#I can’t be the only one who’s thought of something like this am I??

[cheftsunoda]

wait, what? — ih6

smau + real life

lewis hamilton x !daughter reader

isack hadjar x !model hamilton reader

Isack grew up idolizing Lewis Hamilton — posters on the wall, interviews memorized, the whole deal. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the moment he unknowingly asked out his daughter. One minute, he’s shooting his shot… the next, he’s dating a Hamilton.

fc : halima saadiyah

not proofread — still trying to brainstorm ideas for new series— send me any requests!

—

whotfisnaya

liked by lewishamilton, kikagomes, charles_leclerc & 1,348,308 others.

whotfisnaya : can’t talk rn doing hot girl shit

(also ferrari get your shit together or so help me god😁🔪)

—

kikagomes : my gf lover angel gave me flowers when i landed this morning 💘💋🤩🥹

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : take notes pear, this is why she is mine

liked by kikagomes

pierregasly : I lost her to you a long time ago..i just quit fighting

username00 : don’t feel bad pierre, it’s just part of the hamilton charm

liked by whotfisnaya & kikagomes

lewishamilton: Bub. What did we say about threatening the new team already? At least give them a full season.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : my patience is out. i choose violence.

lewishamilton : I will not be making any further comments on that. You look beautiful, princess! Miss you.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : thank you fatherrrr💘 see you this weekend!

liked by lewishamilton

charles_leclerc : welcome to the ferrari family, naya!

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : idk how you’ve made it this long leclerc…i would’ve crashed out and burnt everything to the ground like 3 years ago

liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : I’ve thought about it…but i just keep going back

whotfisnaya : stockholm syndrome. ferrari free my man from these chains

liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

georgerussell63 : only 6 races into the season and I already miss you (somehow)

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : you try so hard to act like you don’t love me but i think you cried harder about me leaving than you did about dad

lewishamilton : can confirm

whotfisnaya : tell big man toto to be prepared because i am coming over next race

liked by georgerussell63

georgerussell63 : mario kart?

whotfisnaya : sigh. yes GR

carlossainz55 : psssst. it doesn’t get any better naya

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : im glad you’re free my friend

whotfisnaya : gonna start some mid season contract negotiations for him — im tired

whotfisnaya : WHO WANTS 8 (🖕🏻) TIME WORLD CHAMPION LEWIS HAMILTON ON THEIR TEAM

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, pierregasly, lando, olliebearman, and oscarpiastri

lewishamilton : naya honey there is a reason I have professionals do this

—

f1 added a post to their story!

seen by 12,453,389.

—

There’s something about the Ferrari red that still doesn’t feel real. I’ve spent most of my life watching my dad win in silver, black, even turquoise—but red? It still throws me.

Still, I can’t lie… he wears it well.

I stroll into the paddock, dodging cameras and a few fans with sharp eyes. Sunglasses on, credentials tucked into my jacket, I keep my pace casual. Familiar.

“Look who decided to show up,” Dad calls before I even reach the Ferrari garage. He’s leaning against the wall in his race suit, arms folded, exuding the exact same energy he’s always had before lights out—calm, confident, and just a little smug.

“Didn’t want to miss my favorite guy in red,” I say, stepping in for a quick hug. He pressed a kiss to my temple.

Charles appears beside him, grinning as always. “You mean me, right?”

“You’re definitely top three,” I tease. We share a hug.

We fall into easy conversation—something about tire strategy, Charles’ espresso addiction, and how dad had to clear things with Ferrari after my recent…comments online.

It’s comfortable here. Familiar. But after a while, I shift my weight and check the time.

“I’m gonna go find Ollie,” I say, casually, but I see the way Dad lifts an eyebrow.

“Just friends,” I remind him before he can say anything.

“I didn’t say a word,” he replies with a smirk.

Charles, of course, does. “That’s not what your dad’s face says.”

I roll my eyes and walk backward toward the exit. “You two need new hobbies.”

—

The Haas garage is less polished than Ferrari’s—more wires, more noise, more energy. It feels alive.

Ollie spots me right away, lifting his helmet slightly and grinning. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” I shoot back.

We fist-bump and fall into step, walking along the edge of the garage. “We’re still on for that sim day next week?” he asks.

“Obviously.”

As we walk, someone else joins us— shorter than Ollie, dark curls, relaxed smile.

“Oh—Naya, this is Isack. Isack, Naya.”

I offer a small smile. ��Hi.”

Isack returns it, maybe a little too quickly. “Hey. Uh… sorry, are you new to the paddock?”

Ollie snorts. “You could say that.”

I shrug. “I’ve been around a while.”

He holds out a hand. “Well, it’s cool to meet you. Are you, like… press or PR or something?”

I shake his hand, biting back a grin. “Something like that.”

Ollie coughs pointedly but doesn’t say more. I shoot him a look—don’t you dare ruin this.

Isack turns slightly red, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re probably used to being around all this, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, eyes flicking back toward the sea of red where my dad is doing media interviews. “You could say it runs in the family.”

—

I didn’t mean to hang around the garage that long. Really, I didn’t. But somehow, after Ollie wandered off to a briefing, I was still there—leaning against a pit wall, sipping on a bottle of water, chatting with Isack like we’d known each other longer than just a few hours.

He was easy to talk to. Surprisingly easy. Funny in a quiet way. Charming in a not trying too hard kind of way.

“So, you’re not press. You’re not PR. But you are paddock fluent,” he says, leaning on the wall next to me, arms crossed.

I smirk. “Observant.”

“And you won’t tell me what you actually do?”

“I like mystery.”

He laughs. “Alright, Miss Mystery. You coming to the after-party tonight?”

I tilt my head. “Depends. Are you going?”

“I might now,” he says, eyes glinting. “If I knew someone cool would be there.”

My smile softens, but I keep my voice even. “I’ll think about it.”

He pauses for a beat, and I can feel the shift—the way his tone gets just a little more serious, like he’s testing the water.

“Okay, real question,” he says. “Do you want to get coffee sometime? Like, not here. Somewhere… quieter. Just us.”

For a second, I just blink at him. He still doesn’t know. Still doesn’t realize who I am.

And it’s kind of… nice.

“Are you asking me out, Isack Hadjar?” I ask, folding my arms with a playful smile.

He grins, a little sheepish. “I think I am, yeah.”

I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin. “Hmm… you’re cute. And bold. I respect that.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Maybe,” I say, letting the word hang. “But only if you promise not to freak out when you find out who I am.”

His smile falters, just a little. “Should I be scared?”

I grin. “Terrified.”

Just then, I hear someone call my name—one of the Ferrari PR girls, waving me over.

“Duty calls,” I say, stepping back.

He watches me go with a slight frown. “Wait, are you actually someone famous or—?”

I shoot him a wink over my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

Lando and Max stood next to Ollie and the rest of the rookies who were watching intently.

“He doesn’t have a clue who she is, does he?” Max asked with a smirk present on his face.

“Nope.” Ollie said with a chuckle.

