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hookhausenschips · 6 days

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Maybe It Doesn’t Have To {LN4}

500 Follower Special!!!

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Summary: Amid the bustling Miami Grand Prix, Lando Norris and Y/N's once-warm connection had cooled to distant, tension-filled glances, a year after their professional pressures forced them apart. As they navigated their strained dynamic in the high-stakes world of Formula 1, both struggled with the lingering emotions and the possibility of rekindling their relationship.

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In the charged, vibrant paddock of the Miami Grand Prix, amid the cacophony of roaring engines and bustling crowds, Lando Norris and Y/N found their eyes locked in a fleeting, tension-filled stare. Once, not too long ago, those glances were warm, filled with private jokes and shared secrets. Now, they were cold embers of a fire that had blazed too bright and burned out too fast.

Y/N had joined the McLaren team as a part of their social media squad two years prior, her creativity and spark immediately catching Lando’s eye. Their connection was instant, easy, the kind that promised something more. Late night strategy sessions turned into early morning coffee runs, and the paddock whispers began to swirl around them. But as the spotlight grew hotter, so did the pressures, and what was once easy became complicated.

“It’s not professional,” they’d been told separately in stern, concerned tones by people whose job it was to care about the image and the optics, not the human heart. They’d nodded, agreeing in principle while their hearts rallied against it in private.

The Grand Prix in Miami was meant to be a celebration, a jewel in the crown of the Formula 1 season, yet for Lando and Y/N, it marked a year since the conversation that had ended everything. That night, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the team’s motorhome, they had decided to step back, to refocus on their careers, promising each other it was for the best.

“So let’s ignore each other, try to pretend the other person doesn’t exist,” Lando had said, his voice breaking, eyes not meeting hers. Y/N had only nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, both of them knowing even then how impossible that would be.

Now, as they stood on opposite sides of the crowded pit lane, pretending to adjust their equipment and check their phones, the weight of that promise hung heavy between them. Y/N could feel the heat of Lando’s stare, the way her heart jumped in her chest as if trying to bridge the gap.

She had thrown herself into her work, her posts and stories gaining the team millions of engagements, her professional face smiling and unblemished by the turmoil underneath. Lando, ever the charismatic driver, continued to charm the world on the track, his performances unaffected, yet those who knew him saw the strain around his eyes, the moments his laughter didn't quite reach them.

Their colleagues, once mutual friends, now navigated this new terrain with caution, a dance of diplomacy that often left Y/N feeling more isolated. At team dinners, she would laugh a little too loudly, staying a little too late, trying a little too hard to appear unaffected.

And Lando, he watched from afar, his heart clenching at the sight of her loneliness mirroring his own. In the confined world of F1, where every move was scrutinized, their earlier decision felt more like a sentence now.

As the race ended and the crowd's cheers echoed off the Monaco cliffs, Lando found her on the edge of the harbour, staring out at the shimmering sea. The sun set behind her, casting a golden glow that framed her like a melancholy painting. Approaching her felt like defying gravity, each step heavier than the last.

“I saw you today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were amazing with the fans.”

She turned, her smile sad, eyes glistening. “We were good at pretending,” she replied. “Too good.”

Lando stepped closer, the familiar scent of her perfume making his heart ache. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“No, it wasn’t,” Y/N agreed, her voice steady despite the tears that now freely flowed. “Maybe... maybe it doesn’t have to?”

In the twilight of Monaco, with the stars just beginning to claim the sky, Lando and Y/N faced each other, the world fading around them. What lay ahead was uncertain, possibly fraught with the same challenges as before, but standing there, on the precipice of a new beginning, it was clear that some fires, once lit, refuse to be completely extinguished.

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LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @dhanihamidi

F1 Taglist: @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery

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kostektyw · 9 months

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Detco movies rated based on how much shit gets exploded / destroyed

The Time-Bombed Skyscraper - the whole premise is about blowing up stuff, but it's shame no trains got got, 7/10

The Fourteenth Target - it's just an underwater restaurant that is pretty out of the way from anything else and we have no prior attachment to. bonus for the helicopter crash, 5/10

The Last Wizard of the Century - an entire castle does get burned down, but it's no explosion, 6/10

Captured in Her Eyes - just some regular old murder, 0/10

Countdown to Heaven - truly a 9/11 movie. point detracted for leaving the second tower intact, 8/10

The Phantom of Baker Street - the entire thing takes place in VR, so it shouldn't even count, but no one even gets their brain blown up :( 0/10

Crossroad in the Ancient Capital - somehow nothing gets bombed or destroyed? Conan tries a little arson but is unsuccessful, -1/10

Magician of the Silver Sky - a plane gets somewhat mistreated, 2/10

Strategy Above the Depths - a whole damn ship sinks, it's all very dramatic, 9/10

The Private Eyes' Requiem - despite the constant threat of exploding people, barely anything gets exploded. half a point for Kid using a gun on some windows, 1.5/10

Jolly Roger in the Deep Azure - i guess they do find that ancient pirate ship and it immediately falls apart, 5/10

Full Score of Fear - plenty of shit gets blown up including a concert hall while no one inside realizes anything's wrong. you'd think they'd have some fire warning system in place, 10/10

The Raven Chaser - sadly no explosions, but the tower gets shot at hard, and the helicopter does not end up fine, tho no actual crash on screen, 5/10

The Lost Ship in the Sky - only a research facility we don't care about gets exploded in the opening, and that airship barely gets scratched up, 4/10

Quarter of Silence - we have a train exploding out of a tunnel, a dam blown to smithereens, and an avalanche, what more could you want, 10/10

The Eleventh Striker - who can say no to some exploding stadiums, great movie for people who hate football, 8/10

Private Eye in the Distant Sea - just a rando ship at the beginning, who cares, 1/10

Dimensional Sniper - some police cars and incredibly light bombing of the tower, eh, 3/10

Sunflowers of Inferno - a cool museum gets absolutely demolished, the burning fake sunflowers are a lovely image, plus we got some proper plane mistreatment, 10/10

The Darkest Nightmare - both an explosive car crash at the beginning and a ferris wheel gets extremely destroyed, 9/10

The Crimson Love Letter - lots of explosions, and in beautiful scenery too, 10/10

Zero the Enforcer - destroying shit with a satellite is pretty imaginative, but there was not as much destruction as i hoped, 7/10

The Fist of Blue Sapphire - they're surfing on some iconic Singaporean landmarks, meanwhile an oil ship freely wrecks shit, 11/10

The Scarlet Bullet - i fully admit i have no idea what Masumi and Conan were trying to do, both the train and station ended up looking pretty rough. 10/10

The Bride of Halloween - for a movie about bombs not all that much significant shit gets destroyed, but they do go out in style at least. bonus points for covering Shibuya in goo, 9/10

#warning: not spoiler free #no movie 26 bc i have not seen it yet 😭😭💀#anyway. i put way too much effort into this tbh #detective conan #kostek original #kostek reviews

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sporadicthingcollection · 7 months

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Eppur è d'uopo, sforzati! (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which a stork arrives early, Buggy has a rough day, and you get what you deserve. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Clean. Word Count: ~1.5k. Warnings: Pregnancy, childbirth, exploitation of a Devil Fruit power. A/N: good news is that i'm not ovulating anymore bad news is that i got a mental image in my head that wouldn't go away so i'm subjecting you guys to it too. also, this buggy has more of the anime version in him, so just a heads up!

---

It was a power move, plain and simple. Boa Hancock, Warlord of the Sea, refusing to negotiate with anyone away from Amazon Lily. And Buggy, having drawn the short straw, gets ordered under threat of revocation of his title to go do it.

So not only does he have to brave Sea Kings in the Calm Belt, he doesn't even get to go ashore when he gets there. No, he has to send the female crew to deal with it.

And, to make matters worse, you insisted upon going with them. You, with swollen ankles and an aching back. You, waddling around and damn near ready to pop. You, eight and half months pregnant with not just any child, but his child.

