#i need a BREAK. not spring break. i need a BREAK break. i need to grab everyone and go to the beach or something

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Your Only Option

Yandere Otome Game Character x GN Reader

TW: psychological horror, trapped forever in a time loop, yandere behavior, mind break, and manipulation

It was always spring when your world would reset once more. When the flowers were in full bloom and the scent of spring was heavy enough to make your head spin. You were in this digital world you had somehow ended trapped in, forever forced to repeat the story premise until you inevitably had to start over once more… yet you always ended up with only one of the capture targets. The villainous crown prince, Edwin Fritz.

Edwin was your favorite character in this game prior to you ending trapped in it. He was the hardest character to romance but the creator had stated in a forum that he was a yandere. The kind of character you were a sucker for each time! With his silver hair and crimson red eyes, you always melted into a puddle when he’d appear on your screen… yet it was much different in real life… Edwin was terrifying.

You spent over a hundred hours playing the game to romance him because you adored his twisted love routes, but it was so different now that you were in the game… especially since he’d always greet you at each starting point.

Both of you retained your memories of the countless previous games and he’d always greet you with an extravagant gift of some sort… must be the perk of being the villainous crown prince.

You gulped when Edwin made his way over to you, his crimson gaze didn’t leave your shivering form once. His large form easily towered over you as he held a giant bouquet of ruby roses in his arms. A ghost of a smile on his gorgeous face.

“Hello, darling.” Edwin handed you the roses before his hand brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “You tried to talk to Count Jesse in the last game play through… do you enjoy making me jealous?“

You trembled like a leaf but gave Edwin a bright, reassuring smile. You needed to reassure him before he went ballistic in a fit of rage… and you didn’t want to see other characters die again. “Of course not, Edwin. I only love you after all.”

Edwin pulled you into a hug, the roses in your arms shedded a few petals from the embrace. You gulped when you felt his breath shudder. “You do, don’t you? That’s why you’re the only one who didn’t give up one me…”

Edwin sighed dreamily when you relaxed in his hold. “I don’t know why you keep associating with such lowly characters when you have me. I can offer you such a wonderful life of luxury. You’ll never die or age. We can truly be together just like you’ve always wanted before I brought you here! You said you hated your life prior to me.”

Edwin pressed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. He didn’t care about the gazes from the other nobles at this small party. You were his in this life and his again in the next loop. Forever and ever and ever and ever. No one would be able to take you from him. He would keep repeating this loop until you swore you’d be his spouse!

“So what do you say? Will you be my spouse for all of eternity or do you want to keep playing this game?” Edwin gave you a smile that made a chill run down your spine. “I don’t mind repeating time another four hundred times until you finally relent.”

Edwin moved to cup your cheeks between his hands so his eyes could look into yours. You felt as if you could drown in the sea of obsession that lies behind those ruby red eyes. “I’m your only option, after all.”

#gn reader #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere headcanons #yandere otome #yandere character #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere concept #yandere content #yandere insert #otome game au #tw.manipulation #tw.yandere #time loop #obsessive yandere #yandere obsession #yandere boy #yandere male #gender neutral insert #yandere video game #yandere idea #yandere oc x y/n #yandere original character #yandere villain

[thisisnotthenerd]

the rat grinders timeline

after this last episode i feel like i need to clarify all of this so i can get an idea of what the scheme actually is. anyway:

pre-high school:

porter is a scion of the house of cliffbreaker, formerly the house of sunstone, who sought to take the name of ankarna and shift her divine domain from dawn and justice to war and conquest. the house expressed frustration with ankarna for not being willing to strike ruvina or cassandra and after the sundering of the cliffs of calcoth, went into hiding as the cliffbreakers.

porter is nominally a paladin of ankarna, but wishes to take her place as a deity of war and conquest, to be able to strike down cassandra and ruvina.

freshman year:

the high 5 heroes form on the first day of school: kipperlilly copperkettle, lucy frostblade, oisin hakinvar, ivy embra, ruben hopclap, mary ann skuttle.

that same day, the bad kids get detention and face down the corn cuties in the cafeteria. kristen and gorgug die and get brought back by aguefort. jace and porter are the first teachers on the scene; they are established as a duo. may have been attempting to install the rage crystals in kristen and gorgug.

kipperlilly notably doesn't like riz, and feels that the bad kids are getting special treatment. all of the rat grinders have animosity towards the mad kids in some manner.

the high 5 heroes take easy quests that they know they will succeed at.

kalina enters the spy's tongue curse with jace and porter, and is only able to talk about ragh because he was tangential

prompocalypse: kalvaxus falls. yes! is borne in the gym. crown of the nightmare king is stolen. ragh sees jace and porter and gets kalina transferred into his body via a lay on hands from porter.

sophomore year:

at some point, the high 5 heroes are brought in by jace and porter and start facing high level monsters after they are defeated by porter/jace, thus grinding them for xp.

name change from high 5 heroes to rat grinders--ivy, oisin, ruben, and mary ann for, kipperlilly and lucy against.

lucy is given an mcat for paladin classes so that she might become the champion of ankarna (old)

porter kills "lydia barkrock", likely seeking to release and/or destroy bakur

kalina splits off to raise the nightmare king again, with assistance from angwyn and arianwen abernant. she is defeated and thus unable to work with jace and porter for a time. the nightmare king is apparently integral to the raising of porter as a fetal deity; perhaps as an associated deity, the nightmare king would guide his ascension.

nightmare king is reconstituted as cassandra, championed by kristen applebees.

the rat grinders go on their own spring break quest to the mountains of chaos, presumably to visit the temple of the fallen sun. they are accompanied by jace stardiamond. they do not find the name of ankarna, but likely start establishing the teleportation circle.

after the quest, they have all been implanted with the rage crystals and start manifesting more power and anger. this is presumably because they died.

lucy goes back on the agreement and reaffirms her commitment to ruvina. she withdraws her change of deity paperwork. the rat grinders + porter kill her and bury her in the far haven woods.

porter has correspondence with bobby dawn about collaboration and the potential uses of devil's honey.

mazey phaedra is elected student body president and is given a faculty request to remove the inaugural period of following student body president from the bylaws

summer of the night yorb:

night yorb is released; the bad kids spend the summer chasing down the cult of the night yorb and building the solar lasso. they are out of elmville and generally focused on the red waste

church of sol/helioic church loses followers due to the long night

kipperlilly prepares to run for student body president

the rat grinders request buddy dawn as their replacement cleric

kipperlilly tracks down eugenia shadow and threatens to dig up her grave, after waiting until the first moment of her junior year

ruben writes “in space no one can hear you scream” and it becomes the song of the summer, outcompeting fig and the cig figs. he later writes "get mad!" with porter's advice

the loam family faces embezzlement charges wrt frosty fair, they are murdered, and the location of frosty fair (the festival of frost) moves to the thistlespring tree

thistlespring tree is established as a root warden for elmville

the soil is laced with rage crystals

kvx bank changes from red to blue, signaling the presence of oisin's ancestor as their backer

junior year:

aguefort goes on holiday with ayda to the dawn of time (time quangle). gilear goes on holiday with hallariel. this leaves the school in the hands of grix, who was intended to eliminate threats to the school, and jace stardiamond as vice principal. the existing magical protections on the school are still present--they cannot kill mazey and elmville cannot be plane shifted while the AAA is in session.

kipperlilly begins campaigning only to be faced with the ineffable kristen applebees and her campaign manager, the ball

porter refuses gorgug's initial mcat request, hoping to incite rage in him

porter starts taking ambrosia to prepare his body for ascension, using rage to contain himself and not proceed to the afterlife.

cassandra comes to the astral plane and is trapped and killed. she remains in stasis, surrounding and protecting ankarna

fabian hosts the first party of the year: oisin starts setting his ping-pong ball traps and steals adaine's mephits in order to alter the cloud rider engine. ivy sees fig, transformed as lucy. the bad kids interact with buddy. ankarna pushes yes! through to kristen. gertie, who has been supplying the devil's honey, becomes nemeses with fabian

fig multiclasses as a paladin and is taught by porter--this gives them the sacred scroll with the name of the intended deity written by the previous deity's champion. she is encouraged to rage, and pushed away from being a paladin of cassandra.

buddy is also encouraged to become a paladin and gets mcat paperwork

ruben performs at frosty faire and starts the ritual at the thistlespring tree--grix shows up to stop him and is defeated by the bad kids

yolanda badgood follows up with jace about lucy's death--she is brought to the far haven woods and killed. the bad kids find the bodies

the bad kids go to fallinel and find the name of ankarna on the ancient menhirs, and are faced with divine intervention from cassandra and galicaea, unbeknownst to the rat grinders.

they eliminate the curse of the armor of pride and remove bakur from lydia barkrock

fig writes dawn of justice and takes dominion of ankarna's original domain

bobby dawn fails kristen and sends the bad kids to the last stand

kristen catches kipperlilly killing buddy dawn during the last stand

buddy is raised by porter using a rage crystal

rat grinders go to ground, and prepare to go back to the temple of the fallen sun. constant nondetection from ruben, oisin, and possibly ivy

fig writes righteous rebel, makes her oath to ankarna, and releases both songs as singles that rocket up the charts

ruben sees wanda childa die

bad kids go to the temple of the fallen sun and investigate. fig is vindicated about porter.

fig gives the false name (bacharath) to porter and he stuns her in the hall

riz gets into his office and figures out the ascension scheme

the bad kids go to ruben's house and go through the rat grinders' plans

election night: the storm is triggered, the plans for seacaster manor are triggered; cloud rider engine is set and the enchanted ping-pong balls go off. they plan to have oisin's ancestor strike down the bad kids as they make ready to transport elmville during graduation.

the ritual

the ritual is centered on aguefort adventuring academy and requires certain things:

the location where a god was borne (the gym)

the ascending deity (porter), who is a champion of the new domain and has a body prepared for ascension

mortal followers seeking to change the domain/raise ankarna (the rat grinders + jace)

divine attributes of the deity (hammer, armor, etc.)

the writing of the name of the fetal deity on sacred scrolls by the champion of the old deity (fig)

the physical divine domain (elmville, suffused with rage crystals and transported to the astral realm), which requires the removal of the protections on the town that were cast by aguefort

the metaphorical divine domain (ruben's song get mad)

the nightmare king, as an associated deity and the one who would nurture the new deity

and the name of the old deity (ankarna) that they might sunder it and in her image make a new god

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #the rat grinders #porter cliffbreaker #jace stardiamond

[mountainsandmayhem]

God Bless The She Devil Who Made Joel Miller

Pairing: BFD!Joel x F!Reader

18+ only!!!

Summary: After a fight with your boyfriend, your best friend Sarah invites you to say with her at her childhood home with her dad.

CW: Joel be peekin, Joel is mean (but you like it). I’m choosing not to say anything else to not spoil anything so engage at your own risk.

AN: You can all thank @littlevenicebitch69 for this. She asked for being caught, but I am daddy and I know what she really wants 😉 thank you @mermaidgirl30 for being my forever beta xo

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

God bless the absolute angel who brought Sarah Miller into your life. She somehow convinced her dad to let you stay with them over spring break after your boyfriend locked you out of your shared apartment and then refused to answer the phone or let you in. Sweet, empathetic, and dependable Sarah was at your apartment minutes after you called her and didn’t have to say much to her dad to let him allow you to stay.

And God bless the absolute she devil who made Joel Miller and put him in close proximity with you. You have a boyfriend, maybe, you can’t be sure, but you do know you have it HARD for Joel Mother Fucking Miller. He’s exactly the type of man that would classify as a DILF, and you don’t even consider yourself into older men. But Joel isn’t older, he’s experienced and charming and every single thing he does seems to turn you on.

