#my advisors never say they miss me

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Jam, some interview for you https://youtu.be/FKk_Miqx6W4

Thank you anon!!!

A new Olena interview!

Mostly about her work with some interesting informations and background stuff.

Some private questions at the end but not really anything new.

Asked again about how Ze (and his character) changed during the war. Olena says she can't really give an answer to that because you can only assess any change after the war. But some of his character traits (that were already there) have come out more / are now stronger / sharper. Like he is now more stubborn (probably meant as in persistent) and determined.

Also no, she does not know more than the public, adding she wants it to end (like everyone else; it's a bit unclear what she is refering to - a second term? the war? the separation?)

Ze has become more emotional / sentimental about the things close to his heart / that are important to him as a person, especially family topics (communication with his family, with his kids, ...). He is now appreaciating that very much. You can now cheer him up (and he will get really emotional) with any little thing, like when Olena talks about the children (like when she tells him what the kids said) or sends him a pic of the kids. He wasn't so sensitive before the war.

She talks with the kids about the war.

In February, when the war started, she was on her way to the kids room to wake them and tell them what happened, wondering how and what she should tell them, that they have to pack the emergency suitcases. Oleksandra was already awake and had no questions, knew what happened. Kyrylo was confused and Olena tried to distract him and engaging him (them) in everything they now had to do. For Kyrylo the distraction worked for the first day.

Olena understands that it is a great honour for other First Ladies to be the "first advisor" to their President (like Jill Biden). But she is not Ze's advisor at all. She jokes that a good husband, of course, always will say that the wife is the most important advisor and she is sure Ze would say the same. But he is the President and it's not her place to tell him anything or advise him with anything.

#the part about ze being so emotional now ... uffffff ... my heart breaks ... 🥺😢 #he misses his fam so much 🥺😢 #also olena immediately SMILING when she talks about ze will never thet old 😍 #the big smile when they started to talk about him and her role as possible advisor #the “a good husband” moment was so cute 🥰🥰🥰 #and we all now ze is a good husband 😏 #i mean he did say that olena is his most important advisor #on a side note she looked amazing! #but poor olena sounded sick #her voice was pretty raspy sometimes #but looks like her finger is okay again #on another side note: i love the personal stuff as much as everyone else but i am also happy they gave her work so much coverage for once #she does so many amazing and important things and achieves so much its such a shame this sometimes gets forgotten and in the background #also: me 🤝 the anons in my messages - working together to get all the content on this blog #and create all the content #and the discussions #and funny interactions #and everything else you all created

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I don’t think I am going to live very long

#not because of suicide I just think that it is probably not in the nature of this machine to run much longer #surely one gets to a point at which one just cannot go further #and then stops #i have something kind of like colorblindness #but it is in my soul #I don't know how to explain it but something is missing #even when people are trying to encourage me #they find themselves yelling at me #furious almost #my father would scream at me when I was upset he was so angry #and now my wife yells at me too #the depression just infuriates her #and they say they're not mad at me they are just mad that I feel this way #in some vague sense they are trying to say they are angry with depression not with me #but that doesn't make a difference at all #at all #I can tell it irritates the shit out of my advisor too #he can detect it and it bothers him #it bothers a lot of people #I wish I had never been born

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter 2

(Click here to read chapter 1)

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 2.5K

⛧Summary: As Lucifer's advisor you are required to assist him with a number of things. That includes his schedule, many chores, and the occasional middle of the night panic attack.

⛧Notes: Ask and you shall receive, my dears! You all asked me for a part two so here we go! Keep an eye out for my next fic because its time for some Alastor content! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and she deserve all the rainbows and cupcakes.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic

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

As the soft rays of the morning sun seeped through the velvet curtains, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the gentle light. Despite the room still cloaked in soothing darkness, you knew you were in Lucifer's room. It takes you a moment to recall last night's events. You feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your midsection. You can feel your face get hotter with every detail you take in. He is comfortably curled up behind you sound asleep. He needs rest, you’re afraid to move a muscle and wake him. You look over at the clock on the wall, you both are extremely late for breakfast.

“...Shit.” You say under your breath. Lucifer begins to move slightly, he lets out a soft hum and holds you just a bit closer. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, even though you truly did not want to get out of bed, it had to be done. You slowly sit up and turn around, you almost place your hand on his shoulder but you take a moment to admire his sweet sleeping face. Instead, you gently place your hand on his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes flutter open, he meets your gaze and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” He says softly while holding your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. You wanted to pull away, but his eyes made you want to just crawl back into his arms and go back to sleep.

“G-Good Morning, sir.” You stutter a little, Lucifer’s smile turns into a small smirk, he is amused by how flustered you are. He finally lets go and you try to compose yourself, but it's hard to do so when he looks so cute.

“I’ll go get some coffee, it looks like we slept in.” You finally break the spell he had on you and crawl out of his bed. When you leave, Lucifer immediately misses your presence close to him, having you next to him made a significant difference in his mood and sleep. It was the first time he’d felt the warmth of another person in a long time, and now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

You head down the hall to your room, when you enter you quickly shut the door, thankful no one saw you. You get dressed in your uniform and head downstairs to the kitchen. While you made coffee, the staff were surprised to see you so late into the morning. You make up a quick excuse, stating you were not feeling well but you’re doing much better now so it's nothing to worry about.

You take two cups of coffee upstairs on a silver tray, and you do your best to mentally shift into work mode, but you can't stop thinking about last night. You return to his room, the king is still in bed, sporting a satisfied look on his face. You hand him his coffee and place the tray on the bedside table. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He says and gestures for you to sit on the bed, so you take your cup from the tray and have a seat.

“I want to apologize.” You start, and he looks at you with a raised brow. “I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your quarters. That was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, you do exactly what is asked of you. Everything you do is for my benefit. I could never be upset with you for something like that.” He says with a gentle voice. His gold eyes soften as he realizes you’re being serious.

“Thank you…” You reply, just barely above a whisper. His words made you feel a little better, you only want to do what's best for your king…but sometimes you can get carried away. You would do anything for him, that includes bending the rules.

“Now stop sulking.” He says and crawls over to you, sitting beside you on the bed. He is seated rather close, you look away trying to hide your red face. He turns your face back towards him using his index finger and thumb. “You’re too pretty to be so sad.”

“Y-You forget yourself, sir.” You stutter, barely keeping it together. You finish your coffee and return the cup to the tray. When you stand up and walk towards the wardrobe, Lucifer chuckles at your attempt to remain dignified. He is knocking down walls with the way he speaks to you. Breaking down each professional boundary one at a time. His touch was setting you on fire and you were running out of ways to extinguish it.

You sort through his clothes and pull out a black suit with red and white embellishments. You set it on the corner of the bed like you always do. “I’ll make sure I have your lunch ready for you in your study, sir” You say quickly, with a red blush spread across your face, you take the tray and quickly excuse yourself.

You rush down the hall and back to your room. Your chest heaves and you're out of breath. What in the devil's name happened there?! He looked like he was going to kiss you, his face was so close and he called you pretty! What is this idiot doing? You cover your face with your sleeves and pace back and forth in your room.

You always prided yourself on your composure. You navigate life’s twists and turns with a steady hand and a level head. At first, you brushed off these fluttering feelings as a mere passing fancy. You find yourself in front of a mental crossroads, on one hand, there is the exhilarating rush of new emotions. On the other was fear of rejection, an unconventional relationship, and possible heartbreak. If you ruin what you have with Lucifer, you will end up with nothing. All your years climbing the hierarchy would be null and void.

But what if it was possible? No, it couldn't be, there was just no way. As far as you are aware, you’ve never heard of such a situation that ended well. This can’t possibly be happening, you need some time to sort yourself out. But at some point, you are going to see him again today and you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. You always buried your feelings deep within your heart, locking them away like a precious treasure hidden from prying eyes. You’d like to think you're capable of continuing this facade, but this time you are not so sure.

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

Lucifer sighs as you leave the room, your reactions are rather fascinating though. He gets up and takes his clothes to the bathroom to dress himself. Lucifer is well aware of the power dynamic here, and he has a habit of pushing things as far as he can. It comes with the territory of normally having anything he wants. He buttons his vest and looks at himself in the mirror. So what if he had a thing for his advisor? He wonders if he’s just lonely and that’s why he’s acting this way…even if that was true, it wouldn’t explain the relief he feels every time you enter a room. He puts on his coat, straightens his hat, and leaves his room to spend time in his study. 

He opens the door and notices his lunch is sitting on his desk along with some invoices to sign and an overview of yesterday's meeting. This is unusual, you normally bring him his meal and check in on his daily progress at this time. This is cause for concern, indeed. Was Y/N avoiding him? Surely that can't be true, they would never just ignore him like that. He slumps into his chair, wondering if he messed up somehow. 

Did he ruin the years of trust they had built? He still wants her around, he would hate the idea of anyone else taking your place. The more he thought about it the more the pit in his stomach grew. He attempts to eat but can’t put down much food, his nerves are making it difficult to eat. He needs to find you and apologize, he has to make this right somehow. 

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

Hours go by and you’ve done your best to avoid Lucifer at all costs, but you can't keep this up forever. You are standing on a large balcony in the dining room wearing your pajamas. The sun has set and the stars are visible in the sky, there is a chill in the air. You let out a defeated sigh, you’re going to have to tell him or forget about your feelings completely. You fear that if you confessed your love, the delicate threads that bind you both together would fray and snap. If you forget and try to move on, how bad is it going to hurt when he finds a new love? It would ache so bad you might have to leave his manor entirely, you knew that if that were to happen, it would shatter Lucifer's heart.

You feel a few drops of rain fall on your skin, and as each minute passes the rain becomes heavier and heavier. You look out into the courtyard, it’s getting late and you should be heading inside but you stand there, tears in your eyes. How could you be so foolish and self-centered? You knew the rules and you chose to defy them, it's your own fault you feel so awful.

Suddenly the rain is no longer hitting you, you don't feel the cold drops on your face anymore. You turn around and Lucifer is standing in the doorway, his large wing covers you, shielding you from the rain.

“Hey…Can we talk?” He says with a soft look of concern on his face. You nod while wiping your face with your sleeves, he motions for you to come back inside. He walks slightly ahead of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He opens the door for you and gives you a small half-smile. Lucifer walks over to his desk and pours you both a glass of bourbon. He hands you a glass and you take a seat at the small table next to the window. He sits across from you, you can tell he's a bit anxious because he keeps looking away. You take a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol will settle your nerves. 

The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight danced upon his face. With a hesitant breath, Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” Lucifer says with a despairing look on his face. “I’m sure you’ve felt confused and in distress all day.” He takes a sip of his drink while trying to find the right words. “Before I begin, let me just say that I think so highly of you. Y/N, you’ve been there for me during every awful situation I’ve faced and I am so grateful for you.”

He grabs your hand and his expression changes to a more serious one. “I don't want you to leave my side. I couldn’t bear it if I did something to make you leave.”

“Sir, I–” You try to speak but Lucifer interrupts you.

“Y/N. I need you to drop the formalities for ten minutes, please.” He cuts you off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Is there something going on between us or am I just a lonely, divorced, delusional, man making it all up in my head so I don't feel so shitty about my life?”

You are shocked by his words, you had no idea he felt that way about himself. 

“You’re not delusional, Lucifer.” You answer, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and put them in order. “It's all my fault, really. I guess after all this time I’ve developed some feelings.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face softens and he squeezes your hand and you look back into his eyes with a small smile. “I think I just got carried away, I know nothing can happen between us. It would be unacceptable and irredeemable. I’m the delusional one, to think you could ever love someone like me.” You reply while looking down at your drink, your finger toying with the rim of the glass.

Without a word, without warning, Lucifer leaned over the table and grabbed ahold of your shirt. He pulls you close so that you are face to face, leaning over the table. You could feel his breath on your lips as he said, “Love doesn't adhere to rules or expectations, darling. I will choose to defy every convention, every decree if it means I get to spend the rest of my life devoted to someone I love.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, he slowly closed the gap between you both. His lips softly pressed against yours. Time stopped in that moment, amidst the chaos of entangled emotions. The taste was bittersweet, you’ve only ever dreamed of this. His hand lets go of your shirt and caresses your face. You kiss him back with fervor, a silent confession that speaks volumes. Both of you daring to defy the boundaries of monarchy and courtier.

You lace your fingers with his, he stands up and pulls you out of your seat. You practically fell into his arms, Lucifer held the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.

Your tears flowed freely as you hid your face in his chest. He holds you tight, offering you silent comfort as you let out quiet sobs. Lucifer strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize…” He says, barely above a whisper. “Just let me take care of you for once, my love.” Before you can protest, Lucifer scoops you up and gently places you on his bed. He climbs in and pulls the covers over you both. He wipes your tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and smiles at you while you take the time you need to calm down. 

“C’mon, babe say something…You’re killing me.” He says, waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

“I love you…” You say between staggered breaths. Your eyes are locked on his, somehow Lucifer blows through the many walls you’ve put up to prevent this and you are left bare and vulnerable. It is terrifying, being this helplessly in love. Bearing the fragments of your heart to the person who held it entirely.

“I love you too, dummy.” His smile is sweet like saccharine, his voice is smooth like silk. Your lips met his once more while your fingers card through his hair. He kept you as close as possible, and in the hush of the night amidst the whispered confessions, you and your king curled up together and fell asleep once again in each other's arms. No sovereign, demon or angel could pull you two apart even if they tried. 

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x y/n #hazbin hotel x you

[sabertoothwalrus]

I’ve seen you post some labru stuff and I’m curious what your thoughts on it are. personally I don’t see it? I can buy Kabru having feelings for Laios, but I think Laios wouldn’t be interested in Kabru, so it makes me wonder why so many people ship them. (Tbh I feel like Kabru has more chemistry with Mithrun anyway)

Sorry if this ask sounds rude, I just genuinely don’t understand the appeal of the ship, but I want to understand and I trust your analysis of characters very much :] maybe there’s something I’m missing

I really like both ships, actually!

For labru, there’s sooooo much I could talk about. The inherent homoeroticism of being narrative foils. The inherent homoeroticism of being the king’s advisor. All of chapter 76. The fact that Kabru has mask upon mask upon mask, and Laios is the first person that made his facade absolutely crumble.

Kabru struggles with being genuine!!! Everything he says and does is so perfectly calculated, even when he sort of means it. But since Laios doesn’t get social cues, Kabru gets thrown for a loop.

I get so frustrated when people act like Kabru still hates Laios by the end of the manga!!!!! He killed those corpse retrievers for being corrupt, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to kill Laios. He has such a strong sense of justice, and knew that killing Laios would be a mistake. Because, after meeting him, he could tell he wasn’t actually evil. He’s strange, sure, but not evil.

Kabru DEFINITELY wants to be friends with Laios!! He was not lying about this!!!

But this last comic shows how much Laios wants to be friends with Kabru, too. He’s so nervous after calling Kabru his friend 😭 he doesn’t want to be presumptuous and fuck it up again.

Laios does show an interest in Kabru, at least when Laios thinks he’s interested in eating monsters too. Like,, what was up with THIS

Laios’s gaze is LINGERING. Plus, (this is before that bit at Thistle’s house when he forgets his name) he brings up Kabru when they first form their plan to eat Falin.

And maybe this is just because of my own personal experiences, but Laios reminds me a lot of my own girlfriend. I think they have a similar flavor of gay/aspec & autism combo where, had I not asked her out first, she probably never would have considered being interested in me. But she was very down when I did.

The tricky part about labru is more the political aspect. Regardless of whether you see Laios as aroace or not, he’s in a situation where he will probably get married. He had a fiancée before he was age 13, likely betrothed since he was a baby. He’s already comfortable with the idea of getting married because He’s Supposed To.

However, Laios is king, and could make gay marriage legal if he wanted to (He would probably do this for his sister and Marcille before considering it for himself ). But at the same time, I think Kabru would object to Laios making whatever policies he wants without considering the repercussions of how other kingdoms might react, especially when they’re just getting Melini off the ground and need lots of support from other countries. Laios and Kabru getting gay married anyway and dealing with the aftermath could make for a really compelling story.

I do think Kabru would be a good ruler. He’s already fit for it. He speaks a dozen languages, he knows people and their motivations, and likes politics. The manga already joked about Chilchuck’s daughters trying to marry a king, so it seems like noble blood isn’t too important, but Kabru’s foster family IS nobility. When it comes to heirs, I do like trans Kabru headcanons, but at the same time, I think it’d be cute if they adopt anyway. Kabru seems like he’d have strong feelings about adoption given,,, yknow.

The alternative version of labru to this is Laios gets straight married out of obligation, and Kabru is his mistress hdhdhshsj. I don’t know if I could see Laios doing that? or if Kabru would risk the scandal of being outed as Royal Advisor and Regent trying to seduce the king. It could go SO downhill. but maybe that would be fun.

NOW FOR KABUMISU.

I knew people shipped them, and I could see the basis for it while reading, but I wasn’t really sold on it until the very end. There’s something about “I had no desires left. I decided to create new desires, and one of them is you” that’s really charming.

There’s also something funny about “the demon ate my heterosexuality so I’m gay now”

I think it’s interesting that Kabru hates elves. He was raised by them, and he hates them. He hates feeling patronized by them. He made absolutely sure that elves wouldn’t take control over Melini, not just for his sake, but for Rin’s.

But Mithrun’s interactions with Kabru are founded on more mutual respect. Though, that’s not to say that Mithrun doesn’t still have his biases towards short lived races..

Where Laios doesn’t understand social cues, Mithrun does but just doesn’t care. For that reason, I think Kabru would enjoy spending time with Mithrun. It’d give him a break from his compulsion to calculate all of his social interactions. But at the same time, Kabru is the KING at bottling his emotions. Mithrun is blunt, but also doesn’t care enough to pry. If Kabru had anything bothering him, I could imagine him seeking Mithrun’s company to avoid thinking about it. Could make for a fun dynamic.

I do think it’s funny that Milsiril 1) took care of Mithrun for potentially 20 years and 2) is only four years older than him. I imagine this could lead to funny situations.

I don’t ship things for no reason! I think both of these could work platonically, romantically, one-sided, or even “requited but they don’t do anything about it.” Their relationships compel me and I think it’s sort of bad faith to brush off either like they’re nothing more than baseless yaoi pair-the-spares. To me, I see just as much of a foundation in the source material as farcille.