How could you be so callous and cruel to him like this? Where do you get off on tormenting him with the knowledge that, if something happens, he won’t be able to get to you? It’s pure sadism is what it is, and he’s wearing a rut in the deck trying to get his mind off of it.

A distant scream splits the air.

Your scream.

---

Nine months. Babies come out at nine months. That's how it's always been, that’s how it always will be.

So then why, oh why, does this little asshole decide to pop out at eight and a half?

A wave of pain wracks you. You double over in your chair.

You suppose you're lucky. You’re in a palace in a private room with a bed, a tub of warm water, anything you could possibly need. The midwife, Cassandra, has gentle hands and comforting words. Dozens of women show up to fuss over you and encourage you, a number of them mothers themselves. Dahlia brings food, Gloriosa sings songs, Marguerite and Sandersonia hold your hands when the contractions get worse.

Even the Pirate Empress herself pays the occasional visit, albeit under the excuse to scold you for making a ridiculous amount of noise. But she always lingers with a curious gaze, and commands that more bedding be brought or that “I must be prepared for when I bear the child of my beloved,” whatever the hell that means.

Too bad they don’t have any morphine.

---

The only thing stopping Buggy from collapsing into a million parts is that he has completely locked up. He cannot move his head, his fingers, his eyes, everything is frozen stiff.

Fortunately for him, Galdino asks the question for him. “She’s what?”

“I just told you: in labor.” Alvida is way too calm. She dusts her coat, adjusts her hat, buffs out a scuff on her fingernails. “Her water broke right in the middle of the discussion. Three hours of political maneuvering, wasted.”

“I think we got it sorted, though.” The strongwoman shakes her head. “Poor gal. Of all the dumb luck.”

Another scream rips the air. Everyone flinches.

It cuts through Buggy like a knife through... well, himself. He gets his senses back and only one thing consumes his mind.

He vaults over the side of the ship. Kuja laws be damned, he needs to get to you, even if he has to swim for it. Before you get hurt. Or killed. Or worse.

He only realizes the mistake he’s made when he hits the water.

---

You blink in disbelief. “It’s what?”

“Upside-down,” Cassandra says. She adjusts her glasses. “If my intuition is correct, it’s coming out rear end first.”

Breech birth. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. Your grandmother was a breech, your mother was a breech, your niece was a breech... Breeches all the way down in your family.

And, considering its father, of course the little fucker’s an acrobat.

You groan and fall backwards. Part of you is glad he’s not here. You’d strangle him. The other part wishes he was here. So you could strangle him. And rip his balls off. Hell, you might just do that anyways. DIY orchiectomy.

A contraction wracks you and you yelp.

---

What do you do with a distraught sailor, when the sun is highest?

Hold him back from swimming to the island. He’ll kick and thrash and escape all three of the strongmen and throw himself overboard and Cabaji will have to jump in and fish him out.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, early in the evening?

Lock him up in a cage with Richie. He’ll cut himself to ribbons and slip through the bars and sneak past everyone on deck and throw himself overboard and Cabaji, having just finally gotten himself into dry clothes, will have to take another dip.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, at the witching hour?

Clamp him to the mast with Seastone handcuffs. He’ll pick up a nail on deck and pick the lock and outrun everyone trying to catch him and throw himself overboard and Cabaji will make Mohji jump in this time because he’s getting really sick of this bullshit.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, early in the morning?

Hack off his hands and arms and noggin, throw the Seastone cuffs on his ankles, tie his torso to the mast, stuff his own bandanna in his mouth, then post up guards.

Even gagged, Buggy’s screams rival yours.

---

Just when you’re ready to give up the ghost and will yourself into unconscious bliss, you feel it. Something gives. Then something else. With one mighty push, one mighty curse, and one mighty splat, your child is born.

The baby howls like a beast. You suppose you’d be screaming too if you were covered in shit and viscera and had a full head of hair.

You want to hold it. You need to hold it. "Give-- Gimme it," you sputter.

Cassandra, hands it to you. "A boy," she says.

You’re ashamed to be a little disappointed. Based on the talk, you were hoping for a girl. But it all fades as you hold him in your arms and bring him to your chest, overwhelmed by a tide of hormones and emotion.

He’s a little funny-looking, with his pink skin and little stretched face and his legs at weird angles. But he’s here. A baby. Your baby. Buggy’s baby.

You start to sob.

---

Buggy is once again frozen stiff. He wants nothing more than to help you back aboard, hold your hand as you step over the railing, and escort you to his cabin. It would be the absolute least he could do.

But no. He’s stuck up here on the quarterdeck, doing even less than that. He watches as you make your way up the stairs, clutching a bundle wrapped in a floral-patterned blanket. Dark circles ring your eyes and your gait is stiff and exhausted.

Say something. Anything. “You look like hell,” he says. Goddammit.

Fortunately for him, you huff in amusement. “I’ve certainly been through hell.” You stand closer and angle the bundle towards him. “Wanna see what I found there?”

His hand hovers over the corner of the blanket. What if it’s dead? What if it’s got a dog’s face? What if its hair is red? What if it’s got its father’s--?

“Just look, Buggy,” you scold.

He swallows. He pulls back the corner.

Nestled in the blankets, blinking in the light, is a miniature you. A head full of thick dark hair, already starting to curl at the ends. Dark eyes, peering at him the same way you do. And, right in the middle of its chubby little face, your delicately curved nose.

Heat fills his belly with smoke. He recognizes this emotion. It’s the same one as when he sees someone waving around a treasure map. When he spies a chest overflowing with gold. When he first laid eyes on you.

He can hardly hear his own voice. “She’s gorgeous.”

“He,” you say. Buggy looks at you. You smile. “He’s a boy.”

A boy. A boy. His boy. Your boy. He has a son. You gave him a son.

The smoke catches fire and sets his whole body alight. He snatches the baby -- his son! -- from your arms and holds him -- his son! -- up high, presenting him -- his son! -- to the assembled crew like a boxer holding up a champion belt.

He shouts, bellows, screams for the whole world to hear: “I have a son!”

A cacophony of cheers goes up from every man and woman on the deck and, for a few moments, everything is right in the world. Mohji throws his arms around Cabaji. The strongwoman picks up Galdino and spins him around. Alvida smiles as she leans against her mace. Richie roars. Even the Kuja who escorted you back whoop.

Wait a damn minute. You did all the work. You made his son. You pushed him out. All he did was be in the right place at the right time with a bad pullout game.

He places the baby back in your arms and sweeps you into his own, separating his trunk from his legs to raise you up even higher. He wants to shout something eloquent, an ode to your strength and beauty, a paean to your power, a declaration that you are the greatest treasure he’s ever stolen.

But all that comes out, through snot and tears that he didn’t even realize were flowing, is a garbled, blubbered, “I love this woman!”

The cheers only grow, joined by your clattery laughter.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown #keeda the clown

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pigeonpeach · 4 months

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The joy of motherhood

Aka raising Lynette and Lyney! Apart of the Mother figure x arlecchino series!

Oh Lyney is the most bold of the children. He has no cat features but he’s the most like one. When he was little he’d sometimes get startled by loud sounds, he was untrusting of many. Once he saw you as a mother figure he became more attached to you like the other children. If you napped on the couch during your break he’d sit by you, wanting to keep you safe, sometimes he’d end up falling asleep ontop of you, if you held him and just rocked him gently and sung a little lullaby he’d be out like a light. He really appreciates you. Not only because you’re the only mother he’s had but you’re also one of the few he trusts with his siblings.

As he’s gotten older he’s actually been more comfortable around you. You’re his mom! So you’re guaranteed a seat at every show, you’re given many s gift as thanks for the comfort and home you gave him and his sister. You trust him to keep Lynette and Freminet safe, and whenever he’s in a stressful situation he thinks about how you would be waiting for him anxiously worried about his health. Its a good motivatior.