Sarah has been working a day shift at the local grocery store during the break and Joel is off running his contracting business. Joel Miller, sweaty and dirty and building things with his large calloused hands. Fuck, you try to shake that image from your brain because you certainly do not need another image of him to touch yourself too.

You have a job serving in the evenings so the house is quiet and all yours during the day. This afternoon the sun peeks through your curtains and wakes you. Sun dancing along the pale yellow walls of the spare bedroom. You pick up your phone and see that it’s clear and sunny, the perfect day to lay out by the pool that Joel said you could use, “make yourself at home, darlin’, any friend of Sarah is welcome anytime.”

You practically leap out of bed and into your ensuite bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready to lay out in the sun. You rush down the hall in the swimsuit Sarah lent you, a large blue and white striped pool towel tucked under your arm.

You love Sarah, but there’s no chance you’re wearing this ridiculous one piece swimsuit to tan, plus you’re alone so what’s the harm? Joel doesn’t get home until well after 5 pm most nights, Sarah usually around 3 or 4, and she’s seen you naked more than once. Plus the backyard is fairly private, most likely no one will see anything.

Fuck it, you think to yourself, slipping the red lycra straps off your shoulders and then shimmying the suit down your body. The sun immediately warms your skin and that boost of vitamin D already has you feeling lighter and happier. You spread the towel down on the chair and lay on your stomach, tying your hair on top of your head and then grabbing your phone.

You flip through Spotify before settling on the album Ten by Pearl Jam. As the first song floats across the backyard, you rest your cheek on your hands and let the fast paced grunge music wash away your thoughts of your boyfriend and what you’re going to do next week when you go back to school. All that matters now is the sun on your skin.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel was just about to start working on some paperwork for his next building when he heard movement in the hallway. You must be up for the day, he should probably let you know he’s working from home today, just in case. He wants you to be comfortable here, even if it’s killing him to see you wandering around his house in those small denim shorts you wear to work. Last night he was almost certain he could see your hard nipples peeking out from the fabric of your tight white t-shirt.

Absolutely not, Joel. He scolds himself.

He hears you pad down the hall and then the unmistakable swoosh of the sliding glass door to the backyard. He glances out the window in his office to see you slip the red swimsuit Sarah lent you off your body. His cock was already painfully hard behind his jeans.

She just turned 21. The Angel on his shoulder reminds the devil that’s tempting him from the other side.

His mouth waters as he looks at your body. Your tits are perky, pink little nipples hardening as the air hits them.

She's going through a hard time. The good side of his conscience seems to be losing but he finds an ounce of strength and looks away. He can’t be staring at you.

He tries to focus on this goddamn contract but even little deadline and “initial here” blend together and all he can see in the jumbled words of the page is that little strip of hair that leads to that bundle of nerves he so badly wants to suck on. When he looks up again you’re laying face down, round and perky ass facing his window and on display for him. She must not know he’s home, and now she’s going to think he’s a total fucking creep if he says something now.

She’s your daughter's best friend. No, she’s off limits. Beyond off limits. Get it together, Miller.

And then your music drifts through his cracked window. You’re listening to Pearl Jam. So now not only are you incredibly tempting but you also have the music of his teenage years blasting. He can’t resist anymore, glancing out of the window to see you still laying on your stomach and your plush ass bouncing along as you wiggle to Eddie Vedder singing about still being alive.

He’s not sure how it happens, his body seems to move without him knowing, and suddenly he’s standing at the window, staring down into the backyard at you. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the large window frame.

He slows his breathing and focuses on you - every dip and curve, every freckle, every little bit of skin being absorbed by his heated gaze. Your legs are slightly parted, but not enough for him to be able to see your cunt, and fuck does he want to see it.

His palms tingle with the need to cup your ass, maybe spank you for being naked in the middle of the day. He has neighbors, they could see you right now. This is unacceptable and you should be punished.

Just as he’s about to head downstairs his cell phone rings loudly and you shoot up onto your elbows and look over your shoulder at him, eyes locking with his before a tiny smile crosses your face. Joel looks away quickly and grabs his cell, almost crushing the device in his grasp as he answers.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel Miller was fully lurking at your naked body, and while that should probably embarrass you, you need to get fucked. You need something, anything, to forget about that piece of shit boyfriend who locked you out and refuses to talk to you or let you get your stuff. Sarah told you when you first met that he had her when he was 19, so it’s not like he’s THAT much older than you. Plus it’s just fucking.

Yep, I’m going for it.

You gather the towel around your body loosely, hooking your swimsuit on your finger and twirling it happily as you head into the house, determined to confront him and then seduce him. When you head up the stairs he’s standing in the doorframe of his office, just across from the spare bedroom you’re occupying. He looks deliciously pissed, one arm propped above his head on the door frame, the other on his hip, knee popped out. Your pussy flutters at the thought of his large, angry body above yours.

The opening bars of Jeremy fill the silence between you two, almost daring the other to make the first move.

“Turn that off,” Joel snaps. “I’m working.”

“Didn’t look like you were working a few minutes ago,” you say back, matching his energy.

Joel’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his eyes on yours. You lick your lips, testing him, teasing him, pushing him to see if he’ll take the bait. The flick of his eyes to your lips happens so quickly you almost miss it.

You let out a scoff, “Ya, that’s what I thought.” You step towards him, so close that you can smell the coffee and sawdust on him. “Wanna take a break from all that work?” You say the word work teasingly, trying to entice him.

“Go to your room and put some clothes on. Don’t let me catch you naked in the backyard again,” He says deeply, then closes his office door in your face.

You smirk to yourself, dropping the towel at his door and wandering into your room leaving the door wide open. You hook your phone to the Bluetooth speaker as you lay on your bed completely naked. You hit the volume button and slip your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, little circles.

“Daddy didn’t give no affection, no

And the boy was something that Mommy wouldn’t wear

King Jeremy the wicked

Oh, ruled his world”

Joel whips his office door open looking absolutely furious. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. Bare, wide open, and soaking wet. You don’t stop, don’t even bother to look his way, as you dip your fingers into your pussy and cry out his name. Joel steps into your room and hits the power button on your speaker. The only sounds that film the room are your moans and the squelching of your arousal as your fingers slip in and out of your pussy.

“What the fuck did I just say, little girl?” Joel says darkly.

You open your eyes to look at him and the expression on his face sends your heart into your stomach. You’ve always been a little bit of a brat, getting in trouble lots growing up. Truthfully, you like the rush of it, the adrenaline of the unknown. But Joel looks dangerous, eyes blown out with rage and lust, hands clamped into fists at his sides, a slight blush pinks his cheeks, lips in a tight line.

You sit up, crossing your legs and covering yourself with a pillow as you turn towards him. You’re suddenly not feeling so confident, you may have pushed the wrong man.

“Y-you said outside,” you start, your voice wavering. “I’m inside.”

Joel moves so quickly that you don’t even have time to register what’s happening as the pillow is ripped from your grip and disposed of on the floor in front of you. You’re bare and exposed to him again.

“Spread your legs,” he says hungrily, voice a raspy whisper.

He watches your throat as you swallow hard, leaning back on your elbows and planting your feet on the edge of the bed. You look at him tentatively, jumping and letting out a little squeal when he barks, “I said spread your fucking legs.”

You relax, letting your knees fall open. His breathing is rapid, a growling moan leaving his parted lips. He takes one step, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“Joel -” you start.

“Shut up. You knew what you were doing, you wanted this. Didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, but…” his hand slaps the inside of your thigh and your knees slam together as you cry out.

“Spread. Your fucking. Legs,” he repeats in a slow and deep command.

“That hurt!” You say back, squeezing your knees together tighter. It feels like he set fire to your thigh and you can already see the red handprint forming.

“If you’re gonna act like a little brat, I’m going to treat you like one. Now spread your legs so I can hit the other one.” He raises an eyebrow at you cockily. “If you keep them open, I might reward you.” You’ve bit off more than you can chew with Joel Miller.

You take in a calming breath through your nose, relaxing your knees as you exhale slowly. Joel can see the milky, sticky strings of your arousal as your pussy lips spread open for him. He has to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his cheeks at the sight. He wants to taste you so fucking badly.

“I think you liked it,” he taunts. “You’re makin’ a mess, you like being slapped around, don’t you? Treated like a little whore.”

Before you can respond he lays a hard smack on your other thigh. Your hips involuntarily buck upwards, your head falling back and a moaning, whimpering cry you don’t recognize as your own leaves your lips. You focus on your knees, fighting against your body’s instincts, keeping them pushed into the mattress.

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he kneels in front of you and yanks your ass to the edge of the bed. “Think you should get a reward now?”

“Y-yes, please, Joel. Please!” You have never had to beg for sex before, boys your age are usually fired up and ready to go, but men of Joel’s age know sex is so much more than just penetration - it’s a game, a tease.

He bites down on your thigh, “Please. Please, Joel!”

“You smell so fucking good,” he says as his hooked nose trails down your little line of pubic hair. You squirm under him as your clit twitches, aching for his attention. “And so goddamn wet. My little whore, aren’t ya?” His warm breath hits your needy clit and you flop down onto the bed, whining in need.

“Please -” but your words are cut off by the front door opening and Sarah’s voice calls through the house.

“Everyone can celebrate, I’m home now!!!” She yells jokingly.

“Fuck!” Joel huffs under his breath and bolts for his office, kicks your towel and swimsuit into your room, you follow and click your door shut quietly.

“Hello?” Sarah calls, heading up the stairs.

“Just getting dressed,” you call through your closed door. “I think your dad is in a meeting.”

“Put on your swimsuit, it’s gorgeous outside!”

Taglist

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #pedrohub #joel miller fanfiction #joel x oc #daddy joel #brat tamer or soft dom #dom!joel miller #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel x y/n #joel x you #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x oc #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you

[cherry-leclerc]

so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really. 

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money. 

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm. 

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once. 

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it. 

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps. 

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

-

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades. 

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief. 

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.” 

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most. 

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

-

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek. 

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance. 

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

-

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third. 

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see. 

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another. 

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay. 

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love. 

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

-

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were. 

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos. 

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile. 

“One day, then.”

-

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious. 

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms. 

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

-

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn. 

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.” 

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you. 

It was perfect.

-

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you. 

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse. 

-

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall. 

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band. 

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare. 

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss. 

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

-

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one. 

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

-

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?” 

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart. 

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused. 

You’re broken hearted.

-

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera  pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain. 

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel. 

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!” 

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you. 

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

-

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours. 

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too. 

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it. 

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay. 

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth. 

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly? 

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

-

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does. 

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine. 

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one. 

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me. 

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten. 

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

-

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things. 

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?” 

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken. 

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses. 

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does. 

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck? 

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London. 

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday. 

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you. 

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever. 

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

#lando norris #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #f1 smut #lando norris smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #ln4 x reader #mclaren f1 #mclaren formula one #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

[thewritetofreespeech]

May I request Nanami and Gojo finding out their s/o got disowned by her father, who is one of the higher-ups, because she showed mercy and defended Yuuji?

Nanami Kento

It was late at night when he got the knock at the door. So late, in fact, that Nanami was just about to go to bed, already in his pajamas with his teeth brushed, when he heard it.

“[Y/N]?” He asked curiously when he saw them there. Standing in front of his door, looking a mixture of distraught, sad, and just hopeless. A strange case given that they were usually so confident and strong as a Special Grade Sorcerer. “What’s wrong? Has someone died?”