—

whotfisnaya

liked by olliebearman, isackhadjar, charles_leclerc & 2,277,843 others.

whotfisnaya : i was told no more threatening ferrari so idrk what to caption this paddock dump

—

charles_leclerc : out of all the pictures you chose THAT one naya

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : that’s what you get for stealing my phone charles

scuderiaferrari: thank you naya. we appreciate you for trying

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya: id appreciate you guys trying some actual strategy

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and carlossainz55

username00 : NAYA😭

isackhadjar : so nice to meet you today, naya!

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : nice to meet you love!!

olliebearman : and to think you tried to tell me the ears weren’t a fashion statement

olliebearman : i look GOODt

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : bitch u look good with a t at the end…or whatever tf saweetie said

georgerussell63 : half of our mario kart time was taken up by you and toto gossiping

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya: god forbid a girl and her bestie catch up

whotfisnaya : still gave me enough time to beat your ass

georgerussell63 : i demand a retrial

whotfisnaya : you just want to hang again

georgerussell63 : blah blah details

username7 : her and toto gossiping omg

—

whotfisnaya added to her story!

seen by lando, olliebearman, lewishamilton & 2,278,358 others.

lando : does he know yet?

whotfisnaya : girl ur so nosey…and no

olliebearman : get in there isack!!!!

whotfisnaya: hate u 💘

lewishamilton: Hm. Who?

whotfisnaya: I don’t kiss and tell father but you will meet him soon.

lewishamilton : Sigh. I’ll go ask Toto.

whotfisnaya: that man would never spill my secrets, not even to you.

—

I wasn’t even nervous. Okay, maybe a little. But it wasn’t like a real date, right? Just coffee. Just… two people getting to know each other, in a quiet café tucked away from the chaos of race weekends. No pit lane, no photographers, no Ollie looking smug in the background. Just me and Isack and some overpriced espresso.

He was already there when I arrived — black hoodie, cap pulled low, sunglasses on like we were undercover spies instead of two mildly recognizable faces. He stood up when he saw me, smile soft and completely unguarded.

“You made it,” he said, sounding almost surprised.

“I said I would,” I replied, sliding into the chair across from him. “Do I strike you as unreliable?”

“Not at all,” he grinned. “Just… cool enough to bail at the last second if something better came up.”

I shrugged. “You’re lucky I like coffee.”

We talked for over an hour. About everything and nothing. He told me about his first karting crash, the fact that he still forgets to pack socks on travel weekends, and how much he actually hates running, no matter what his trainer says. I told him about the cities I’d lived in growing up, my obsession with baking shows, and my ongoing feud with Ferrari’s coffee machine.

(That part almost gave me away. But he didn’t catch it. Not yet.)

At one point, he leaned back, just watching me over the rim of his cup.

“What?” I asked, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

“You’re hard to figure out.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Not at all.”

The silence between us was warm, not awkward. Comfortable. Which is probably why I blurted it out before I could overthink it.

“So… I’m having a birthday thing at the end of this month. It’s kind of a mix of family and friends, not a huge party, but you should come.”

He blinked, like I’d just asked him to join me on a trip to the moon. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Why not?” I took another sip of my coffee and added casually, “You’re fun. I like you.”

He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that didn’t need any clever reply.

“I’d love to come,” he said finally. “What should I wear? Are we talking jeans or, like, red carpet-level fancy?”

I laughed. “Definitely not red carpet. Just… look nice. And maybe be ready for a few surprises.”

His brow furrowed. “What kind of surprises?”

I smirked. “You’ll see.”

—

whotfisnaya

liked by isackhadjar, georgerussell63, olliebearman & 2,389,294 others.

whotfisnaya: life’s been cute or whateva

—

lewishamilton: I always thought I spoiled Roscoe the most and then I came back and you had ordered him every vegan item off the menu.

liked by whotfisnaya

whotfisnaya : that’s my boy right thurrrr— he asked me for it all and I deliver

lewishamilton : yeah on my credit card

whotfisnaya: duh

georgerussell63 : so honored to be included in a dump alongside your soft launch

whotfisnaya : only added because carms looks so cute

carmenmmundt : love you naya❤️❤️

liked by whotfisnaya

georgerussell63 : BETRAYAL

olliebearman : oh so we’ve moved into a soft launch era?

whotfisnaya: I literally should have never taught any of you men that phrase

—

isackhadjar

liked by whotfisnaya, olliebearman, yukitsunoda0511 & 424,289 others.

isackhadjar : lovin’ life

—

olliebearman : getting close with the in laws I see?

this comment has been deleted

olliebearman : who is the lady?!

isackhadjar : nunya

olliebearman: that’s a weird way to spell naya.

whotfisnaya: oliver stop being a menace

yukitsunoda0511 : 🔥🔥

username00 : him having Lewis’ daughter in his likes and his dad comforting him must feel amazing

—

lewishamilton

liked by whotfisnaya, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 & 4,397,298 others.

lewishamilton : Happy birthday to my favorite girl in the world. Watching you grow into the woman you are today has been the greatest privilege of my life. You’re smart, bold, kind, and full of fire — just the way I always hoped you’d be. Keep chasing what sets your soul on fire. I’ll always be in your corner. Love you endlessly.

—

olliebearman: ofc the one day isack avoids instagram- sigh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAYA LOVE YOU

charles_leclerc : happy birthday mini hamilton! can’t wait to celebrate you.

georgerussell63 : to the biggest most lovable menace on the planet— happy birthday!

susie_wolff : Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

scuderiaferrari : happy birthday naya!! 🎈🎈

mercedesamgf1 : happy birthday naya! we miss you so much!

—

The thing about hosting your birthday in Monaco is that there’s always a yacht, always a DJ, and always a guest list full of people who look like they belong in a GQ spread.

Mine wasn’t over-the-top — not by Monaco standards, anyway. Rooftop terrace, ambient lights, too many photographers across the street pretending not to be watching.

I spotted Isack the second he walked in, wearing a button-down that was definitely ironed by someone else and looking very out of place in the best way possible.

He kissed my cheek when he found me. “Happy birthday, Miss Mystery.”

“Glad you came,” I said with a grin. “Feeling brave?”

“Honestly? A little nervous,” he admitted. “I’ve seen three world champions already and I’ve been here five minutes.”

“Mm. You might want to stay nervous.”

I took his hand and pulled him gently toward the center of the terrace, weaving past Red Bull engineers, a retired footballer, and a couple of Ferrari mechanics.

And then—there he was.

Dad, standing by the bar, dressed in a sleek suit and sipping on sparkling water.

“Hey,” I said, walking up to him. “Someone I want you to meet.”

Dad turned, already grinning.

“This is Isack,” I said, as casually as if I were introducing him to my barista. “My boyfriend.”

Isack froze. Completely.

“Isack,” Dad said, offering his hand with a knowing smile. “Good to see you again.”

Again.

Isack blinked. Twice. Looked between us. “Wait. Hold on.”

I tried not to laugh.

“You’re…” He looked at Dad. “You’re her…?”