Lynette is more distant. She’s not super cuddly likd her brother but she spends more time with you when she can. Tea time being her favorite game to play with you. She sometimes follows you around just to see how you prepare it. She didn’t know different tea bags had different flavors for awhile, so she was confused how the same process brought different flavors. She also would join Lyney in guarding you during naps. Overtime she did become a bit cuddly. If you held her for long enough in a comfortable and private setting she’d fall asleep, her head buried in your shoulder and her tail curled around herself. She enjoys your lullabies the most.

You two haven’t drifted at all since she’s moved out and matured. She regularly goes out for tea or comes back to visit. It also helps you lure her with free desserts you’re preparing as rewards for good behavior. She enjoys spending time with you the most.

Freminet unlike the other two wasn’t as quick to view you as his mother. Because he had a mother, he knew his mother, and he lost his mother. He unlike the other two never calls you mom because he never wants to replace his late mother, which you understand and respect. Still you remind him of her many times. He clings to you silently ad you chide him for not properly checking his diving gear. He brings you pretty things like pearls or sea shells as gifts which you appreciate. But oh he misses his mother so deeply. You can never take her place but you can soothe that ache in his soul to have someone to hide behind and cry to. When you hold him in your arms just brushing his hair and humming he feels safe. He feels like he’s at home with you. He doesn’t mind you calling him your child, he likes it. He just wishes you had joined sooner. But maybe not because the previous director would’ve never let you get away with such kindess.

As he’s gotten older he’s spent more time diving than not. You worry about him which he knows. He tries not to be too risky for that reason. He remembers how you once frantically pulled him from the water desperately pushing on his chest, tears in your eyes as you begged the gods that he wouldn’t die. Since then he’s always been super cautious with his equipment. Even if he has a vision now, he still felt horrible that you were that worried about him. He doesn’t want you to worry about him, he doesn’t want you to cry over him. In some ways, although he doesn’t call you mom, he treats you like he’d treat his own mother. With a great deal of respect, as well as a bit of clinginess.

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #arlecchino my husband i love her so much #lyney and lynette #freminet #genshin impact imagines #domestic fluff #comfort #arlecchino x you #its implied though #i wanted to focus on the kids this time #kinda gendered reader #fmab reader #genshin impact #arlechinno genshin

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illumins · 20 days

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𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞—𝑙. 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 (#⁰³)

✦trope: fluff, spidey-mark, spiderman

✧first pov

▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭

It’s the kind of morning where the sunlight seems to perform, glittering through the leaves of the trees lining our school’s front walk like something alive. The bus, dented and smelling faintly of rubber and stale lunches, sits idling at the curb, and I am hyper-aware of my own heartbeat, the tap-tap-tapping against my ribcage as I shuffle in line to board.

I find a seat by the window, sticking my backpack onto the empty space beside me. I tell myself it’s to save the spot for Jenna, but she’s decided to sit up front, leaving me an island in a sea of noise. The other students buzz with the sort of aimless energy only a field trip can inspire. I watch them, trying to imagine how it would feel to be as light-hearted, their thoughts not tangled in a net of impossible hopes.

Mark climbs onto the bus last, his hair a tousled mess from the wind, a grin playing on his lips as he jokes with his friends. They’re talking about the new exhibit at the science museum, something about rare minerals, but all I can see is the way his shoulders ease back in laughter, the effortless orbit of his friends around him. He’s got this gravity, and I feel caught in it, helpless.

He doesn’t notice me, not yet. He’s recounting some anecdote that has them all leaning in, their expressions lit with shared amusement. I watch his hands as he speaks, animated and sure, the way I imagine Spider-Man’s might be when he’s scaling a skyscraper or swinging between the canyons of New York’s avenues. I try to picture telling him, confessing everything right there in the vibrating hull of the school bus. But the words knot in my throat, unspoken.

We arrive under a sky scrubbed clean by the wind, the museum rising before us like a monument to all things curious and unknown. Our teachers herd us toward the entrance, their voices raised over the clamor. I stay a few steps behind Mark, watching as he squints up at the banners flapping above the entrance, his profile sharp against the pale morning light.

Inside, the museum is a cavern of shadows and echoes, the air cool and tinged with the scent of metal and glass. We wander through the exhibits, the teachers giving us time to explore while they discuss logistics at the front desk. My friends cluster around a display of meteorites, their surfaces pocked and scarred like moons. I drift away, my sneakers silent on the polished floor.

I find him by the Foucault pendulum, standing so close to the barrier that his breath must be fogging the brass plaque explaining the physics of it all. His concentration is a tangible thing, and I watch the way his eyes track the slow, hypnotic swing of the pendulum.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” I say, my voice softer than I intend, barely threading through the hum of distant conversations and the distant echo of footsteps.

He turns, his smile quick and surprised, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to break his private communion with the exhibit. “Hey,” he says. “Yeah, it really is. Did you know—”

But I’m barely listening, too caught up in the way his hair curls just behind his ears, the earnestness of his gaze. I shuffle my feet, feeling suddenly clumsy, the words I’ve rehearsed slipping away like water through fingers.

“So, I was thinking,” I start, but my voice trembles and I have to start again. “I was wondering if—”

An explosion shatters the moment, the sound so loud it seems to consume the air. Screams slice through the museum as people start running, a stampede of fear. Mark’s hand shoots out, grabbing my arm, pulling me close. His body shields mine as the sound reverberates, the ground beneath us shivering with the violence of the blast.

“Are you okay?” he shouts over the noise, his eyes scanning the chaos, always looking for how he can help. I nod, words lost in the tumult.

We move together, his hand firm on my elbow, guiding me towards what I assume is safety. My heart is a wild thing inside my chest, not just from the blast, but from him, from the heat of his hand through the fabric of my shirt.

As we reach a quieter corner, his friends gathering around us, his face is inches from mine, his brow furrowed with concern. The chaos around us blurs into a backdrop as I’m suddenly, acutely aware of his closeness, the faint smell of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of fear.

“Seriously, are you all right?” His voice is steady, a contrast to the trembling of my own limbs.

I manage a nod, my throat tight. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks to you.” The words tumble out awkwardly, carried more by relief than by courage. The truth is, I want to say so much more, to rewind to the moment before the explosion, to the question I had been about to ask.

He smiles, a quick, reflexive thing that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he scans the area, still in protector mode. His gaze is everywhere, taking in exits, assessing threats, so unlike the carefree high school student he plays in the daylight of ordinary afternoons.

Mark turns back to me, his hand still gripping my arm lightly. “We should keep moving. It’s not safe here.”

As we walk, I can hear the sirens in the distance, the sound growing steadily louder. The museum staff are directing visitors toward emergency exits, their voices calm but urgent over handheld radios.

We reach a side exit, the cool air outside a slap after the stifling fear inside. Police cars and fire trucks are converging on the scene, their lights painting the world in harsh strokes of red and blue. Mark's friends cluster together, everyone speaking at once, trying to make sense of the chaos.

I stand slightly apart, the weight of my unasked question heavier than ever. Just as I gather the remnants of my scattered courage, ready to reach out and touch his arm, to pull him aside and finally speak my truth, he looks over, his expression shifting as he sees something beyond my shoulder.

“Stay here,” he says abruptly, and then he’s gone, melting into the crowd with a swiftness that speaks of more than just urgency—it speaks of necessity, of duty.

The others don’t notice his departure, not at first, caught up in their own relief and recounting of the event. I watch where he disappeared, the cold knot of disappointment settling in my stomach. Not because of the missed chance to confess, but because I know, with a sinking certainty, where he’s gone.

To change, to swing into action as someone else entirely. As Spider-Man.

I wrap my arms around myself, watching as the first responders begin to corral us further away from the building. The sound of distant thuds and muffled shouts suggests that the danger isn’t over, that whatever caused the explosion might still be unfolding inside.

And there, under the relentless sweep of emergency lights, I realize the truth isn’t just in the words I’d failed to say. It’s in this moment, in the pulse of fear and the clarity it brings. It’s in the understanding that my confession wouldn’t just be about a crush; it would be an acknowledgment of his double life, a step into his world of constant peril and masked identities.