After all, dungeon meshi isn’t a story about romance, but it IS a story about love. It’s a story about life and death and grief and the love that comes with it. Regardless of shipping, these characters love each other!!! And I love talking about it!!

#long post #dungeon meshi #laios touden #kabru #mithrun #labru #kabumisu #dungeon meshi spoilers #photos

[melzula]

Smoke and Shadow

part one

pairings: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: it’s finally here! hope you guys enjoy this and sorry it took so long! and ofc reminder that reading the comics is suggested for this piece

summary: The Princess decides to pay Zuko a visit only to find the Fire Nation in disarray.

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

Returning home from the Fire Nation always feels bittersweet; you miss your people, but you know that once you’re back in the South the ache of homesickness will be replaced by your longing to be at Zuko’s side. You once thought the end of the war would mean easier days for your relationship, but being the leaders of two different nations seemed to keep you apart more often than it kept you together. Leaving him never got any easier, but you knew in your heart that this was for the best. You had duties to fulfill and people to take care of, so you’d just have to be patient. Things will settle eventually and the distance will become easier, you just have to see it through.

“Do you really have to go? You just got here!” Kiyi complains with a frown as she watches you pack your things and prepare for your return home.

“I’m sorry, Kiyi, but my people need me.“

“Can’t someone else do it?” She retorts, prompting you to let out a small laugh of amusement. She certainly had her older brother’s attitude at times.

“I’m afraid not. I have a tribe to rebuild and students to teach,” you explain to her. “Things don’t run very smoothly when the Chief is away for too long.”

“Will you at least come back and visit me?” The little girl begs, and you can’t really find a way to say no to her when she looks at you with her best pleading eyes. “I want to see more water bending tricks!”

“I promise to come back as soon as I have the time,” you assure her before giving her a tight hug. You’ve grown rather attached to Zuko’s little sister since meeting her, so it’s not easy having to say goodbye.

A gentle knock at your door alerts both you and Kiyi of someone’s presence, but once you see Zuko’s face peeking through the doorway you smile and part from the girl so that she can run out to play in the palace halls. “My love, the ship is ready to leave when you are.”

“I suppose I’m ready,” you sigh with a melancholic smile, melting into Zuko’s touch when he pulls you into his embrace. “It’s going to be hard being away from you.”

“I know,” he comforts while resting his warm hand upon your cool cheek, “but it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ll be together again soon.”

“I’m already counting down the days,” you profess earnestly, eliciting a soft chuckle from him in return. Rubbing his nose affectionately against your own, Zuko angles his face to reach your lips and press a tender kiss against your own. It’s the last one you’ll be sharing for some time, and he makes sure to savor it for as long as possible. Your kiss is impossibly sweet, your smell of fire lilies intoxicating, and it pains him to have to pull away from you.

“I love you, y/n. I hope you know that.”

You smile before pulling him in for another kiss, enjoying your perfect goodbye.

~~~

A month has passed since you left the Fire Nation, and the South has developed swimmingly. With the help of your sister tribe, the outer villages have slowly begun to transform into cities equipped with new buildings, homes, and even town halls. Progress is steady and your tribe is growing, and it will only be a matter of time before the Southern Water Tribe is restored to its rightful glory.

As your advisor, Hakoda has agreed to oversee the Southern Reconstruction Project so that you may focus on teaching the next generation of water benders with Master Pakku. Your time as Chief is spent either at your school or in your office to approve new construction plans and debrief with Hakoda about the progress of the rebuilding project. You’re as busy as ever, but you couldn’t be any happier.

“Sifu y/n, why do we have to learn about healing?” One of your students complains as you set out the practice mannequins for the children. “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!”

“Healing is just as important as bending,” you explain thoughtfully. “As a wise woman once told me, ‘You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt.’ Some situations require a gentle hand, and it’s important your bending has balance. Healing can save lives, and your gift can be used to help your people.”

“Sifu y/n,” another student says with her hand raised eagerly in the air, “is it true you healed Fire Lord Zuko from a lightning strike?”

“It is,” you reply with a fond smile, laughing at the amazed gasps your students share at the story. “I wouldn’t have been able to save his life if I hadn’t known how to heal, and that’s why it’s important for you all to learn. Now any last questions before we begin?”

A little hand raises into the air and you nod, signaling them to continue. “Do you miss Zuko?”

“Always,” you sigh wistfully, the familiar ache of longing pulling at your heart strings. You wondered what he was doing now and if he was thinking of you in this moment.

After teaching your healing class, you retire to your office for the evening to look over the new construction plans Hakoda has prepared for you. However, your mind seems to be elsewhere for the night as you find yourself repeatedly looking upon the frame on your desk. The night of your coronation you’d had a local artist paint a portrait of Zuko and yourself. You shared the biggest smiles, the two of you adorned in formal water tribe attire for the festivities ahead. It had been a perfect night, and the painting served as a reminder of the wonderful time you’d had together.

Sighing, you look over your schedule for the upcoming week. Nothing too major seems to be taking place, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you took a short trip to the Fire Nation to see how Zuko and Kiyi were doing. Hakoda could handle the reconstruction project on his own for a few days, and Pakku could look after your students in your absence.

Grabbing a scroll and a brush, you quickly begin scribbling out a lengthy list of items for Hakoda and Pakku to oversee while you’re gone. It seems your mind is made up, and as soon as your affairs are in order you’ll be using the secret tunnel to travel to the Fire Nation to finally see Zuko again.

~~~

Zuko was exhausted.

Carrying the guilt he felt for his sister’s kidnapping as well as the awkward tension that came with working alongside his ex-girlfriend wasn’t exactly helping him keep his peace. More children were going missing with every night that passed, and it seemed he wasn’t any closer to catching his sister and her group of Kemurikage. A part of him wished it really was spirits tormenting his people instead of his sister, but he figured she’d have to turn up eventually.

“We’ll find them, Zuko,” Mai comforts, carefully resting her hand upon his tense shoulder as he stares down at the array of scrolls scattered across his desk. Various passages about the Kemurikage and information about the men part of the New Ozai Society line the endless papers, and yet none of it has gotten them any closer to figuring out where the missing children or Azula are.

“I hope you’re right,” he murmurs before shifting his gaze to the bush of fire lilies out in the courtyard. It dawns on him then that he hasn’t had the time to write to you lately, and he feels you deserve to know about Kiyi‘s disappearance and Azula’s return. He’s sure you’d know just what to do, just what to say to make him feel better, and he needs the comfort now more than anything. “I should write y/n. She cares for Kiyi just as much as I do, she should know.”

Mai’s mood immediately sours at the mention of the Southern Princess, but she’s able to mask it well enough for Zuko’s sake. Despite being willing to work with her ex-boyfriend to find her missing brother, their past relationship was still a sore subject for her. It’s not exactly easy getting over the fact that the boy you thought was in love with you was really just using you to get over someone else.

Their talk at the Boiling Rock hadn’t given her any real closure, and her encounter with the Princess at the flower shop didn’t leave the greatest impression on the girl. Mai still couldn’t see what was so special about her, and she didn’t understand what kind of future Zuko saw with her. She supposed it didn’t matter what she thought anymore, and it didn’t matter what Zuko did with his life. She was with Kei Lo now, and the Fire Lord was no longer her concern.

“Is writing a letter to your girlfriend really your top priority right now?” She can’t help but to retort sarcastically, prompting Zuko to scowl.

“Y/n could be a great help to us,” he argues defensively. “She views things more clearly than I do at times and keeps me from making rash decisions.“

“So is she your girlfriend or your babysitter?”

“Mai-!”

“I know, I know,” she sighs with a passive wave of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Zuko lets out a quiet breath before turning to meet her gaze. He’s unsure of how to approach such a sensitive subject, but he knows he must if any progress is to be made. “I know you’re still mad at me, and I know no apology will fix the hurt I caused you, but you have to put it behind you if we’re going to work together. Y/n is my girlfriend, and Kei Lo is your boyfriend, so why are things still so awkward between us?”

“It’s not that simple, Zuko,” Mai snaps, a bitter scowl masking her features. “It’s not just that you broke my heart, it’s that I was stupid enough to let you! I should have known I’d never be enough for you, and you talking about her is like throwing salt in the wound. It’s like a constant reminder that I was never good enough for you, that what we had was all just a lie. I never want to feel that way again, but I feel it every time I’m around you. I’m like the pathetic ex-girlfriend you can’t get away from.”

“Mai…”

“I can’t believe I still care about you,” she grumbles sullenly.

“I care for you too,” he insists before gently taking one of her hands in his own. “Maybe not in the way you want me to, but I do. I always have, even when we were children and I pushed you into the fountain to put out that apple on your head. You’re a good friend, and I owe you more than I can ever repay you for what you did at Boiling Rock. Can’t we still be friends?”

Mai is silent, her gaze set firmly upon her hand in his own. The sensation is warm and familiar, comforting, but she knows the hurt that is to come if she agrees to his request. Maybe one day she can learn to love Kei Lo and fill the emptiness, be the one doing the using instead of the one being used, but she can’t accomplish this feat with Zuko in the picture.

The room is quiet and tense, but still she does not remove her hand.

And neither of them notice the figure in the doorway watching the scene unfold.

~~~

You’re surprised to find Zuko’s end of the tunnel blocked off by Fire Nation guards. He hadn’t been expecting you of course, but you didn’t think you’d find the passage closed off like this. What had happened while you were away to promote such a drastic measure?

“Excuse me,” you call gently so as to not startle the guards that face away from you, “I’m here to see Fire Lord Zuko. May I cross?”

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in or out of the Capital City,” one guard states gruffly, but his companion waves him off dismissively.

“She’s the Southern Chief and the Fire Lord’s girlfriend,” he explains before gesturing you to continue forward. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to hear we’d blocked his beloved from seeing him.”

“O-Oh, my apologies,” the first guard stutters sheepishly before clearing himself out of your path.

“What’s going on? Why is the Capital City in lockdown?”

“Children of the Fire Nation have been going missing and the people are becoming restless,” he explains. "The Fire Lord wants everyone to stay put until a culprit has been caught and the children are returned safe.”

“How awful,” you murmur quietly before an uneasy feeling begins to hit you. “Have you heard anything of Kiyi, Ursa’s daughter? Is she safe?”

The two guards exchange solemn glances, and that’s all you need to know before immediately rushing towards the palace. If Kiyi is in danger, you want to do everything you can to help Zuko find her and the other missing children before it’s too late. Who knows what danger they could be in?

Your trek to the palace isn’t easy, what with the protests and unrest occurring on the streets as a result of Zuko’s harsh restrictions, but you manage to weave your way through the chaos and make it to your destination. You’re a bit overwhelmed by the commotion, blind to the conflict that’s been occurring in your absence and unaware of what exactly is going on, but you do your best to focus on finding Zuko first.

Surprisingly, the palace hallways are relatively empty, and you slow your sprint to a walk once you reach the throne room corridors. The pristine gold doors are left open, and the sound of Zuko’s voice carries through the air. Already you can feel the worry melting away just by hearing him speak, and though you want nothing more than to run in and throw yourself into his arms you stop to listen. You want to make sure you’re not interrupting anything important before you announce yourself.

“I care for you…” you hear him say, prompting your brows to furrow slightly in uncertainty. You can’t exactly make out everything he’s saying or what the context of his conversation is, but you’re able to note the soft gentleness in his tone, and a part of you is starting to feel strange listening in. Who is he speaking to in such a manner?

Peeking your head around the corner, you can’t help but feel your heart begin to sink to your stomach at the sight before you.

Zuko stands in the center of the throne room, gently clasping one of Mai’s hands in his own as he speaks to her in a comforting manner. You’re not sure what exactly they’re saying to each other or why she’s there, but watching the scene unfold before you fills you with dread and insecurity. Surely Zuko wouldn’t be unfaithful to you… would he?

You’ve worked hard to build your trust in him again after all you’d both been through, but you can’t help but question what he’s been up to in your absence. Why was he with his ex-girlfriend, and why he was holding her hand in what looked to be like an intimate moment? Was he thinking of leaving you again? Had he changed his mind about your relationship? What had you just walked in on?

“Zuko?” You call meekly, as if you shouldn’t be there interrupting their moment and as if you’re not his actual girlfriend. The two startle at the intrusion, but when Zuko realizes that you’re actually there before him he immediately releases his hold on her and runs towards you.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, engulfing you in the tightest hug imaginable. You’re unsure how to react at first, still reeling from what you’d just seen, but eventually you return his hug. Your weary gaze sets upon Mai who keeps her eyes down to the ground and refuses to look you in the face.

“Am I interrupting something?” You warily ask when he finally pulls away. He falters for a moment, almost offended by your insinuation.

“No! No, of course not,” he rushes to explain. “We were just… talking.”

“It kind of looked like it was more than just talking to me,” you say defensively. You don’t want to be jealous or accusatory, but you can’t help it. How could you not question them being alone together and holding hands?

“Princess, I swear there is nothing going on,” Zuko pleads earnestly, taking both of your hands in his own. “Mai is only here because the children of the Fire Nation are going missing and she’s helping me find them.”

“They took my little brother,” she adds quietly, solemn gaze still focused on the ground.

“They took Kiyi,” Zuko utters sorrowfully. His eyes are full of shame and worry, and you find it difficult to be upset with him when he looks so hurt and vulnerable.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur softly before pulling him in for a tight hug.

“I have the city on lockdown until I’m able to find the people responsible, and I’m doing everything I can to get them back. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, I didn’t mean to exclude you. I swear I was just going to write you and ask for your help.”

“You never have to ask,” you say with a comforting smile. “I came to surprise you because I missed you, and I’m glad I did.“

“So am I,” Zuko professes earnestly before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Neither of you notice Mai leaving the room.

~~~

Zuko catches you up on everything- the Kemurikage, the “Safe Nation Society,” the kidnapping of Tom-Tom and Kiyi, Azula’s return, and Ukano’s possible connection to Zuko’s sister. It was a lot to process, but you were quick to get up to speed so that you’d be able to do all you could to help.

“I don’t think you should have kicked Aang out of the throne room,” you chide Zuko after hearing him recount his disagreement with the Avatar. Fire Nation guards escort you to the Capital City prison as you converse, and Zuko hopes that by the time you reach your destination Mai’s father will be caught and ready for questioning.

“I tried to do things his way, but if he isn’t going to see things my way then I can’t have him around,” he tries to explain.

“Zuko, I saw firsthand how restless your people have become as a result of your harsh lockdown rules. Aang might be right,” you try to reason with him. “I don’t think causing fear and uncertainty is going to help us find the missing children.”

“I had to do something,” he argues weakly, “I have to get my sister back and stop Azula before it’s too late.”

“You will,” you assure him firmly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze.

As the two of you talk, Mai trails along quietly behind you both. A whirlwind of emotions are festering in her mind; she wants her brother returned to her, but she feels guilty exposing her father to Zuko and his guards and costing him his freedom. It feels like she’s working with the enemy, and perhaps in a way that’s true.

She can’t help the scowl that plays upon her features as she watches you and Zuko walk arm in arm to the prison. While she’s fretting over her family, it almost seems as if you two don’t have a care in the world about anything but each other. That isn’t true, of course, but her resentment clouds her better judgement, and all she can feel is disdain for the couple in front of her.

You were Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, a master bender, kind, beautiful. She could understand why any guy would want you, but why did Zuko? And why did you have to want him back? You had practically everything, you grew up a Princess, so why couldn’t you have just let her have this one thing? Why did you have to take him back and take him away from her after she’d finally gotten the one thing she’d always wanted?

“I’m sorry about your brother,” a voice says, pulling Mai away from her thoughts. So wrapped up in her cynicism, she hadn’t even realized they’d made it to the prison. A couple feet away, Zuko speaks to one of his men about the riot that had broken out on behalf of the Safe Nation Society. And in front of her you stand, your features kind and your words remorseful despite the tension you share.

“Thanks,” she says flatly, unsure of what else to say. The last time she’d spoken to you had been in the flower shop, and it hadn’t exactly been a pleasant conversation. She knows that you’re trying, and she knows this is all just as uncomfortable for you as it is for her, but she still isn’t so easily swayed. She doesn’t think you deserve her sympathy or understanding, and she doesn’t plan to go out of her way to be nice to you.

“I don’t have any siblings so I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I want to help however I can if you’ll let me.”

“You can help by staying out of the way,” she replies bluntly, her gaze hardening much to your surprise. “Zuko promised he’d help me find Tom-Tom, and I don’t need you distracting him while you’re here.”

“I want to help him find Kiyi,” you argue defensively, “I’m not going to get in the way of something as important as finding the missing children. Why can’t you believe that?”

“Because you have a really good track record of getting in the way of things that are important to me.”

Stunned by her admission, you can’t help but find yourself falling short of words. You knew Mai didn’t exactly think highly of you or approve of your relationship, but did she really still believe that you’d stolen Zuko away from her? You’re not to blame for what Zuko did to her or what she went through. You’ve endured just as much hurt as she has if not worse, and it isn’t fair for her to paint you as the problem.

“I didn’t even know about you and Zuko until we were already broken up! I’ve never personally tried to hurt you, and I don’t expect you to like me, but you need to get over yourself. Zuko isn’t what’s important here, you and I are not what’s important, it’s the kids. It’s Tom-Tom and Kiyi and all the children that are probably so frightened and alone. Can we at least agree on that?!”

It’s silent for a moment, you and Mai simply starting each other down for what feels like ages until she finally relents. Her tense shoulders slowly fall in defeat and she sighs, somewhat embarrassed at her little outburst. She’d been letting her emotions get the better of her lately, failing to conceal them like she was usually so good at doing, and it was painfully embarrassing for her to come to this realization.

“You’re right,” she murmurs, “let’s just focus on finding the children. The sooner this is all over the sooner we never have to see each other again anyway.”

“Fine by me,” you huff indignantly. Though Mai has more to say, she isn’t given the time to once she spots her boyfriend being escorted towards the prison in handcuffs.

“Kei Lo!” She exclaims before turning to the Fire Lord. “Zuko, this is obviously a mistake! Get him out of those cuffs!”

“I’m not so sure,” Zuko says hesitantly, looking to you for guidance to see if he’s making the right choice. You merely give him a hesitant shrug, not really wanting to get involved in their quarrel. You don’t know the full story, so it’s better to just stay out of it.

“Are you serious? You need her permission to let my boyfriend go?” She exclaims exasperatedly. “Release him!”

