to waste time searching nearly two-thirds of the court guard."

"Eight, actually." one of the nurses squeaked, and Seinosuke's head swiveled to face her like an owl. "Eep! We- um, there's a new captain of the 11th division as of last night, Sir." she stammered.

Seinosuke turned back to the dispatch officer, staring down at him with the burning eyes of a wrathful god.

"Hiyako." he spoke gently, putting a hand on the dispatch officer's shoulder. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Y- yes? Sir?" Hiyako Gendo gulped.

"Good, good- So you wouldn't do something like, I don't know, send my baby brother into the division with a history of such violent enemity with that only combat certified officers are cleared to enter it?" Seinosuke asked fingers over the pressure points of Gendo's shoulder.

"Um." Gulped Gendo.

"-Perhaps you sent him with a senior officer?" Seinosuke tried. "I can understand wanting to give him an impression of how dangerous this work can be on his first day, to make sure he really does have the guts for the 4th, but that should be done in a fashion where he is only an observer to the example of an experienced officer and not, say, totally alone without telling anyone to go check on him?"

"Well-" Gendo whimpered.

"-Because, Hiyako, and I need to emphasize this-" Seinosuke continued, fingertips digging into Gendo's shoulder. "-That there is no body in the morgue right now, because during his promotion to the office yesterday, the current Captain-Kenpachi bisected a significant amount of the sewer and municipal support systems 200 feet below the 11th whilst rendering the previous Captain-Kenpachi into a fine red paste in a single strike!"

Gendo made a strangled noise of pain.

"So please tell me that my sweet, gentle little brother with the constitution of a bowl of oatmeal is literally anywhere besides the vicinity of that monster, preferably in the company of someone with at least half a functioning braincell?" Seinosuke pleaded, leaning in close and steadily increasing the terrible pressure of his grip.

"ISentHimThereAloneOverFiveHoursAgo!" Gendo shrieked, finally flinching and grabbing at his shoulder.

Seinosuke froze, save to let go of Gendo and let him collapse out of his chair, howling in pain. Slowly, he stood up, pleasantly blank smile on his face, and turned to leave the division.

"Someone please inform Captain Unohana that I have deployed to the 11th to retrieve my brother and if there is so much as a HAIR out of place on him, Zaraki will be the shortest-serving captain in history!" He called out, re-tying his Zanpakuto on his belt before vanishing in a burst of Shun-po.

"-Was that you, Seinosuke?" Unohana called from her office down the hall.

-

"-Well, most venom isn't a single chemical but dozens, if not hundreds of compounds with complex interactions so any samples have to be refined down to the individual components and tested both singularly and with the others which can take ages but it's yielded some incredibly effective drugs so far!" Hanatarou babbled excitedly, drawing a grid on Zaraki's thigh, oblivious to Yachiru putting his hair in pigtails.

"My goodness! We certainly have come a long way from using bee stings on arthritis!" Yumichika laughed. Zaraki's self-appointed third seat lounged against the wall near the door, enthralled by the process. His mothers had been something between field medics and hedge witches out in the far western districts and was keeping pace with Hanataro's enthusiastic infodumping about venomics while he prepared the captain for the next round of vaccinations.

"Not that far- your beestings were one of the earliest things we tested for pharmaceutical application, and it turned out that the entire combination of bioreactive compounds in the amounts found in an individual sting was the most effective dosage! More sanitary to use a needle than an actual bee though. Speaking of-" Hanataro turned to Zaraki. "Are you sure you want to do ALL of these today? Unless you're planning on messing around in the sewers, your chances of catching any of these are extremely low, so we can stagger them."

"If I'm gonna feel like crap tomorrow anyway, might as well feel like crap once and be able to fuck around in the sewers if needed." Zaraki shrugged. "-Why are the doctors in charge of that anyway? You've got better shit to do?"

"Ah, well-" Hanataro sighed, capping the marker and getting the next round of vaccines in order. "-Civic maintenance *used* to be part of the security duties of the 11th but... well, after we lost Kenpachi Tokagero down there, your predecessors... never resumed their duties? So it's kind of fallen to us since, but to be honest, the previous guy wasn't exactly someone I'd trust to maintain the necessary standards..."