“Father,” Dad said smoothly. “Did she not mention that?”

“I—no. She definitely didn’t.”

I took a sip of my drink, trying not to smirk. “Felt like it would ruin the surprise.”

Isack turned back to me, eyes wide, voice half a whisper. “You’re Lewis Hamilton’s daughter.”

“Took you long enough.”

Dad clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard. “Welcome to the family, son.”

Isack looked like he was questioning every life choice he’d ever made. I leaned in, voice just for him.

“close your mouth, love. you’ll catch flies.” i said and pushed up his chin.

—

“Oh no,” Isack muttered under his breath. “Why are they all here.”

“Because I have amazing friends,” I said sweetly. “And they love watching you suffer.”

“Hadjar!” Lando called, arms already spreading like he was about to hug him just to whisper something evil in his ear. “So you’re the one dating the princess of Formula One, huh?”

Jack whistled low. “You’ve got some guts, man.”

Kimi, deadpan as ever, tilted his head. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

“I didn’t know!” Isack said for what was probably the seventh time tonight. “She didn’t say anything!”

“He called Lewis ‘sir,’” Ollie chimed in again, grinning like this was the best day of his life. “It was so formal.”

“Wait, did you?” Lando asked, barely holding in his laughter. “Like, a ‘Hello, Mr. Hamilton, may I date your daughter’ type situation?”

“He panicked!” I added, giggling. “Tried to act like they hadn’t met before.”

“I had no idea!” Isack groaned. “You all suck.”

“I’m just saying,” Jack said, nudging Kimi. “If I found out my girlfriend’s dad was seven-time world champion Lewis Hamilton, I’d have walked straight into the Mediterranean.”

Kimi nodded, stone-faced. “We still might throw you in.”

“Please do,” Isack said, face in hands. “End it.”

Lando gave him a brotherly clap on the shoulder. “Look at it this way. You’ve already peaked. Can’t go higher than impressing Lewis Hamilton.”

Ollie leaned into me with a smirk. “You know he didn’t even realize until Lewis introduced himself back?”

I sipped my drink. “Timing is everything.”

Isack looked up at me then — red-faced, wide-eyed, but grinning. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Only a little,” I teased. “But hey — you’re handling it like a champ.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like an F1 champ or…?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jack said dryly.

Kimi cracked the faintest of smirks. “We’ll see how you qualify next weekend, Hamilton’s boyfriend.”

—

whotfisnaya

liked by isackhadjar, lando, lewishamilton & 4,389,387 others.

whotfisnaya: long story short…i love isack and isack loves my dad (the selfie is warming my heart by the second)

—

username00 : dating your idols daughter?? wasn’t familiar with your game isack

olliebearman: neither was he

whotfisnaya : oliver be nice

lewishamilton : Welcome to the family, Isack. We love you even if you are oblivious sometimes.

liked by whotfisnaya, lando, isackhadjar and olliebearman

olliebearman : is it cheating since he will be mentored by the goat?

lando : he fr just skipped ten levels

isackhadjar: love you the most even if you embarrassed me in front of my goat

liked by whotfisnaya

—

🦋🐞💋🫶🏻🧜🏻‍♀️

[brittle-doughie]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

∘•············•∘ʚ I’ll Take You: Eternal Sugar Cookie ɞ∘•·············•∘

[They miss you…]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

To each other, you two were a match made in oven. You had an angel would made sure that you were always happy through all kinds of loving affection. And the Sugar of Happiness had a Cookie made for her that she could cherish for as long as she lived. She was all too happy to show you what it meant to feel that joy and love in your heart.

She’d take your hand and fly around the fields of flowers to up in the sky where you two could lay on clouds as you both tell each other’s feelings. Here’s a hint, she loved you and you loved her! Not so much a secret, but always something she loved to hear come from your mouth!

She’d do whatever she could to give you everything and anything, but you’d decline these big gifts she’d give you. It didn’t matter, because as long as you had her, you were always happy. That alone is enough for the Sugar of Happiness to brighten her up the whole day. There was that extra security that you’d never be this close to any Cookie but her!

She was your everything.

To the Sugar of Happiness. You were a Cookie that she can call her everything…

“I never thought that you could make so happy for all these years, my angel…”

“And I could never have been a happier angel without you, my heavenly. I count my stars every day knowing that I was gifted such a wonderful Cookie…”

“What of the other Cookies? I wish they could be as happy as I am with you…”

“I might have the answer for that, my heavenly…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When she made her paradise, it was to be a place where all Cookies who enter it would be happy. A place where suffering and disease would only be in memory. She gave you your personal spot where all your needs would be met…but to you, that wasn’t what you wanted. You started to see her less and less as she just let her paradise do the work of making you happy. It was her wish after all, to always see you happy.

You wanted her. Your heart yearned for her.

Yes, she’d tend to you when she senses your hurt emotions. You two have that special connection to each other, but she’d now would leave once you’ve calmed down to allow her paradise and the sugar angels to take care of you in her stead.

“My garden is a place where all Cookies must be happy, all of them. I’m sorry I can’t stay like we used to, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less…”

“I want you to stay. I don’t want to be left alone…”

“The Sugar Angels will gift you company, my heavenly. I must welcome the newer guests to my paradise…”

“Wait…”

And she was gone. Just like that…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You missed those times in the past…

Where she could make Cookies happy while still having enough time for you. Weren’t you meant to be for her? If you can’t be with her always, then what were you anymore?

No matter how many times Eternal Sugar tries to paint a smile on your soul, it never lasts…

You were…unhappy….

…

…

…

“What was the world like outside of this place?”

You ponder one night, lying on your back in your bed, looking up at the night sky…was it even a real one?

Just how much of the world would you missing out on when you remained here for all this time?

Were there possibly other places then here that could you feel…happiness? Joy?

….

You hoped your Creators were listening. You ask for them to please give you a sign…

….

…You noticed a faint red string coming from your chest, you somehow didn’t notice that up until now…

You went to reach for it, only for it to somehow come loose and float away into the air…

That felt…freeing? That weight in your chest from your emotions suddenly felt light, as if you weren’t weighed down anymore…

Your angel didn’t pay you mind as much anymore, she won’t seem to fret that much if one Cookie left her paradise…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The garden stood still.

The Bringer gasped suddenly as she clutched her chest, where her heart was located. She brought a hand to her eyes to see that she was crying, her hands start to tremble as she felt her heart being torn in two…she felt…forgotten…

She immediately knew what was wrong with her…

How was she so foolish…

…

…

…No.

She won’t allow it to end like this.

She can make you happy, just like she should’ve always been doing…

And if you refuse, she’ll just have to take you…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had taken your first steps into this new world, for you. It wasn’t anything like the paradise, with the variety of colors and plants that littered the placed.

You were nervous about this, but you also felt excited.

What did this world have in store for you-

“Heavenly….? Where are you going…?”

You froze up at the worried voice behind you, knowing it too well to mistake it for any Cookie.

“I was just wondering what outside the garden was like. You told me not to go out in fear of monsters, but..I just wanted to see it had in store.”