As I watch, poised on the edge of something vast and terrifying, a new resolve forms. When this is over, when he comes back, I’ll be waiting. Not just to confess, but to stand by him. Maybe then, he’ll see me not just as a classmate, but as someone who knows the weight of his secrets and chooses to stay.

But for now, I wait, the sirens wailing a lament, the flashing lights casting shadows where I stand—alone but undeterred, ready for whatever comes next.

#spidermark #nct mark lee #mark fanfic #spideymark #nct mark #mark lee imagines #mark lee #kpop fanfic #illumins #kpop au #kpop ff #mark imagines #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct 127 #nct #nct imagines #illumins imagines

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yes-asil · 7 months

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Hey so I’m about to watch detective Conan for the first time and I just wanted to make sure but Cased Closed is the one I’m supposed to watch first right? Cuz there are a could other detective Conan stuff on the site I’m using

I have the perfect list on how to rewatch the show under the cut

We've got a German website over here, so this is kinda??? official, but not really, it just makes the most sense as far as I'm concerned.

Episodes 001-054

Movie 01 (The Time-Bombed Skyscraper)

Episodes 055-097

Movie 02 (The Fourteenth Target)

Episodes 098-139

Short Stories 01-03 (Wait for Me, Wandering Red Butterfly, Santa Claus of Summer)

Episode 140

Movie 03 (The Last Wizard of the Century)

Episodes 141-173

OVA 01 (Conan vs. Kid vs. Yaiba - The Grand Battle for the Treasure Sword!)

Short Stories 04-07 (Detective George, Ten Planets, Play It Again, Making of Conan)

Episodes 174-186

Movie 04 (Captured in Her Eyes)

Episodes 187-231

Movie 05 (Countdown to Heaven)

Episodes 232-262

OVA 02 (16 Suspects!?)

Episodes 263-275

Movie 06 (The Phantom of Baker Street)

Episodes 276-303

OVA 03 (Conan, Heiji, and the Vanished Boy)

Episodes 304-315

Movie 07 (Crossroad in the Ancient Capital)

Episodes 316-344

OVA 04 (Conan, Kid, and the Crystal Mother)

Episodes 345-356

Movie 08 (Magician of the Silver Sky)

Episodes 357-383

OVA 05 (The Target is Kogoro!! The Detective Boys’ Secret Report)

Episodes 384-396

Movie 09 (Strategy Above the Depths)

Episodes 397-424

OVA 06 (Follow the Vanished Diamond! Conan and Heiji vs. Kid!)

Episodes 425-434

Movie 10 (The Private Eyes’ Requiem)

Episodes 435-452

Drama Special 01 (A Challenge Letter to Shin'ichi Kudo ~Prologue Until Goodbye~)

Episodes 453-459

OVA 07 (A Challenge from Agasa! Agasa vs. Conan and the Detective Boys)

Episodes 460-470

Movie 11 (Jolly Roger in the Deep Azure)

Episodes 471-490

OVA 08 (The Casebook of Female High School Detective Sonoko Suzuki)

Drama Special 02 (Shin'ichi Kudo Returns! ~Confrontation with the Black Organization~)

Episodes 491-504

Movie 12 (Full Score of Fear)

Magic File 02 (Shin'ichi Kudo, The Case of the Mysterious Wall and the Black Lab)

Episodes 505-520

OVA 09 (The Stranger from Ten Years Later)

Episodes 521-529

Lupin III vs. Detective Conan (TV special)

Episodes 530-531

Movie 13 (The Raven Chaser)

Magic File 03 (Shin'ichi and Ran, Memories of Mahjong Tiles and Tanabata)

Episodes 532-561

OVA 10 (Kid in Trap Island)

Episodes 562-570

Movie 14 (The Lost Ship in the Sky)

Magic File 04 (The Osaka Okonomiyaki Odyssey)

Magic Kaito Special 01

Episodes 571-610

Detective Conan vs. Wooo 01

Detective Conan vs. Wooo 02

Drama Special 03 (A Challenge Letter to Shin'ichi Kudo ~The Mystery of the Legendary Bird~)

Movie 15 (Quarter of Silence) (Love that movie aughhh)

Magic File 05 (Niigata ~ Tokyo Souvenir Capriccio)

Episodes 611-616

OVA 11 (A Secret Order from London)

Episodes 617-623

Drama Episodes 01-02

Episode 624

Drama Episode 03

Episodes 625-626

Magic Kaito Special 02-03

Drama Episodes 04-07

Episodes 627-628

Drama Episodes 08-09

Episodes 629-630

Drama Episodes 10-11

Episode 631

Magic Kaito Special 04

Drama Episodes 12-13

Episodes 632-634

Magic Kaito Special 05

Episodes 635-641

OVA 12 (The Miracle of Excalibur)

Magic Kaito Special 06

Episodes 642-651

Movie 16 (The Eleventh Striker)

Magic File 06 (Flower of Fantasista)

Drama Special 04 (Shin'ichi Kudo and the Kyoto Shinsengumi Murder Case)

Episodes 652-666

Magic Kaito Special 07-08

Episodes 667-670

Magic Kaito Special 09

Episodes 671-674

Magic Kaito Special 10

Episodes 675-680

Magic Kaito Special 11-12

Episodes 681-694

Movie 17 (Private Eye in the Distant Sea)

Episodes 695-721

Lupin III vs. Detective Conan: The Movie

Episodes 722-735

Movie 18 (Dimensional Sniper)

Episodes 736-753

Magic Kaito 1412 01

Episodes 754-756

Magic Kaito 1412 02-04

Episodes 757-758

Magic Kaito 1412 05-06

Episodes 759-760

Magic Kaito 1412 07-08

Episodes 761-762

Magic Kaito 1412 09-11

The Disappearance of Conan Edogawa ~The Worst Two Days in History~

Magic Kaito 1412 12

Happy New Year, Kogoro Mouri (Fugitive: Kogoro Mouri)

Episodes 763-764

Magic Kaito 1412 13-14

Episodes 765-766

Magic Kaito 1412 15-16

Episode 767

Magic Kaito 1412 17-18

Episode 768

Magic Kaito 1412 19

Episode 769

Magic Kaito 1412 20

Episode 770-771

Magic Kaito 1412 21-22

Episode 772-773

Magic Kaito 1412 23-24

Episode 774

Movie 19 (Sunflowers of Inferno)

Episode 775-813

Movie 20 (The Darkest Nightmare)

Episode 814-844

Episode “One”: The Great Detective Who Shrank

Episode 845-854

Episode 856-874

Episode 855

Movie 21 (Crimson Love Letter)

Episode 875-898

Movie 22 (Zero the Enforcer)

Episode 899-935

Movie 23 (The Fist of Blue Sapphire)

Episode 936-1002

Movie 24 (The Scarlet Bullet)

Episode 1003-1038

Zero’s Tea Time 1-2

Episode 1039

Movie 25 (The Bride of Halloween)

Zero’s Tea Time 3

Episode 1040

Zero’s Tea Time 4

Episode 1041

Zero’s Tea Time 5

Episode 1042

Zero’s Tea Time 6

Episode 1043-1058

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 1

Episode 1059

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 2

Episode 1060

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 3-4

Episode 1061-current

#detective conan #it took me a while to translate sdhsdj #I'm sure I could have found an english version somewhere but eh #here you go anyway #I'm on ep 86 and I just love the Mouri family + Conan so much

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dmitriene · 9 months

Text

— coquettish unveil.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «now let my body do the moving»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «and let my hands do the soothing»

summary: sometimes even the most familiar routine can lead to unexpected things, you just need to be a little bolder. content: bartender re2 leon x fem reader tags: nsfw, smut, fluff, comfort, teasing, mentions of alcohol, reader is calling leon a puppy, flirting, kisses, oral m receiving. author's note: hope you don't tired of bar encounters, because this one is going to be just a little bit spicy, hope you'll like it! enjoy your reading) 🌙 (18+ warning)

In the bright pattern of your young adult life, the charm of parties and gatherings is deeply woven into your daily routine, sharp laughter and the charm of new faces were your constant companions on weekends and evenings, nights often found you among a sea of friends, music and the seething lights of clubs, house parties and always favorite bars.