“No. No one has died. I guess that’s the problem.” Nanami arched a brow at their cryptic comment, before they let out a shaky sigh. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He of course let them in. Offering tea or some kind of comforting drink, although they don’t take him up on the offer. “Will you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

They eventually break down and tell him everything. About the boy that ate one of Sukuna’s fingers. How he was slated for execution, which was cruel but reasonable in their world, and how that idiot had them stick their neck out to vouch for the boy’s hold even though they didn’t know a thing about him. Of course, Nanami knew that they would speak up for him. They had an incredible sense of morality and standing up for the weak. ‘That’s the job, isn’t it?’ They had told him that more than once.

Apparently not everyone shared their noble heart, it seemed. Not even those in her own family. For standing up to the higher ups and ‘embarrassing’ the family her father kicked her out with threats of disownment and banishment. Whether or not he meant to follow through would be a problem for tomorrow, but right now she was out on the street. Which in his opinion was unforgiveable already.

“You can stay here as long as you like.” Nanami told them. Amending their original request from earlier to stay the night.

[Y/N] sniffle once, but seem hell bent on refusing to cry. Nanami told them to take a shower if they wanted and he would find them some clothes to sleep in. They literally had nothing on them. So they would have to make do.

Both of them now in pajamas with their teeth brushed, [Y/N] curled up beside him and tried to get some sleep. It seemed a struggle, but the emotional exhaustion took hold, he thinks, and they both try to get the best night sleep possible for the hell that was to greet them in the morning.

Gojo Satoru

Gojo whistled down the hall as he made his way from one part of campus to the other. He was quite pleased with himself.

It wasn’t every day he got to ridicule and humiliate the higher-ups; despite his attempts and life’s goal to make it an everyday occurrence on his part. Those old fools didn’t know what hit ‘em when Gojo plead his case and told them what happened. He might not have gotten this Yuji kid off scot-free, but he bought him some time. That’s all he needed for Gojo’s master plan to come to fruition (whatever it was).

He passed a familiar doorway and saw a light was on. Thinking it had been left on by mistake, he invited himself in and was surprised to see [Y/N] there. Boxes on their desk as they were throwing things into it.

“Hey, isn’t it a little early for spring cleaning?”

“Not for me.” They told him. “I have to be out of here by morning.” Gojo tilted his head to the side, so they explained further. “I’ve been sacked.”

Gojo’s face was one of alarm. “Wait. What are you talking about?” They couldn’t have been fired. Really? For what??

“Apparently my behavior at the council meeting was ‘unbecoming of an educator at this institution’.”

Gojo growled in his throat. “That’s bullshit! I was there too, and it was my idea! I did all the talking!”

“Yes, but I don’t have the Gojo name to defend me.” His ire and shoulder fell. Oh shit….

“They seriously fired you?” [Y/N] nodded. He clicked his teeth. “Can’t you do something? Your dad maybe?” He’d hate to ask him for any favors, but if it kept [Y/N] here they should take it.

“Who do you think signed my ‘death warrant’?”

He wanted to say he was surprised, but he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry [Y/N]. I didn’t realize that you might –“you did the right thing Satoru. Even if it was originally for selfish reasons.” He sighed. So he guessed they knew that the only reason he initially did this was to piss this old coots off. They lifted the box and put in on their hip. “I’ll be fine. I’m not exiled entirely. Not yet. I’m still a Special Grade. Still can go on missions.”

“Yeah. Ones that will get you killed.” They all knew what happened to people who weren’t Gojo that stood up to the council. They were given mission in far off places and then ‘died under mysterious circumstances’ while in Brazil or Cameroon or something.

[Y/N] let out a bitter chuckle. “They’d have to catch me first. For now, I need to find a place to stay. Get an apartment. They took away my professor housing too, and I obviously can’t go home to dear-old-dad.”

“You’re staying with me.” Gojo cut in quickly.

[Y/N] seemed surprised, but quickly schooled it into coy. “Ooo….I never thought we’d be in a point in our relationship where we were moving in together.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Gojo grabbed the box they were carrying and helped carry it out. “I really am sorry.” He apologized on the way.

“I know.” They told him. But that was all they said this time. No ‘you had a good reason’, ‘you did what you could’, ‘it’s not your fault’. He suddenly felt all the more guilty. He had to remember more often that just because things couldn’t touch him, that other people weren’t as lucky. Collateral damage was something he never thought of. He’d need to think about that more in the future. Especially with his new student.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #scenarios #imagines #imagine #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

[recycledraccoon]

Minor thoughts on Oisin and how he seems primed to fuck over Adaine specifically. The flustered ping-pong balls that were a plan all along. The quoting her own words on the previous Elven Oracle back at her in regards to the storm.

I mean...imagine you're a skinny little dragonborn wizard, in a class with a cute elven girl. You don't talk to her, but one of your adventuring party members is pissing thinking that party is getting preferential treatment, so you KNOW about her. You watch from the corner of your eye or from a spot on the back of the class whenever she's actually there. Partway through the year she goes to jail, and when she comes back she and her adventuring party save the world from a dragon. (A dragon of whom your Grandmother had been fond. ((Also, coincidentally, the Vice Principal.))) One of them created a god.

(Your entire party is being groomed into rage by two of your teachers.)

You're in her class again. She is the Elven Oracle, already an accomplished adventurer. She and her friends are popular. She's very pretty. She does not know your name. She does not know who you are, just a skinny dragonborn a few seats back.

You go on your Sophomores Year Spring Break Adventure and don't bother to think about her party at all.

(You and your party are going to kill a god. Your teacher is going to ascend to godhood in their place and you and your party will have Made That Happen. You are angry and determined with each final blow you deal.)

You return from Spring Break angry and with a sore chest.

You find out the elven girl's party has resurrected a dead god and the live streamed the entire fight. They must think they're so much better than you and your party. You'll show them.

(Your friend refuses to change her faith. She cancels the paperwork. The rest of you kill her, confident she will make the right choice and join you again as a proper Champion for your new god. You help kill her. She does not get back up. You hide the body and none of you can say anything. You're so so angry.)

The world descended into darkness and you can do nothing. The sun finally breaks across the sky again right before Junior year. You and your party have made plans and are on the cusp of greatness. You've gained muscles to spare and ink on your scales in carefully selected runes, no longer just a skinny little dragonborn.

(You have a new cleric. He's not your friend. He's a haystack hick from that cult-church from Freshman year, and he's here because the god you're going to kill needs a Champion and he fits the bill, nothing more.)

The first day of school the plan starts to be put in motion. Immediately that party of kids is interfering, in your way. It rackles. You push on anyway, seething inside even as you act the part of being reasonable.

You go to a party at the houses of one of her friends. You've been practicing making spell runes on the inside of ping-pong balls. You're ready.

The pretty Elven girl in your class finally looks at you. She approaches you, gives you a drink, and chills it in your hand. She has to ask your name. You have shared certain wizarding classes with her since Freshman year, tho she was barely there. You have to tell her that.

You chat. She clearly gets flustered, calls you great, and flees back into the house. Your friend teases you for others to overhear. It's a convenient excuse to use your geometry and apply physics to miss every single shot and lay your trap. The drink isn't so perfectly chilled in your hand anymore.

(You talk to her. Play nice. She isn't smooth, but she smiled at you and maybe a part of you is vindictive in seeing her flustered. It's a shame she turned down the diamonds, as dragon madness would have been so poetic. You steal her summons to steal something from the house. She didn't know your name. Didn't remember you. You feel justified. Your anger burns cold like frostbite, like static in the air. You purposely don't wonder if that first miss was intentional or genuine.)

You see each other in class sometimes.

You plot and kill monsters the woods. You will win the battle. You will win the war.

Your parties have a standoff in the cafeteria. You play your part to diffuse the situation, your teacher has been harping on your friends to stop antagonizing the other party. You feel her mind touch yours gentle probing of intentions, her friends all around her as you lock eyes.

(The devil's honey your group gets from that bee girl all goes to your teacher. He is preparing himself to ascend to godhood, and he needs it for his prayers.)

She is searching for your intentions and feelings. You tell her only 'Sorry'. She believes you. You are not entirely sure why. She and her party will hopefully die during their Last Stand exam, and have no way to revive themselves in time, be trapped there until after elections.

Maybe she just wasn't perceptive enough to see the deception.

(You hate her and all her friends. You have had no devil's honey. She believes you. Briefly, you wonder if it was a lie at all.)

They catch you. They know. Your team goes to ground and waits out the remaining days 'til elections and the culmination of everything you've been working for.

It rains at the party, and you have no more masks. You are angry. She must never have been that good of an Oracle at all, and you take joy in mocking her with her own words from long ago.

She's nothing more than an elven girl in your class who was full of herself to remember your name.

(There is nothing left now to stop you from being as openly angry as you like.)

#adaine abernant #oisin hakinvar #dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #d20 spoilers #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 spoilers

[hellavile]

━━━ 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑒. a.h

warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, murder mystery, aki is a chef, oral [ f + m.], sneaking away, marijuana use, praise, fingering + finger sucking, aki's tongue is pierced, sexual acts happen quick, mentions of depression, brief mention of emotional/physical abuse, reader is desperate for help/attention, parental neglect, grooming, minors aren’t allowed.

━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; another old piece of mine i never fully finished and now posting yrs later!

“okay, i'm out!" aki is shouting as he tosses his white chef coat over his shoulder, book bag on the other, the cool breeze of spring blowing through his raven hair the minute he opened the tall glass door that led to the front of the restaurant. his friend, also a coworker, is busy, in the mix of gathering dirty dishes and clearing trash bins but still sends him a farewell, a quick, 'see ya tomorrow. good job today!' till he's off to his bus stop. he was thankful he got out early, just before five in the afternoon meaning the sun hadn't set yet.

he sighs, extremely worn out, in dire need of a steamy hot shower and a greasy pizza while laying in the comfort of, finally, his own apartment he worked entirely too hard to gain. the commute to his place in brooklyn, new york became rather annoying due to rush hour traffic at this time. having to take the bus then switch to the 'n' train, hopping off and walking fifteen minutes until he finally reaches his destination. his second goal was to afford a vehicle to save him money instead of wasting it on expensive monthly metro cards.

aki's lived here his entire life, growing up in the bronx, not much different. he loved new york, but not their uppity expenses. the fact that he's paying nearly two grand for a 600 square-foot apartment with no in-unit laundry nor a gym at that, was nonsensical. did he want to reside here forever? yes. he'd feel homesick if he ever were to leave. having the opportunity to travel seemed like a much better alternative, that way he'd still have his home but be anywhere in the world doing what he loved, and that was cooking. aki hayakawa was twenty-six years old, earning his master's in culinary arts at the culinary institute of america, also known as the C.I.A.

his ultimate dream was to open his restaurant, which he would name after his tragically deceased mother. a terrible accident in which he dreads the memory of. falling endlessly into a black hole, hearing nothing but the sound of his own fear, the breaking of his bones when it interacted with brick interior, the feeling of his heart thumping excessively against his chest as he continued to drop deeper like a rock that was chucked down an empty well. this emotion he knew all too well; failure. when he lost his mother, it felt as if the world crumbled beneath him, malicious dark vines slithering up to grab him by his ankles and pull him down a bottomless pit of nothingness.

he tasted the agony, the anger, the sadness, and even the hate from the fact that she was gone and never coming back. countless tantrums, anxiety attacks, and depression summed up the apathy of it all. it took him six years to realize that drowning in pain would never help him gain the strength that he knew she wanted him to have. by letting her witness the pain he was going through from above, he was hurting not only her . . but himself. so to overcome the tragedy, he kept himself busy with cooking. going to school, earning his degree, and the current job he had with his best friend since middle school.

school was probably the greatest thing he'd ever done to reinvent who he was as a person. cooking is a delicate yet challenging obstacle to undertake, yet, it's so therapeutic to him. the nature of it all, being able to witness what he can do for many people, bring laughter and happiness—it's a beautiful thing. when aki was small, he and his mother would give back to people all the time. whether they were donating clothes to the homeless, or feeding small pigeons pieces of bread on a sunny day as they flew to the gray pavement, awaiting a feast. they always cared about others. they would experiment a lot, going to food markets just to come home and whip up a good meal which they would then donate to the less fortunate. that's when he learned how humble he felt to give back to those in need.

he wanted to show his mother his achievements, to push himself and become a world-renowned chef, just like gordon ramsey—without the aggression. he wanted his name plastered on articles for his extraordinary talent, talked about on tv, in fact, given his own cooking show on foodnetwork. aki grew up watching that channel, an obsessive enticement his mother could never break the young boy from. he was making recipes at the age of twelve, and learned how to cook at eight. eggs were the first thing, usually everyone's first, then as time progressed, he grew from simple pasta dishes to revitalizing gourmet meats, and anything french. just recently he schooled himself on how to create wine. every day he learned something new, and that was the beauty of culinary.