“What were you doing with the Safe Nation Society, Kei Lo?” Zuko prods firmly, ignoring Mai’s complaints.

“They ran into me! Literally!” The boy argues to try and prove his innocence.

“You’ve betrayed your allies bedore, who’s to say you aren’t acting as a double agent now!”

“Zuko! Stop being ridiculous!” Mai scolds angrily before looking to you. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

“I’d rather not get involved…” you trail off awkwardly, only irritating her further.

Eventually Zuko allows for Kei Lo’s release, but you can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t too happy about it. His firm gaze seems to be burning holes into the back of Kei Lo’s head as he watches Mai embrace the boy, and a part of you wonders if he’s feeling some sort of jealousy towards him. Surely he wouldn’t be, he has no reason or right to be jealous, at least you think so anyway.

“Zuko?” You utter softly, placing a careful hand on his back to get his attention. “If I ask you something… will you be honest with me? Even if it’s something I don’t want to hear?”

“Of course, my love,” he says earnestly before giving you his full undivided attention. “What is it?”

“Do you… do you still-“

“Zuko!”

You startle away from Zuko at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening as you see Aang sprinting towards your boyfriend with Suki and Ty Lee in tow. You’re honestly surprised to see him considering he should have been heading back to the South with Katara and Sokka by now, and based upon his reaction it seems he’s just as surprised to see you.

“Aang!”

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” He exclaims in bewilderment.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Zuko interrupts. “I thought you left.”

“Well you thought wrong, buddy!” Aang corrects him impatiently. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Suki, Ty Lee, and I found something you need to see! Come on!”

“Fire Lord,” one of Zuko’s men interrupts, “the sun will set before we know it. We need to make a plan our people will rise up again.”

Zuko shares a quiet glance with the men before looking to Aang. You know what his answer is going to be, and you know that the Avatar isn’t going to like it.

“I’m sorry, Aang, but General Mak is right. I need to handle this my own way.”

“Even if your way is stupid?!” He rebuffs indignantly.

“What Aang means to say,” you correct, trying to put a nicer spin on his words, “is that maybe the approach you’ve been taking isn’t working. Maybe keeping your people on lockdown like they’re criminals in their own homes will only make things worse. You need to change your approach.”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I know what’s best for my people.”

“I’ve seen your people, and they’re not happy. They’re scared, and I know you want to find Kiyi and stop Azula but you need to start thinking rationally first.”

“Can you please just trust that I know what I’m doing? Help me come up with a new plan to keep the Fire Nation citizens in order and find Azula and Ukano so that we can find Kiyi.”

His pleading eyes beg for your understanding and support, but you’re hesitant. You know that Zuko means well, but you don’t agree with his methods at all. Being a leader yourself, you know that fear and unrest is not the way to solve problems. You must treat your people with trust and respect like they deserve, otherwise they won’t be able to do the same for you.

Luckily, Aang buts in before you’re able to shoot Zuko’s request down. An air scooter is abruptly thrown beneath your boyfriend, lifting him up and carrying him away to spirits know where- if the situation weren’t so serious you’d laugh at how discombobulated Zuko looks being swept up off his feet and whisked away by a ball of air.

“Aang, slow down!” You call out before sprinting after the pair. Suki and Ty Lee are right beside you chasing them down. “Why are our reunions always so chaotic?”

“I don’t think this group knows how to live without chaos,” Suki quips with a breathless laugh. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Ty Lee and I will catch you up on everything on the way there.”

“I’d love nothing more,” you applaud gratefully.

You can only hope that whatever it is they’ve found will make things much easier from here on out.

Because you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#fire lilies #atla #smoke and shadow #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x princess!reader #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla x reader #zuko x mai #mai

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 3

Storm Warning

Azriel Eris x Reader

We’ve got a time jump and are swapping points of view for this chapter y’all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

3 months later

Eris Vanserra hated the Summer Court. The humidity anywhere outside of the temperature regulated zones of Adriata, the way his hair clung to his forehead and caused curls to form in his otherwise immaculate hair, but most of all it was just insulting to be so bothered by the heat itself when he quite literally had fire in his veins. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Tarquin strode alongside Eris through the open air lower levels of his keep, three of his guards and two of Eris’ own flanking them several feet behind, one could almost forget they were there if not for the “click clack” of feet echoing through the halls. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try very hard to focus on the mundane talk of trade routes and port authorities instead of getting lost to the sounds of crashing waves and gulls outside.

Tarquin broached the riveting subject of tariffs on imports from the continent as the first rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Now that - Eris enjoyed that aspect of the court. Autumn had no shortage of rain but the turbulence of storms often mirrored his own inner peril - made him feel less alone in the world. And truthfully, there was nothing like taking cover from the rain and listening to the rumble outside, watching the lightning dance across the skies as the loud cracks of thunder commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

“Have your people felt the same effects, High Lord?” Tarquin broke Eris from yet another drift of his thoughts. He really should have brought a secretary or advisor along for this meeting.

Sparing Eris from the embarrassment of asking Tarquin to repeat his last three minutes of speech a cry broke through the hall. The battle cry of a…. Child?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Followed by a yelp of “ow!”

Eris’ head jerked as he found himself drifting toward the action.

Turning a corner he found a woman laying on the ground, curled into a ball - a child of no more than 10 with a large jagged stick standing over her with his chest puffed out, pure smug joy on his face.

Eris looked to Tarquin who only grinned with satisfaction. Eris gaped before Tarquin quietly whispered, “just watch.”

The woman didn’t move. The child’s look of satisfaction slowly turning to that of concern as she lay there. He bent over the woman placing a hand on her shoulder, his brows knit together. “Lady L/N?”

So focused on the woman on the ground before him, the boy didn’t notice her arm slowly sneak around him and “Oof!” The kid let out a startled breath as she grabbed his ankle, ripping it out from beneath him, effectively leaving the child on his behind.

The female lept up into a crouching position. Her tanned, muscled thighs pushing her up to stand effortlessly. “And that, little ones, is why you never let your guard down with an adversary.”

Eris turned, wondering how he could have missed the group of children sitting on the other end of the room watching the scene unfold.

The boy remained on his behind, hands resting on his forehead in defeat.

“Hey-“ She reached a hand out to help him up. “You did a great job. You quite literally swept me off my feet! Nobody has done that in quite some time.” She paused, sadness twisting her features as if her own words struck her before shifting back to that of a proud instructor. “In fact - I have something for you.”

She reached into the pocket of her calf-length, flowy pants and reaching handing him a shell. “Add this to your leather strap.” She tapped a leather bracelet on his wrist, one shell already strung on it. “You did great, kid.” The boy gave her a genuine smile as he returned to the rest of his classmates.

Eris shifted involuntarily. How much had he wished for someone to say those words to him when he was a child?

Tarquin chuckled “An excellent motivator. Shells. Who knew?”

Eris gave a small smile - brief but genuine before adjusting back into his usual mask. The instructor turned to face them and cauldron damn him if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Radiant skin that came from plenty of time in the sun, silky hair that practically begged to have fingers run through it, a soft and curvy yet toned build. A body that told him she indulged herself in what she enjoyed but was active enough to define her plush features, likely blessed with great genetics - lithe yet perfectly squeezable in all his favorite places.

“High Lord.” Her voice carried to him like an ocean breeze. She bowed her head in a respectful greeting, long lashes fluttering. “How may I be of service?”

“Lady L/N,” Tarquin beamed. “It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Her brow puzzled for a brief moment before bowing her head again. “It’s an honor to meet you, High Lord.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, lady.” Eris replied sincerely, meeting her bright eyes. “I didn’t realize Tarquin was hoarding such beauty within his keep.”

“We have many treasures in our court, High Lord. She is one of our brightest.”

Rather than blushing, the female held her head high, giving a polite “Thank you, High Lord.”

“We must be getting to lunch now. Have a pleasant rest of your class, Lady L/N.” He turned to the children with a stern look “And children, behave for her.” following the reminder with a smile and cheeky wink.

—————

It was hours later that Eris was released from meetings for the day. Unfortunately, there was still more to be discussed that would have to wait for tomorrow. Making the way to his guest suite, Eris found himself wondering about the instructor from earlier. Something about her felt vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

After changing out of his stuffy clothes into something more befitting of the climate, Eris paced his room. He’d forgotten how much longer daylight lasted here than in his own court, with several hours remaining before dusk. He supposed he could brave the heat and take a stroll through the palace grounds, preferably without his entourage of guards.

Relieving the pair from their duties, Eris wandered through the gardens and toward a small grove of trees on the other side of the palace grounds. He could hear running water from a garden tributary that likely connected into the river that emptied into Adriata’s harbor.

Sauntering through the grove, he was pleased to find reprieve from the heat, the cool air wafting off of the stream and shade from the trees turning the grove into a private oasis. It wasn’t particularly trekked through. “Finally.” he thought to himself. A moment of peace.

Situating himself on an iron bench, Eris looked up, only to find that through a thicket of cattails, Lady L/N was standing on a rock upstream, eyes closed and balancing on one leg. Given her steady, intentional breathing he supposed she was meditating. It was odd - seeing her like this - strangely intimate to see someone in such an isolated state of catharsis, unaware of his own presence before her. The sun rays shone through cracks in the leaves, shrouding her in tiny fragments of light that made her tanned skin near golden. Her hair was wind blown from the breeze winding through the grove off the ocean, and she’d changed into a thin cotton sundress. Gods, maybe the Summer Court wasn’t so bad after all. The way it effortlessly flowed over her body perfectly accentuating her ample curves, and those tanned, toned legs - yeah, he should probably leave.

After momentary internal warring he began to stand but before he could sneak off, she gasped. Clutching her arms to her rib cage. “MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed. Vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth.

What an interesting method of meditation.

She took several breaths before resuming her position. Another minute went by when she audibly growled. “Bastard!!” She clutched herself again, keeling over. Finally she sat down on the rock, the hem of her dress soaking in the stream’s rippling water, and pressed her head into her hands. Eris thought she was crying.

He really should leave but - memories of his mother crying over the years flashed into his mind. All the years that she only had he or Lucien to console her, kindered spirits brought together by Beron’s casual cruelty. His other brothers being the emotionally void carbon copies of their father they were, paid no mind to their mother’s plight.

Yet still, he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She likely didn’t want him bothering her.

Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn in by her familiarity and approached. As he drew closer, he realized her sobs were not sobs at all. She was muttering the raunchiest, most vile slew of curses that he’d ever heard. Lucien would enjoy this female.

As he approached, she jerked her head up. The lovely, collected face from earlier twisted into one of contempt. He wondered if she knew that, that face was, well, adorable like a fierce little kitten. Although, something told him to tread carefully. She may look adorable but he’d bet good coin that her bite matched that of a lions.

“What do you want?” She spat.

Eris only smirked. “And here I thought you were a lady.”

Baiting her. Genius idea, Eris.

“Only within the palace.”

“You’re still on palace grounds.” Shrugging with the statement, Eris put his hands in his pockets - damn these Summer Court linens really were comfortable.

“Well, I was alone until you intruded.” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Did you win Tarquin’s good graces with such manners?”

Her expression filled with ire as she looked up at him. “Did you take your throne by being such a prick?”

Eris couldn’t help but laugh at her bravado. This female either REALLY didn’t like him or truly didn’t care about consequences. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“You’re a High Lord. Of course I know-“

Her words cut off as she clutched her ribs again, tighter this time. A shudder escaping her. This time the pain seemed to last longer. And this time he could have sworn her voice cracked as she swore.

“Hey” Eris stepped into the creek, not bothering to step out of his sandals. Before he could hesitate he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

The thing was, he recognized that pain well. It has been centuries but damn he remembered it so clearly.

“Breathe through it. Think of something that makes you smile.”

She clutched herself harder, shaking her head. “Think of the look on your student’s face when you gave him that shell today.”

She breathed in deeply this time instead of letting out another curse.

“Good. Hold for three beats.”

“Now let the breath out.”

She breathed out. “In again.” He instructed. She followed suit. “Now out.”

As her breath steadied, she met his eyes - momentarily soft, a little broken, before ire crossed them again.

“For fucks sake, High Lord.” She spat. “I came here to meditate. I know how to breathe.”

She sure as shit seemed to have forgotten how to for a moment there, but he kept that to himself.

He only let out a soft laugh.

“There she is.”

She scowled in return.

“So, Lady L/N” he began, standing and extending a hand to help her up.

“Y/N.” She interjected, taking his hand. “Call me Y/N.”

Y/N. Fitting, he thought. The kind of name a tropical storm would be given.

Wait. Y/N L/N. Oh, he knew exactly why she was so familiar now. No wonder she’d given him that puzzled look in the palace. And, if Eris recalled correctly, his brother actually was rather fond of her - in a friendly and platonic sort of way. Though in his tales of the Night Court he’d certainly never mentioned the fact that she looked like a gods damned deity.

He led her out of the creek, not quite ready to drop her delicate hand. “So, Y/N, tell me about this idiot mate that let the Summer Court’s brightest treasure go.”

She gaped, jaw dropping into a look of genuine shock. “How-“

“I had one too. I believe you know her.”

—————

Eris and Y/N spent hours talking in the grove. He gave her all the details of his mate, Morrigan. How it killed him to leave her that fated day. Had he touched her, his mate, Beron would have claimed her as Autumn Court property requiring a Blood Duel for the Night Court to retrieve her. Though, Beron would have ensured she never left unharmed. That aside, Eris didn’t want that blood on her hands, the blood of a blood duel or any battles over her. He didn’t want it on his hands either. It killed him to feel her pain down the bond starting from their forced engagement and through the torture her father had inflicted upon her, and the trauma that lingered thereafter. The gut-wrenching, immobilizing pain that only a mate could feel shooting through to them.

He never wanted her to feel that pain. If it hurt him that badly to only feel it down the bond, he couldn’t imagine the strife she’d felt. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything he couldn’t risk saying. He was too young to face the ramifications from his father and he had his mother and Lucien to protect in those days. So he protected her in the only way he knew how to at the time. Through cold, calculated indifference. He still regretted it.

As time went on, the mask he wore became heavier and heavier, burying that bond deeper within himself. It took him until after the war with Hybern to finally lay it all out to her. Y/N never knew any of that part of the story. She knew Mor and Eris had made amends but nothing of their bond, and she knew that Mor was happily committed to Emerie, an Illyrian female now. He was happy for his mate, as happy as a rejected mate could be.

Eris never claimed to have been in the right. In fact, what he did to Mor was wrong. The way he spoke to her as if she was no more than a common whore when facing her in front of his father at the High Lord’s meeting. Yes, it was an act but it was never okay. He’d live with that for the rest of his days. His apologies to her since never felt like enough.

Y/N empathized with Eris. He could see that she was torn but her gaze toward him softened although, never into that of pity. He liked that about her.

She shared the story of her mating bond with Azriel. And how the waves of anger and grief down the bond had increased in strength recently as she had continued healing. She laughed bitterly at the typical trajectory of females in her situation getting better over time while unfaithful males seemed to spiral as it went on. She didn’t say who he had cheated on her with but Eris had his suspicions. The Shadowsinger apparently had a thing for Vanserra mates. She laughed and cried over the hours they talked. They’d eventually ended up back in a palace seating area for a drink.

Eris hadn’t been so open with someone like this in so long that it felt foreign. Hell, opening up always felt unnatural for him. Perhaps he was stupid for sharing with her. After all, mating bonds could make people do crazy things. She could always take Azriel back and share the details of his little sob stories with the Night Court.

She’d occasionally let out a sharp breath as small jolts of emotion came rolling in. It was nearing dusk when she finally huffed, slapping her hands on her thighs saying, “Enough! This tea is weak. I need something stronger.” Pouring them each a glass of brandy, and another, and another.

As the conversation shifted from the heavier topics to lighter ones, Eris let it slip that he wasn’t fond of the summer court and found all of the sand and humidity to be unpleasant at best.

Her inhibitions were down and if Eris were being honest with himself, his were too. He hadn’t drank much since becoming a High Lord though he often felt the need for a stiff drink. No, there was too much work to be done and he was still getting his own inner circle acclimated. Trust was harder to give in the Autumn Court, especially after being under his father’s rule for so long. There were plenty of good people in the castle but just as many were corrupted under Beron’s rule. Weeding them out was consuming more of his time than anticipated.

Somehow, after their fourth drink, Y/N dragged him out onto the beach, determined to show him all the merits of the crusty, sand-infested shores.

Admittedly, her joy was contagious but he was going to make her work for any positive reaction.

“Okay!” She eagerly squealed. “First - sand castles! Have you ever built one?”

“I live in a castle.” Eris feigned boredom, inspecting his nails. “It seems unnecessary to build one out of… that.” his nose scrunched up, lip curling into a sneer as he gestured to the sand surrounding them.

“Ughhh.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as her little sun dress blew in the wind. And damn if he wouldn’t love to see her eyes going back into her head like that in other circumstances.

He was a gentlemale but a male nevertheless.

“Being High Lord doesn’t mean you have to be such a bore, but fine… No sand castles. Maybe next time!”

Next time. He liked the thought of that. My how far she’d come from practically snarling at him just this morning.

“Look!” She squealed, bringing her hands to her chest and clapping with excitement. “Dolphins! Now I know you don’t have those in the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good coming off of her lips.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her enthusiasm and then at the dolphins. They swam so peacefully in a pod through the harbor. One even let a young water wraith trail alongside it as a hand carefully gripped onto its dorsal fin as the creature pulled her along.

“The wraiths and dolphins coexist well together.” Y/N mused wistfully. “There’s a common misconception that they are territorial due to food supply but they have plenty in the harbor.”

She smiled softly. “The younger wraiths tend to bond with them and the dolphins have even been known to protect them from certain dangers.”

As the pair continued walking along the shore, the conversation occasionally faltered as Y/N would stare off distantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

His heart ached for her. From what he’d gathered during their talk, she’d left the Shadowsinger, but the heart is slow to heal after losing a mate in any capacity.

Eris nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey little minx, where’d you go?”

Coming back to reality she halted. “Oh! Oh my gods. The sun is setting and you have to come with me! Hurry.”

She grabbed his wrist and he didn’t hesitate to follow along as she all but dragged him down the beach. “Hurry! We’ll miss them!”

They ran until reaching a secluded inlet of the bay. They climbed up a small rocky ledge where she sat, dangling her feet over the edge. “There’s an underwater cave-“ she breathed heavy, catching her breath. “here, beneath us and every night-“ another pause to breathe. “something magical happens as the sun sets.”