Bars in particular have a special place in your heart, the ambient hum of chatter, the gentle clink of glasses and the enveloping aroma of alcohol created a unique symphony that resonated with your soul, in one particular establishment you became something of a familiar face, and your presence reserved a seat for you among the regulars, the bartenders knew your drink preferences, and the atmosphere welcomed you with the warmth of home.

However, it was on one of these modest nights that the atmosphere had undergone a slight change, the air still saturated with the anticipation and merriment that usually accompanied such meetings, but there was an electric charge, an undercurrent of something unusual that was about to unfold.

Sitting in your usual place at the bar, you saw familiar sights — dim light casting shadows on old wooden furniture, bartenders deftly mixing concoctions, and a background of laughter painting the canvas of the evening, but in the midst of a familiar scene, your eye was drawn by a figure who seemed to materialized from another world.

A head of blond hair, casually and charmingly tousled, crowned a face that epitomized the dichotomy of raw masculinity and undeniable boyish charm, his blue eyes sparkled with an innocence that stood out against this world of revelry, he was like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, yet paradoxically, he seemed to belong in a way that defied logic.

As if driven by fate, your eyes met his eyes in a moment that seemed both accidental and deliberate, his lips curved into a timid smile and you answered with a mutual smile, curiosity mixed with surprise, among the noise and bright tapestries of the bar your world narrowed to encompass only him.

Every glimpse seemed to carry a hint of recognition, a silent acknowledgment of a deep seated intrigue, the charm he radiated, like that of an infatuated puppy traveling through the adult world, became intoxicating in itself.

The atmosphere of the bar, once a symphony of collective energy, began to turn into a private performance for the two of you, the laughter of strangers and the clink of glasses was replaced by a distant whisper, leaving only lingering traces of his gaze on your skin, each shot you downed felt like a heartbeat, a countdown to the next time your eyes would meet.

As the night deepened, the unspoken charm between you grew stronger, weaving an invisible thread of expectation that brought you closer every moment, his gazes were like secret notes, his blue eyes traced the contours of your face with reverence that took your breath away, rough the honesty in his eyes revealed a truth he couldn't put into words — he found you incredibly beautiful.

The bar itself seemed to take on an air of conspiratorial mystery, its walls reflecting the hushed conversations of strangers entangled in their own stories, and amid this orchestral symphony of moments you felt yourself drawing closer, the space between you becoming less of a divider than an invitation.

Intimate touches, no matter how fleeting they were, spoke volumes.

As you took the drink from his outstretched hand, your fingers touched his in a subtle dance that sent electrical shivers down your spine, as if the touch was filled with meaning beyond its simplicity, a whisper of connection that resonated with every nerve ending.

In response, his skin flushed, a gentle blush painted his cheeks like a canvas, his vulnerability was sweet, a reminder that despite the bravado of the world around him, it is the smallest gestures that can ignite the deepest emotions, the atmosphere seemed to reflect the rhythm of your heartbeat, a syncopated melody that reflects the growing chemistry between you.

Against the background of the bar atmosphere, you both participated in this silent dance — stealthy glances carrying promises and gentle touch of fingers that paint the canvas of the evening with shades of possibility, a bar that was once a bustling arena — now existed solely for the sake of the story that unfolded between you and the charming blond at the other end of the room.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌➽─────────❥

As night fell, the air in the bar seemed to take on a slightly different hue — a mixture of anticipation, mischief and liquid courage that gave you courage, once muffled laughter now resonated with carefree swagger, and the clinking of glasses was accompanied by knowing glances from friends, it was a night full of opportunities, and you again felt drawn to that charming blonde in the corner of the room.

With newfound courage, supported by the warmth of alcohol coursing through your veins, you let your playful side take the lead, your glances became less fleeting, more attentive, as if every exchange of glances contained a secret promise, each sip of the drink felt like an initiation into a flirtatious dance that was as exhilarating as it was intoxicating.

And then, as if guided by some kind of unspoken agreement, your eyes met again, this time your smile was more pronounced, the curve of your lips saying a lot without uttering a single word.

The corners of his mouth twitched in response, caught between surprise and delight, there was charm in his awkwardness, a vulnerability that was disarmingly cute.

Taking the opportunity to bridge the gap, you leaned a little closer and your voice softened over the background noise — «You look like that guy who feels at home with a loyal labrador, not in a place like this»

He laughed, and in that sound there was both self awareness and a note of self abasement — «I won't deny that i've never been the soul of the party»

You shook your head with a teasing glint in your eyes — «Well, i find it quite refreshing, and you have this… puppy charm»

The compliment seemed to take him by surprise, his cheeks turning a pink blush that contrasted with his well groomed, serious appearance — «Puppy charm? That's nice?»

You leaned even closer, your voice was like a conspiratorial whisper — «It's the best thing, it makes you stand out from the crowd»

His smile was sincere, his blue eyes sparkled in the dim light — «Well, in that case, i'm glad i was able to stand out from someone»

The dialogue between you continued to develop — a delightful exchange of witty remarks, anecdotes and flirtatious teasing, each word kindling the flames of attraction, creating an atmosphere that was as intense as it was uplifting, the air was filled with the promise of something more, a connection that challenged the boundaries of the bar.

As the night wore on, your playful jokes turned into an engaging dialogue that seemed to exist in a bubble of its own separate from the rest of the world, with each conversation deepening the connection between you and the blonde, creating an atmosphere filled with anticipation and desire.

With a smirk that was a bit mischievous, you leaned against the bar, gazing at him intently — «So, Mr. Puppy Charm, what does a guy like you do in a place like this?»

He chuckled and that warm sound seemed to fill the space between you — «Well, i could ask you the same thing, you stand out here like a breath of fresh air»

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence and incomprehension — «Oh, really? And what makes me different from others?»

His eyes lingered bashfully on your lips for a moment before he met your eyes again — «First of all, you're not like anyone else here, you've got this… discreet beauty that cannot be ignored»

Your heart skipped a beat, his words ignited a spark inside you — «Underrated beauty, huh? Is that your way of saying I'm not trying too hard?»

He laughed, and that ringing laugh seemed to resonate with the rhythm of your heart — «Exactly, you are like a quiet magnet in a room full of noise»

The playful communication continued, each sentence a stepping stone that brought you closer together, with a knowing smirk you reached for your drink on the bar, letting your fingers touch his arm, the touch sent shivers down his spine, the bond between you growing stronger with each touch of skin.

He looked at you with a cheerful gleam in his eyes — «You know, you're not going to make it easy»

You leaned over, your voice dropped to a sultry whisper — «Who says i want it easy?»

His cheeks flushed, his fingers ran nervously along the rim of his glass — «You're something else»

Your laughter blended with the ambient noise of the bar, creating a unique melody — «I can say the same about you, it's not every day i meet a charming guy who looks like he'd rather be in a dog park than a bar»

He leaned closer, the space between you was reduced to nothing — «Well, i'm definitely happier right here and now»

Words hung in the air filled with unspoken promise, with a playful smile you raised your glass — «For unexpected meetings and charming puppy mood»

He nodded his head, his eyes meeting yours with such intensity that your heart began to beat faster — «To new beginnings and the search for someone who sees beyond the surface»

As the night wore on, the atmosphere changed again, the intimacy of your words creating a cocoon of shared secrets and vulnerabilities, the chemistry between you was undeniable, a force that seemed to draw you closer every moment.

And then, as the lights in the bar began to dim and the crowd slowly dispersed, you found yourself at the crossroads of something unusual, with a mixture of awe and excitement, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, not taking your eyes off him.