"hayakawa! come here!" star yells as soon as she sees the tall man emerge through the front door, ready to start his morning shift, raspy voice laced with slight panic, instantly making the man run to her out of worry.

"what's wrong?" he furrows his brows.

"look who just fucking walked in," she grabs his bicep, pulling him closer to the front counter. aki curiously follows where her finger points, seeing a slim man with black curly hair dressed properly in a white and black suit. silver and sapphire rolex on his wrist, his pale green eyes scanning through the lens of his glasses at the menu while he sips his water. expensive.

"i have no idea who that is," aki blinks, making star gasp.

"he's alexander bodari, one of my favorite authors of all time. remember the novel i told you i was reading, about this girl who was kept in this lunatics basement and almost murdered?"

aki's eyebrows raise. "the book dylan bought you for your birthday, right?"

"yeah! that's him. oh my fucking god, i'm so nervous, whew," star begins to fan herself, nearly having a breakdown. aki grabs her shoulder and chuckles.

"chill out, star. you don't have to serve him if you don't want to."

"of course i do! i just. . . can't," she frowns.

"you can, you've done it many times before. this isn't the first celebrity we've come across."

star sighs, nodding. "you're right, i can do it."

"good girl," aki smiles, patting the top of her head. star catches his wrist and scowls.

"fuck off."

"aki," another voice calls to him, this time it's the head chef, also known as his boss. aki greets him with a small, 'good morning, chef' before waiting for his response.

"i'm guessing you know that alexander bodari is here," lane says, arms crossed over his broad chest. aki nods. "i want you to cook for him."

aki and star share a glance of shock.

"uh, why me. where's dylan?"

"he's not feeling well so i gave him the day off. you're the only one here that's near his level, and he's a higher-up man, so i want you to cook for him. star will cater to his needs. we're kinda short-staffed today, and i trust you two will handle it properly."

"yes, chef," they say in unison.

star was only a waiter, working here for four years while aki earned his position two years into her time. the last thing the woman could do was cook, ironic since she worked in a restaurant with very talented people. lane would've asked her in a heartbeat if she was as skilled as aki. aki was known for making dishes at the top of his head, so if anyone asked for a special, he was the one to ask. before they began to serve anyone inside, aki gave star a small prep talk before sending her out. eventually, she got through with taking his order without stuttering or sweating. when she walked back into the kitchen, actually shoved the doors open with a joker smile on her face, aki cocks his head at her.

"you—"

"he wants your special!" she screams, doing a goofy dance, and skipping in her spot.

aki's face drops. "are you deadass?"

"yes! when he was looking at the menu, he saw your four courses on the back and chose your mom's stew! fucking a, man!"

aki is still frozen, weakly giving star their signature handshake, smile slowly easing onto his face. "my mom's stew? seriously?"

"yeah. chop chop, get to it."

aki was persistent. no one's ever ordered his mother's stew, which made this day very special for him. even if the dish was only on the menu for a month, it still meant a lot to him. he made sure there were no distractions, taking a tender chuck roast and cutting them into cubes, seasoning them well while throwing in worcester sauce, balsamic vinegar, garlic cloves, bay leaves, and beef broth. making a slurry with flour and water to thicken the stew. adding onions and potatoes. it was a simple yet fulfilling dish he looked forward to every sunday.

"deep breaths," star whispered as she carried the steaming tray of stew plated professionally on a porcelain oval-shaped bowl. in a way, it felt like she was telling not only herself but him. it's a rarity that people order his courses, and serving this to an author, a bestseller, a man worth millions, made him giddy. he was cheesing like an idiot, pushing star out the double doors to the dining area.

although as soon as she walked out, that's when doubt clouded his gut. did he put too many seasonings? is the meat tender enough? what if he doesn't like it? will he write about it on his author blog? god, he hoped the potatoes weren't hard. he had only tasted the broth, it tasted just like his mother's. what if. . .

"aki," star walks back in, an even wider grin on her a-symmetrical face this time. he blinks, realizing that he's been standing here for three minutes now. "he wants to see the chef."

he's dumbfounded. "me?"

"no, lane. yes, you!" she's squealing like a girl, and sometimes he forgets she is one, even underneath her blunt features and boyish sense of style.

he's clearing his throat now, strolling mindlessly towards alexander bodari's table, greeting himself and waiting for his constructive criticism.

"you're aki hayakawa?" the man questioned, lifting his glasses back onto his face.

"yes, sir."

"i just have to say," alexander chuckles, softly clapping his hands. "this may be one of the best stews i've ever had."

the tenseness in aki's shoulders relaxes, and he's sighing with relief, alexander noticing and laughing. "i'm really glad to hear that, sir."

"did you create this on your own?"

"it's actually my mother's recipe. it's my favorite. every time i make it, it reminds me of her."

"that's really ironic because this reminds me of the stew my mother used to make," he grins. "yours is the first that i haven't seen carrots in."

aki laughs. "my mom hated cooked carrots."

"mine did too," he fixes his collar. "is this your restaurant?"

"no, no. i'm just a cook here. i plan on opening my own soon. i already have my master's."

his brows raise. "wow, that's amazing. wow old are you?"

"twenty-six, sir."

"well, you're definitely going places," he compliments and aki feels even more satisfied. "say what, i'm having this pre-book release, about a hundred guests. i was wondering if you would like to cater the party. i'll pay you however much you want."

it's like the whole world collapsed on his chest. he'd never gotten an opportunity like this, especially this big. to cook for so many famous people at once was a blessing. he could really show off his skills if he took this offer . . . and did. after thanking him, exchanging contacts, and then handshakes, aki lets the man finish his meal before jogging back into the kitchen to scream about it to aki, lane, and the rest of the crew. alexander offered star to come along to serve, but unfortunately she couldn't, seeming as she'd be out of town for family matters that day.

alexander, of course, knowing she was a big fan signed a copy of his book she already had in her bag and letting her know she could help the next time he had an event. that made her happy enough. the two of them couldn't wait to finish their shifts today, taking the train to star's place and planning dishes all night, even cooking them to get them just right. alexander was hosting the party at his penthouse down soho. and aki had a week to prepare himself.

୨♡୧

cashmere sweaters, silk gowns, and jewelry that most likely cost more than his savings account roamed the lovely terrace of alexander bodari's home. every inch of it screamed filthy rich. rows of tables were set outside, the dark night sky making the moon shun brightly amongst the glass centerpieces filled with calla lilies and moss. white cloths, sterling silverware, and porcelain dinnerware. the terrace itself was elegant; freshly cut bushes trimmed as squares, a marble three-tiered italian water fountain placed in the middle. roses, dandelions, tall plants ranging from bamboo, snake plants, and pothos. alexander was very in touch with nature and his spirit. it's crazy he writes about the things he does.

speaking of, the book he was presenting that would be released in august was titled, 'to riven a magnolia.' he wouldn't quite reveal what it was about yet, wanting it to be a surprise, but did read an excerpt from the novel. aki only paid half attention, big words throwing him off plus he wanted to set the food table properly so guests could take what they wanted after his reading. aki didn't go all out since only seventy-two people were available to make it, and he didn't want any meals that would make anyone too full to converse, so he kept it simple yet exquisite. each guest received a slice of japanese fluffy cheesecake with a side of strawberry and mandarin orange tanghulu. beef wellington, and a six-sided cream garlic bread.

he received praise all night long. people gasping and thanking him for the food, giving him all sorts of compliments making the man blush like a child. at one point he held both sides of his face in his palms when a woman and her husband approached him to talk, way too shy, and the woman flirting with him didn't make it go away. eventually, her husband dragged her out of his sight. the night went on, classical music played as people sipped their champagne and talked about their wealth, their yoga classes, their thousand dollar dogs, golf, marketing . . . aki hopes he never becomes this way.

as he's pouring an elderly lady a glass as she rambles about baking, he notices a woman he's barely seen all night. he's disoriented, eyeing this girl leaning up against a vintage roman painting reaching the ceiling once the lady departs. brown eyes; the first captivating part of her body he captured. they appeared lonely, bored perhaps as they scanned through the crowd of people, soon landing on another pair, his own. the godly woman stared at him longingly. aki had no business nearly losing his shit under her gaze. wow. she was truly stunning.

one feature that stood out the most were the freckles scattered from the bridge of her nose to the swell of her cheekbones. pretty. her black hair styled protectively in butterfly locs that grazed her collarbones, seeing the industrial piercing hiding behind a piece. her lashes were long, naturally extended. heart-shaped lips were full and pouty, the upper lip brown while the lower, salmon pigmented. an emerald satin mini dress loosely clung to her alluring brown skin. cowl neckline, ruched waist, and an open back partially revealing the red dragon tattoo painted on the side of her hip. black suede gucci heels strapped prettily around her ankles, showcasing her white painted toenails. a three layered gold necklace on her chest. this woman, you, were the rationale of celestial.

it was the moment you smiled at him, tilting your head slightly to the side while tapping your ombré acrylic nail amongst the glass of your champagne, calling to him while he thoughtlessly followed, that aki would realize he had made one of the worst mistakes in his life.

"you're pretty."

it's the first thing you say when he walks towards you, offering a piece of cheesecake with a cheeky smile. aki is taken aback, chuckling nervously, palms already clammy the minute he approached you.

"pretty?" he's perplexed.

"that's what i said," you say, taking the gold fork from his palm and cutting a slice to taste, widening your mouth while maintaining eye contact. the man swallows.

"uh, i've never gotten that before. thank you."

you're too busy eyeing him to say a thing. even if he dressed in simple black skinny jeans and same color tee, a silver necklace tucked beneath his shirt, sable combat boots, and a white apron around his waist . . he looked damn good. his eyes were blue, somewhat smoke gray, dark hair long and straight, the top half tucked into a small messy bun on the back of his head. a few loose strands swaying around his cheekbones. he was tall, shoulders broad, forearms and hands slightly veiny. you gazed at his hands holding the plate for you, wide and rough, fingers long.

"you don't seem to be enjoying the party," he says, knocking you out of your daydream.

you hum with displeasure. "he's a fake."

aki furrows his brows. "sorry?"

"alex, he's unoriginal. most of his novels are stolen by people he pays to keep quiet," you side-eye him while downing the last drop of your champagne, slowly licking your lips. his eyes flicker there for a split moment.