Eris, catching his own breath, waited patiently for more details but she only dropped a small pebble into the water and as she did, a rainbow of luminescent fish rippled to life below the surface. There had to be thousands of them, leisurely swimming out of the cave as if they were just waking up. Shades of bright pink, green, blue, orange, and purple lit up the small inlet. Eris was awestruck, so awestruck in fact that he didn’t hesitate planting his ass next to her on the crusty sand-coated ledge.

With a wave of her wrist she pulled a bottle of rum out from the pocket realm, tugging the cork out with her teeth and taking a swig, then handing it over to him.

They sat in silence as the remaining fish left the inlet and the remaining colors of the sunset disappeared into night. Clouds began rolling in as they drank and began chatting again. Much like that morning, thunder rolled in but this time he was disappointed to hear it. He didn’t want the evening to end, wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.

He wished he’d had a warning before the ocean winds blew this wild, beautiful storm into his life that morning. Something to brace himself against the inevitable fallout of the precarious situation he found himself in. It was a storm he was prepared to ride out and he had a feeling it would be worth whatever debris she’d leave him with.

The base of the distant thunder rumbling, the cymbal-like crash of waves on the shore, and singing of the creatures of summer nights blended together into a beautiful melody that flowed through Eris. Quickly he stood, extending a hand to her. “Dance with me, Y/N?”

She froze, that distant look crossing her eyes again for a second. He braced himself for her decline but the life returned to her eyes as a smile graced her full lips. She accepted his hand and didn’t hesitate as he tucked her into his chest, her warmth and scent lulling him into a state of bliss.

No, Eris Vanserra did not hate the Summer Court at all.

————————

This was a long one and I know it wasn’t from our girls POV but I hope you all enjoyed it 🥹 Stay tuned for more! Her story is not done yet.

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #eris x reader #summer court #tarquin #eris vanserra #eris x oc #eris vandaddy #inspired by Hunter Hayes #storm warning Hunter Hayes

[bleach-your-panties]

ᰔℊℯ𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃' 𝒾𝓉 𝓅ℴ𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃' with ONYANKOPON on a balcony.

for my 1500+ 𝒻ℴ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃𝓉. requested by @prettybraat.

ᰔhere you go baby, happy black history month!❤️💚💛

ᰔcw: modern au! fem, black reader. balcony sex, exhibitionism, panty-ripping, backshots, hair-pulling, scratching.

ᰔdividers by @/benkeibear.

ᰔwc: 2.2k

💗💗🍡°taglist: @enchantedforest-network @bakugosbratx @chifuyuskoneko @honeybleed @hoesluvshanti @chrollohearttags @darkstarlight82 @blkkizzat @bey0nseh @kokonoiscoconut (if anyone wants to be added to taglist, please fill out linked google form, thx!)

When your boyfriend, Onyankopon, or ‘Ony’ for short, texted you with a simple ‘get ready’ you immediately hopped up to pack an overnight bag.

Ony works as a financial consultant for one of the biggest banks in Atlanta, as well as a personal finance advisor, so he’s never short on dough and absolutely does not mind spending his hard-earned money on his baby girl.

You haven’t seen him in a while due to it being tax season and him working overtime at the bank, so you knew that when you saw him, you were definitely getting your back blown out.

As you were deciding which pairs of sexy panties you wanted to bring, your phone began to ring. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Your man’s smooth, baritone voice filtered its way from the phone speaker and into your ear making you clench your thighs together.

“Hey, pooh. Are you off of work already? I’m still getting my stuff together.”

Onyankopon laughed once he heard you rummaging around in your room; who knows what all you were throwing in that gold and black sequin Victoria’s Secret duffle bag you loved so much.

“I’m about to FaceTime you, baby. I want to show you something.”

When he said that, you stopped packing and focused all of your attention on the phone - Ony chuckled because he knew how nosy you were.

The request to FaceTime immediately came through and you accepted it.

“ONYANKOPON!!”

He just chuckled deeply, “Not the government.” 

On your screen currently sat the finest version of your man that you had ever seen.

Now, Ony had always been fine; let's make that abundantly clear…

Smooth, flawless dark-brown skin, toned muscular body, tattoos up and down his arms and back (that were usually hidden by his business suits), straight white teeth, and don’t forget the inches that he was packing - eight and a half, to be exact.

Long, thick, and hard.

…but Ony with a fade and dreads pulled back in a half-up half-down ponytail? 

Oh, he must've been trying to call in for the next week or so.

“You went quiet on me, bae. Do you like it?’’ You were snapped out of your nasty little reverie.

“Do I like it? Babe, you look so fucking mouthwatering right now. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make the drive all the way to yours.”

Flirting sensually, you leaned your upper body into the camera and let your breasts spill out of your tank top for your man’s viewing pleasure.

You didn’t miss how Ony raised an eyebrow and bit down on his lower lip, pausing before he continued,

“To mine? Oh, we’re not going to mine, baby girl. I made a reservation for us at the Waldorf Astoria in Buckhead.” 

Leaning back out of the camera frame, you made your perfectly arched eyebrows jump while bringing a hand to your mouth to chew on the tip of one of your baby blue stiletto nails.

“You did, babe? That’s so sweet of you, I can’t-”

Before you could finish your sentence, you heard a loud car horn honk from outside.

“Ony!! I didn’t know you were damn near almost here; why didn’t you say something, boy?!”

Tossing the phone onto the bed, you hurriedly gathered the rest of your things and shoved them into the bag before zipping it up. Your slides were on the side of your bed, so you slipped your matching pedicured toes into them and grabbed your keys off your nightstand.

“Hey, who you think you raising yo voice at, huh? Be good for me and come on outside, baby.”

—-

After climbing into the passenger seat of Ony’s navy blue BMW X5, he shut the door behind you and returned to the driver’s side.

You watched him carefully with slightly lidded eyes as he put his hand on the back of your headrest and backed out of the driveway.

Ony could feel you burning a hole in the side of his head, which made him bite his bottom lip again and send you a furtive glance while he drove through Atlanta traffic.

“What’s up, mama? Why you keep on staring at me?”

He knew good and damn well why you were staring at him.

You knew that he knew, because of the little smirk that formed at the corner of his plump lips as he held onto your thigh with his right hand and drove with his left hand holding the middle of the steering wheel.

The ride was leisurely, as all you had to do was sit there and look pretty, one leg propped up over the other as you scrolled through your TikTok feed. 

Ony moved his hand from your thigh to your foot, slipping your slide off and rubbing the sole of your foot.

“Oh! Babe…”

He just let out a soft hum of acknowledgment before turning into the parking lot of Seasons 52. 

Since Ony had made a reservation, you didn't have to wait long before a waitress came out to direct you both to your table.

This isn’t your first time coming here, but you still marvel at how everything on the menu constantly shifts and changes, yet always manages to always taste so delicious.

The salmon that you ordered was roasted to perfection; the potatoes just melted in your mouth and the green beans had just the right amount of crunch. 

Dinner conversation was fruitful, full of talks about your plans for university and Ony of the new investments that he was planning to make.

He held your free hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles while he sipped his wine and listened to you talk. 

His cocoa-brown eyes shined with love and admiration for you as you excitedly spilled about all of the classes that you’d be taking during the upcoming semester.

After you finished your dinner, Ony called for the waitress so he could pay then the two of you left with him guiding you by the small of your back to his car.

—-

Once you checked into your suite, Ony was on you like white on rice.

His large hands gripped you up, fondling your voluptuous ass cheeks while he repeatedly slotted his lips over yours in hot kisses filled with longing and need.

The cold links of his watch against your exposed lower back made a shiver race down your spine as you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. 

Ony looked down at you, meeting your big, brown doe eyes; immediately his dick began to harden in his slacks.

“Nuh uh, we don’t have time for that right now, baby. I have another plan for yo sexy ass.” 

He swatted away the hand that reached for his belt buckle and pulled you up by your bicep.

The suite Ony booked was almost as big as your entire damn apartment: two bedrooms, a spacious living area, a kitchenette (that was too big to be considered a kitchenette), and two bathrooms, both fitted with walk-in showers and whirlpool tubs.

Your nails clawed at the pressed cotton of his white dress shirt as he backed both of you up into the nearest bedroom. The motion-sensor lamps clicked on as soon as you stepped over the threshold, bathing both of you in a sensual, amber glow.

The curtain to the in-suite balcony was pulled back revealing the beautiful Buckhead cityscape below you, along with a navy sky full of bright, twinkling stars.

Ony began unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it free from where it was tucked into his pants as he finally allowed you to grab his belt and begin unbuckling it.

“Somebody’s impatient..” He chuckled as you yanked it from the loops and threw it across the room.

Once he was shirtless and you were down to your panties, he scooped you up and carried you over to the window.

“Wait, Onyankopon, what do you think you’re doing??”

He didn’t answer, but instead unlocked the glass door leading out to the balcony and stepped outside with you clinging to him.

The slightly cool breeze from the evening air whipped against your naked skin and made you press yourself further into Ony, who cradled your chin and brought your mouth back to his to give you another breathtaking kiss.

“I remember you saying that you wanted to try some different things, so here’s your opportunity, baby. Now turn around and grab that rail for me.”

His big hand went to the fly of his pants for him to unzip them and tug them down. He pulled a condom out of his pocket and began sliding it over his hard dick.

Just as you were about to do as you were told, you could hear faint chatter from below: a couple of floors below, there was a group of men and women seated at a round table out on their balcony, having drinks.

“Ony, there’s people out here - what if they see me?” Bashfully, your hands flew to cover your naked breasts. 

As you were leaning down to look at the other guests, Ony rubbed his dick between your ass cheeks, bumping it against your clit. A soft moan left your lips and your eyes almost closed before you remembered what you were supposed to be doing.

“They won’t see you, baby. They might hear you, though.” 

You heard that damn smirk in his voice, but soon you forgot all about anyone hearing once Ony grabbed your panties with one finger and ripped the flimsy material off of you, flinging it aside.

“Oh, babe!”

A loud moan was pulled from you as your boyfriend pushed the head of his dick into your opening. Your hands flew forward and you took a tight hold of the balcony’s railing as Ony started pounding you swiftly from the back.

The sounds of your ass colliding with his hips were loud throughout the silent night, so if those people were just really listening they’d easily be able to tell what the two of you were doing.

One tiny hand with those baby blue nails fell free from the rail and grabbed at Ony’s veiny forearm for leverage; his thrusts had your entire body quivering already. 

Soon enough, long scratches began to cover his arm as you tried your best to hold onto him.

You looked up at him and could feel him grow harder inside of you from the visual: fat ass bouncing back on him, braids shaking free from your bun, and your mascara beginning to run.

“Hm, what?” He licked his lips again but didn’t slow his pace as he just looked back into your misty eyes. “What is it, baby? Too much for ya?”

“Ony, I’m…” You trailed off as he suddenly picked you up underneath your thighs, his forearms resting in the creases of your knees.

“I didn’t tell you to let go of that damn rail.”

“ONYANKOPON!”

“And you were worried about somebody hearing you.” He laughed and bent you in half, still jackhammering away as you bumped and jostled against his body, 

Your upper half is now bent over the railing as the wind picks up and whips your hair across your face.

“Onyankopon, I’m going to fall!” 

“I won’t let you fucking fall, girl. Got too many muscles to let you fall.”

He grunted and locked his arms around your thighs, heavy balls slapping against your ass with loud, wet smacks.

“Hold the fucking rail, and hold that nut, too. I’m almost there. Gunna cum for you, baby; just hold still for me.”

Ony grabbed your hair up into a ponytail to pull it out of your face and also to yank your head back so he could whisper in your ear.

“You see that shit, baby? See those city lights beaming so fucking bright for you as I fuck your tight little pussy open?”

“Ohh, oh God! Yes, baby, I see them! Fuck, I see them!”

“You cumming?”

“YES! Yes, I’m cumming, oh my God! I’m cumming, baby!”

“Let it go then, baby. Go ahead and cum for ‘The Great One’*”

After that, you were done.

Your release washed over you like a wave; luckily Onyankopon was holding onto you or you might’ve actually flipped head-first over that balcony.

You both moaned each others’ names as your orgasm triggered his, bodies bathed in the pale moonlight of the night, surrounded by nothing but the stars and your love for one another.

—-

After that first round on the balcony, Onyankopon took you back into the room and the two of you went at it in nearly every area of the large presidential suite.

He even took you again in the shower before he washed you both off, wrapped you in a towel, and brought you over to the bed, wrapping you up in the covers.

“I love you, Y/N…my shining star..” Was the last thing you heard before you drifted off into dreamland, nothing but sweet thoughts of your handsome man on your mind.

—--

a/n: *Onyankopon means ’God’ in the Ghanian language and ‘The Great One’ in Ashanti mythology, referring to the Sky God.

get it poppin! 💄event ©bleach-your-panties 2024. do NOT steal, copy, repost, alter, or upload my works onto other sites. comments appreciated. reblogs always welcome.

#enchantedforestnetwork #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #ony x black! reader #aot onyankopon x reader #ony x reader #ony smut #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x y/n #aot ony #aot onyankopon #attack on titan onyankopon #aot smut #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #get it poppin!💄event #💗💗🍡°aot drabbles #💗💗🍡°aot masterlist #byp🌹

[indigovigilance]

Neil Gaiman's 3 cameos

"But Neil only has one cameo, it's in the movie theater!" Come now. What show are we watching? There is not just one cameo. There are three. The first one is...

The one that actually happened:

but then there is also...

The one that was supposed to happen, but didn't:

See those two people in the background? Lower left-hand corner of the screen? By rights, that should have been Neil and Terry, but Terry was taken from us too soon. Neil wrote this scene intending to do the cameo by himself, in honor of his friend, but on that day couldn't bring himself to do it:

Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it. [...] it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

The fact that the scene exists at all, I think, can be taken as a cameo. I would interpret it as one of Neil's cameos, since he wrote it as a self-insert of an important aspect of his relationship to the work, but it is also Terry's cameo. Focusing on the empty space where something ought to be is itself a representation of what is missing; there is something to be said for drawing attention to absence, which is what our knowledge of how this scene came to be accomplishes.

There's no good way for me to transition to the next part of this meta other than to encourage you to take a deep breath and remember that Terry Pratchett has been immortalized by this and other works. He is beloved, and not forgotten, and lives on in our hearts, and we honor him by celebrating his works not only in mourning but in the full range of emotion that his works inspired in us, including laughter.

Because this next part is just silly.

Neil's AU Gary Stu cameo:

Neil Gaiman has told the story multiple times about how a careers advisor tried to redirect his life course from storytelling to... *shudder* accountancy. Here's one quote [source]:

Gaiman: I very much wanted to write comics. I remember as a kid, I was 15, and I had a meeting with an outside careers adviser. I was asked, “OK, well, what do you want to be?” And I said, “Well, I really want to write American comics.” There was a long pause, and then the outside careers adviser said, “Well, how do you go about doing that then?” I said, “You’re the careers adviser. You tell me.” And then there was another seriously long pause, and the adviser said, “Have you ever thought about accountancy?” I said, “No, I have never thought about accountancy.” And then we just sat and stared at each other.

We are all very lucky that teenager!Neil decided to completely disregard this advice, but Good Omens S1E2 contains a character that seems to resemble who Neil would have become (or thought he would have become) if he had let that careers advisor drag him into a life of bean-counting mundanity.

We may not see Neil's face in this scene, but we do get to experience his existential dread of the what if: what if I had never become a storyteller? What if I had listened to that wanker, and lived a life without following my dreams?

I'd say it counts as a cameo.

#good omens #good omens meta #neil gaiman #cameos #this meta somehow got a second life I have no idea how or why but we’re on our way to being blessed by Beelzebub

[razzberriezz]

Fashion Dreamer Tips & Tricks

Some stuff only I found that isn't mentioned or in-game at all or is easily missed as far as I'm aware? I hope it helps some of you guys out :) It is quite image-heavy under the cut, fair warning!!

Colour Matching (Item Creator) Pressing down on the left stick changes the display from mannequin to the item itself, but pressing it again will show whatever item you're creating along with whatever your muse is currently wearing.

So if you've gotten a custom coloured item from someone else, this is great for making items and accessories to match with it! And you don't have to waste 120k points trying to match colours by guesstimation instead like me :'))) Or maybe I'm just dumb because I knew how to zoom in and out, just not the display switching OTL

2. Showroom Configuration (is stupid) This is for the Happy Home Paradise players... Make sure that any mannequins or clothing you display in your showroom is actually accessible, because you cannot walk under ceiling decorations, even if they are lighting. I have no idea why. You also can't change the camera angle, so it'd be best not to put the door/panel decorations all in a row at the front, because then players can't see what you're even displaying (unless it's just like a mannequin in the middle surrounded by lockers... Idk)

Taking the time to plug my showroom again before I swap out the outfits for the fancier stuff I have >o< Find me at a8xv4JW3Am!

3. Muse Advisors There are at least 2 or 3 advisors who are present at the Muse Mirror in each Cocoon in rotation. (e.g. Noz and Iris in HOPE) They can not only suggest colours and unique makeup that you haven't obtained yet* (I've seen a look where your character gets like a Batman/Robin mask lol), but also give you their own! If the one whose look you want isn't there, you just have to quick-travel (press down on the right stick) to another Cocoon and back. Otherwise, you can just keep talking to them and backing out until their option shows up.

Before & After (Iris ver.)!

(*Unfortunately, they won't give you unique eye shines/reflections.)

4. NPCs I've just learnt that the NPCs you start with are most likely random. I've seen others start with NPCs I haven't even seen or heard of! You need to raise their friendship level until you get a special event that says 'Friend Introduction' - and even then, I think the NPC who appears next might be random (unconfirmed). This may make it quite a pain for those who want the unnatural skin colours, since I believe they are only unlockable via NPC friendship rank... So just go into solo mode and spam some outfits :')

5. Camera Angles and Idle Poses This one is a bit useless, but I didn't know about it until now so it's going in. Most of the time, I use the drone camera to take photos, but could never really fit fullbody photos - turns out, you need to angle the camera slightly downwards (have your character looking up) to be able to zoom out enough to fit your Muse's whole body in. If the camera angle is level with your Muse, you will never be able to get a fullbody picture. Who thought this would be a good idea???

Level angle and tilted angle - the level angle is already at the lowest it could go.