He swallowed nervously, his voice like a whisper and whine, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words — «A-are you.. sure?»

Leon leans against the counter, his eyes fixed on you as you approach him, he watches you, a hint of an embarrassed smile playing on his lips as you kneel in front of him, a soft glow of dim light creates a seductive aura around you, heightening the intensity of the moment.

He gently and tremblingly runs his fingers through your hair, his touch is both tender and submissive, his eyes a combination of awe and adoration as he looks down at you.

Your hands slide up his legs and he gasps as your lips touch his robed body and he lets out a low whine of pleasure.

The long silence is broken only by the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of your breathing, leaning against the counter, he watches you slowly unbutton his pants, freeing his cock from its borders, his expression softens, tenderness appears in his features.

— «Please..» he whispers in a whining and hoarse voice.

His eyes are fixed on you and he watches carefully as you guide your hand towards his hardened cock as you begin to stroke him, your touch gentle and careful.

His free hand reaches out, his fingers gently sliding along the contour of your face, along the line of your jaw, the blonde's touch is gentle and he leans down in an impatient manner, covering your lips with a slow, long kiss, his tongue gently exploring the depths of your mouth.

You maintain eye contact with him as your lips part, a mischievous gleam in your eyes as you release his cock from his pants and your lips part, you take him in your mouth, your tongue spins around the tip and you begin to suck it in slow, deliberate movements.

Leon struggles to maintain his composure, his breathing becomes slightly ragged and his grip on the bcounter tightens, making his knuckles turn white from the pressure applied.

As you continue to please him, your lips slide up and down his cock, your tongue swirls and teases him with every stroke, you maintain a steady rhythm, alternating between gentle sucking and playful tongue movement, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him and you feel him becoming harder in your mouth.

His eyes drop from time to time to meet yours, his gaze reflecting a mixture of desire and urgency.

You continue to suck and please him, your mouth working hard as you stroke the base of his cock with your hand, the sensations intensify and you can feel his hips twitch slightly — a sign that he is struggling to maintain his composure and let you do all the work.

Leon tries to hide his reaction, but his breathing gets heavier and his grip on the table tightens even tighter, his voice trembling slightly as he addresses you in a submissive whine — «Please c-continue, don't stop, i n-need you»

You look at him with a mischievous smile and a glint of satisfaction in your eyes as you continue to please him, the corners of your lips curling as you maintain a steady rhythm, your mouth and hand working in harmony bringing him closer to the edge.

Your smile widens as you feel his desperate need to relax, his body tightens and his breath hitches with every movement, you are pleased to know that you are able to give him such pleasure, even despite his awkwardness.

His eyes meet yours, a mixture of desire and gratitude shining in them, and he lets out a low, grateful moan, unable to fully suppress the pleasure you give.

You keep sucking and stroking him, your smile never faltering as you enjoy your ability to push him to the limit, your actions fueled by mutual desire and a bond between you fully aware of the thrill.

His voice becomes even more submissive when he speaks, a mixture of desperation and admiration in his words — «J-just like that, keep going, y-you're driving me crazy, i need you so much right now»

You answer his request with a cheeky smirk, stepping up your efforts, determined to take him to the extreme and bring him the relief he desires.

As you continue to please him, you feel your arousal grow, the spontaneity of the situation combined with the sounds and reaction of the blond begins to kindle a fire inside you, your breathing becomes more intermittent, and a quiet moan breaks from your lips, muffled by the current task.

The feel of his pulsating cock on your tongue and his taste only further fuels your desire, your movements becoming more fervent, your hand gripping his cock tightly as you bob your head up and down, sinking in deeper with each thrust.

As your own arousal intensifies, your body responds with a craving for attention, your body throbs with need, and the rising wetness wets your inner thighs, you can't help but squeeze your legs together, trying to get some friction to ease the building tension.

Leon feels the change in your arousal too, his eyes gliding down to where you are sitting on the parquet floor, he can see the clear signs of your need, the subtle movements and the blush coloring your cheeks, and this only enhances his own pleasure, knowing that this moment touched you as much as it touched him.

Your movements become more insistent and intense, using all your skills and technique to push him to the pinnacle of pleasure, the combined sensations of your mouth and hands working in unison pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

With a last desperate moan, Leon gives in to orgasm, his body tensing and you feel the pulse of his release as he pours his cum into your waiting mouth while you maintain eye contact with him, your gaze full of adoration and a hint of mischief.

You maintain your position and greedily swallow every drop of his cum, savoring the taste and reveling in the closeness of the moment, the feel of his pulse on your tongue only heightens your arousal, leaving you craving more.

Leon is breathless as he witnesses your actions, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction on his face, he watches you with a mixture of awe and appreciation, his eyes fixed on yours as you continue to please him even after his release, helping him down from peaks of orgasm.

Although his body relaxes, the connection between you remains electric, the air is filled with the aftermath of your shared ecstasy and you both enjoy the aftermath, the intensity of the moment still lingers in the room.

Once his orgasm subsides, Leon lifts you gently from your knees, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a passionate kiss, his taste lingering on your lips and tongue, reminding you of the pleasure you both recently shared.

As your lips meet, the intensity of the moment deepens, the mixture of desire, gratitude and affection fueling the fiery bond between you, the kiss is filled with the burning bond formed and shared understanding, bringing you both closer together.

Leon breaks the kiss, his voice full of tenderness and desire, puppy like devotion — «You're incredible» he whispers into your lips, his hands gently caress your face

You look into his eyes and a soft smile plays on your lips before you bend down again to meet your lips together, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering against his lips — «Glad you liked it, pretty boy»

He suddenly swallowed nervously, his voice sounding more like a request than a question, carrying the weight of sincere interest and appreciation — «Can i walk you home?»

Your heart overflowed with feelings, it would seem that a very simple question sounded incredibly charming from his lips, that it was not even in your thoughts to refuse — «I'd like that)»

As you stepped out into the cool night air his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you closer, the world around you faded following the night canvas, leaving only the two of you under the starry sky, and as you walked side by side his awkward but fleeting sincere kisses marked the beginning of something interesting — something that started from a flirtatious whispers.

[ taglist: @roseglazedlens, @sporeghost, @daydreamrot ] dm me if you want to be tagged in my works.

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

#[ ✒️july writing ]#resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy comfort #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy re2

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detco-hell · 9 months

Text

[movie 17 - Private Eye in the Distant Sea]

#look how cute he is here!!#shame that hes such a menace :p #detective conan #movie 17 #movies #Private Eye in the Distant Sea #2013 #edogawa conan #blue jacket #blue shirt #detco hell original

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cielur5ww · 2 months

Text

୨🎻୧ ─────・ the violist boy

▭ Synopsis﹕ Scaramouche by chance met someone from the music club, a boy he didn't even know from school. Maybe the beginning of a story.

★ ❪CW❫── amab!reader!violist x scaramouche, modern AU, fluff.

ᶻz ─── n/a﹕Finally, I no longer have a block, I will just throw up this idea. Oh, and it will have other parts, I think... if I don't procrastinate─ It's quite short, I'm really sorry 😭

❱❱ first part

Scaramouche trudged through the deserted hallways, his mind still trapped in the day's frustrations. He observed the fluorescent lights flickering intermittently, casting shadows on the peeling walls and faded posters advertising long-gone events. Each step felt like an extra effort in his battle against exhaustion.

He had checked his phone, and the clock read 3:34 pm, a constant reminder of time lost and pending responsibilities. He sighed resignedly, wishing to be anywhere but in that school, stashed his phone in his backpack, and furrowed his brow. The incident with the calculator in the last class had been the final straw, and Scaramouche longed to escape it all right now.

The corridors, usually bustling with activity, now seemed empty and silent, as if they were commiserating with his plight. Though they were empty because classes ended at 3:00 pm, thanks to a classmate's fault, he had to stay late with the rest of the idiots from the classroom.

How he hated his day.