"how do you know?"

the question makes you quiet, tapping your glass. "think of it like this; everyone starts off as a cocoon. eventually as time goes by, we evolve into butterflies. the cocoon represents our innocence; the purity and unawareness of what's to come in life. once we sprout into butterflies, we become tarnished, facing the real world and learning to adapt to its cruelty. life can be beautiful, but it's always painful no matter how happy or dismal we are. it's our choice to fly in the direction we want for ourselves even when the harshness of life beats us down. butterflies only live for so long. we disintegrate after inhumane amounts of stress, loneliness, or tragic events that take a toll on us, removing the power of staying beautiful. we show beauty to the public but don't feel it when everything around us is falling apart. but we can't make life harder on ourselves by dwelling on what we can't have rather than pushing for what we can have."

aki is speechless, half-understanding what you meant. "are you saying alexander is a butterfly that can't fly?"

"he's more like a mosquito, latching onto those who want to sprout into a butterfly but sucks the nutrients from them for his pleasure. he's a fraud. he'll never be a butterfly because he simply can't."

"did he steal from you? is that why you resent him?"

"no," you bluntly state, although aki doesn't believe you.

he takes the fork from you, cutting you another slice before holding it towards your lips, waiting for you to bite. you looked like you needed it. the drowsiness in your eyes may have indicated that you were tipsy. you giggle, shaking your head before he feeds you, your big eyes captivating him more. "is there something you want?"

"you."

aki nearly chokes and he's not even the one eating, your bluntness throwing him in a spiral of emotions.

"am i beautiful to you?" you lean closer, aki swallowing, scanning his surroundings. most of everyone remained in the living area, the two of you far behind a wall near the glass door of the terrace. he could smell your scent better, a sweet smell of caramel. soft skin shimmering with glitter.

"very."

"so what's stopping you? you got a girlfriend or somethin'?"

"n-no, it's just. i barely know you."

"that's part of the thrill," he watches as your small wrist turns and your palm is flat outward. "come upstairs with me."

like any man would, his feet walked on their own, stupidly following behind you up the black marble staircase, hand in yours as his eyes watched your hips switch.

"what's your name?" that should've been the first thing you asked, idiot.

"[♡]."

"i'm aki."

"i know who you are."

that's right, alexander introduced him to everyone after his reading right before supper. things felt like they went too quickly. aki didn't know who he was at this moment, completely floating out of his body and letting you take over like a spell. he was entranced. one thing leads to another, you're locking the door to one of the four bedrooms here. aki's sitting on the bed while you walk around, talking to him more about anything. his age, his aspirations in life. nonsense, basically. until he notices something.

a room with an open bay window revealing the late-night city of new york, stars in the sky, skyscrapers high. the breeze is warm, the air making the fabric of your dress rise just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the pink thong you wore. he's gulping, your legs shifting and a grin coming on your face as you see the tint of red blush across his cheeks. you're leaned against the window, toes pressing into your other foot, a gold anklet with the first letter of your name clasped on your skin. your shoes were off, and in between your two fingers sat a blunt, maybe about three inches now since you were too busy talking, letting it burn away.

once you flick it out the window, you fully turn to face him, sharp nails skidding up your thighs teasingly slow until the hem of your dress rises fully, and he's staring at the belly button piercing you have. your thick thighs, your curves, and your nipple when you moan and lift your arms to stretch and one of the straps falls down your shoulders.

"oops," you're pouting, and aki's had enough. he got it now. he understood why you wanted him to come up here. the liquor buzzing in your veins, and going straight to your clit like a drug. you wanted him the moment you saw him. you needed him, for more reasons than one.

aki was always one to put a woman's pleasure before his own. so when he saw you drop to your knees to crawl towards him, dainty hands trailing up his clothed thighs until you're undoing his belt and he's biting his lip. . . he was drawn in further. pulling him out of the confinement of his jeans, holding his pulsating dick in your hand, darting your tongue out, and pressing it flat to the aching head. he's squeezing his eyes shut when he's deep in your throat after a while, moaning around him and twisting your hand along as your mouth glides. his hand is in your hair, gathering some of it in his large fist while leaning back a bit to see those gorgeous eyes of yours stare into his, slightly watery. he liked that. he liked you.

"nnn, baby. like that," he's throwing his head back, jaw slacked as he tried to keep his voice down, not daring to let too much slip out regarding the guests below them. eyes back on you, he's watching as your hips gyrate in the air, desperately needing to be touched.

it's so foreign, this level of intimacy. it's been so long since he's had his dick buried deep in anything. sure, he masturbates like any other human being, but it's a rarity. he's so consumed in work that by the time he goes home he's knocked out in slumber, not even thinking about grabbing his fleshlight to fulfill his pleasure. the last time he had sex was at the beginning of his freshman year of college. it was some girl in his cutlery class who invited him over for late-night drinks, leading to more than just that. it was frequent until he realized he was failing courses because of the distraction and had to get back on track, so, he called it quits.

now he's pulling you up, feverishly pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss, lips smacking, tongues bumping. you're keening when his thick fingers clasp around your throat as you straddle his waist, clinging to his shirt you eventually pull over his head. it's as if the both of you forgot that people were here and might hear you, but neither of you cared. aki's not even scolding you when you're moaning too loud the second he has you beneath him, your clothing still on, barely, and his jeans and briefs clinging to his ankles, your knees to your chest as his hot mouth latches around your puffy clit, back arching off the plush mattress.

the metal from his pierced tongue rushing against you as he holds the back of one of your thighs to keep them up, grunting and swallowing your arousal. you're whining so much it has his dick twitching, pulling on his hair not helping either. you're rocking your hips with urgency, legs twitching after he lifts his head to spit, collecting his saliva with two fingers before curling them into you, holding your stomach down while he shakes his fingers. that alone has you convulsing around him, tears in your eyes as you whimper his name and squirm helplessly, his lips kissing your inner thighs.

coming down from your high, aki's already propping himself behind you, turning you on your side while he laid on his, leveraging your head with his forearm underneath your neck, fingers in your mouth you suck while glaring at him. he curses, monotoned voice rasping, "don't do that."

"do what?" you hum, wrapping your lips around them again and moaning.

aki clenches his jaw, lifting your right leg to open you up before slipping inside, hearing you gasp as you adjust to the stretch. both of you groan in unison, turning your face to the side to kiss him while your nails clawed at his hip, then his ass as he rolls into you, too horny to be gentle and snapping his hips hard against your ass, grunting, "i heard you, girl," and drilling faster. your eyes scroll to the back of your head, aki swallowing the breath out of you as he sucks on your bottom lip and chokes you, the two of you whining in each other's mouth, muffling the noise although the skin interaction didn't cease.

he's brutal, a different person when in this form of bond. dropping your leg and reaching between to rub at your clit, heavy breaths on your neck as he hides his face there. you can easily smell the citrus scent of his shampoo, his scent overall a main attraction when he stepped toward you. . . like lavender. when he's nearing his climax, he gropes your chest, slurring, "be a good girl and cum all over me, baby. can i feel it this time?" and you nod, doing just as he says, his taunts and praises making your gut swim with butterflies.

you try not to scream as he licks and bites your neck sloppily, dazed. instead, you grab a pillow nearby and stuff part of it in your mouth, aki's face hovering over you as tears leak from your eyes and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. aki holds you close by your waist, taking a few more pumps before he furrows his brows and slowly pulls out, cumming on your flush skin with a hiss. by this time, his hair had fallen down his face completely, and even in your fucked out state, you reach up to rake through it with a lazy smile. aki chuckles, kissing your forehead before building the strength to find a cloth to clean you up. luckily, there's an en-suite bathroom, giving him access to warm water and toiletries.

fixing his posture in the mirror, he's rubbing his face and adjusting his clothes to appear as he did when he arrived; neat and professional. although what he just did wasn't so classy of him. he fucked some woman he barely knew at a millionaires home. work, he was working. not here for personal pleasure. he wanted to slap himself for being so easily enraptured. no one had to know about it. he only hoped not a soul downstairs heard what went on.

he's good to go, done scolding himself and turning off the bathroom light before stepping out. he finds you perched up, sipping a miniature bottle of crown royal you found in the bedside mini-fridge, sniffling your nose and blankly staring out the window. aki comes forward, gently grasping your thigh and gliding the wet cloth over your skin, the silence awkward.

"dandelions.”

aki's eyes slowly drift to your face, staring in confusion. "what?"

he notices how eerily slow tears built up in your eyes, gripping the bottle harder before exhaling. "dandelions," now you're finally looking at him, the coldness on your face making him anxious. "that's where his body is."

your voice is like vanilla. it's one thing about you that he grew infatuated with. it's one of the many reasons he was captured by you, brought to where he was now. standing at the bedside as he watched tears pool down your broken face. body? what body?  he grew cold, nervously eyeing you as you sniffled, standing to fix your hair, dress, and walking around the bed to slip back into your heels.

“wait," he goes to grab your arm when you try to walk out the door. "what the fuck are you talking about?"

the deadness in your eyes scares him even more, and he's panicking when you say, "alex."

“alexander?!" he shouts, dragging you away from the exit, hands on either side of your shoulders as he eyes you, his own wide. heart pumping drastically. "what did you do? where is he?"

"by the dandelions on the terrace," blunt, again. as if you aren't phased at all by his reaction. "follow me."

he's stunned, unable to fully process what you were telling him. he already assumed the worst when the term 'body' came to light. though his heart raced heavily in his chest, his feet blindly dragged in your direction. cautiously watching your every move in case he had to protect himself. fuck, he didn't have any weapon. then again, he's sure he could easily handle you, knock you out if he needed to. lock you in a closet and alert the hundreds of guest just below their feet. that's right, there are still people here. and if you mentioned alexander, how the fuck and when the fuck did you have the time to . . . kill him? 

"[♡]," he began to speak your name, but your head was in the clouds, ignoring anything that came out of his mouth as you cut into a passageway that led to a grand master bedroom, then facing the terrace you spoke of. he was nervous, your neck turning to eye him as you step onto the gravel, blankly staring down at something. he couldn't see from where he stood, matter of fact, he didn't want to see.

"he's here," you say. "he's here."

aki has no choice but to advance forward, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut from the upcoming scare of a human’s body. and not just any human, the alexander bodari. a flaccid arm sticks out from beside a bush, palm facing the sky, details of a struggle bruised into his hand as the skin in the area seemed peeled. aki’s heart drops the closer he gets, hand covering his mouth as he stares down at the lifeless body laying in a pool of blood. the aluminum wire draped around his neck stained with blood gave aki the answer he needed when it came to the cause. you strangled him to death. the question remains; who are you and how were you affiliated with alexander? most importantly, why’d you kill him?

“i don’t understand,” is all he can get out.

“the proof is in his first novel,” you utter, and he’s still confused. “the story about the woman who’s trapped in the psychopaths basement? it was about me.”

aki couldn’t grasp the thought of you being the woman from the novel star always talked about. that you had been the victim of his story. that it was a real life phenomena. that he met you, slept with you, and now you want him to, what . . . cover up a murder in a house filled with two hundred guests?

“he painted this image as if he was the most prestigious man on the planet. he made money off of real events. events that played out by torturing me, and using me to get his ‘creative juices flowing.’ he needed a test subject. he was a sick man who deserved to die,” tears pour down your face, the anger in your tone thick and pent up from years of pain and sorrow. “he was my father’s partner. my father despised me simply because of my resemblance of my mother and my rebellion against him. when he died from heart failure, in his will, he married me to alex.”