Additionally, waiting for a while will let your character have the time to perform some idle animations, some of which (I think) are not present in the poses option, even via NPC friendship rank. The downside is that you'll have to crop out some parts of the UI and the quality will be a little lower - however, that can be fixed using waifu2x (which I tend to use anyways for aesthetic posts lol).

Before & After using waifu2x!

Since the game is so new I thought this might be helpful to some who are also just starting out. If anything here is wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as possible!

#fashion dreamer #my.fashion.dreamer.posts #idk what else to tag so this is it for now

[princessaxoxo]

Angered Infatuation

Enemies to lovers

Geralt x reader 

Summary: Since the day you and Geralt met, the two of you couldn’t stand one another. But fate seemed to always bring you both together. One night at a feast, you both release the anger you share.

Word count: 1.9+

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, rough unprotected sex (p in v), angst, fingering, cussing  

You’ve been the king’s royal advisor for the past few months, helping with decisions when needed and healing. Taking a walk through the village, you were on your way back but stopped short once you heard the words “ride, witcher, ride”. You could recognize the bard’s voice anywhere; walking into the tavern and playing his precious lute is Jaskier.

You watched and waited entertained as he sang, prancing around the tavern, infuriating the individuals. Their faces screwed up in annoyance, which had you in a fit of laughter. Once his last song ended, he gathered his lute and walked out the back door. You followed distantly behind him.

Sneaking up behind him, you tapped his left shoulder, making him jump in his shoes. “Why must you scare me each time we meet?” You chuckled, and the two of you went in for a hug. “I’ve missed you as well, Jaskier."

Out of all the places he could be, he was here, and you wondered why. “Jaskier, what brings you here?" His face instantly paled at the question. “Just passing through." He wasn’t telling you everything. His answer was partially truthful. You squinted your eyes at him, then looked over at the black horse next to him. You were trying to figure out why you had this sense of familiarity with the animal.

It clicked in your mind; the horse is roach, and you knew what that meant. “Only you? No companions?” You gave him a curious look, knowing the truth already. “Most certainly not,” he said, his face beginning to flush. "Jaskier, if it’s only you, then why is roach here?” he laughed awkwardly as his eyes looked past you.

Geralt’s husky voice rang through the air: “Jaskier, let’s go." You turned to face him. His white hair was pulled back, and his cloak covered the rest of him. His swords cross his back.

He felt your eyes on him. "Witcher," you remarked, dragging out the word. Geralt grumbled at the sound of your voice and choice of words. “Always a pleasure," he said sarcastically.

“What is your business here?” He turned towards you, giving you a brief overall look. He wasn't going to answer you; you would find out on your own later tonight.

Jaskier felt uncomfortable interrupting the stare-down, Geralt, and you were having “I know you two would adore to cut each other's heads off, but shall we go?" He chimed in.

Geralt got on his horse, and Jaskier grabbed his things. You watched as they both left. You found yourself wondering when you would see Geralt again and, in a sense, looking forward to it.

Both you and Geralt enjoyed the back-and-forth with each other; he found you infuriating, and you found him insufferable. It made the two of you hot, with significant sexual tension for one another.

The feast had begun, and you heard the music growing through the hallowed halls of the castle. Entering the great hall, you were surprised to see that Jaskier was providing the entertainment for tonight. The local villagers are drinking rich ale and laughing. "Y/f/n,” you heard the king call for you.

Walking over to him, you bowed, “My king.” He put his finger underneath your chin, making you look at him. His touch burned, and he disgusted you. You were hoping he couldn't tell by the look in your eyes.

“We have a special guest this evening; I would appreciate it if you’d accompany him." You smiled. “Of course, my king,” you said, making a come-here motion to the man you assumed he was speaking of.

Geralt spoke, “Thank you for having me.” His words were sour; you knew he wanted to be anywhere but here. He looked handsome; you never thought you would see Geralt dressed for such an occasion.

Geralt and you walked around the great hall without saying a word to each other. He walked away to receive some more ale, his long strides making it hard for you to keep up with him.

He leaned up against the wall. Geralt secretly liked this; knowing you had to stay with him, he decided he would make it hard on you. You were trying to appear calm, giving a proper smile to the villagers who passed by you.

However, you did want to kill him in front of everyone. A smile was on your face when you reached him. “Just because you’re an important guest tonight does not mean you get to disrespect me.” The response you received rattled you. He brought his drink to his lips, took a sip, and didn't say a word back.

Two drunken villagers began to brawl, making you turn your head toward the ruckus. It gave Geralt enough time to slip away from you. When you turned back, you huffed, realizing he had left. Your eyes were scanning the room for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Geralt watched you from afar, delighting in the joy of seeing you stressed. Once your eyes reached him, he raised his goblet at you.

Geralt found his way into the halls of the castle, and you started taking long strides to get to him. “I have had it with you this evening,” you said. “You look lovely, y/f/n," he replied. His eyes were on your gown; you inspected it to see if anything got on it, and he was being funny. But it looked exquisite, just as it had earlier that night.

He continued to walk, going into the dark spots of the halls. No one was here but us; everyone had gathered for the feast. You grabbed him by his arm, which stopped him. He looked down at your hand, then to your eyes, to tell you to let go of him.

The look in his eyes and face became serious. “Last time we saw each other, you were trying to kill me with that pathetic chaos of yours; that’s what you mages call it, correct?” You snarled at him, “Yes, and you as well were trying to kill me. It seems we have one thing in common."

“Don’t be modest; you know we have more in common than that.” He became closer. “Whether you want to admit it or not, our bickering, this back and forth, you like this just as much as I do."

“Why would I enjoy this?” His yellow eyes seemed to have darkened in this light. “The simple reason? It makes you want me even more."

“I would know because I feel the same way.” His confession gave you a shiver.

Goosebumps appeared on your skin, and he moved the hair from your shoulder, touching your neck. Geralt could tell your heart was accelerating; his heart was calm as always. Never wavering from its steady beat.

He moved his large hand to your hair, grabbing a hold. “Tell me you don’t want me, y/f/n, and I'll let you go and walk back to the great hall,” he growled. “Do it,” you simply said, and he roughly brought his lips to yours. His moves were so aggressive that you thought your lips would tear.

The two of you found the way to your bed chambers, ripping your dress from behind. He pushed you down on your bed, tearing off your undergarments. You tried taking off his clothing, but he didn’t allow that.

Geralt didn't care if another man had made you feel good, if another man had touched you, or if you'd even seen another man naked. He was far more interested in pouring out all the anger he felt for you tonight.

You raised the front half of your body to get a better look at him.

His body in its pure form was godly, and his muscular arms had faded scars enclosing them. You wanted them to suffocate you in the best way possible. His thighs, which were buff, looked delicious. And his cock, which was upright and standing against his stomach, had a pink tip. It made you drool; you licked your lips thoughtlessly.

He stalked toward you, smoothing his rough, large hands up your legs and thighs.

You looked into his eyes, waiting for his next move. He moved downward, lifting your legs near your head, and took a long lick from your ass to the top of your pussy. His tongue was glorious, moving diligently against your clit.

He directed his left hand to your pussy moving his fingers between your folds. He entered two of his thick fingers into you roughly and expeditiously.

You looked at him, his yellow eyes pouring into you. It didn't take long for your thighs to begin to shake, and you felt yourself coming. 

He raised his head, his mouth glistening from your juices. 

His hand wrapped around your small neck, pushing you down, taking out his digits, spreading you apart with his large girth, and slamming into your cunt.

The feel of his large hand around your neck made you wetter. As you wrapped your small hand around his "harder,” you saw a bit of shock in his eyes. He tightened his hold, your legs wrapped around his body, his medallion swinging over you as his movement fasted, and his hips slammed into you harshly.

“Ah fuck,” you dug your fingernails into his back, making him grunt out. He moved his thumb, smoothing over your bottom lip, and went to grip your jaw, his mouth moving brutally over yours.

The selfishness of him and keeping you down made your anger resurface; you flipped the both of you. He tried reaching for you, but you pushed him back down onto the mattress.

Your hips began to move on his cock; he dug his nails into the sides of your hips. You knew you would have bruises in the morning. “You ride this cock so fucking well," he praised you.

His hands reached up and fondled your breasts. He wrapped an arm around your back to hold you in place as he circled your nipple with his tongue, pinching the other one. You threw your head back in pleasure.

“Stay still,” he growled as he held your hips in place and pounded into you at an accelerated pace. “Yes, Geralt, yes."

Hearing his name fall from your lips made him rigid. “I’m going to make you full of my cum; that’ll be the only thing left of you.” You started to bounce on his cock savagely.

“Just like that, bouncing on my cock beautifully,” his encourging, husky voice brought you closer to your orgasm. You pulled at his roots, kissing him deeply and sucking on his tongue.

He put you on your back again, turning and pushing your face into the pillows. Your loud moans were covered. Your thighs began to shake, and he felt them, “Yes, come all over my cock.” You called out Geralt's name, your orgasm hitting hard, your head dizzy as you saw stars in your vision.

With a few more snaps of his hips, Geralt exploded inside of you, pulling his cock out and a few more spurts of his cum landed on your stomach. He watched as you swiped a finger through and licked his cum off.

He clenched his jaw. “On your hands and knees now,” you challenged him in ways no one had. It made him loathe you and love you at the same time. He planned to show you that for the rest of the night.

#geralt of rivia #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #first post #smutty #butcher of blaviken #geralt x reader #geralt smut #the witcher #the witcher 3 #the witcher smut #angst #angst with a happy ending #one shot #jaskier #enemies to lovers #the white wolf #the white wolf smut #butcher of blavimen smut #medieval

[gatorlovebot]

this is a continuation of this king!simon blurb. read more of my king!simon blurbs here.

in the days following simon’s failed assisination there were changes made to the royal court. simon’s secretary, would never see the light of day again, his execution date set just a few weeks away. simon had demanded that it wait until he was well enough to go in to town to watch it for himself. you knew you would be expected to accompany him, but you didn’t know if you could stomach the spectacle. but all it took was you thinking of simon’s weak plead for help that day and any sympathy you had for the secretary and the position he had landed himself in were gone.

it had just been you and simon for the past few days. rare appearances from the doctor just to check on simon, make sure his healing was going as it should have been. he would grumble at every knock on the door disturbing the peace between the two of you, making you get out of his bed. you opened the door for the kitchen staff to bring in trays of delicious food for the two of you, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

it almost felt like you were in your own little bubble with your king. not to say it usually didn’t feel like that, stealing knowing glances in public, passing each other notes during boring meetings, spending almost every waking moment together. but now you were spending every moment together, crawling into bed with him late at night under the guise of someone needing to be in the room to make sure the king didn’t suffer some serious medical complication during the night with no one around to witness. but no complications or emergencies ever occurred, just you listening to his loud snores and counting his breaths as you lie against his chest.

the bubble, of course, has to pop at some point. i mean, he’s the king, and the kingdom needs its king back at some point.

after about a week there’s another knock on the door. simon made sure to tell his guards not to let anyone inside his chambers without going through you first. it’s not a designated meal time, so you expect to see the doctor, but you’re surprised to see an unfamiliar face standing next to one of simon’s most trusted advisors. all the advisor does is give you a polite, tight lipped smile as he walks past you into the room. his companion gives you a nod before following.

you’re used to it, being treated this way by the men that are closer to simon in creed than you are. you know that in your heart no one will ever be closer to simon than you, but there’s also a nasty little bitterness that tugs at you when simon’s men treat you like shit. you’re safe in your position with simon, not having to worry about losing your duty as his handmaiden since he’s assured you there’s no one else who could ever replace you, but you’ve also never felt comfortable standing up for yourself in the face of simon’s royal court. they are men who believe themselves to be higher than you, yet they understand your closeness to the king so they talk about you behind your back and more importantly behind simon’s back.

you will yourself to shut the door and turn back into the room, knowing simon’s mood will be soured with the unexpected intrusion. you had left him at his writing desk when you fetched the door, there were a few documents that had piled up in his absence that he was finally going through, nothing of great importance he had reassured you, but he had to get around to reading them at some point.

“your highness, it’s so good to see you looking better. we’ve greatly missed you these past few days.” his advisor greets.

“oh, i bet you’ve all just been twiddling your thumbs waiting around for me to resume my duties.” simon remarks, making himself chuckle. you politely try to stifle your laugh as you take a seat on the edge of simon’s bed.

“well, actually,” the advisor starts, “i’ve been working on finding you a new secretary, one that won’t try and kill you.” the advisor gives somewhat of a forced chuckle but the attempted joke falls flat. simon just gives him unamused eyes and an expectant look to continue.

“right, well, i found one and i just wanted to introduce you to him before he starts to take control of your affairs.” the advisor explains quickly, sensing simon’s impatience with the whole ordeal.

you had to admit that simon could be difficult. never really with you, but with other members of the staff and even with his royal court. the men that were closest to him he still kept at a distance, only half listening to their advice most of the time. simon was a man that knew what he wanted, knew how to rule his kingdom.

“it is an absolute privilege to work under you, your highness.” you do your very best to stifle your giggles as the new secretary bows to a very unimpressed looking simon. the advisor cuts his eyes to you and you can’t help but straighten under his scrutiny, but just for a moment until you remind yourself that you don’t answer to him.

“what a great show,” simon comments, voice dripping with disinterest. you’re shocked that he hasn’t ordered them to leave yet. “well, i hope you’re proficient in letter writing and note taking. and that you know how to keep your mouth shut until spoken too. that wasn’t the last secretary’s strong suit, was it?” the question is directed at you, more of an inside joke than anything. you can’t even count how many times you simon had shared knowing looks of boredom everytime the last secretary opened up his mouth.

you just smile, “not at all, your highness.”

the new secretary gives you a long look, one that lasts too long for your liking, seemingly trying to assess you. he’s snapped back into reality after a moment when simon clears his throat roughly, “yes, your highness, i am proficient in grammar and spelling and am ready to handle all duties assigned to me.”

you’ve seen this before, many times. new young blood trying to suck up to the king and it’s always so comical to you because at the end of the day simon does not care. simon doesn’t care about the little shit his court does or how they do it, as long as it gets done. he’s well aware that it takes more than just a king to rule a kingdom, but he doesn’t find it to be particularly important to be close to or even fond of any of his court members, except for you.

“well, the most important thing is that you need to get along with my handmaiden.” all eyes cut to you and you can’t help but feel a little unease, knowing that neither men probably understand or care about your role to the king. they probably just see you as nothing more than a woman in his bed. “she accompanies me wherever i go so she needs to always be aware of my appointments and affairs.”

“ahh, aren’t you a lucky king,” the secretary remarks with a glint in his eye that makes your stomach turn, “having a pretty young lady to follow you around wherever you go.”

simon suddenly stands from his chair, walking the short distance until he’s towering over the new secretary. “if that’s all that you think of her then you can pack your shit up now and leave.”

“no, no, your highness,” the secretary quickly attempts to back pedal. you can’t help but feel a little bit of satisfaction as he squirms like a cornered prey animal. simon is imposing and using his size advantage to strike fear into the man, you feel a flash of heat in your gut that you try not to think about. “i simply misunderstood, my apologies. i’m so pleased to be able to a serve under the both of you.”

under the both of you

almost like king and queen, you think, before physically shaking your head to try and rid the ludacris thoughts away. you weren’t queen and you never would be with the way simon’s men were trying to set him up with any and every available female royal on the planet.

simon just gives the secretary a hard look before cutting his eyes back to his advisor. “well, seems like we’re done here. you two get to work.”

you watch as they both thank simon for his time and scurry out of the room. he walks back and takes a seat at his desk, picking up one of the documents and going back to reading.

it’s almost comical, unintentionally, the way he scares someone shitless and then just goes back to doing something mundane. you can’t help but just look at him, wondering for the nth time how you got to be so close to this man.

“you’re staring,” he comments, not even looking up from the paper in his hand.

“i think you scared him.” you remark, feeling the need to acknowledge simon’s anger at the secretary’s words. he’s always been protective of you, holding you close to him in public, always having you stand next to him at his throne, speaking highly of you to anyone that will listen. lately he’s been more sharp with his men about you. it wages a war inside of you, part of you feeling the shame that his men desperately want you to feel, the other part of you feeling smug about having the king in your back pocket.

“good,” simon retorts, “i’ll make him wet himself the next time he says another cross word about you.”

“simon!” you shriek, “how crass of you.”

all he does is get up from his chair and walk over to the bed, pulling you down into his arms to try and suppress your giggles.

#gator.writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #cod x reader #king simon

[shapelytimber]

LIBERTINE !

Fuck the rushed dogshit ending, Wee John and Izzy continued to do drag together, sailing on the revenge from town to town. Don't miss their new "libertine" show !!

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Ok after more than a week of reflexion, and a chat with my evil advisor @quijicroix (who is a genius)... Izzy Hands should have sang "libertine" by mylène farmer instead of la fucking vie en rose. Why ? 1) mylène farmer is a very famous french queer artist 2) her songs (especially libertine) are used all the time in drag shows in france 3) la vie en rose as taken other the years a very bougie parisian conotation, so to have a PIRATE sing it ?? Wtf ? 4) she often performed with drag queens on stage- and I could go on.

But all I have to say is, please please please if you've never heard it or seen the clip- Go watch it right now ! It's so fucking good !!! (cw nudity and a bit of blood. Also old ass guns)

Wee john gets to be cunt and play the vilain, Izzy (who is more of a drag king) gets to play the gender protag <3 the show of course include a choreographed fight scene at the end

Process + other famous french songs rec vvv

VERY rough colors

Sketch

And just to be petty, here are other famous french songs that would have been way better than la vie en rose :

- Le bien qui fait mal (Mozart l'opera rock) ("I have joy in pain, I get drunk on this poison until I loose my sanity". The most izzy ass song you can get, it's horny kinky angsty BDSM themed song what more do you want ? Ok to be fair it's more s1 Izzy, but still !)

- Mourir sur scène (Dalida) ("I want to die on stage". well it's less a love song and more foreshadowing for the end, but if Izzy's death had been better written, less rushed, or happenned in an hypothetical s3 (I really don't think they'll have one tho-), it would have been so good.)