“Heavenly…”

“Please, call me Y/N Cookie…”

This formality only brought fear to Eternal Sugar’s heart. It was like you two were just strangers in comparison to the soulmates you two always were…it only made her want to get you more quickly…

“Y/N Cookie. I’m relieved to hear you were only curious. Please return to the garden, I..want to talk to you there about something.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you can tell me…”

“Y/N Cookie-“

“Stop.”

…

…

…

…

“I’m sorry….”

“Sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone like I did. My paradise was meant to make every Cookie that live in it happy, but I failed to see that doing that only made you unhappy.”

“No, that was just your duty. It was just how…you’d leave me to let your paradise make me happy when you’re the only one that can…”

“I see that now! So please, come back with me! I want to make this right! To have things go back to how they were!”

“I’m sorry too, my angel. The world is calling for me, and I want to see what it can give me for my own happiness now…”

Eternal Sugar sighed solemnly. It looked like she really ruined things now….

And she aims to fix that.

“Your happiness is with me.”

She immediately flew at you and grabbed you, you try to resist as she pulled you back towards the garden.

“My angel, please!”

“Don’t worry, my heavenly! I’ll make things better!”

“You’re holding me too tightly!”

“Why wouldn’t I? I need to show you how much I love you!”

“If you love me, you’d set me free!”

“But I REALLY love you, so I’ll keep you here with me! Oh, just think of the memories we can make here!”

She held your face close to hers…

“Don’t you get it, my love?”

“You’re EVERYTHING to me….”

You’d never get to see the world. Why would you? SHE is your world now…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[ducksido]

I LOVE YOUR WORKS Practically going to tumblr to see it, I wanna request a houswardens having s/o who has unreal beauty? And has soft melodic laugh, I am just liking the trend of unreal beauty AHHHH I wanted to do myself the fic but you will do it better[sry just love you fics they look like canon]

(thank yew ❣️❣️)

Riddle Rosehearts Riddle was raised on rules, not daydreams. But when he looks at you? Logic flies out the window. You don’t just look beautiful—you’re unreal, like a fairytale vision spun from silk and moonlight. The first time he hears your laugh—soft, chiming, and full of genuine warmth—he forgets his entire sentence mid-way.

“I-I… you’re… no, I mean—ahem! You shouldn’t laugh like that in public—it’s… distracting…” His ears are as red as his hair. He gets flustered trying to enforce rules around you, but deep down? He loves that he’s powerless to your smile.

Leona Kingscholar Leona’s seen plenty of beautiful people, but you? You're on a whole other level. He calls you “Herbivore”, but the way he looks at you—like you’re some mythical creature who wandered into his den—is pure reverence.

“Tch. With a face like that, you’ll give the sun a complex.” He pretends to nap through your laughter, but his tail always flicks toward you when you laugh—like it’s trying to chase the sound. You're the only one who can make him willingly move from his nap spot… just to hear you laugh again.

Azul Ashengrotto You’re his Achilles’ heel. Azul, ever-calculated, tries to maintain composure around you—but when you walk in, glowing like ocean pearls with that melodic laugh that ripples like waves? He short-circuits.

“W-Would you mind… not laughing like that during meetings? It’s hard to think straight when you sound like a lullaby.” He fantasizes about bottling your laugh like a potion—something precious only he can hold. No business deal could ever compare to the way you smile just for him.

Kalim Al-Asim Kalim adores you. He's stunned every time he sees you—like he forgets you're real. Your laugh? It’s his favorite song. He claps, spins, and cheers when he hears it.

“You're like a genie’s wish come true!! Even your laugh sparkles!!” He shows you off like a precious jewel—not out of pride, but pure awe. He throws lavish parties just so others can see what he sees: someone too beautiful for words, with a voice soft enough to tame storms.

Vil Schoenheit Vil is the standard of beauty. And yet—even he can’t help but pause when you walk into a room. He studies you with a critical eye at first… but soon finds himself breathless.

“You’re… quite literally dazzling. And that laugh? It’s like perfume for the ears. How am I supposed to stay composed?” You’re the only one who could make the Queen himself stumble over words. Vil admires your grace, your softness, and the way your beauty is effortless. He won't admit it out loud, but you make him feel insecure—in the best way.

Idia Shroud He thought ethereal beauty only existed in RPGs. But then you appeared—with that glowy, surreal aura and a laugh so gentle it makes his chest ache.

“You… you’re not like a ghost or a simulation, right? B-Because you look like you phased in from another dimension or something…” His hair flares hot pink whenever you laugh. He replays your voice in his head like a cherished OST. He’s convinced you're some kind of mythical NPC that accidentally wandered into his world—and he's not letting you glitch away.

Malleus Draconia To Malleus, who has wandered centuries alone, you are a vision he never thought he’d witness outside a dream. Your beauty transcends mortal standards. He doesn't just admire you—he worships you.

“Your laughter… it soothes the thorns in my heart. You must be a forest spirit, come to enchant me.” He finds himself smiling whenever you’re near, your presence brighter than even his beloved gargoyles. You’re his lullaby. His light. His reason to want the company of others—for once.

[clickercouture]

This Is Your Reality, Don't Be A Lewser ✷

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re the god of your reality. You’re the operant power. You’re in control. So why allow yourself to struggle when it’s completely avoidable?

“B-but I can’t shift and nothing’s working!!” Hm. I wonder why...

If you spend all your time whining about how you can’t shift, then surprise, surprise—you won’t shift. Not now, and probably not ever.

Tired of struggling? Here’s the solution: Decide that you’re that bitch. A master shifter. A master manifestor. Someone who gets everything they want, never fails, and owns every outcome. And then—stick to that.

Instead of running back to Tumblr the second something doesn’t go your way, move through life with your head held high. Stay calm, cool, and collected. You know everything’s working in your favor—because it always does. So why stress?

Stop panicking about failure. Start anticipating success.

“What if I don’t shift tonight? I really don’t want to go to school tomorrow...” Should be: “What should I do when I shift tonight? How long should I stay there? Should I tweak my script a bit before I go? I’m so excited—maybe I’ll shift right now!”

That’s the mindset. That’s the energy.

And another thing—don’t let your current reality shake you, even if it’s showing the opposite of what you want. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t dictate reality. You do. Stay firm. Stay stubborn. Stay unbothered. Think like the powerful being you are.

If you say you’re going to shift, then you will shift. You’re the only one in control here.

And please—for the love of god—don’t be one of those people who spiral in self-pity, cling to toxic thought loops, obsess over the “old story” (the one where you can’t shift), and flood bloggers’ inboxes because you’re too busy doubting yourself to figure shit out. That mindset won’t get you anywhere.

This is your reality. You’re better than that, honey.

Before you go, repeat after me:

"I’m the greatest shifter to ever exist—past, present, and future."

"I’m a master shifter."

"I’m a master manifestor."

"I can’t fail."

"I always get exactly what I want, when I want it."

"I can achieve anything."

"I’m the operant power."