“that’s fucking. . . sick. i didn’t think that was possible in this day and age.”

you scoff with agreement. “yeah. he watched me grow from a preteen to making me his wife. sick bastard for sure.”

aki wants to vomit from this information. still unable to wrap his head around any of it. his hands sit on his hips as he stares up at the sky and blows a raspberry, try to keep his nerves together. you watch him with sadness, and maybe regret. you weren’t intentionally planning for this to happen. though part of you wanted someone to save you. to see the real you and rescue you from this torment.

“i know this is probably the last thing you expected to happen. i apologize for dragging you into this. i just didn’t know what else to do. i felt hopeless. and i refused to let his popularity run by making another fortune of a sick novel.”

“did he attack you?” he asks.

“he didn’t,” you clarify. “i think i just finally snapped. granted, tonight of all nights wasn’t the correct setting.”

aki makes a face that reads ‘fucking clearly’ as he rubs both palms down his face. he doesn’t know whether to run and call you insane or feel sympathy for a victim. but, murder is murder. and now, standing here with you, that’d make him an accomplice. as scary as that was, he couldn’t risk his future career. but he was stuck in a pickle. he wanted to help you.

“there are clear signs of struggle, so we have to make it look like an accident,” aki suggests, but immediately, you shake your head in disagreement.

“they won’t believe that. he’s one of the wealthiest men in new york. it’ll be a huge investigation.”

“then the only answer would be to tell the truth,” he finalized.

“the . . truth?”

aki nods, pulling you toward him and stepping away from the body, chills still going up his spin and goosebumps on his arms. “listen to me, you can tell the world exactly who you are and what he’s done to you. you have proof. transactions, marriage certificate, i’m sure there’s documents for days in his computer that can prove what he’s put you through. there’s evidence somewhere.”

“and if i tell the world, who’s to say they’ll believe me?”

“i believe you,” aki says. your eyes fill with hope, and thankfulness. “people will have their opinions, but we know the truth. do you have anyone else that can be your alibi?”

you think long and hard, until it hits you. “the maid. she’s been working for him ever since i moved in after my father died. she’s fed me, helped me heal wounds . . even get rid of his unborn child i lost after too much stress.”

“jesus christ,” he bows his head in disbelief. “where is she now?”

“luckily, the kitchen. the woman with the braided red hair. she promised me she’d always protect me. after his book succeeded he became nicer to me, gave me a ‘real’ marriage. she was like his mother, always scolding him when he raised his voice at me or wouldn’t let me live my life. it’s all so depressing.”

“okay. it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” aki comforts you as you begin to sob once again, cradling your head in his chest.

the night ends in the blink of an eye. aki takes you into another room and wraps a blanket around you as you sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the police. he finds the woman you spoke of, pulls her to the side and informs her of the tragedy above. she herself looks relieved. not at all shocked by what played out, as if she knew you’d go through with it. aki guesses he truly was a horrible man. and to think he would’ve worked for him in the future. the police arrive shortly after the woman goes to check on you, insuring that everything would be okay, and that she’d stick to the full story. the police instructs everyone the leave the premises, aki being questioned for a full hour, this home becoming a crime scene, and all of their faces full of black ink on the daily news the next morning.

aki will never forget the chilling smirk on your face as they removed alexander’s body from the terrace. it was . . haunting.

#𑄽𑄺 ━━ ꒰ 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 .ᐟ ꒱ #aki hayakawa smut #aki smut #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki x you #aki x y/n #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x y/n #csm smut #csm #chainsaw man #aki csm

[rev-wrath]

All my stars

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You take Jason to see the stars.

Info: Fluff, angst at the end. No gendered pronouns are used for Reader, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. 1.4k words.

A gentle breeze makes its way across the property. Soon Jason will be pulled away for his nightly duties, but for now he lays here with you on a blanket on the lawn of Wayne Manor. Your head on his chest, his arm around you. Taking the time to say goodbye to the warm summer season with a picnic before it got too cold for them and classes ate up more time and energy than you’d like. For the day you had already said goodbye to the sun, left with the dark gray and blue mix you knew as the night sky here.

“We should go camping over spring break.” You say softly.

“We could go during a weekend.”

“We could,” You agree, “but I want more time out there.” Rolling over to your stomach, you have a look of softness that makes Jason’s breath stop for a second. “I want to show you the stars. You deserve to see them more than a weekend would give us.”

A warmth fills his own heart, and not for the first time, for a moment you are all Jason knows. You want to go out to the woods outside of the city to show Jason the stars. Something he hadn’t really thought of in a while. Something that didn’t exist here in the polluted city of Gotham. If he was honest, the thought of you just wanting to show Jason the stars because you know this makes him want to cry a little. “We can go camping over spring break. We should go.” There’s a million more words on his tongue but he’s not sure which ones to say, if any of them.

You smile and lean over, placing a kiss between his eyebrows, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you, Jason.”

“Love you too.” He says your name with your reverence, like you’re some kind of god. To him, you might be something like that, he thinks as your lips meet.

When Bruce is presented with the idea some months later, his eyebrows crease. “I’ll think about it.”

Jason refused to let up. You had made a joke that Bruce needed a powerpoint presentation or diagrams on large pads of paper to understand. Jason grinned.

Bruce got presented with a powerpoint. Alfred found the whole thing delightful and funny. Everyone knew Bruce did too, it could be seen in his eyes just a little. The butler added his own comment after Bruce spoke, making his allegiance clear.

“Perhaps, Master Bruce, you would also have some personal benefit from a little excursion in the forest. Take time away from your endeavors and from a distance you could keep an eye on the young master and lady while giving them privacy.”

That Bruce could agree to a little more, after a few weeks of Alfred and Jason, along with you once, bringing it up he gave in.

Once break rolls around Alfred sends all of you off with a soft, cheerful smile. Your hushed voices and laughter in the backseat bring a smile to Bruce’s face. Every so often Jason pokes his head into the front to talk directly to his dad. Though at one point he pulls out a book, The Outsiders, reading that. You spend most of that time with your head on his shoulder, a hand wrapped around his arm instead of his hand so that he could still flip pages and hold the book. Eventually you reach your destination. A small walk from the beaten path is a big enough clearing for you two and your activities.

Promising Bruce that you would yell if you needed anything and that yes, the two of you can put the tent up by yourselves and could make a fire. He checked everything one more time before allowing you to split from him. You’d meet back up for dinner together. For now you and Jason take up the task of putting up the tent.

Once you had successfully put up the slightly tilted tent you went to gather firewood, a task that mostly involved you and Jason running around chasing each other, your laughter ringing out in the forest and a quick little stick fight with two incredibly nice, sturdy sticks. Despite that you two quickly gathered decent sticks. By the time Bruce made his way back to your little area Jason already had a fire going. Dinner also meant that night would fall soon and the real reason you are out here could happen.

Long after s’mores and Bruce had left, the sun set, giving way to a gorgeous dark blue sky. You and Jason sit next to each other, tucked into each other’s side, as you watch that sky slowly fill with bright flecks of stars. A grin spreads across your face as you look up, a small gasp draws your attention to Jason. Beautiful, wonderful Jason with wide eyes full of wonder, mouth still stuck in that gasp. The stars are reflected within his eyes, it’s beautiful but your focus is still solely on Jason. There isn’t much you wouldn’t do for Jason to keep that look on his face, to keep feeling that feeling, to experience all the wonderful things he hadn’t yet known. He deserves to see the stars every night, to experience this every single day. You’d have to make every second here count, then find what else you could give to him that’d bring this wonder to him.

Jason ended up deciding to ditch the tent, pulling the sleeping bag out to lay it under the stars. “Thank you,” he whispers, holding you against him. “for taking me out here.”

“Thank you for coming. Maybe we can go up the mountain and look at the stars there.” The view from up there would be even better, something Jason deserved. You had no doubt they could handle such a hike to the nearby mountain and up it. How long you’d be up there is a different question though. Would you spend the night up there?

Jason’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “The stars are beautiful, but they don’t compare to you.”

You smile and kiss him. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome. Not bad at all.” Jason kisses you this time, murmuring poetry against your lips.

On the third night Jason grabs your hand, tugging you up. “Dance with me?”

“Of course.” You follow him, one hand in his, the other on his shoulder.

The forest provides its own music with the chirps and trills of the bugs, the rustle of the leaves, and if you really concentrate you could hear the nearby stream.

Jason starts humming as you sway together, pressed against one another. Softly, you join in. You don’t know how long you stayed there, wrapped up in each other as the forest sang. What you did know is that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. A part of you wanted to stay forever, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Under those stars you danced, laughed, and kissed Jason. They were your stage, your backdrop, creating so many sacred moments. Each and every night Jason was enraptured by them, and you by him. Eventually it had to come to an end, you had to go back to Gotham with its smog. You promised each other you would come and see the stars together again.

Death would shatter that promise weeks later as you screamed and cried when Bruce returned with Jason’s corpse, neither of you ever to see the stars again. You’re content to resign yourself to the smoggy gray skies of Gotham, with its artificial yellow and oranges, streaked with all other sorts of colors. The forest and its endless stars could be left with his memory and wonder, away from your glooming grief.

Yet, months later when Jason looks up at the sky with green eyes, he can’t help but to think that this sky is more worthy of your gaze, that you should be here looking out into this speckled canvas. Looking at the stars here Jason can’t help but think of you, who took him to see the stars because no one else had, because you wanted him to, because you thought he deserved it. Jason can’t help but to think even here you are still more beautiful than the stars. Jason can’t help but to think of you as he looks at the stars, after all to him you might as well have hung them.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x nonbinary reader #jason todd imagine #x reader #reader insert #dc reader insert #dc #read reed

[ladybugsimblr]

simshaderoom Still no word from #Bailey Kay on the lawsuit or the #Dizzy interview but her team and the butterflies are working hard. The Juice Champs video was temporarily removed from SimTube after being reported for harassment and bullying. It’s now back up without monetization. #Dizzy said he’s finally taking a break from fighting the hive for the Starlight Awards tonight. You think they’re gonna let him in the building? Will we see a brawl on the red carpet? Will BK even show up? Do we believe the Queen was giving up the jewels to get where she is today? Questions that need answers…

wakeupmrwest Y’all are not playing fair. It was just an interview. This is my job. You can’t stop my bag because you don’t like what was said. I still love BK but we needed to understand Dizzy’s side too.

rubberbandshan Sirrrrrrr. STFU!! Expeditiously. Hear his side of what? The imaginary beef that he created between himself and the Queen? The only thing we want to hear is Q’s hands and feet connecting with the Dizziot's face. Dassit!

kingb BIG FACTS. We're giving you a pass Q. We already reached our GoFundMe bail money goal. Do what you have to do! Dizzrespectful clearly deserves it.

bflyhive If all this makes BK go back in hiding and cancel Butterfly Springs I'm riding at dawn! Q, we got your back! Off with Delulu's *forbidden word* head!

c.spiracy Wild theories with no receipts are just lies and fairytales. That is dizzpicable dizzgusting business. The lowest of low. But when they go low, we go to HELL. Can we ride at dusk tho? I'd like to remain anonymous.

nissanissa I'm still stuck on crackable. You know what else is crackable Desmond?! Those beautifully high cheekbones! Q!!! Where you at???

bae_material Not gonna lie. My man would fight for me. If BK's husband don't do something, maybe he is as corny as Dizzy says he is.

realisticrachel Ummm you guys know that assault is still very much illegal. Why are you encouraging this lady's husband to go to jail? It's words!

wildbutterfly I'm just here to say ALL the sims involved are fine and I am volunteering to be cracked. Ok bye.

anon Not to be messy but we only know BK's history to be SimTube star to signing with Blueprint. She never gives details on the time in between. Maaaaybe Dizzy is telling the truth??? I think it's time the Queen stops being so silent.