- Les demons de minuit (Images) (sillier for sure, but horny and iconic. Alas it's very het)

My final note on this will be, why french ?? Because Abba Lay all your love on me or the winner takes it all would have been so fucking good-

PS : I did most of the rendering very tired and a bit drunk after a party hfrifgruigfrui I had so much to correct after that what a nightmare

#not me investing hours in this hyper specific alternate ending hrifhirfhiurgf #I'm on vacation so it took me a lot of time to do this but I had to the ending was so shitty I just had to do this #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #izzy hands #israel hands #wee john feeney #izzy hands ofmd #wee john ofmd #drag show #drag queens #pirates #digital painting #illustration #art #my art #digital art #fanart #ofmd fanart #izzy hands fanart #prints #poster #sketch #cw guns #mylene farmer

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: Language, fluff.

Part 3: Contact

As it turned out, your life started to get better after you missed that shift at the coffee shop.

Oh, you still got fired. But the experience of nearly getting splattered on the pavement by an oncoming truck gave you some unexpected clarity about your life.

Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career. And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.

Maybe one day, you could dare to hope, but from now on, you wouldn’t let it rule your thoughts. You wouldn’t hope too hard either.

It could save you from the disappointment of never hearing anyone’s thoughts but your own.

So you decided to check the University of South Dakota’s career board for jobs, and you discovered an opening in the history department! A research assistant for one of your favorite professors, who was writing their dissertation on the strange, superstitious, and sometimes down-right disgusting social practices of the Ancient Greeks (including bottling up the sweat of their best athletes, because they thought their musky body oils contained magical properties).

Since you were already majoring in history, you were a shoe-in for the job. And working directly with your professor gave you a great resource for future classes.

Four years later, you had earned your bachelor’s degree in History. You even decided to further your education when you were able to get a scholarship for graduate school.

Now you were just one semester away from finishing your master’s. You still worked in the history department, but you had been able to upgrade—to Executive Secretary to the Dean of Ancient Studies.

It sounded fancy, but really, you were a glorified slave. Or at least, your boss seemed to think so.

“I need you to cancel my meeting at two,” said Dr. Birch. She breezed into your tiny office without knocking, startling you from where you were hunched over your laptop.

“Good morning!” came your reflexive greeting, though it was a bit too loud and sharp. You internally winced at yourself and relaxed your posture, like a bird unruffling its feathers. “Cancel your meeting with Dr. Wells?”

Dr. Wells was a nice man, and an important one. He was the Head Dean of the entire History department. Technically, he was above Dr. Birch. It wasn’t a good look to blow him off, but you weren’t about to say so.

“Yes, I have an important lunch, and I already know it’s going to go overtime. Gary will understand,” she replied. She was looking at her phone rather than at you. For all she cared, you were just a calendar with hands.

Dr. Helen Birch was a brilliant woman. She’d published no less than five books, had won awards for her peer-reviewed articles, and she had been your academic advisor all through graduate school.

She could also rival Meryl Streep for “bitchy-ass boss” in The Devil Wears Prada.

“I also need you to grade the final exams for one of my classes,” she said. “Greek Studies this time.”

You held back a sigh. Again? I’ll never finish my own finals at this rate.

But what you said was, “Sure, I can do that. And I’ll email Dr. Wells to reschedule.”

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.”

“That’s fun,” you chatted while you revised Dr. Birch’s calendar on your computer (and sent an apology email to Dr. Wells). “Where to?”

“Oh, I have this tedious conference in Chicago. But then my boyfriend is taking me skiing in Breckenridge.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I simply can’t wait. This semester has been a drain on my psyche, and just terrible for my migraines.”

With the email sent, you took a little breath and gathered some courage as you got up from your desk and gathered a handful of papers you had stapled together. It was a rough draft of your thesis, which was only a bit worse for wear (including a suspect coffee stain that you didn’t remember accidentally putting there).

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you got my email about my thesis. I just wanted to go over some of the feedback you gave me on the draft,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Dr. Birch raised a brow. “What of it?”

“Well.” You showed her the front page, which was covered in red ink. “Mainly the part where you crossed out the first three pages and commented, ‘Missing the point.’”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid I have nothing to add about that.”

Well, that didn’t exactly help you. The first three pages was your entire introduction to your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.”

You must’ve had a pitiful, lost look on your face, because Dr. Birch finally took pity on you. She sighed.

“You are a creative girl. I’ll give you that, but your degree is not in cinematography. You are a historian,” she said. “And while the ‘Well of Souls’ in Raiders of the Lost Ark may be based on a real historical place in Jerusalem, that does not mean Indiana Jones can, or should be described as a ‘religious experience.’”

My ten-year-old self would bed to differ, you wanted to retort, but you kept your mouth shut and lowered your eyes. Dr. Birch nodded to herself and was about to leave your office, until she stopped short and gave you her Amex card.

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?”      

The moment your day ended and you were able to get into your car, you let out a long sigh of relief. While you waited for your car to warm up, you massaged your hand, aching from grading papers for Dr. Birch’s class.

You rubbed your hands together, this time to warm them as the frigid air draining from the car still bit into your skin. A shudder tingled through your body, and not in a pleasant way. Honest to God, I hate the winter.

On reflex, you toyed with the silver ring on your right hand—your mom’s ring. It usually comforted you, but today, remembering her made your heart heavy. Because today was the anniversary. 

You still remembered that snowy day when you were fourteen, could picture it so clearly, like a scene painted on glass.

With one last sigh, you fished out your phone to call your dad. It rang for a few seconds (it always took him an eternity to answer his phone, and it drove you crazy).

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” you said.

“Hey. Just got off work?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to Sioux Falls. Want to meet at home and go together, or do you just want to meet me at the cemetery?”

The other line was silent for a moment. Longer than you would’ve liked.

“You’re coming, right?” you pressed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to work late tonight,” Jack said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?”

“I told you I’m working a case.” He sounded annoyed. You didn’t care.

You were pissed.

“Whatever,” you dismissed. But then, you realized you weren’t willing to let it go just yet. “You know, I just find it interesting. On her birthday, Christmas, today, somehow you just can’t be bothered to visit your wife.”

“Hey, drop it, all right?” your dad snapped back.

“Sure. It’s none of my business, I guess.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm either.”

You silently fumed, but you weren’t willing to hang up the phone first. You didn’t want to look petty, and apparently, neither did he. You both could be stubborn like that, sitting in a tense stretch of silence instead of just…

Instead of just, I don’t know what, you could admit, if only to yourself. Eventually, his voice reached your ears.

“I’ll go when I can,” he said.

“Fine.”

And you really did hang up this time.

What should’ve been an hour drive back into your hometown took almost two with the traffic.

Oh yeah, you still lived at home with your dad. It wasn’t ideal, especially with a long-ass commute every day. But unfortunately, being a full-time student with a part-time job didn’t give you the budget to have your own life.   

At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday. You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands. You did see Bobby around town sometimes, and occasionally shared a beer with him when your demanding schedule allowed.

Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.

That seemed to work out better for both of you.

In fact…

You reached for your phone again and found your uncle’s number.

“Stop badgering me, Rufus. I’m busy.”

Your lips curved into a grin. “Uncle Bobby?”

“Oh. Hi, darlin’. Sorry, thought you were some riff raff that keeps spammin’ me.”

“What did Rufus do now?” you asked.

“He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.

“What’re you doing later? Up for a beer?”

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.”

You scoffed. “You have people? What people?”

“You’re not the only number in my cell, you know,” he said dryly.

“What, you mean Rufus?” you teased.

“All right, now you’re just runnin’ up my minutes,” he said. “If you really want that beer, you’re welcome to swing by, if you want. I’ve got a stocked fridge full of cold ones.”

You laughed, then you considered his offer. Did you really want to go home and deal with your dad (whenever he bothered to come home)?

“Well, I’m going to the cemetery first, but I could maybe swing by after,” you replied.

“Right, that’s today, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Give your mom my respects.”

A more genuine smile grew on your lips. “Thanks. Will do.”

You hung up with him just as you got to the cemetery. It was hard not to feel melancholy here, especially in the winter. All the graves were lightly dusted with snow, and it felt like the world came to a quiet stillness here.

You bundled up with your scarf and gloves as you braced yourself for the cold, stepping out of the car. On your way in, you heard the rumble of a car going by. It was loud enough to make you turn your head and see a flash of black speeding away.

You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.

You were about to continue on your way towards your mom’s grave, when you finally heard it.

Say goodbyeee…never say goodbye-y-aaayy. Holdin’ on we gotta try, holdin’ on to never sayyy goodbyeee.~

Someone was warbling a Bon Jovi song in your mind, and it certainly wasn’t you.

But you did come to a dead stop in your path. Your eyes widened as shock claimed your heart and your brain. Soon enough though, your heart warmed as you became aware of something new. It was like a low hum at first, reverberating inside your chest.

You and me and my old friends, hopin’ it would neeever end. Say goodbye—

The singing continued, but all you could focus on was the thrumming in your skull, the thread of connection you could sense and feel inexplicably. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt warmth trickling down your cold cheeks. Sniffling, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and smiled tremulously.

You were finally feeling your soulmate.

Which meant, he was close by…and with that realization came an important question:

What the hell do I do now?

They were in South Dakota again.

Dean knew coming back here was…potentially dangerous. He hadn’t heard his soulmate’s thoughts in four years, since the last time he was in this state.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come here. After the last hunt though, he could use some R&R at Bobby’s for a couple of days.

This time Dean had his brother with him, albeit the circumstances weren’t…great. Their dad was missing, and Sam had lost his girlfriend in the process of trying to find him.

Sometimes, Dean really regretted going to find his brother at Stanford. Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.

A more selfish part of him (one he wouldn’t name) was glad to have Sam with him. Dean was actually having fun hunting with him. And maybe, Dean was having to get to know him again too.

“You think Bobby will have any intel on Dad?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. They were about five minutes away from Singer Salvage, the old man’s tow business (and his house).

“Doubt it,” Dean replied, changing the radio station once Bon Jovi turned to REO Speedwagon. He could get down with some pop rock from Jovi, but REO was pushing it.

“Then why are we here?” Sam turned to him with a frown. “We just ganked a poltergeist in our old house and…we saw Mom. You think we should be wasting time right now?”

Dean’s lips pursed. Leaving their old house behind in Lawrence, Kansas was exactly why he needed a minute before jumping into the next case. As much as he wanted to find John, Dean just…he needed a minute to breathe.

Revisiting those old (painful) memories wasn’t easy for him. He wasn’t sure that Sam completely got that.

“Bobby’s got a stack of lore books to Kingdom Come. Who knows, he might have a way to help us find Dad,” he said.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “And if he doesn’t?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He got why Sam was so fired up. Really. The fact that the kid was having weird…premonition dreams about the near future was concerning. And he wanted to find the thing that killed Jess, that killed their mom, but this was clearly going to be a marathon. Not a sprint.

“In the meantime, we crack open a couple beers,” Dean said, “get one or two of free nights on actual beds, and then we’re on our way to the next gig. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a sigh through his nose and faced the road ahead. They both knew he wasn’t happy. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, the old man greeted them with a casual wave, beckoning them inside. He offered them the contents of his fridge—a few beers and a frozen lasagna defrosting in the fridge. Dean scoped it out while Sam dropped off his bag in the upstairs guest room.

“That for us?” Dean pointed to the lasagna with a grin. “Didn’t know we merited the red-carpet treatment.”

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.”

Dean raised his brows in curiosity. “Didn’t know you had a niece.”

Or any family, for that matter. He knew the old man had a wife, once upon a time, but he assumed she’d passed away. No kids. Bobby had never talked about having an extended family. He didn’t have pictures on the walls, and the shelves only had books and locked boxes.

Bobby took a long sip of his beer after opening a bottle each for himself and Dean. He had one ready on the counter for Sam, who came into the kitchen looking tired. The kid hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, to say the least. Dean handed him the beer.

“I don’t see her much,” Bobby conceded.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

It took a moment for the other man to answer. Eventually, he was honest. “Well, she's grown. Going to school, got a job. But you could say I had a fallin’ out with her dad, a while back.”

“You have a brother?” Sam said.

“Brother-in-law,” Bobby corrected. He didn’t say anything more about it though. Sam and Dean shared a look that said they agreed: There’s something off there, but I’m not gonna pry.

“You still see her though?” Dean asked.

“Every now and then,” Bobby said, sipping at his beer again. “It’s a small town.”

That kind of pissed Dean off. Bobby was a good guy. He’d watched Sam and Dean a lot when they were kids, their dad on a hunt. He’d made sure they had decent food to eat, good movies to watch, and even played catch with Dean a time or two.

So what kind of assholes did Bobby have for family, that they couldn’t be bothered to check in on the old man every now and then? They must’ve been off living their lives, in their own little world. Must be nice.

Dean brought the bottle of Heineken to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Couldn’t have that, could we?

He went to the fridge and opened the cap, only to jump as the beer fizzed and leaked over his hands.

Damn it!

Bobby sighed. “And I just mopped the damn floor.”

“All right, Martha Stewart. Keep your slippers on,” Dean teased. “Sam, get me a paper towel.”

Bobby tried to get by him to get the mop, but beer was still dripping down Dean’s arm.

“Would you move to the sink, already?”

Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”

Damn it.

You heard him again. And this time, you could hear his voice, so you knew the thought belonged to a him. The voice was pleasantly deep, and annoyed. You actually felt his irritation and were able to recognize that the emotion didn’t belong to you.

Excitement bubbled in your throat, almost making it hard to breathe as you drove your car down the road. You had been too worked up to go see your mom, and technically you were supposed to head to your Uncle Bobby’s house, but this was too important.

You needed to figure out how to talk to him—your soulmate.

So you pulled over on the side of the road, and even turned the radio off. Okay, now what?

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. They taught about this subject in school, sure, but that had been years ago! You’d spent the past six years filling your head with college and work and learning how to be an adult.

Okay, just breathe. You calmed down a bit with some deep breaths, and you closed your eyes. When you first heard your soulmate’s singing in your head, you remembered feeling warmth spread through your body, emanating from your chest. Then in your mind, you’d noticed a…a thread, of what could only be described as energy.

You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.

You thought of what you wanted to say, and you tried it—sending your thoughts and your will through the connection.

Having a rough day?

Dean was still wiping beer off the floor in Bobby’s kitchen when he heard your voice ring through his mind.

Having a rough day?

His entire body tensed, and he paused with a ball of wet paper towel in his hand. Sam had taken the mop from Bobby and was about to finish off the floor, until he noticed Dean blanking.

“Dean?” he asked.

It shook Dean out of his shock, enough for him to look up at his brother. “Hmm?”

“What’s up? You were staring off into space.”

Dean feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Sam’s brow rose, but he didn’t press the issue and went back to mopping. Dean took the opportunity to toss the wet paper towel in the garbage.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, and made his swift exit to the bathroom upstairs, so quickly that he didn’t see Bobby watching Dean curiously from the living room.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Sam called after him.

Once again, Dean found himself locking the bathroom door and staring at himself in the mirror. His green eyes were conflicted as he tried to calm down. Maybe his heart was starting to beat a tick faster. Maybe a trickle of nervous sweat was making its way down his spine. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell to do.

His dad’s warning was still clear as a bell in his mind.

“Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean knew why John had said it, and even agreed with him…at least, logically he did. His life was complicated, and insane, and bloody. How could he put someone else through what he went through? What he still went through every day? It wasn’t right.

But his chest was aching. He rubbed at it absently.

He could feel your worry again, he realized. You were anxious, probably waiting for him to respond. Dean could feel you. Having a rough day? you’d asked him.

So as usual, he made an impulsive choice.

You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.

Your relief hit him in a slow, but powerful wave. It almost made him feel guilty for taking so long to answer.

Well, it’s not every day you hear someone else in your head. Maybe you’re going crazy.

She was teasing him. You were teasing him.

It brought an incredulous smile to Dean’s face. You’re one to talk. Maybe you’re just talkin’ to yourself right now.

Hmm. I don’t usually warble to Bon Jovi, but maybe you’re right.  

A beat of surprise, another to remember what he and Sam had been listening to in the car earlier, and then embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck.

You heard that, huh? he asked wryly.

Maybe, you giggled. It was a cute sound, and it cut through some of his embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being put back a step by women. He was good at reading people’s body language, and usually it didn’t take him more than one look to figure out what a woman thought about him, and what they wanted to do with him.

So the fact that he couldn’t see you was a challenge. With that realization, a slow smile spread across his face. He was game for a challenge.

Well, I’m likin’ your voice so far, he said. Think I could get you to sing for me?

He felt you pause, a flutter of warmth through a tendril of shyness. I’ll leave the performing to you, Romeo.   

Come on, it’s only fair.

Who said life is fair?

Dean sobered a bit at that. Ain’t that the truth.

Hmm, so you were having a rough day.

Make it a week, he said.

Yeah, I know the feeling…I wasn’t having a good day today either.

Dean sensed your melancholy and didn’t like the feeling. Well, now you’re talkin’ to me. So it should be smooth sailin’ from now on.

He could feel you brighten at that. It made warmth bloom once again inside his chest, especially because he sensed you were smiling—a bit shy, but genuine.  

…What’s your name? he asked.

It took you a beat, but eventually you gave him your name. It wasn’t what he expected, but he liked it. Your name rolled through his thoughts, and he tested on his tongue.

What’s yours? you asked predictably. Somehow, Dean didn’t anticipate the follow-up.

Suddenly he realized exactly what he was doing: he was talking to you. (Something he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do.) Not to mention, he’d been locked in the bathroom for about ten minutes and hadn’t even showered yet. Pretty soon either Sam or Bobby was going to come knocking to see what the hell he was doing, so he might as well shower for real.

He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.

Dean felt your shock, so he let you think as he stepped into the shower. Eventually you came back, annoyance coloring your emotions and your voice.

That’s stupid.

Dean smiled. Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.

For you!

Don’t you know, sometimes the best things in life come after some delayed gratification.

You paused for a moment, in which Dean didn’t know if you were in shock again, or just pissed. Maybe a combination of both.

Great, I got a comedian, you deadpanned. …You’re not a comedian, are you?

Sweetheart, I’m hilarious, Dean replied. But no. Good guess, though.

He sensed the equivalent of you rolling your eyes.

Just then, Sam knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey, you better not use up all the hot water!”

“Twenty minutes of peace, Sammy. That’s all I ask,” Dean shot back. Sam made a sound of annoyance, but he went away, leaving Dean almost alone with his thoughts.

Look, I gotta go, he said regretfully. But I expect you to have some guesses cooked up by the time I get back from work.

You were still annoyed, but you begrudgingly agreed to his terms.

Fine. Just…don’t wander too far off. I can’t win the game if I can’t hear you.