However, a sweet, melodic whisper broke the silence and seeped into his troubled soul.

He recognized the tune of a violin, and though at first it was just a distant murmur, it soon became an irresistible echo that drew him in like a magnet.

His sluggish pace halted for a moment as his ears leaned towards the sound, as if seeking a source of relief.

Following the echo of the notes, Scaramouche found himself walking towards the music club, a place he usually avoided due to his tight schedule and lack of interest in extracurricular activities. But this time, the music called to him, like a siren drawing a sailor lost in the stormy sea.

As if the sound of the violin itself were a balm for his weary mind.

Reaching the half-open door of the music room, Scaramouche hesitated for a moment.

Should I go in? What could I find inside? But the melody was hypnotizing him, enveloping him in its sweet embrace, temporarily erasing his worries and frustrations.

With a resigned sigh, he pushed the door open and stepped into the room, peeking inside. And there, in the center of the room, he saw someone standing with a violin in hand, their fingers dancing gracefully and skillfully over the strings.

The music filled the room, weaving a magical spell that enveloped the space, as if it were trying to capture the hearts of future listeners, or simply practicing to portray something.

Scaramouche stood there, silently observing, as the melody transported him to another place, far from the tensions and worries of his day. For a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the background sound, letting his problems fade away in the sweet harmony of the violin, that he took greedily.

But it was shattered by the sudden silence that followed the cessation of the melody echoing in the room, as the boy with the violin slowly lowered the bow, his eyes met Scaramouche's violet eyes. An expression of surprise and slight confusion crossed his face upon seeing him standing there, as if he had interrupted a private moment.

Scaramouche felt like he was under an unwanted spotlight, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, as he instinctively stepped back towards the door, coming out. However, he slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, the sound of the slam resonating in the room like an echo of his own clumsiness, as if he were trying to highlight that he was there.

Adjusting the strap of his backpack nervously, Scaramouche hurriedly turned and rushed out of the room, feeling the weight of embarrassment bubbling in his stomach.

Why did he feel so ashamed for being caught in the music club? He wondered as he hurried down the stairs to the school's ground floor. He internally scolded himself for his exaggerated reaction, but still couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.

He didn't want to face the violin boy's gaze again, nor the awkward feeling of being caught in a moment of vulnerability.

As he distanced himself from the music club, Scaramouche promised himself not to go back in there, determined to avoid any situation that might involve seeing that boy again, even though he had never met him.

However, the image of the boy with the violin and his surprised gaze remained etched in his mind, leaving a lasting impression amid his confusion and discomfort.

He tried to calm the racing beats of his heart and rationalize his exaggerated response.

Why did he care so much about what that violin-playing boy thought? Why did he allow a simple glance to make him feel so vulnerable? Scaramouche felt frustrated with himself for letting the opinion of someone he didn't even know affect his mood.

But it would be alright, because he probably wouldn't see that violin boy again, right?

I had been peacefully practicing in the music club, immersed in the melodies flowing from my violin as I tried to recreate the song I was reading from the sheet music, alone in the room. Then, at one moment, a boy with short, vibrant indigo hair entered.

At first, I barely noticed his presence, but then I felt a gaze upon me and immediately halted my performance, lifting my head.

Our eyes met, and I caught a glimpse of his purple eyes. I watched as the boy's cheeks flushed with a soft blush, likely embarrassed for interrupting my practice. I observed in silence as he retreated out of the room, closing the door with a resounding slam that echoed in the chamber.

I stood there, bewildered by the sudden interaction. How should I feel about it? I had no idea. He was just a stranger who had entered and exited my space without explanation.

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts from my mind, and attempted to resume my practice, but I couldn't focus after that event.

So, I sighed, deciding to call it a day with my practice.I set my violin aside to hold its case and carefully stored the instrument, feeling somewhat pensive about the encounter with that stranger.

Perhaps I would never know who the boy with the indigo hair was, but for now, I decided to set the incident aside. After all, I'd probably never see him again.

#amab reader #amab!reader #male reader x scaramouche #scaramouche x male reader #Scaramouche x amab reader #scaramouche #fluff #amab!reader!violist #fanfic #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche au #genshin impact au

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hlstead · 9 months

Text

the world knows now

[kylian mbappé x reader]

The roar of the stadium was deafening as the crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement palpable. My heart raced, not just from the intensity of the match, but also from the realization that I was right here, in the midst of it all. I watched, breathless, as Kylian skillfully maneuvered the ball past defenders, his every move a testament to his prowess on the field.

And then, in an instant, the net rippled, and the stadium erupted into a euphoric frenzy. Kylian had scored, his celebration a burst of pure joy. He sprinted towards the stands, arms wide open, his grin contagious. In the sea of fans, his eyes locked onto mine, and I felt time slow down. This was it—the first time we were in public together, and he was about to make it unforgettable.

As he reached the barrier between the pitch and the stands, he leaped over it with an athleticism that left me in awe. The cheers around me seemed to fade into the background, leaving just him and me in that electrifying moment. His gaze never wavered as he closed the distance, his eyes filled with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

And then, as if the world had ceased to exist, he cupped my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine. The world around us blurred into a beautiful, hazy backdrop as his kiss enveloped me—a promise, a declaration, an unspoken bond made public. It was as if he was telling the world, "This is the person who holds my heart."

The taste of victory lingered on his lips, a mix of adrenaline and the sweetest connection. The stadium seemed to hold its breath, caught up in the magic of the moment. When he finally pulled away, his eyes bore into mine, a silent conversation passing between us. It was a kiss that spoke of months spent in secret, of stolen moments and whispered confessions.

As he rejoined his teammates on the field, the realization hit me: Kylian Mbappé, the football sensation, had just kissed me in front of thousands. I touched my lips, still tingling, feeling like the luckiest person alive. Our love story, once known only to us, had been shared with the world, celebrated in the most public way possible.

The rest of the match was a blur, the cheers and chants a distant echo as I replayed that kiss in my mind. And when the final whistle blew, and Kylian's team emerged victorious, he looked up to the stands, his eyes finding mine once again. With a triumphant smile, he raised his hand to his lips, blowing a kiss in my direction—a private moment in a very public space, a promise that our love story was just beginning.

#football oneshots #football imagine #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagine

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lostsneeze · 4 months

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In the banquet hall of a king who famously adores cats and lets dozens of them roam freely about the castle at all times, heedless of how many nobles and courtiers are allergic to them, we have…

👛 The proud noblewoman who simply refuses to sneeze at all more than a muffled stifle into one of her or her husband’s seemingly endless supply of handkerchiefs. No matter how desperately itchy her nose gets, any meaningful relief will have to wait until a moment in private. Similarly, no one at court will ever hear her blow her nose; even at its most runny and clogged she will make do with endlessly wiping it on her handkerchiefs or trying to appease it with the most mild, girlish, barely effective sniffles.

🏏 The tomboyish princess who resents all aspects of nobility and dreams of one day running away with the stablehand to live in a cottage by the distant sea. She boisterously exaggerates her hitching breaths before each sneeze and makes no effort whatsoever to cover them, often pausing afterwards to let a long drip hang audaciously from her nose for a full few seconds before wiping it on her sleeve or just snurfling it back.

⚔️ The stout royal guard stationed by the door, clad in half-armor even during this peaceful meal for the sake of presentation, who fumbles in his steel gauntlets whenever he wants to wipe his generously sized and continuously running nose. Periodically he will let out what by his standards at home is a politely contained sneeze, but in actuality is noticeably boisterous enough to be easily identified even among the clamor of the dining hall.

💎 The foppish young statesman who projects as much of himself as possible into social space under the pretense of polite reservation. Speaking stuffily through the lacily embroidered handkerchief he’s often brandishing daintily to hold underneath the wide nostrils of his nose, he will loudly announce his sneezes and apologize repeatedly for them, frequently with a whining excuse for his frequent interruptions about how he’s just so sneezy.