"I’m in control."

"Reality doesn’t matter."

"I am the validation."

"I’m smart."

"I’m sexy."

"I’m one of one."

"I’m confident."

"I’m not a loser. I’m a winner."

[famousinmyfandom]

1. My main WIP document is titled JJ because it’s where I started writing my first JessJohnny fic and I just never bothered to change it. It has 6 wips in it right now. (Because most of what I write is under 5k, I keep multiple wips in one file.)

2. I try to say something different in the end notes of everything I write so people know I legitimately want comments and I’m not just copying and pasting a sentence that sounds nice. I’m not sure if it makes a difference.

3. I constantly forget scars and certain items of clothing, so it’s usually one of the last things I check before posting a fic.

4. Sometimes I’ll write a short for one prompt but when it’s done, I realize it fits another one better, so I change it because I feel like I did a disservice to the original prompt.

5. Cowboy boots are the bane of my existence because you can’t just slip them off. You have to use your hands. Sometimes I’ll be writing a sexy scene and then I realize everything has to stop so the characters can take their boots off.

6. I hate describing outfits. I’m trying to get better at this.

7. I self beta everything I write because I am terrible at accepting any sort of criticism, but I now have a two friends who I might ask quick questions of like “hot of gross? A or B?”

8. There’s a specific hotel room layout that I automatically use in most of my fanfics. I only recently realized I do this. I think the room is from an episode of Supernatural, but I’m not sure?

9. The first time I took a commission, I started writing before getting payment because the plot bunny bit me. The commissioner disappeared the next day. Based on blog posts leading up to that, I am nearly certain that they actually died. (I keep hoping I can still sell this fic (Clint Barton whump) because it was a donation commission. I feel very weird about this. 😬)

10. And my most unhinged fact of all: I’ve been writing entirely on mobile since September 2018 and I actually enjoy it because my fingers don’t outpace my thoughts.

✨ 10 chaotic writer facts you didn’t ask for but are getting anyway ✨

I write 1,000–3,000 words a day. Not because I’m disciplined, but because I have no social life and mild control issues. It’s fine. I’m fine.

Before I ever touched a keyboard, I was an artist. Like, sketchbook-at-recess, drew-my-own-manga-level obsessed. I’ve been drawing since I was five. Now I use those powers to procrastinate writing.

I talk to my characters like they’re real people. I once argued with one out loud in a grocery store. We’re not on speaking terms anymore.

I name all my WIPs things like “pain_project” or “he cries again.docx” because I enjoy foreshadowing my own breakdowns.

I collect empty notebooks like a Victorian ghost who died tragically in a stationary store.

I have cried because a character forgave someone. That’s it. That’s the fact.

Sometimes I start new projects just to avoid editing old ones. This is not a healthy system but it is a personality.

I finish a gut-wrenching scene and then go eat cereal like nothing happened. Cold emotional whiplash is my brand.

I regularly forget what my characters are supposed to know, and when it happens, I just give them sudden intuition or full-blown memory loss.

I’ve rage-deleted whole chapters because a side character took over and made the main one look bland. And yes, I made the side character the lead.

Okay, now your turn—drop your own ✨10 chaotic writer facts✨. I know you’ve got them. Don’t leave me screaming into the void alone. Reblog this with your chaos, I want to see the beautiful mess.

Love u all!

[littlemissrbf]

Summer Lovin’

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Fem!Reader

Y’all I am so late to the Bob Floyd hype train but I can’t stop thinking about giving him the full SoCal experience (Also is Bob actually from Montana or is that just a widely accepted hc ?)

(No use of y/n, fem!reader, reader is a SoCal native, language, for the purpose of this fic Bob is from Montana, reader has an annoying but loving uncle, I think this is gonna end up being a multi-part fic)

Part 1 [Word Count: 3k]

Meeting a man like Robert Floyd had to be a moment of pure fucking luck.

The drive down to San Diego was a complete bitch. You were on your way to Naval Base Point Loma for your uncle’s retirement ceremony and of course, when you got there, you were stuck at the main gate because of your lack of military ID or spouse card. You needed to call your uncle to basically confirm that you are family and let you in. You grabbed your phone off its stand and snickered to yourself at the contact name from a while back when he had a ridiculous mustache and refused to shave it,

“Hey siri, call Wannabe Tom Selleck.”

After a few rings, he picked up,

“Ohh guess who finally decided to show up. Lemme guess, you need me to come buzz you in?”

“Yep.”

“Well what’s the magic word?”

You let out a sigh and tried again,

“Can you please come get me, I’ve been driving for two hours and I feel like if I don’t stretch my legs in the next five minutes I’m gonna lose it.”

“Relax kiddo, I’m on my way.”

The ceremony started promptly at one and was over by two, your uncle spent the next hour showing your family around the base. You took family photos on the beach for a bit. At dinner, your relatives gave you the interrogation of a lifetime, asking about your school, work, and relationships. The last topic had you flustered as it had been a while since you’d actually dated anyone. Sure, you had some flings here and there, but nothing actually serious or worth bringing home to meet your family.

“You really ought to find yourself a military man just like your aunt, that way you only have to deal with him for about half the year, and you’d get the whole house to yourself while he’s away.”

Laughter erupted around the table, and your uncle smiled over his glass before speaking,

“Well that’s the case for about 20 years until he retires, then you’re stuck with him and his loud-ass snoring forever.” He said while throwing his arm around his wife, and your aunt, who rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Seriously Auntie, how have you put up with him for this long?" you held her hand as you asked.

She gave your fingers a squeeze and replied, “Well sweetie, he’s the love of my life, and I just have to remind myself of that sometimes. Especially when I’m thinking of smothering him with my pillow.”

The sound of laughter bounced around the restaurant, and you laughed along too, but your mind was still stuck on the idea of 'finding yourself a military man'. Of course, you wanted to find a good man to settle down with but it wasn’t that simple, it felt like literally every part of dating was a struggle for you, even MEETING people was hard. And then there was the other thought, if you were to be with a military guy who was deployed half of the year, is that something you could really handle. You'd heard stories about disloyalty and how apparently military, cops, and firefighters are most likely to cheat on their spouses. Or what if he's perfect and you love him and he gets stationed in another state, then you have to choose between staying close to your family or moving with him. Your uncle must have noticed your little space out, or maybe he saw the way your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you thought about this hypothetical relationship with a military man. He took a piece of his napkin, rolled it between his fingers, and flicked it at you from the palm of his hand. It hit you right between your brows and you turned to him with a (greatly exaggerated) shocked face with your hand on your chest that mimed clutching your pearls.

He threw his head back as he laughed at you,

“Geez Louise kiddo you’ve gotta lighten up a bit, maybe live a little.”

You scoffed “Gee thanks for the advice, any more suggestions on how to ‘live a little’ old man?”

Before he could respond to your sarcasm with his usual quips or a clever joke, a brilliant idea hit him like a brick, and you swore you could actually see the little lightbulb appear over his head.

“We’re going to the beach.”