#dizzy got non violent c spiracy out here ready to fight #this is real serious #and why are all these sims out here trying to get Q locked up? #bailey is not trying to be a single mama of four lol #but his buttons keep getting pushed thoooo #bklegacy #bklgen2 #bailey kay #quinton #dizzy des #simshaderoom #rubberbandshan

[luvring]

hello!! hi. i hope you are not too busy. i have been enjoying your 'falling in love' hcs for the ts characters, and i was wondering if i could ask for the same concept with kuras? if possible? please take your time with it. ^_^ i thinjk he would be silly with it but would also want to biblically smite the reader with his mind (/affectionate) . or you two are psychoanalyzing each other from opposite sides of the room FAR away from each other. I Dont Know. packingf my suitcase and leaving

KURAS FALLING IN LOVE

gn!reader | didn't realize how poor a read i have on his possible plot until writing this. my bad. good job red spring studio U and ur mysteries and kuras's identity in the overarching lore got me this time...

this is going to be the most normal start of a relationship of the LIs. like he's just ('just') a doctor. you're about to strangers -> friends this through coffee and chatting

kuras doesn't...seek you out? not at first. that's not to say he isn't interested by you, but he has a job (and secrets) to handle. but he welcomes your visits as long as he has a break!

it starts with offering to grab or buy something, then staying and helping, learning about a random medicine he has on the counter, and then you're a semi-regular presence at the clinic, and you know which cabinets to check for the average sickness/bandaging. his practiced smile turns into a genuine one when you come through the door. he's asking how your trip was, catching you up on what's been happening lately

one moment i feel might happen is you finding yourself in his clinic, needing his help again,, hopefully your clothes are in tact this time. he jokes about how he'd rather not see you on the cot if you wanted to visit again.

little pranks...!! the senobium or him. roleplaying to throw guards off your trail y'know. getting to see that playful side of him :3

if it's him, he pranks you back, shooting you the same 'innocent' smile he does the guards. be careful about spilling that ink. you've been misplacing papers and pens all day too, haven't you? are you feeling alright?

another moment is. it's hard to say what, but you unknowingly say something tied to his situation. you casually drop your opinion on guilt and atonement—smth smth how guilt will rot and your atonement will never end if you don't let it smth smth the evil that others do with your kindness does not corrupt you smth smth—and it gets him.. Thinking. ! maybe you find those stories about a teacher and harbinger of chaos, and after bringing it up to kuras, he asks you for your opinion on them.

!! one moment i hope we get is kuras 'letting loose' or being silly. laughing really loud and apologizing as it lessens to a chuckle. trying to eat food because you don't know he doesn't eat, and it goes terribly wrong so he gives up and lets you laugh at him

LOL the psychoanalyzing. you say something and he has a weird reaction like Hm. sure, of course. and you're like ??? and he tells you it's nothing, just that that makes sense for you. and you're like Woah you wanna talk about My observations about You? and kuras looks at you like [ !! ] [ ?! ]

there's also small things that suddenly feel more intimate—him cleaning up a wound on your face and holding eye contact, his fingers lingering as they brush your cheek. you instinctively reaching for him when someone bumps into you, and him making sure you're alright.

kuras starts taking more initiative by inviting you to join him places and talking about himself. (cue joke about how information is power and him saying he'll make an exception for you.)

but it won't be all sunshine and rainbows considering he's an incredibly old angel and he has. shit going on.... who knows what shit honestly

you notice how he still doesn't share everything, which is fair enough—you're not spilling your entire life story either. but you still don't know basic things about this guy, you don't even know how he's kept his clothes clean all this time or how Old he is

that distance kuras keeps between you grows again because he doesn't want you to get in harm's way, and it's inevitable if you stick too close. he's an expert at dodging questions, answering just enough to keep people satisfied, but what does this mean for you? someone he's unexpectedly grown fond of, and who keeps calling him out for it?

you voice what you're both thinking. he has a frustrated expression when you point out you both like each other, and you want to help him for once, because ??!! he doesn't know what to do here.

something something, kuras's true form, him invalidating all the good he's done for the chaos and ruin he's brought, the world before, being the one to help him find forgiveness, the divine as neither good nor bad, kuras defining himself outside of a teacher and sinner Something Somethigngggaaghhh

Honestly. i've been messing with both ideas in my head and i haven't picked one i enjoy more so.

there's kuras, who's never been in love and is suddenly fumbling for once, trying really hard to 'do it right' and figuring out what it means to be in a relationship and in love (he's overthinking) (he was doing alright) (he asks ais/mhin for their opinions)

and then there's kuras who goes with what he was doing before, just with more affection/intimacy, because seriously he was already doing a great job at being a good partner :sob:

i think kuras's feelings are a slow burn themself. like, he takes the time to get to know you, to open up, etc, and he wouldn't define what he feels as 'being in love' for a while ?? he knows you're incredible important to him, and know him better than...probably anyone else. but he thinks "i love you" is a very significant thing to think and say out loud and he wants to make sure he knows for sure.

if you wait for him to say it first, i think he'd make it a really special moment! ^^ he thinks for a while about how to do it and, maybe uncharacteristically, gets nervous. his face lights up in its own way when you say it back (not a huge face-splitting grin, but his smile does grow and it's obvious he's relieved/happy)

it isn't often that the doctor is thrown off his game, especially not for longer than a few minutes, so if you ever casually, and Very Quickly*, say "love you" while you're leaving, it's a Sight to See. imagining ais coming to see him and going ...?? when kuras opens the wrong cabinet for the most basic medicine. he applauds your work the next time you see him

*very quickly because if you're in a situation where you're alone and he isn't needed, he's going to stop you?? like what?? can we have a conversation about this (not mad just stunned and values communication and also in love with you and)

#touchstarved x reader #kuras x reader #got writers block specifically for reqs... Again... but i pushed through! i got it. hah #not proofreading this i dont know whats been written If theres a typo. ... dont even tell me. judtodntlekdlcmekdn

[notetaeker]

Hello!!! How did you become so dedicated to your studies? Do you have some advice?

I love your blog, btw✨️

Hi hi hi!! Thanks for the sweet message 💞💞

My BIG study tips (after 25 years of studying):

Accept your fate. This goes for anything but I used to procrastinate with studying a LOT and once you start it's actually not that bad. It's guaranteed. Automatically once you start, you have started, so you're already on your way, so it's already automatically not as bad anymore. Whining abt ur studies and avoiding them will not make them go away unfortunately. Just do it.

Make study time sacred. A few minutes of focused study is much more valuable than 5 hours spent at the library "studying" + scrolling + talking to friends + listening to music at the same time. Doing 5 hours like that is literally putting yourself thru hell because 1. you cant fully enjoy any of those non-studying activities and 2. you come out of that being like ugh I studied this page for 5 hours I'm tired of studying I need a break. Pomodoro method really changed my life pls try it out if u haven't already

That one tumblr post that says 'learning is basically being exposed to the same materials many times in multiple ways' is 100% correct. How many different ways can you expose yourself to the material. Memorizing facts- can you draw it? Can you organize the facts into lists? Can you attach a funny story to one of the facts? The more ways you interact with any material, the stronger it's saved in your memory. Find out if you're a visual learner- and then create visual tools, maybe color coding things helps you. Do a little digging and find out what works for you.

Diversify your life. Have some hobbies, spend time with friends/family, take a break. Let the computer of your brain sort out things in the background while you do other things. Once you go back to studying, you will feel refreshed (and not fatigued from 5 hrs in the library doing "studying") This also means that if you fail an exam, you won't be like 'oh no i spent my whole spring break studying for this exam and didn't even enjoy it and now I got a bad grade i must be horrible my life is nothing' and spiral. def not based on a true story :) Instead you'll be like yeah I failed but look at this scarf I crocheted look at mee i have mental health!

Sleep is magic- no matter what anyone else tries to tell you. 1. If you studied something during the day, just review those things right before bed and magically they will get set into your brain. Also 2. sleeping is when our brain sorts info so if you don't get any sleep at all it' the same as taking your study sheets and throwing them into the air, so when you ask your brain for the info during the test it's like lol it's around here somewhere. On the other hand, if you slept and gave ur brain time to sort it, when you ask for that info, it'll just open the right drawer and give u the info!

That's it for the big ones- if you want more specific advice feel free to ask! Also as a disclaimer, these 5 are all big life lessons that I had to learn thru trial and error, so consider these to be the advice I would give myself at a younger age. Pls don't be offended lol whenever I said 'you' I rlly was thinking abt myself.

#studyblr #study tips #replies #anon #writing this list felt like free therapy thanks anon + I hope this is useful for u

[thecoddaughter]

SPOILERS! So many thoughts (from a chat w/ my bestie)

I still don't hate the rat grinders... they are just kids manipulated by faculty. Jace would have had access to all of their records as VP, including Kipper's. That mixed with Porter seeing a Frostblade in the school.

I can't tell if they were recruited during the spring break trip or if this was a long term thing happening the entire time the Sophomore Year NMK arc was happening... Either way, they could have been recruited anywhere between the ages of 14-16. They are just so... I don't know... People forget they are kids a lot and need support and attention and when given attention that makes their day sometimes. If these kids just needed attention and felt neglected by the system their freshman year bc a group of kids your own age solve the big thing and save the town and missing girls, who some are also your age and everyone is adoring them and you feel like you barely made it out of your freshman year. (for personal context I am looking at this through the eyes of a edu major who spent hours observing and teaching sophomores this semester while the season was airing)

Kipper didn't kill Lucy, Porter did. Scared, alone, 16 years old and a teacher... but not your teacher, no your teacher is kind and fair and loves everyone no matter their faith. A teacher, 14 ft tall, finds you in the woods and kills you and you refuse to break down and break your family oath to worship him. Porter is so creepy "cool" teacher coded and it makes me so sick that I was like "Okay, Emily is just saying this for the bit now and doesn't actually believe it and I am so glad she stuck to her guns cause I didn't.

The thing about Ruben's dream and Siobhan saying they basically killed the old versions of themselves is such a high school thing to do. Obviously this is a lot more extreme than for example me walking around in ripped jeans and eyeliner for the first time asking "Am I edgy yet?" when my true nature is librarian core but I digress.

Long rant short (TLDR) they were just kids who were so susceptible to praise, attention, and guidance it just came for people with malicious intent.