🛡️ The masc-presenting knight whose reaction isn’t actually all that severe, and so in its own way more annoying. Rarely sneezing, but often sniffling, their otherwise handsome features are constantly twisted with aggravation at a perpetual feeling like hair stuck to the edge of their nostrils, tickly enough to be noticeable and maybe hitch a breath or two but not reliably build into a release.

📜 The advisor whose ambitions and accomplishments drive her to a seat near the king, and therefore the highest concentration of cats, despite her absolutely debilitating allergies. By the end of the 3rd course she will have a completely plugged nose, swelling eyes, a rash creeping up all her exposed skin, and fits of sneezes counting a half-dozen or more. Nevertheless she persists, unwilling to miss any opportunity to be near the royalty during a potential moment of important discourse.

#snzblr #choose your fighter - sneeze style

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hrizantemy · 1 month

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THE DANCER AND THE MOON

The air was alive with the vibrant melodies that resonated from every corner, drawing in a kaleidoscope of dancers. Yet, amidst the throng of moving bodies, her attention remained steadfastly anchored to the lone dancer who seemed to transcend the chaos around her.

The woman moved with an effortless grace, her body fluid and sinuous as if each movement was an extension of her very being. Her limbs traced delicate arcs through the air, weaving a tale of passion and emotion that captured Nesta's undivided attention. There was a raw beauty in the way she moved, a magnetism that held Nesta captive, unable to tear her gaze away.

As the music swelled and ebbed, the dancer's expression shifted, reflecting the myriad emotions coursing through her. There was joy in the curve of her smile, longing in the arch of her back, and a hint of melancholy in the depths of her eyes. Each movement seemed to tell a story, a silent narrative that spoke volumes to those who cared to listen.

Nesta found herself drawn into the dancer's world, swept away by the tide of emotions that pulsed through the air. For a fleeting moment, she felt a connection, a thread of understanding that bound them together across the expanse of the crowded street. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the dance unfolding before her.

How had she even ended up here? She had been walking, lost in the turmoil of her own thoughts, consumed by the familiar ache of anger that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface whenever her sister's name crossed her mind. Yet, as if drawn by some unseen force, she found herself drawn to the heart of the festivities, the music pulling at her like a siren's call.

And now, here she stood, a silent observer in a sea of swirling colors and laughter, her eyes trained on the lone dancer who seemed to dance for no one but herself.

Feyre had extended an invitation with forced cheerfulness to Nesta, an attempt to bridge the ever-widening chasm between them. And so, begrudgingly, Nesta had accepted, though the prospect of spending an evening in their company filled her with dread. As she stepped into the warmth of the familiar interior, she was met with a deafening silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

Feyre's attempt at a greeting fell flat, her words lost in the heavy air of tension that hung between them. Elain's gaze was distant, her eyes betraying nothing as she stared into the distance with an unreadable expression. Nesta took a seat at the table, feeling like an intruder in her own sister's home.

The atmosphere was stifling, suffocating, as she watched the others engage in idle conversation and laughter. Cassian and Morrigan shared a private moment, their affection evident as he ran his fingers along her feet, eliciting a smile from her lips as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Feyre and Rhysand seemed lost in their own world, their minds elsewhere as they whispered quietly to each other, oblivious to the outsider in their midst. Nesta felt like a ghost, a mere spectator in the lives of those she once called family. As the evening wore on, Nesta sat in silence, her thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of bitterness and resentment. She longed to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of their expectations and judgments.

But instead, she remained rooted to her seat, a silent observer in a world that had long since moved on without her. Until she couldn’t anymore.

With a heavy heart and a sense of suffocation tightening her chest, Nesta quietly slipped away from her sister's home, craving the solace of the open air. The streets greeted her with a cacophony of sounds—laughter, music, and the rhythmic beat of dancing feet. It was as if the world outside existed in a separate realm, untouched by the silent turmoil that had gripped her within the confines of her sister's house.

As she wandered aimlessly through the vibrant streets, Nesta felt the weight of her burdens begin to lift, replaced by a sense of liberation she hadn't known in ages. Everywhere she looked, people danced with abandon, their laughter filling the night air with an infectious energy that was impossible to resist.

And then, amidst the throng of revelers, she saw her—the dancer whose movements had captivated her from the moment she laid eyes on her. There was something magnetic about the way she moved, a raw passion that seemed to transcend the boundaries of the physical world.

Nesta found herself drawn to the dancer like a moth to a flame, her steps quickening as she closed the distance between them. For a moment, she forgot the troubles that plagued her, the weight of her past mistakes and regrets falling away.

As Nesta lost herself in the swirling melodies and rhythmic movements, she felt a pair of eyes on her, a sensation that sent a shiver down her spine. Turning her head, she met the gaze of the dancer, expecting to find judgment or indifference mirrored in her expression. Instead, she was met with something unexpected—a soft smile playing at the corners of the woman's lips, a warmth in her eyes.

Nesta's breath caught in her throat as the dancer beckoned her closer, a silent invitation that stirred something deep within her. She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty warring with the desire pulsing through her veins. But then, as if compelled by some unseen force, she found herself stepping forward, her movements tentative yet determined.

As she drew nearer to the dancer, Nesta felt a sense of anticipation building within her, a feeling she couldn't quite name but one that filled her with a strange sense of hope. And then, as their hands met and their bodies began to move in harmony, she felt something shift inside her—a loosening of the tight coil of tension that had gripped her for so long, replaced by a sense of connection that transcended words.

Rhythm that seemed to quicken the beat of their hearts as they moved in perfect synchrony. Nesta's movements were fluid yet controlled, her body swaying with a grace she hadn't known she possessed. Each step was a testament to the raw emotion coursing through her veins, a release of the pent-up energy that had threatened to consume her.

Beside her, the dancer moved with an effortless agility, her movements a whirlwind of motion and grace. Together, they wove a tapestry of movement, their bodies moving as one to the frenetic tempo of the music. Their steps were quick and precise, a blur of motion as they spun and twirled across the crowded street.

As they danced, Nesta felt a sense of liberation wash over her, a feeling of weightlessness that lifted her higher and higher with each passing moment. The music surged through her veins, driving her onward with an intensity she had never known before. And as she lost herself in the rhythm of the dance, she felt a sense of freedom unlike anything she had ever experienced.

In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the pulsating energy of the music and the warmth of the dancer's embrace, Nesta felt truly alive.

As the music reached a crescendo, the dancer took Nesta's hand in hers, her touch gentle yet firm, as if guiding her through a dance they had both known in another lifetime. Without a word, she twirled Nesta with a deftness that spoke of years of practice and passion, their movements perfectly synchronized as they spun together in a whirlwind of motion.

At first, Nesta's instinct was to pull away, to retreat into the safety of her own solitude. But something within her urged her to stay, to trust in the moment unfolding before her. And so, she surrendered to the dancer's lead, allowing herself to be swept away by the intoxicating rhythm of the music.

As they twirled and spun across the crowded street, Nesta felt a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins, a feeling of freedom she hadn't known in years. In the dancer's arms, she felt weightless, untethered from the burdens that had weighed her down for so long.

As they danced, Nesta lost all sense of time and place. The world around her faded into obscurity, replaced by the pulsating rhythm of the music and the exhilarating sensation of movement. She couldn't say how long they had been dancing or where they had moved to, only that they hadn't stopped.

Their steps became a blur of motion, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as if guided by some unseen force. With each spin and twirl, Nesta felt herself being carried away on a tide of euphoria, her cares and worries melting away with each passing moment.

In the embrace of the dancer's arms, she found a sense of peace she hadn't known in years, a fleeting respite from the chaos of her own mind. And as they continued to dance, their movements growing more frenetic with each passing beat, Nesta knew that she never wanted this moment to end.

#anti acotar #anti acosf #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti cassian #anti azriel #anti amren #anti morrigan #anti nessian #pro nesta #nesta archeron deserves better #please give me this #sarah you could have given nesta so much #dancer and the moon

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