The “beach” in question was actually a military-access beach on Coronado Island called “Breakers Beach”. Since it was a part of Naval Air Station North Island, it was only available to military personnel and their guests. You had given your keys to your aunt, who was ready to go home after a day in heels and her second glass of wine, so your uncle drove the two of you in his truck. Turns out, your little field trip to the “beach” was actually a little field trip to a bar called the “Hard Deck”.

You’d heard about it before in one of your uncle's stories, he was arm-wrestling another officer at the bar when a man at the other end accidentally knocked over a drink. The wet counter caused my uncle’s elbow to slip, he lost the match, and he was stuck paying for his buddy’s tab. Of course, my uncle grabbed the man from the end of the bar and dragged him outside by his collar (he had the "decency" to take him outside the bar before trying to bash his face in). Turns out, the guy was actually a flight instructor for Top Gun so bashing his face in was not a good idea and probably would’ve resulted in a lifelong ban from the bar. They apologized, shook hands, and then did some shots together.

Your uncle pulled up to the gate with his ID ready, the man in the booth took it and looked your way, and you handed over your driver's license. He looked between the two of you and asked "relation?" Before you got the chance to respond, your uncle smiled at the man and clapped his hand on your shoulder like he was showing off a new car at the dealership,

“Oh, this young lady right here is my beautiful niece who just so happens to be single.”

Then he fucking winked at the officer and brought his elbow up in a “nudge-nudge” gesture.

You felt your heart stop. The son of a bitch was actively trying to get you a man.

“Oh my god please no” you begged with your face now buried in your palms, but he was still going at it with the poor guy who just stood there dumbfounded.

“I’m just saying if you’re single and she’s single-”

You cut him off, “Sir, I am so sorry please ignore him.” But he just couldn't shut the fuck up,

“See? Look how polite she is, son I’m telling you this is honest to God girlfriend material right here!”

Finally, the poor man spoke up,

“I uh- already have a girlfriend sir.” he gave a little shrug as he handed back your IDs and opened the gate.

Your uncle didn't miss a beat.

“Well in that case, son, you just dodged a bullet cause she’s a handful, you have a good night.” your uncle said with a grin as he pulled through the gate.

You waited until you were out of earshot,

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

After a few minutes of complete silence, you made it to the bar and he pulled into a spot. Realizing that your uncle was about to go boyfriend hunting for you in a bar full of Naval officers you pulled down the sun visor’s mirror to check your face and hair. You had dressed up and done a bit more makeup than usual because it was his damn retirement ceremony and you knew your family was going to take pictures. You picked one of your nice dresses, a blue short-sleeved one that cut off just above your knees and was perfect for the warm weather, you wore black ankle boots with a small heel and a small black purse to match. You had no idea if you were overdressed or underdressed, and honestly, you don’t really know which would be worse. Your uncle had changed out of his dress whites before dinner and now he wore just jeans and a polo shirt, between the two of you, you definitely looked overdressed.

Your uncle made his way over to you and put his hand on your shoulders,

"Here's the game plan kiddo, we're gonna go in there, get some drinks, and have a good time. I don't wanna hear any complaining. You're gonna go put yourself out there and meet some men and get their numbers. And if anyone starts giving you trouble, I'll take care of it."

You looked up at him, nodded, and gave a small smile. Despite all the jokes and embarrassing moments from the day, it was nice to know that he cared and would protect you

You sighed and turned towards the bar, thinking 'fuck it, I've got this'

Dear lord, you did not 'got this'. You did not 'got this' at all. The bar was completely full of patrons and it wasn't even six yet, and it was loud from all the conversations, the multiple pool games going on, and the music playing in the background.

Your uncle agreed to stay with you for a bit while you worked up the nerves to go out on your own, you sat together at the corner of the bar facing towards each other. Your uncle strategically sat down so that he was facing the TVs, and you were facing the other end of the bar where the pool tables were. There was a group around one of the tables, all in their khaki uniforms, there were about ten or twelve of them in total, but a smaller group of five stood closer to the table chatting. A woman at the center caught your eye immediately, she was shorter than the men around her, but she carried herself with no less confidence. She was talking to two men standing together, probably good friends and another two were placed on each side of the table.

Your uncle turned around to follow your gaze, then turned around once he saw the group you had been watching

"Someone's interested, alright which one of 'em is it?"

"Calm down, I was just trying to figure out what their uniforms are for."

"They're probably pilots."

"How can you tell?"

"Bunch of little nerds, just look at the one with the glasses over there."

You raised an eyebrow, there were about ten faces you skimmed over and absolutely none of them had glasses.

"On a stool, to the right. Look but don't be obvious."

You rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze past your uncle to look for the "little nerd" and sure enough, there he was. He was sitting on a stool with a cup of peanuts, watching the conversation in front of him. His hair was sandy blonde and styled nicely, he wore the same uniform as the rest of the group, and he had some huge fucking glasses which would've been ridiculous had he not been so good-looking. Of course, it's the one my uncle makes fun of that would catch my eye, you smiled as you thought to yourself.

Then he turned to look straight at you.

You immediately looked down, startled by the sudden eye contact, after a beat you looked up to see if he had turned and looked away yet. He didn't. When he caught you staring a second time, a small smile crept up on his lips, and raised his hand to give a little wave. Damn it he's cute. You smiled back, but instead of waving back you looked down again in embarrassment and started fiddling with your hair. Your uncle did not miss the interaction,

"Seriously, him?"

"Dude stop he's gonna hear you."

"I mean, you do you kiddo but he's probably only gonna ever want to talk about Star Wars, and video games, and books."

"I like those things."

You peeked over and sure enough, he was looking too.

"You like 'em little nerds."

"Okay stop saying 'little' and 'nerds' you old man or I'm gonna start introducing you as my grandpa."

"Ya know what, just for that you're on your own, I'll be over there watching the game and you're gonna go socialize."

He grabbed his beer and slid off his barstool, giving your shoulder two taps as a 'good luck' before making his way over to a booth near the TVs where he joined a group of patrons he recognized.

When you turned again to see if the man with the glasses was still looking he was now talking to the group of pilots around him. You watched as he stood up from his chair, took the cue that was being handed to him by the woman from earlier, and began to set up a game of 9-ball for the group. You were a bit disappointed that his focus was on something else but relieved that you didn't have to immediately go up and strike up a conversation, you wanted to prepare a little. The woman behind the bar snapped you out of your daydreaming

"Can I get you something to drink hun?"

You looked down at your empty glass, considered a second drink, then thought better of it. If you were actually gonna go talk to Mr. Glasses it was not gonna be while inebriated. You smiled back at her and asked shyly,

"Could I get something without alcohol?"

"Of course, sweetie. I can get you water, soda, or a Shirley Temple."

You hadn't had a Shirley Temple since you were a kid when it was your favorite thing in the world. You'd ask for it at every restaurant. It's just a ginger ale with some grenadine and maybe a cherry, nothing special, but the nostalgia hit you like a truck.

"Can I get a Shirley Temple please?"