Dean sensed your underlying worry, and your fear. You were afraid he was going to leave.

His heart softened. As a result, he ended up promising things he didn’t know if he meant.

Don’t worry. I’m not leaving town until you win, he said.

He felt your warm smile, along with your excitement.

Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.

Okay…goodnight.

He hung onto the feeling of your presence for a few seconds longer, before he let go of the connection. For now.

Dean caught himself smiling, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody.”

When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone. He leaned against the cool bathroom wall and pressed his forehead against the tile, while lukewarm water beat the side of his face and body.

Shit.

AN: Oh, Dean. What're we gonna do with you? lol

I hope you enjoyed Part 3! I promise they'll finally meet soon lol. What did you think of their first conversation?

To keep reading: Part 4

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x female!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #john winchester #spn #spn fics #spn fanfic #zepskies #zepskies writes #soulmate au #soulmates #spn season 1 #reference to ​S1E09 - Home #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x soulmate!reader

[blackreaderfics]

Hygge | Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Pairing : Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Rating :  T

↳ Summary : Nanami breaks his well cultivated routine 

↳ W.C : 4.4k

↳ A/N: the voices in my head got me y’all… this is a purely self indulgent fic featuring relatable king Nanami (I, too, do not dream of labor✊🏾) and black girlbossqueen Tiana

↳ Tags + Warnings: xenophobia from a side character, fluff, set in Tokyo, next door neighbors, cultural differences, salaryman x cafe owner, they can speak each other’s languages but not fluently

🎵 A Commuter’s Trip (The Commuter OST) by Roque Baños

🎵 Hello Stranger by KAI

Hygge (n.) | Danish

“the feeling of calm, comfort, and contentment evoked by life’s simple joys”

Nanami had a simple routine. Wake up at 6, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast by 7:45 and be out of the door—at the latest—a minute before 8. He had everything calculated to the T. If Nanami had been a minute too late—let’s say 8:01— he would miss the morning train and therefore be late for work, and he was never late. He had taken into account all contingencies i.e. a train delay, traffic, inclement weather, and made sure he was prepared for any and all possibilities.

That’s why, much to his chagrin, he was “Employee of the Month” every month since he had been promoted from associate to advisor. Most workers would’ve taken pride in that, felt their presence valued at their company. But Nanami didn’t care much for awards or titles, in fact, he just hated working period. He made sure to always clock out at 6 p.m. on the dot. One minute more would be overtime and he didn’t want to give his thankless job a second more of his labor. 

When he left work, he always went straight home. When his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, thoughts about the next day would drift into his mind. 

Did the market close up or down? What reports did he need to finish? There’s a client meeting coming up; the presentation deck needs to be prepared… Just two more days. Get through two more days and it’s the weekend. 

And so on and so on. Wash rinse repeat. 

He presumed this endless cycle of corporate monotony would continue until the day he turned 40, after which he could retire and live modestly in a country like Malaysia or the Philippines to catch up on all the reading he missed. Perhaps even find a nice woman and marry her while he was there.

The marriage part was new—an afterthought after years of daydreaming—and he didn’t really think much about the kind of woman he wanted to marry. What she looked like or what she did was more of an amorphous thought, a vague idea in his mind. 

Until her.

He met her by accident. Nanami had been cooking, a hobby he only indulged in on the weekends, and he was just in the middle of making a rolled omelet when he heard a loud thump outside his door.

His apartment building was more of an office building which meant that his floor didn’t get much traffic. The people who rented rooms were not really tenants who lived there, but workers looking for an extra workspace.  He had assumed the thump to be a delivery man outside his door so, naturally, he was surprised when it wasn’t the post, but a foreigner woman standing outside the room next door.

The woman had a heavy bag of groceries balanced in the crook of her arm and another by her feet that he presumed had been the source of the sound. When they made eye contact, he had been so startled that he quickly closed his door. The apartment next to his had been empty for months, but it looked like it had finally been rented out. 

He thought nothing more of it until her very presence began to infiltrate his well-maintained routine. Every morning, if he was quiet enough, he could faintly hear her humming as he got dressed. Other times, he could hear upbeat jazzy music on the weekends if he opened his window.

Every night, he was surrounded by the fragrance of whatever she seemed to be cooking. Most of the time it was sweet, other times it was savory. It wasn’t an unpleasant aroma, just noticeable to the point where its absence would feel strange. There were days when they would leave for work at the same time, though oftentimes he would end up holding the elevator door open for her when she left her apartment a few minutes after he did. 

In the brief moments they encountered, Nanami made small observations about her: She was an American. Beautiful. Unmarried—Americans wore rings on their ring finger to signify marital status, he’d noticed she didn’t.

He couldn’t infer her job or what exactly brought her to Tokyo in the first place from her appearance alone, however. He’d seen a fair amount of young foreign teachers in the city. He wondered if she was a teacher. She looked young enough. A missionary? She dressed modestly and wore sensible shoes. Her curly hair was often tied into a low bun. From the very slim list of what young American women did for work in Tokyo, he decided on teacher and his curiosity was sated. 

One day he found out. After a long day of work, he walked his usual route from the train station back to his apartment building but was redirected due to construction at his usual subway exit. When he alighted from the escalator he was on a different street entirely. The extra few minutes from this detour would undoubtedly cut into the time he’d set aside to unwind, and subsequently, he’d have to make a few adjustments to still get a full 8 hours of sleep.

He loosened his tie and sighed inwardly as he walked on. Since he’d moved to this district last year he didn’t make much effort to visit any new places. For all he was concerned, he only really needed to know his route to work and the nearest Starbucks. 

So when he passed by a small cafe called “Tiana’s Place”, it didn’t immediately click that the jazz he’d heard playing softly from her apartment was the same music that was playing now. It was familiar enough that it gave him pause. Where had he heard that song before? When he finally caught sight of her—his neighbor— through the glass window, it finally registered that she wasn’t a teacher or a missionary, but a cafe worker, and from the looks of it, she owned the place. 

He watched her dimples deepen as she interacted with customers, giving each and every one of them a tireless smile. Before he knew it, Nanami found himself inside the cafe whisked into the after-work rush of impatient office workers. She was so busy already, the only indication of strain being a moment when she blew the hair out of her face before the next customer walked up to order. He planned to buy something small and leave; he wanted to give her time to catch her breath but inadvertently in his musings he was already holding up the line. 

She was…right in front of him? And speaking to him now? It was the first time he’d heard her voice and he decided it suited her. She spoke in Japanese and, though accented, was clear and practiced enough in a way that impressed him.

“Are you still deciding, sir?” Impossibly large brown eyes waited in expectation for him to order.

He broke out of his reverie quickly enough to make it seem like his stalling was deliberate, his unmarred poker face further upholding the charade.

He scanned the prepackaged foods and retrieved the first thing that looked like bread. “Just this.” 

“Good choice,” She looked positively elated as she scanned the barcode and activated the card machine. “Beignets are my specialty.” She was beaming at him. Not in a “thank you come again” customer way but like in a he’d just made her entire week way. She was so laughably easy to please that it discomfited him.

He muttered a “thank you”, taking the package and turning to leave quickly before he met her eyes again. The Fall of Icarus was a cautionary tale for a reason, he wouldn’t risk another trip into the sun.

Nanami’s routine had drastically altered over the next few weeks. Every morning he’d gotten used to riding down the elevator with her. They greeted each other regularly, albeit a bit awkwardly, in the shared space—A slight bow from him as he held the doors open, reciprocated by a grateful wave from her.

The last time they shared an elevator, however, they'd accidentally brushed hands while reaching for the ground floor button. For some reason, that unnerved Nanami. So now, most times, he avoided that, opting to wait and listen to the click of her door before he left the house. For good measure, he started taking the stairs. As a result, Nanami had added an extra 10 minutes to his morning commute.

The detour, having yet to be fixed, took him past the café every day. Though Nanami knew the process of waiting in line would add an extra 15 minutes to his after-work trek, he did so anyway, calculating that picking up a quick dinner bento would be a fair trade to taking the time to cook something for himself. 

“What can I get for you today, sir?”  

He knew her name now—Tiana, from the name tag she wore, and the sign on the storefront. He noticed from the way her eyes would widen as he approached, that she recognized him now too.

“Black tea. No sugar, please.” He placed his usual prepackaged meal and packet of beignets on the counter, taking out his wallet. Nanami didn’t always plan to add beignets to every order, but he found himself reaching for them every time, dreading her predictable delight when he did. Ordering tea was another stroke of impulse he didn’t account for, but it wasn’t so busy now, he could enjoy it before he went home.

He decided on a table by the window, savoring the warm liquid as the sun set to a melancholy soundtrack of brass and bass. It was like being transported to another time, outside of crowded subway cars and the hustle of his high-powered office.

Nanami closed his eyes and felt something akin to contentment. When he exhaled, the stiffness in his shoulders abated, and the strain behind his eyes subsided. Was this what it was like to finally relax? 

He was about to take another sip of his drink when he heard a loud bang. The front door to the restaurant had flown open, a bulky man with greasy hair and a lecherous smile stalking in. Nanami’s eyes trailed after the man’s movements, the cup still raised to his lip.

“I’d like a dozen of those powdered donut things. Ya got any of those?” The man leered at the part-timer manning the counter. He sauntered back and forth at the register, eying the self-serve pastries in the display. 

“Sure, would you like them fresh? There aren’t enough ready-made ones for a dozen, but if you’re willing to wait there’s a new batch being made—” 

The man picked up a package of beignets that had been warming under a heated case and without warning, ripped open the package and took a bite.

“S-sir! You need to pay for that first!” The part-timer sputtered.

“Well, I’m waitin’ for that new batch. I wanna try before I buy.” The delinquent guffawed and attempted another gleeful bite only for the pastry to be smacked out of his hand and onto the floor.

He whirled around to face Tiana, bursting into laughter upon seeing her. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

“Call the police,” Tiana stated calmly to her employee as she stared down the man. Her usual polite smile had been replaced with a stony-faced expression. “Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything then it’s best you leave.”

“Huh? What was that? I can barely understand you, foreign bit-AHh” A pressure on the man’s shoulder made him crumple in pain.

“Your ears must not be working. I can understand her perfectly well,” Nanami murmured, his vice-like grip squeezing at the juncture between the man’s neck and shoulder. While the delinquent whimpered pathetically at the deepening pressure, Nanami directed his attention to Tiana, motioning with a slight tilt of his head for her to step away. “It’s not worth your trouble, I’ll take care of it.” 

She nodded reluctantly and joined her staff member who was now waiting with a phone at her ear behind the counter.

Nanami appeared to be saying something to the man now, but in a volume that Tiana couldn’t hear. His face was calm, betraying no emotion while the delinquent paled gradually in terror, trembling under his grip. The moment Nanami released him, the man scrambled out of his grasp and prostrated himself on all fours.

“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I PROMISE I WON’T DO IT AGAIN PLEASE—” He shouted hysterically and proceeded to do a fervent bow of penitence. 

Tiana looked at Nanami quizzically but was only met with a mild shrug. 

“Alright alright,” she stepped around the counter to placate him. If he could just stop snotting up the floor she just mopped and get out of there, they could just forget this all happened.

The tinkling bell sound of the cafe door opening interrupted the scene; everyone’s attention shifted from the blubbering man on the floor to the police officer who had just stepped in. 

Before anyone could speak, the man sprang up from the ground and ran toward the policeman. “OFFICER! IT'S ALL MY FAULT I ADMIT IT! ARREST ME, PLEASE! JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Within 10 minutes the offender was cuffed—willingly, to the cop’s surprise— and whisked noisily out of the cafe just as quickly as he’d burst in. Nanami, suddenly uninterested in the commotion, walked calmly back to his table and gathered his things. 

Tiana made her way over to Nanami, eyeing the man through the window. He was currently being escorted to a police car on the curb. Still in hysterics, he’d practically thrown himself into the back of the car.

“Ok…what on earth did you say to that man?” She quirked an eyebrow at the blonde businessman.

That this cafe is his one and only oasis in the heaping pile of shit called life, and if even so much as one insignificant waste of air like him tries to ruin it he’ll have no choice but to chop his fingers off one by one and shove them down his throat so hard he’ll be shitting fingernails for weeks…among other things.

It would’ve been improper to divulge this to Tiana, of course.

“I asked him to apologize,” he said instead in simple English, a far cry from the eloquently horrific threats he’d made in his native language. 

“Really?” She asked, accepting the sudden change of language in stride. Her arms were crossed, her hip jutted to the side, face incredulous. “Just like that?”

“I’m rather persuasive.”

After a beat she laughed. 

Nanami didn’t consider himself a funny person. And frankly, he didn’t understand why she was laughing now but he welcomed it, if only to see that the earlier disturbance hadn’t caused her too much distress.

“Well, thank you kindly,” she drawled in between giggles, her southern accent now unmistakable when she switched to English. “Mister…” 

“Kento.” He offered his first name, aware he was skipping over several customary stages of familiarity. In any other case, anyone less than an acquaintance addressing him by his first name would be extremely frowned upon. But it was common business practice to use given names when dealing with American clients; he thought it fitting to do the same with her.

He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a silver business card holder, and passed over an impressive looking card: 

Nanami Kento, Investment Advisor

“If there are any similar issues please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He repeated an English phrase that had come in handy from past business dealings.

“Mr. Kento,” she repeated to herself with finality studying the card. Tiana faintly wondered why a guy with a fancy title—and the most expensive suits she’d ever laid eyes on— lived in the modest one-room apartment right next to hers. She pocketed the card and patted around for her own business card. 

“I would’ve given you my own card too. But if you ever need to contact me—”

“Boss!” Her part-timer called out, waving her over from where she stood next to a police officer holding a clipboard.

“I’d better go, you know where to find me.” She excused herself with an apologetic smile.

Unfortunately for Nanami, this little ordeal had cost him another hour of wasted time.

The next day Nanami waited for the familiar click of her door shutting before starting his commute. When he exited his apartment, he could still see the silhouette of her back walking towards the elevator bank. 

She left without an umbrella, he noted to himself as he walked part of the way down the hallway. He imagined walking up to her and bringing it up casually as they waited for the elevator. But as soon as she’d turned his direction he changed course abruptly, legs moving on their own through the emergency exit and down the stairs.

Work went on as usual. He sat at his desk going over the pitch deck, but his eyes could not seem to follow the text. Instead, he found himself gazing out the window, watching the clouds slowly darken in the horizon. 

“Fucking weather, right? News said it’s gonna rain like a bitch the next few days.”

His boss had walked up behind him, crouching at his eye level to see what Nanami was looking at. 

“Hope you brought your galoshes, rookie, we’re going overtime today for that big client meeting. Dinner’s on me.” His boss clapped a hand on his shoulder and went off to bother a different team.

He tried to return his attention to his work, but he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the blue light of his computer screen. All he could think about was the rain.

Tiana had hoped that by the time she closed, the rain would’ve stopped. But she found herself outside the doors of the cafe, reluctant to leave. The rain hadn’t let up, and it didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon.

It was a day of disappointments. On top of forgetting her umbrella, Nanami hadn’t come into the shop that day. She’d gotten used to seeing him enter the store at the same time every day, and perhaps even looked forward to it. 

She took one tentative step outside, shivering through the draft of wind. She didn’t live far, maybe it would be alright if she just ran home with a plastic bag over her head. Tiana locked the door behind her and raised the collar of her jacket, clasping it with her hand to protect her neck. On the count of three, she lifted the plastic takeout bag over her head and took the plunge.

After a few strides in the pelting rain, it suddenly stopped—She had run into something or someone. The rain made it difficult to see where she was going so she blindly sputtered a reflexive “I’m so sorry!” in English at whoever it was that she had run into.

When she wiped the rain out of her eyes she could see nothing but an impeccably tailored pinstripe suit in the dim of the streetlights. It was Nanami and he was holding an umbrella over her head. His collar was unbuttoned without a tie, and he looked utterly exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced from where she stood underneath him.

“Mr. Kento? Are you alright? What are you—”

“I figured you could use an umbrella,” he said dryly and pretty pointedly at her makeshift plastic bag hat.

“Yea, I guess I could use one of those,” she laughed breathlessly and took the bag off her head, before giving him one of those heart-stopping smiles he loathed. “You saved my life.*”

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, amused. Perhaps because her choice of words sounded highly literal, almost…cute?, in Japanese. He “saved her life” just by sharing his umbrella? Americans were known to have a penchant for the dramatic. But he didn’t bother to correct her, instead, he only hummed somewhat of an affirmative response.

They walked in a comfortable silence down a familiar tree-lined path leading to their apartment building. She noticed Nanami’s shoulder getting wet, and leaned closer to him. 

Feeling the imperceptible shift, he gave the woman beside him a sidelong glance. His eyes settled on the loose wisp of hair he’d always seen her blowing out of her face.

It bothered him.

Maybe it was the fatigue-driven delirium, but he was struck with the inane compulsion to brush that lock out of her eyes. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the umbrella currently occupying his hand, otherwise, he would’ve indulged it.

Tiana reached over and gently adjusted the umbrella closer over his side. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that nice suit of yours,” she said softly.

“I hate this suit.” The curt statement came off a bit more brusque than he’d initially intended, though, it was true. He hated that suit and everything it represented.

She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was another aspect of his humor. But from what she could see on his countenance, he was entirely serious. 

He glanced at her again, catching the confused look on her face. “I don’t mind if it gets wet,” he reiterated this time with the intended lack of severity, along with a kind of finality that implied an end to the discussion of his suit and his decision to prioritize her dryness. They continued the rest of the way, the umbrella above them biased towards her side.

When they got to the apartment he held the building door open, letting her walk through first. 

“Thank you again for yesterday. That man, he was—” she paused to conjure the correct word.

“He was being a nuisance,” he completed, pushing the button for the elevator door. Naturally, he had chosen the same number for their floors, and when they arrived at their floor he waited for her to alight before walking after her.

When they finally reached their neighboring doors, he set his umbrella on the hallway floor for it to dry and began to punch in the code for his door. 

“Mr. Kento, wait a moment.”

He stilled his movement and watched as she rummaged into her purse. 

Tiana pulled out a paper box from her bag and presented it to him, “I was going to give these to you earlier if you came in. Glad they didn’t get wet.”

It was a small gesture. Even so, he was reluctant to take it.

“You… didn’t have to,” he frowned, eyeing the box.

“You didn’t have to walk me home, either,” she shrugged. 