"Yeah, no shit." Scoffed newly-appointed lieutenant Ikkaku, who was attempting to sort through the literal heap of paperwork Kiganjo had thrown into the corner instead of filling out.

"No I think the shit is supposed to be in the sewers." Zaraki grinned and Ikkaku responded with a single-finger salute.

"Right- lets try to not bend any more needles, okay?" Hanataro smiled, preparing the first syringe.

"Yeah, yeah-" Zaraki rolled his eyes, but obediently inhaled and exhaled, focusing on the square Hanataro was touching. Reiatsu manipulation didn't come naturally to him and it had taken a couple dozen broken needles to work out a technique that allowed Hanataro to actually stick him.

Hanataro focused, feeling the pressure drop with the hand on Zaraki's thigh, focusing his own energy into the tip of the needle with the other, until the difference flipped and-

"Ssk!"" Zaraki hissed a bit as Hanatarou slammed the needle into his leg with the force of a sword strike, but that's what it took. "Yer gettin better- that one stung a bit!"

"Sorry!" Hanataro squeaked, withdrawing the intact needle and changing it over to the next syringe.

"Keep at it and you might be able to really hurt me in fifty years!" Zaraki laughed, ruffling his hair.

"Okay, next is for Orange Fever- this one is famous for burning after injection but we'll see-" Hanataro started then looked up at the feeling of someone's absolutely furious reiatsu approaching at speed.

"Someone coming? You all put yer heads up like bird dogs." Zaraki chuffed.

"I think someone's come to-" Yumichika started but the door beside him slammed open and they were all greeted with the terrible sight of the most feared man in the fourth, wild-eyed and teeth bared, utterly consumed with rage-

"Hi Seinosuke!" beamed Hanataro, entirely used to what his brother looked like after a long day at work or being woken up suddenly. "What are you doing here?"

-

"Hanataro?" Seinosuke yelped, startled by the entirely peaceful and almost domestic scene before him. Zaraki seemed to be politely interested in the vaccination process, the menace that had been at the lieutenants meeting yesterday was sitting in the middle of the 11th's paperwork with a senbei cracker hanging out of his mouth, and Hanataro was getting pink bows tied into his hair by Miss Kusajishi. The remains of afternoon tea were on the table behind him.

"That's him! Who are you?" a third, effeminate man asked from beside the door with a faint prickle of reiatsu, politely reminding Seinosuke to mind his manners in someone else's house.

"This is my older brother Seinosuke!" Hanataro cheerfully explained, reflexively capping the syringe he was holding. "Not that I'm not glad to see you but- OH NO IT'S ALMOST DINNERTIME!"

"It's fine, it's fine." Seinosuke wheezed with relief. "It's my obligation as the oldest to be a worrywart."

"Tch- No point in worrying for this one." Zaraki teased, poking Hanataro in the shoulder. "-We should all be worried about him! He's only gone and stabbed me thirty-two times and I haven't landed even one blow on him!"

"Sir..." Hanataro groaned at the joke.

"Thirty-two?" Seinosuke blinked.

"Could only afford shots fer the kid, so I need all of 'em." Zaraki shrugged. "Not that I was makin' it easy for 'im."

"Um, yeah..." Hanataro hummed. "There's some technique for giving someone with extreme positive spiritual pressure shots that I don't know, right?"

"You? Ask them to lower it?" Seinosuke stared, beginning to wilt as the adrenaline drained out of him.

"Yeah, I... kinda suck at that." Zaraki grunted, looking away from them, right eye shut despite the left one being scarred. "Might as well keep Stabbin'?"

"What's with your eye?" Seinosuke frowned, veteran of spotting unspoken injuries.

"Oh yeah! Check them out- He's got Nictitaing Membranes!" Hanataro beamed.

"He WHAT?" ---

Four hours after that, the Yamada brothers set out for home, Seinosuke with the beginnings of a fascinating new study on Kami-Induced Occular Mutations and Hanataro with a promotion to 'pocket medic' that he wouldn't find out about until Zaraki abducted him from his rounds for 11th division boot camp some four months later.

--- (Tumblr says this is getting too long and is glitching, More about Byakuya and Seinosuke's Marital Conspiracies later)