"Sure thing, hun. I'll put it on your old man's tab"

You laughed as you thanked her, of course, she'd overheard your conversation earlier, she was probably standing directly in earshot the whole time. You turned toward the pool tables to see if Mr. Glasses was playing but instead, a tall blonde man held the cue and Mr. Glasses was off to the side next to another pilot with a buzzcut. The second you locked eyes again you smiled quickly, so you didn't seem rude, and then turned away.

'Every time I look at him he's looking at me.' you smile to yourself as the bartender comes with your drink. She seems like such a sweet lady so you introduce yourself, shaking her hand and she introduces herself as 'Penny' and the Hard Deck is actually her bar.

You spend the next hour or so chatting with Penny whenever she's not too busy with the patrons. She asks what brings you to Breakers Beach and you tell her about your uncle's retirement and how he brought you here to basically find yourself a husband. She chuckles at this, before telling you to 'be careful with those aviators', when you ask what she means by that she shrugs and tells you 'it's a long story'.

You steal glances at Mr. Glasses whenever Penny is busy making drinks or working the cash register, and every time he catches you looking he tilts his head, a boyish grin plastered on his face.

Eventually, you notice the group of pilots start to make their way toward the bar for some more drinks, but Mr. Glasses stays at the pool tables holding the cues, cleaning up a bit. You feel a little pull on your heartstrings, he must be a bit awkward, he has to be. Any other man would've struck up a conversation by now with the amount of times he's caught you staring.

Okay this is it, you're just gonna walk up to him, introduce yourself, and try to have a good conversation. If it goes well, great! And if it doesn't, then at least you know that you tried. You gather up the last beats of courage you can muster as you finish the last few sips of your drink, say a quick goodbye to Penny, and walk over to go meet Mr. Glasses.

He looks genuinely surprised when he notices you make your way over to him, when you're a few feet apart you manage to get out a "Hi" which comes out way higher than you intended. Before you can introduce yourself, his eyes light up

"Oh did you want to play?" He smiles and extends one of the cues to you.

"Huh?"

"Well, I noticed you look over a few times and I thought that you might just really want to play billiards."

Are you fucking kidding me, you'd spent the last couple of hours stealing glances and blushing at this guy and he thinks it's because you just really wanted to play pool?! You haven't played pool in years but it would be too awkward for the both of you to just decline. And, if you play a game or two with him then that gives you the opportunity to actually talk to him. So you smile sweetly as you take the cue from him, softly brushing his fingers with your own, and you introduce yourself.

"My name is Bob. Bob Floyd."

"Bob?"

"Yep Bob, it's short for Robert."

"Would you mind if I called you Robbie?" you asked, tilting your head.

"No, not at all." a pink blush spread to the tips of his ears.

You smiled as you had your own little lightbulb moment.

"Tell you what Robbie, let's play 9-ball and whoever loses has to buy the winner a drink."

He stared at you for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open, then he swallowed and looked down to pick up the cue chalk. He met your eyes again, and oh god he has gorgeous eyes, and he smiled confidently now and replied,

"You're on."

(Author's Note: oh this is already wayyy longer than I had planned. I've never really written a fic before and I kinda just use the dividers when I don't know how to move from scene to scene. Let me know if you have any writing tips or suggestions!)

[deansbeer]

𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

♡ ⋮ my content is not suitable for minors.

꒰ paired duo ꒱ demon!dean x female!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱ you moved on after dean died by the hands of metatron — until he shows up at your front doorstep again, ruins you, and reminds you exactly who you belong to.

꒰ content warnings ꒱ smut | angst | rough sex | backshots | demon!dean is aggressive | dom!demon!dean | hair pulling | head pinning | manhandling | size kink | dirty talk | light degrading | possessiveness | implied past relationship | creampie | overstimulation.

꒰ sticky notes ꒱ he's been consuming my mind all of last week and i needed to let it out somehow. so i opened google docs @ 3am crack hours ….. (i’m convinced a horny demon possessed me) & birthed this to life :) not to mention !!! the awful stomach cramps i was having (hunched over while holding back tears from the pain).

divider creds, @haecunt !

i’ve made my taglist private because i’m no longer using it. i had a hard time keeping track of it and would forget usernames. i am also too lazy to go back, save them to my notes, and copy paste under my fics.

you didn’t even hear the front door open.

no knock. no warning. just the sudden shift in the air — a weight that wasn’t there before. and before you can even turn around, he’s already there, behind you, voice low and rough and wrong in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“miss me, sweetheart?”

you freeze.

you haven’t seen him since he died. since the bunker. since the mark of cain took over him. you left, packed your shit and disappeared into this town like a ghost yourself, hoping the grief would settle into something manageable. you got a job. a decent little place for yourself. a dark oakwood dining table you bought secondhand and never used.

and now he’s here. dean.

not your dean. not the man who held you like you were something sacred. no. this one’s wearing his face, but his eyes are black and shining, his grin sharper, meaner. hungrier.

you barely get a breath in before he’s got you bent over the table, spine arched, hands flat on the worn wood. your pajama shorts are on the floor before you even register his touch, panties yanked down with a rough tug. he spits on his fingers, spreads you open like he’s done it a thousand times. like he remembers every inch of you.

“knew you’d run,” he mutters against your ear, pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance. “but damn, baby… you really thought i wouldn’t find you?”

you gasp when he pushes in, slow at first, but deep. it has your legs trembling and your nails scraping the wood. he’s bigger somehow. heavier. and when he bottoms out, he laughs low and filthy, one hand sliding up your back to flatten between your shoulder blades.

“yeah. that’s it. she’s missed me, hasn’t she?”

he starts moving, hard, fast, determined. his hips slap against your ass, the sound obscene in the quiet of your little kitchen. he keeps your head down with one hand, pressing your cheek to the table like he wants to leave a mark. almost like he wants you to remember this every time you look at it.

and you certainly will.

you’re already a mess. mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, ass lifting into the air like your body can’t not chase the next thrust. he finds that spot inside you — that soft, spongy spot — and hits it over and over until your whole body shakes.

“fuck, look at that,” he groans, watching your ass jiggle with every brutal snap of his hips. “missed this pussy, baby. missed the way you fuckin’ fall apart for me.”

you whimper, voice caught somewhere between “please” and “don’t stop.” your hands grip the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping you from floating away. your back arches on instinct, legs spread as wide as they’ll go, taking every inch of him.

“not so quiet now, huh?” he growls, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back. “what happened? thought you were done with me? thought you’d get your little house, your little life, and i’d just stay dead?”

you shake your head, breath stuttering. “i didn’t— i didn’t know—”

“yeah, you didn’t,” he snaps, punctuating it with a brutal thrust that knocks the wind out of you. “but it doesn’t matter. ‘cause you’re still mine.”

his hand curls in your hair, yanks your head back just enough for him to see your face. his eyes are pitch black, but there’s something else under the surface, something that looks like hate, yet also feels like heartbreak.

he spits on your tongue before you can even register what’s happening. and you take it, mouth open, swallowing him down like it’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he mutters, voice wrecked.

he fucks you harder after that — rough, relentless, like he's trying to carve himself into you all over again. and maybe he is. maybe this is his way of saying i’m still here. maybe this is all he has left.

you come first, it hits you sharp and fast, your body locking up around him, your voice breaking on a sob. he doesn’t slow down. if anything, he fucks you through it, like he wants to feel the way you tighten, the way you shake.