“We’re neighbors. We were going in the same direction,” he said plainly, though, he didn’t entirely believe the words as they left his mouth either. It was unlike him to go anywhere else except straight home after working overtime. He hadn’t run into her by some coincidence or divine guidance. He’d gone there on purpose, and he had a sinking feeling she figured that out already too.

“Then just think of it as a ‘thank you gift’,” she insisted, tugging gently at his wrist and nudging the box softly into his hands. “For being my favorite customer.”

He shifted uncomfortably to receive the box with both hands. It was an unfamiliar concept for him to be anyone’s favorite anything.

“Good night, Mr. Kento.” Tiana’s voice had an amused lilt to it. Nanami must’ve stood there frozen because she was already halfway through her door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He regained his composure and mumbled back a formal “Good night, Miss. Tiana,” —her name a bit alien on his tongue—before retreating back inside.

When the door shut behind him, he immediately shed his suit jacket. His body was much too warm despite one side being wet; his collar much too tight, despite his lack of tie.

Nanami stared at the assortment of pastries that Tiana had given to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he willingly ate dessert though he assumed if he had, it would’ve probably been with Gojo and his infantile palate.

Truthfully, Nanami didn’t really like sweets at all. The first time he bought those beignets, he’d just picked up the first thing in line that day and just…never stopped buying it. Over the past weeks, he’d amassed a bevy of unopened bags of the foreign confection and they were occupying the much-needed counter space of his kitchen. 

It was rather ironic for an investment advisor to be so frivolous with his money. Spending on foods he didn’t even eat when was supposed to be saving it didn’t make any sort of financial sense. He had been planning to retire by 40, and now he’d have to add an extra 5 years to his projections over mere fried dough.

Nanami turned over the yellow business card for “Tiana’s Place” that he had found wedged in the box. A simple “Bon Appétit ;) -T.” was written on the back.

He picked up a beignet from the box and took a bite—It was made for him, after all. He chewed it slowly, the consistency not too far off from that of a baguette. It wasn’t too sweet, either. In fact, it was…delicious? Better than any dessert he’s had before. Maybe everything he’d tried before this was just a crude imitation, a poor excuse for the craft of baking. 

Perhaps he did like sweets or even dessert right before bed. Maybe he didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t be getting his full 8 hours of sleep. If he concentrated hard enough, her faint humming as she got ready for bed filled the silence of his apartment. He could stay up even longer if at all possible.

When he finally closed his eyes, a rush of different kinds of thoughts flooded his mind. 

Some were more mundane: Maybe I’ll have a beignet for breakfast or It’s probably going to rain tomorrow. 

Some were imaginations: plump glossy lips curved in an oversweet smile meant solely for him. His fingers gently tucking that bothersome tendril of hair behind her ear. 

He finally drifted to sleep with one last thought just as simple as the others, a tiny hope that she would forget her umbrella again.

*A/N: Tiana’s words sound like a literal translation/unnatural because she’s a non-native speaker ex. “you saved my life” vs a more natural/colloquial “you’re a lifesaver”

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

#brfwrites #tianami #nanami x tiana #jjk x disney #idk yall lmao #walk with me #I’m just glad it’s finally out of my head #x black reader #black reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento fanfic #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic #jjk fluff

[visionofvoid]

Homewrecker - MV1 Part Two

Summary: “max, can you tell me the truth, just this once?”

Warnings: angst, moody max, jealous max, jealous kelly lolz 

Pairings: max verstappen x oc

Word Count: 1585

PART ONE  PART THREE 

Blake always enjoyed race weekends. If Kelly was busy with a shoot or meetings, Blake would look after Penelope for a couple of hours and the two would share pink and colourful snacks whilst watching the Formula One, whether it was practice, qualifying or the actual race. When Kelly had a free weekend and was choosing to visit Max and support him from the race itself, Blake would always come along for the ride. Sometimes it would just be the two girls childfree whilst Blake caught up with some of the friends she had made during her time as Kelly’s assistant or she would curate posts for Kelly on her social media. Though she did technically work for Kelly and knew her passwords to all her social media, her emails and some of financial info, it was never as if Kelly was her boss, they were just two friends enjoying life together. 

So, it came as a shock when Blake sat across from Kelly at a cafe and gave her the sad news. 

“I, I don’t understand. Do you need more money? I can give you more money. Did Penelope say something? Did my father say something?” Kelly questioned, making a spoon look elegant as she held it up, a little bit of cake sitting on it. Blake shook her head, smiling softly, thinking of reasons to give her friend and boss that didn’t involve her boyfriend. 

“I enjoy working alongside you, of course I do. I just think it’s time I move on from being a PA. I’ve had a few job offers and you know, I think this partnership has run its course.” Kelly pondered for a moment. “Of course I am absolutely grateful for the opportunity you have given me, but this is officially my notice. I finish up just before Silverstone, so I have about three weeks left to find you a new PA.” Blake couldn’t maintain proper eye contact and instead resorted to lifting her hot chocolate to her lips. 

“Job offers? From who?”

“Toto Wolff, at Mercedes. One of the PR advisors and I were talking at the last race and I just can’t stop thinking about it and it was a great offer.” Kelly’s eyebrows rose as she mentioned Max’s rival team but she remained stoic. 

“If you want a job in Formula One I can get Max to get you one at Red Bull.” The offer was kind but the mention of Max made Blake tighten her shoulders. “But, it is a great opportunity. I’m sad to see you leave, and I know Penelope will miss you too.”

The following months had been hell, that much was true. Whilst Blake was flourishing with Toto and Mercedes, travelling the world and relishing in the Formula One world, Max watched as Kelly’s world was failing. That may be a bit dramatic but the new personal assistant that Kelly had hired was way too under-qualified for the job. Not only did they not connect well with children but they had misplaced their VIP passes that allowed them access into the green rooms. 

It was stressful, and Max hated the fact that he missed Blake. He missed the bickering, he missed when she would bite back with insult after insult but made it sweet and funny that Kelly would laugh. He didn’t get to see Blake as often as he did when she still worked with Kelly and his world felt immensely different. He and Kelly hardly spoke unless it was at night off or one of them had a free day, but it was mostly due to the lack of experience on the new assistant behalf, or so he thought. 

Kelly found herself always comparing her new assistant to Blake and would vent to Max about how much both herself and her daughter missed Blake. Though they ended on good terms, Blake’s new position as Toto Wolff’s assistant meant less time to catch up with Kelly when they were in the same city. 

The 5th of September came around and it was time for the Dutch Grand Prix. Blake had finally settled into her new job as Toto Wolff’s assistant and she found herself getting along with everyone. She was the go to for advice for George and she enjoyed meditating with Lewis during her down time. The job wasn’t nearly as full on as Kelly’s, but she was busy a lot. Rather than watch a child or get a coffee that had fourteen steps, Blake just had to ensure that Toto’s meetings and schedule were all up to date, send emails and get the occasional coffee or lunch which was so much easier. She got paid to travel, paid to be friends with people in a sport she was beginning to love, life and breath and she finally felt as if she belonged. There was no expectation of having to dress a certain way like she did with Kelly, to feel like she fit in. 

Blake walked alongside Toto, going over the timeline for the first half of the day and handing him printouts full of necessary information before her legs became caught in the arms of a certain small child. Blake looked down, beaming at Penelope who just looked up at her with a cheeky smile on her face. She quickly glanced back at Toto, an apologetic look upon her face to which he only shook his head with a faint smile. 

“We don’t start for another hour and you’ve already done so much to ease my day. I’ll meet you there.” Blake nodded, grateful for her new friendly boss and bent down to hug the small growing girl. 

“And where is your mother?” Blake wrapped her arms around Penelope and picked her up. The young girl was dressed in Red Bull Racing merchandise which looked funny in comparison to her Mercedes uniform. 

“With Maxie! I was with Jenna but she was on her phone and I was bored. I missed you.” Blake started walking towards the Red Bull Racing back area where all drivers, team principles and other important people would be for the duration of the weekend when not at the pit. It wasn’t too far away from all the other teams so it took her no time. She showed her passes to security and walked right in. Red Bull colours were everywhere with Max and Sergio’s faces plastered on every free surface. She forgot how much Red Bull idolised their drivers. Back at Mercedes they were much more subtle, though still highlighting the importance of their two star drivers. 

“So, is Jenna the new assistant? Is she nice?” Blake happily listened as Penelope walked about Jenna. She found that she didn’t like to play with Penelope a lot but fed her lots and lots of junk food when on one was watching. It was mildly concerning to Blake and she was about to say something then she rounded the corner, stumbling on a fight that was occurring between Max and Kelly. 

“You need to hire her back. I’ll pay whatever she wants, Jenna is shit at her job!” Max seemed like he was trying to reason more than fight, but Blake knew that when there was some sort of confrontation that Kelly’s first instinct was to raise her voice and fight back. 

“Why? You made her feel insignificant, we all saw that. Why would you want her near you? With Penelope and myself?” Kelly’s eyes were burning into Max’s and Blake felt like she was imposing. Penelope was oblivious to the fight, babbling on about what Blake had missed out on the past couple months. Of course the fight was extremely loud, just enough to hear from a few metres away, plus it was fairly hushed in the building. 

“I never hated her! I-”

“You hate her, you don’t. I don’t understand. Why all the bickering, why all the stares across the room at her, why all the rolling of the eyes? I don’t understand. Make me understand. Max, can you tell me the truth, just this once?” Kelly had a tear fall down her cheek, Blake feeling immensely guilty for both eavesdropping and being the topic of the fight. 

Max’s eyes faltered and he looked to the ground, hoping it could somehow swallow him up and he could avoid this conversation altogether. But this was reality, this was real life and everything was coming back to bite him in the ass. 

“Max, Goddammit! Look at me. Look at me!” Kelly’s voice got louder, this time snapping Penelope out of her one-sided conversation in Blake's arms and looking around for the source of the voice. “Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t hate Blake. I never hated Blake.”

“You love her.” Blake was shocked, she even let out a gasp when Kelly said those words which seemed to make them both snap out of their heated fight. Max looked like a kicked puppy and Kelly’s face was bright red, fuelling with anger. 

“Penelope, there you are.” A woman who Blake could only presume was Jenna rounded the corner, rushing for Penelope and snatching the young girl out of Blake’s arms before anyone could protest.

“You don’t mean that.” Blake filled in the silence, her full attention to Max. “Tell me you don’t mean that. Tell me and Kelly that you hate me, that you hate my guts. Please, tell us anything that isn’t you loving me. You can’t love me, Max, you need to hate me.” 

#formula one smut #formula 1 fanfic #formula one facfic #formula one #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance snaps the last piece on — a dorky fingerless leather glove — and smiles, satisfied. He observes the rest of his handiwork and can’t help a single nod.

Damn, he’s a whiz with a sewing machine.

“Don’t get too big of a head,” Pidge mutters, adjusting her new go-go boots. “This is still the dumbest thing any one of us has done ever.”

Hunk snorts. “Speak for yourself.”

That is fair. Lance has caught Hunk negotiating both of his kidneys for a particularly rare machine part.

“It’s still stupid,” Pidge insists.

To her credit, she’s probably right. It had started as a bit. A dumbass, one-off bit that Lance cooked up one random day, after a shitty mission that had them all in the dumps.

“I miss Keith,” Allura had muttered, huffing to herself. “He would have trained with me more so I wouldn’t have been so blindsided. You guys never do any extra training with me.”

The team’s responses had been a mix of mild offense and several other affirmations of missing their friend. All of them did — yeah, sure, each and every one of them finds great joy in giving Keith shit, and some of his leadership skills were…questionable, at best, but he was still their friend. And they missed him.

Lance got an idea.

After everyone else went to bed, he dug through random material boxes littered throughout the castle, and fashioned himself Keith’s infamous cropped leather jacket. It wasn’t quite the same — the only way he’d get leather in space would be from Kaltenecker, which was never going to happen on Lance’s watch — but there was no mistaking who he was imitating. He walked into breakfast the next morning with his fringe pulled over one eye and a smirk making the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Life is a nightmare and existence is a prison,” he’d said in his most emo voice.

Was it a fair impression of Keith?

No.

But was it funny?

Lance’s question was easily answered by the rest of the team losing their shit. He’d kept it up the rest of the day, playfully pretending to be Keith whenever someone asked him a question. As stupid as the whole bit was, it did make him feel a little better. A little more like Keith was just away for a little while, and that he was coming back, rather than a nameless face on a Blade base. It made things a little less scary, a little more lighthearted. It was a stupid joke, but a good one. Lance took off the dorky jacket at the end of the day, hanging it in his closet, not even thinking about it.

A week later, Pidge walked into the kitchen with the jacket she’d lifted from his room, doing her own garbage impression, and from there things had kind of snowballed.

None of them made anything official, obviously. That would be embarrassing as shit. But every Tuesday — or whatever the space equivalent was — someone would inevitably show up in the kitchen with an article of clothing that was unmistakably Keith’s. Eventually Lance started actually making replicas that would fit everyone; a jacket for Hunk, go-go boots for Shiro, fingerless gloves for Allura. Small, stupid things that Lance would make when he had the time and leave by their door without saying anything, without acknowledging the objectively deranged bit they were all overdoing.

It’s been long enough, though, that everyone’s outfit is complete. They’ve been celebrating Keith Day and cycling through enough weekly impressions that everyone has a full Keith outfit, so they’re having a Keith party.

Lance has not had so much fun in ages.

“Yo, Keith, pass the Gufla juice,” Lance says. Coran looks delighted for a moment before schooling his face into a grumpier expression.

“You’re the only one who drinks this garbage,” he says, doing a truly wonderful impression of Keith’s exasperated tone. “Just keep it where you sit.” He passes the bottle to Lance, then leans in close so Lance can hear his whisper. “Am I doing an alright job, lad? I’ve made an attempt to let the fondness he has for you bleed through my words!”

Lance flushes, taking the bottle from the advisor and hurriedly occupying himself with pouring a glass. He clears his throat three separate times before he finally manages to speak, conscious of the various snickers he can hear from around him.

“You did fine.”

Pidge scoffs, leaning back in her chair and raising a cocky eyebrow. “I dunno, usually it’s more like this.” She widens her eyes obnoxiously, batting her eyelashes and clasping her hands under her chin. “‘Nice shot, Sharpshooter. Couldn’t do it without my right-hand-man.’”

Allura and Hunk cackle, offering their palms for Pidge to slap, which she does unashamedly.

Lance, who is the pinnacle of grace and poise and Being the Bigger Person, primly dabs his mouth with a napkin and decides not to attack his horrible gremlin friend where she sits.

“That was the worst Keith impression I’ve ever heard,” he informs her.

Shiro hums before she can respond. “You’re right, Keith.” He nods at Lance. Lance sticks his tongue out at Pidge.

Ha!

“He hasn’t used ‘Sharpshooter’ in a while,” he continues, and Lance’s heart drops.

Shiro? A traitor? No. No!

Shiro adjusts the oversized white collar of the cropped jacket and grins to himself. “It’s a little more like this.” He stands, because he’s a dramatic hoe, and puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head mock-fondly at Lance before saying, in a hugely exaggerated Southern accent, “Well I’ll be, Bluebell. Maybe we make a good team after all.”

Okay. Evidently, Being the Bigger Person is overrated. He grabs a butterknife and throws it at the asshole black paladin, which is narrowly dodged with a yelp.

“There,” Lance says smugly. “Knife violence. How’s that for a Keith impression?”

Besides Shiro’s pout that lasts for a good five minutes, the rest of breakfast is just spent having good fun. They each break character a thousand times each, but it’s fun anyway. Allura in particular is the king of Keith impressions — possibly from the mess that was the Coalition Show — and the rest of them aren’t too shabby, either. Lance thinks he’s pretty good at nailing Keith’s laugh when he’s startled to find something funny (and no, he’s not going to spend any time reflecting on why that is, thanks).

“You know, fellow Keiths,” Shiro says, picking at his gloves, “I’ve teased him about the gloves for years, but they kind of do make me feel cool.”

Lance sighs. “Yeah, that’s the worst part. The gloves really do make me feel like a ninja sword guy.”

Instead of the various affirmations he expects to hear — come on, he and Shiro cannot be the only ones to feel that way — there’s only silence. He glances up at the rest of the team, only to find them all slack-jawed and horrified, staring wide-eyed at the door.

Lance’s stomach turns to stone.

There’s no way.

Slowly, as if he can make his suspicions disappear if he halves his speed, he turns toward the dining room door.

Where, of course, stands Keith, somehow, the real one, Blade uniform clinging to his body as he leans on the doorframe. He sports the tiniest of smirks, and yet somehow it’s more smug than any expression Lance has witnessed before.

“Hey, guys,” Keith says, casual. “Mission got cancelled so I had a couple days off, and I was nearby. Thought I’d hang with y’all for a while; Black let me in.”

He speaks so casually, walking into the room with a slight sway to his hips, a swagger, that leaves no question about it: he sees the situation in front of him. He gets it. He knows damn well he has the upper hand here.

He’s playing them.

The whole team sits frozen in their seats, hyper aware of their outfits, each knowing they have no excuse and no way out. They will never be able to successfully clown him again. He’s won. He knows how much they like him. Worst, still, is that Keith knows exactly who on this ship can make fingerless leather gloves from scratch. He knows exactly who’s dumbass idea this bit was, who put hours and hours into making accurate Keith outfits.

Lance is going to reacquaint himself with that airlock.

“Oh, nice, you guys are having that Dushan stuff.” Keith strides over to Lance’s seat, places a hand on the back off his chair and leaning in close. Lance puts his head in his hands and prays his ears aren’t as red as they feel. Keith reaches right over his shoulder and plucks a piece of food off his plate, popping it into his mouth. For a moment there’s nothing but a horrible silence, none of them knowing what to say.

“And by the way,” Keith says, when it’s clear none of them are going to speak up. His smirk has widened significantly, and he looks like he’s just won every argument he’s ever wanted to have at once. “The gloves make me feel cool, too.”

———

based on this scene in teen titans

#saw it and IMMEDIATELT thought of them lmfao #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #hunk #hunk garrett #shiro #takashi shirogane #allura #princess allura #pidge #pidge holt #coran #coran coran the gorgeous man #keith #keith kogane #klance #pre klance #pining klance #seamstress lance #team as family #fluff #dumbass shenanigans #my writing #fic #longpost #cant actually tag this as brown eyed lance rip #everybody loves keith #post s5