#fhjy #fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #fhjy spoilers #the rat grinders #the ratgrinders #lucy frostblade #porter cliffbreaker #emily axford

[sparkagrace]

We're finally in spring (hopefully!). Plenty of time to go outside with a nice coffee and get some reading done. I read some incredible fics this month!

april

392,534 words read over 35 fics (average of 11,215 words per fic, not including wips) 📈 20% from March

current total for the year: 1,378,159 words

a handful of fic recs

Till there were no more wolves in the West by @dharmasharks stucky | E | 71.6k

It's Time to Live by @bittersweet-in-boston stucky | E | 37k

I Need To Be Youthfully Felt 'Cause God, I Never Felt Young by sangha stucky | E | 2k

Between New York and What Comes Knocking by @dontcallmebree stucky | T | 2k

CA:TWS 10th Anniversary Ficlets (Stucky) by @voylitscope stucky | G | 3.3k

April by @xoxobuckybarnes stucky | E | 3.2k

Tried to drift but don't know how by @dharmasharks stucky | E | 10.4k

I'll hold on a little tighter (maybe you'll stay the night) by glittercake stucky | E | 10.3k

Baby Steps by @bluesimplicity73 stucky | M | 115k

series recs

E is for Escort by VenusDoom3 stucky | 3 fics | E | 21.7k

All's fair in [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] by redcigar stucky | 3 fics | M | 10k

a couple of author recs

this_wayward_life (@wayward-lives) recs: In the Light of the Candles [stucky | 1.7k], Think I Found Myself a Cheerleader [stucky | 2.4k], Soft [stucky, 2.4k]

@moodymelanist recs: but they've got planes [stucky, 1.7k], sometimes i hold you closer (just to know you're real) [stucky, 1k]

currently streaming wips started this month

Damage Gets Done by @bonky-bornes stucky | N/A | 4/7

wips completed this month

feel your heart take root in your body by @between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place sam x riley | M | 28k

be kind, rewind older fics or rereads

Feast On This by goldblooded (@duelingnebulas) stucky | E | 11k

bruise-resistant by mcwho stucky | E | 3.5k

less talk, a little more touch by @endofadream stucky | E | 2.3k

Number of Years by @missbeizy stucky | E | 8k

Deliver Me to Destiny by what_alchemy stucky | T | 2.4k

Steve's Favorite Thing by Just_a_m_ss stucky | E | 3.3k

The Fire We Make by @chiyume stucky | E | 8.8k

Sized Up by @duchessonfire stucky | E | 3k

non-mcu recs

Tuesday (Break My Heart) by pansys_goth_gf buck x eddie (911) | T | 10k

#buddie #monthly fic recap #steve x bucky #sam x riley #fic list #fic rec #fanfic

[bogkeep]

"hi haiz how's your watchmaker placement going"

it's going very well thank you, except for the fact that im currently stuck in a comedy of errors but it's fine it's fine i'll fix it ,

so i've been looking at a couple old chronographs, right. basically they're mechanical watches but with a stopwatch mechanism on top, so they're pretty complicated with a lot of moving parts and adjustments. i'm learning a lot from working on them!!

first i look at chronograph #1 which is the most vintage of the bunch, and it takes me a couple trial and errors to figure out how to put it together with only my own photos for reference -

(that's so many screws to keep track of oh god.) BUT I MANAGE. AND IT SEEMS TO TICK ALONG... until it suddenly doesn't????

i decide to take a break from it and look at chronograph #2, which i have a much easier time with and seem to get going real well!!! until i'm about to put the hands back on and find out. that i managed to break the seconds wheel pinion when i removed the hand it connected to. in the very beginning of the process. soooooo that one is put on hold until we get in a replacement part. fun! fun.

so i go back to chronograph #1 in the meantime. a colleague thinks it's the center wheel that's the problem, so i dissassemble the watch only a little bit to take a look, but it seems fine. when i put it back on the watch starts ticking again! maybe it was just a hiccup of some s- no wait it stopped again. with a sigh, i decide to start over again, put all the parts in the wash again because i've fiddled so much with it the lubrication is probably completely off, and

PROBLEM IDENTIFIED

usually you'd replace the whole spring barrel if you have one. but the problem with vintage watches, especially of more obscure brands, is that you're unlikely to have that at hand. but that's fine, i'm not getting paid to be here nor am i doing work for actual clients so i can absolutely spend a whole day doing This:

GOOD AS NEW!!!!!!

all i need to do now is put everything in the wash and assemble everhthing and definitely not break another part immediately!!!

...

you'll never guess what happened

you probably can't tell but the pinion is supposed to be much longer. it was poking out of the cleaning basket and when i tried to pull it out of the cage i heard a snap. just the worst!!!! why am i breaking everything!!!!!

anyway ive decided to take a shot at making a whole new pinion for the seconds counter wheel

which is scary because it has a VERY LONG THIN PART THAT LOVES TO BREAK. this photo is from my second try because my strategy on the first was not very stable.

i spent my whole day doing just this side of it!!!!!!!

AND WHEN I STARTED WORKING ON THE OTHER SIDE. GUESS WHAT. GUESS FUCKING WHAT. IT BROKE! i should have seen it coming

YOU LIVE AND YOU LEARN thank god tomorrow is a bank holiday i need to lie down

one day i shall conquer the chronographs.

#swedenquest #(norway edition) #i have no idea if this is coherent enough to make sense to a layman sorry #there's visual aid at least #i have serviced an automatic watch though and it has been going Very well so im not a complete failure!!

[sentientgolfball]

Mushy May: Cuteness Aggression

Gonna be real I wasn't planning on doing mushy may because school and writing challenges scare me buuuuuut I was suddenly struck with the mood so here it is :3 Shoutout to @forlorn-crows for the prompts

Can't promise I'll do all the days, but I do have a sweet little Phantrora thing in the works

Word Count: 843

Pairing: Cirtom

Cirrus is going to lose her mind. 

It had been a slow day for her, finishing all of her chores bright and early to have the rest of the day to relax. She had come back to the den around lunchtime, curling up in her nest with lemonade and a strawberry and cream sandwich. She had thrown back her blinds and soaked up the spring sun while continuing a book Mountain had recommended to her. It was nice, peaceful. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed until a sweet scent wafted into her room, catching her attention. 

She had marked her place in her book, pausing in the middle of a paragraph to scent the air, trying to see if she could place the smell. Someone was definitely making some form of pastry in the kitchenette. She stood, cracked her back with a groan and decided to go scope it out. Maybe she’d be able to get a little taste before the rest of the pack returned. 

She assumed she’d walk out there to see Cumulus with flour streaked across her face, brow furrowed as she tried to read and understand what the recipe was telling her. If not her then definitely Swiss would be there shaking his ass to whatever music would be blasting in his headphones while he carefully measures everything out. What she saw when she turned the corner though was so much sweeter than anything she could’ve imagined. 

Phantom is standing with their hands on their hips, head cocked slightly to the right as they stare at the binder with all the pack recipes. There’s a smudge of batter on their cheek and to top it all off they have a cute, pink little apron tied tight around their body. When the timer dings their ears perk up, tail twitching back and forth, and that cute, easy smile returns to their face. Cirrus is going to scream as she watches Phantom carefully take the cinnamon rolls out the oven, cheering quietly to themselves when they see they didn’t deflate. 

When Phantom finally turns, noticing Cirrus standing in the hallway, they shriek. They clutch their chest and take a few deep, steadying breaths. 

“Shit Cir you scared the fuck out of me” they huff a laugh. 

Hearing their voice breaks her spell of paralysis. She smiles wide and soft, walking over to join them in the kitchen. 

“Whatcha doing love bug?” 

“Making cinnamon rolls” they say as they filter around the kitchen, preparing a piping bag to frost the pastries. 

“Any particular reason?” She asks. 

“Dew’s summoning day is coming up yea? I know he likes it when Swiss makes these so I wanted to try it” a small blush creeps onto their face as they give their reasoning. 

Oh, she can barely stand it. The sheepish little way their ears flick, the focus on their face as they frost each individual roll, that fucking apron. She’s losing her mind and all they’re doing is baking. She just wants to squeeze them and shake them and kiss them silly. 

“Tada! They just need to finish cooling and they’ll be done! What do you think Cir?” They turn back towards her, a wide grin plastered to their face. 

She can’t help herself. 

She crowds them back up against the counter, caging them in with her arms. They squeak with the suddenness of it, eyebrows shooting up as they stare at her. Cirrus just laughs and peppers their face in little kisses, nipping playful at their ear. They smell like brown sugar and cinnamon, sweet. They giggle and purr with each press of Cirrus’ lips and her heart just aches. 

“You are the cutest, sweetest fucking thing love bug.” 

“Cirrrr stoooop you can’t just say that” they whine but the smile never leaves their face. 

“Why not?”

Kiss.

“I think I should be allowed to compliment you..”

Kiss.

“Whenever..”

Kiss.

“I want.”

Kiss.

“Especially when it turns you into a little pile of ghoul mush.”

Kiss. 

They’re practically glowing, deep purple blush on the tips of their ears and spilling from their cheeks to their neck. A little bolt of quintessence ripples across their Lichtenberg figure scars and Cirrus laughs. She presses a kiss to their lips, smiling when the sound of their tail beating against the counter reaches her ears. When they part, Phantom grins and kisses the tip of her nose. 

“If you help me clean up I’ll let you have some. These were just a test batch anyway.” 

She swipes the smudge of batter off their face and licks it from her thumb. She chirps when the sweetness hits her, feathers ruffling for a moment before settling back down. 

“Oh, that’s good. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

She places one last big kiss on their cheek with an over-exaggerated ‘mwah’ before stepping back, giving them room to move. 

“Hey, quick question?” 

“Hm?” 

“Where’d you get the apron?” 

“Oh! Cumulus said I could borrow it.” 

Cirrus nods with a hum, “ask her if you can keep it.”

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #the band ghost fic #phantom ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cirtom #mushy may 2024 #golfball writes

[jakey-beefed-it]

Went in for a checkup today and got basically all good news- they'll be able to re-issue all my prescriptions so I don't have to get just a month at a time anymore, my blood pressure is pretty good, and I've got a referral for my usual diabetic bloodwork.

Over the past couple years, from my peak weight, I've lost an entire shirt size, my face has gone from bright red and spherical to mostly even colored and ovoid, and I've got a lot more energy for things like walking short distances (like 2 km at the outside). So I really thought I would've lost a significant amount of weight.

But no. I've lost, maybe, 25-30 lbs, like 12 or 13 kg, when I needed to lose almost ten times that much to get down to 'healthy'. Reasoning it through, I've put on a lot of muscle specifically in my legs, having gone from totally sessile computer lump who rarely walks father than the distance to his car to mostly-sessile computer lump who lives on the 3rd floor and has to walk down to the grocery store a few times a week. And as every person who's ever worked out to lose weight has told themselves in a panic, 'muscle weighs more than fat'. Meaning it's more dense, presumably, to avoid whole the 'steel's heavier than feathers' Limmy thing.

So okay. I've gotten healthier, that's the main thing. My blood pressure is looking genuinely good, and while my blood sugar is probably too high still due to being addicted to coffee but unable to drink it without lots of creamer, on the whole, this is good news. I should be happy.

I am not happy.

I feel like a guy who's climbing a mountain through raw determination and teeth-grinding effort, thinking he's at least nearing the halfway mark, turning a bend to realize he's not even where people pitch their goddamn base camps. 'Sisyphean' springs to mind, though aside from putting some weight back on last year when I was back in the US for 6 months, I haven't actually lost much progress, at least. I've just made... so little progress compared to what I thought.

Part of the problem of course is that I'm too fat for regular scales; they're just not rated to deal with someone my size and report 'error' if I'm lucky and they don't just fuckin break. So I had no means of measuring my progress other than 'shirt fits better now' and 'can walk a few blocks without feeling like death now'. And then I got weighed properly for the first time in two years, and, oy vey.

It's not going to change anything, I'm still going to live on the third floor and need to walk around the neighborhood on a fairly regular basis, but man is it discouraging. And before anyone says it, yes, I know it's technically a significant amount of weight for a human to lose, and it's healthier to lose it more slowly over time than all in a rush, and I'm on the right track, but god. I thought I was doing better than this.

Anyhow that's why I'm in a funk tonight, how's by you kind folks?

#boring personal bullshit #also basically confirmed my height has gone down a total of 2.5 inches or so from my peak #which you know gravity is a harsh mistress i kinda knew that a few years ago but it's confirmed #no longer slightly tall for a european-derived american but average #still a bit tall for a guy who's half mexican i guess i'll have to settle for that