“goddamn,” he breathes. “look at you. fuckin’ ruined.”

you’re still trembling when he comes, buried deep, holding you down with both hands now. you can feel it — the way he pulses inside you, the way he groans through gritted teeth, forehead pressed to the back of your neck like he’s trying to burn the moment into memory.

when it’s done, he stays there, cock still inside you, breath heavy, hands gripping your hips like he doesn’t want to let go.

like he can’t stomach the idea of letting you go again.

the silence that follows is thick.

you stay bent over the table, panting, your cheek damp against the wood. he finally pulls out, and you hear the soft, wet sound of it — the mess he made of you. of both of you.

you turn your head, barely able to look at him. “what now?”

he shrugs, eyes back to green for just a second. “now? i clean up. maybe grab a beer. maybe fuck you again.”

you swallow hard.

he steps closer, brushes a hand over your ass like he didn’t just break you open. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i ain’t leavin’ again.”

you know you should be scared. terrified, even.

but all you feel is the ache between your legs and the echo of his mouth on yours.

you already know… you never really left him either.

[pansy-picnics]

Want to go more in depth into my ulla/library fight interpretations without adding like 6 paragraphs onto the reblogs/replies of my last post GAHAHAHAA so um. Faq/some explanations here….

1. Varian stopping himself from calling her “mom”/“if i really am your mother”

i VERY briefly mentioned this in the tags, but basically, in my head, the main reason ulla possessed varian is because she wholeheartedly saw him as a complete stranger. I wanted her to be really malicious and manipulative here— But i want to vaguely reiterate the fact that i truly don’t think ulla would treat him this way had she known he was her son. She’s batshit crazy, being in complete isolation for 18 years in a completely separate reality where time barely exists and even 18 years have felt like thousands— she’s so desperate to leave she’s completely willing to take advantage of everyone else- but her own kid? her baby?

Varian was one of the main reasons she even WANTED to leave- she always loved him. I think she had a lot of complex things going on and idk that she was ready to be a mother when she had him, but she truly loved him and wanted to come back to him….but she Does Not Recognize him at all because. Well shes basically lost all sense of time and reality, she can’t possibly bear the thought that time had moved on without her in any way. She doesn’t really remember who she is or what she looks like, so she cant recognize him by looks either. NOT TO MENTION var is trans in my head, so basically its like a triple whammy because ulla is 100% sure she has a daughter who is at most a year old and she wants to get back to her and her family. and suddenly this random teenage boy is coming in like Hey so I’m your son. I’D TWEAK OUT TOO LIKE WHO ARE YOUUUU.

So yeah. Varian does not call her mom, although he really really wants to. It just feels too weird to do so when shes completely unfazed by it- it’s like calling out to someone you used to know and them not even recognizing you. It hurts, but you just have to push it aside cuz…rlly what else can you do?

2. Is she a villain

I rlly rlly did want to frame her as a villain here and she DEFINITELY IS ONE but i see her as a very sympathetic one. I like keeping up w the tts theme of most everyone being redeemable or sympathetic in some way,,, And i must admit i have one of my friends to thank for getting me as attached to ulla and don as i am— So i have a lotttt of thoughts abt them and all their doomed yuri. Ultimately ulla was never truly evil to me and i don’t think she means any ill intent towards varian. i think she does eventually recognize him, too— but it’s not actually until she sees donella.

I mean think abt it- babies only have so many defining features. I can guarantee you if i showed you a picture of an adult who you’re only vaguely seen as a baby once like 18 yrs ago you wouldn’t be able to recognize them as the same person. But donnie? of course she remembers her, just as clearly as she remembers her baby— the one difference is that donella has the same face ultimately, so ofc ulla recognizes her immediately. but shes…different. older, grayer, wrinkled and Changed. The same face, but clearly different. it rlly makes her realize just how long it’s been, that varian really is that same baby she left behind— and it all hits her like a truck

i think when it actually hits her ulla truly is terrified of the person she’s become. theres so much she wants to say to varian, to don, to everyone— So many questions she wants to ask, but she can’t bring herself to say much of any of it. But she finally just has to accept that,,, time has moved on— but she hasn’t been forgotten. i think thats something she always feared— being forgotten and leaving nothing behind. And,,, I think that’s one of varian’s biggest fears, too. Obviously shes still Not fully there in the head and shes kinda just had a complete swing from a manic state to a breakdown. And yeah she’s definitely not gonna be let off the hook for the fact that she was still willing to manipulate and possess even a complete stranger just to get out. But she and varian do have a heart to heart, she gets some closure with don….and they all do understand where shes coming from.

3. What about varian? does he just forgive her for the whole possession thing?

Absolutely Not. in fact i think it fucks w him so so bad. i think since he was a very young child, varian’s always built up this Idea of ulla in his head— this perfect maternal figure he never had growing up. He was even more excited to hear abt their shared interests, and he really really hoped that finding the library, finishing her work, etc, would give him some kind of catharsis and closure…perhaps, ideally even finding her again, wherever she was. But..that didn’t happen. He found her, of course, but she wasn’t that mother he had always wanted or needed. She had completely lost herself, didn’t even recognize him— and she was downright hostile towards him. He has so many mixed feelings about it all— disappointment, rage, some kind of grief, for both that image of her he had in her head and the potential that he never got to see. but i do think, with both his uncle and don + quirin he eventually learns more abt the person she was before— how similar they were, how much he could relate to her, how she truly was just,, human.

In fact, i think pre-library ulla was a lot like rapunzel— always a free spirit, always searching and yearning for something more. not completely ready to settle down, but she tried to anyways. Tried to go on one last trip before she finally settled,, and then everything went wrong, and she ended up hurting the people she loved most. I think w how close varian is to rapunzel, how much he understands her— that resonates w him a LOT.

All in all, i think as he matures, varian is eventually able to come to terms with it for what it is. No, she wasn’t the mother he wanted or needed— and she did things he could never, and never will, forgive her for. but he still empathizes with her and hopes that, in another life, she could’ve finally been free, and happy.

4. The rest of team radical being at the library fight

already mentioned in a reblog but ill put it here for consistency’s sake

Yeah. I think honestly the possession fight would hit sm harder if it was hugo, nuru and yong all there trying to snap him out of it. Yeah hugo can give him the whole confession spiel but nuru and yong are like,, his younger siblings. he’s impacted them in so many ways and they deserve to be there!!! Them trying to talk him out of it would go SO HARD and it would be SO EMOTIONAL 😭 I do think hugo was ullas main target, i think yong and nuru come in a little later bc they’re still dealing w donellas lackeys outside but they obviously aren’t just gonna leave var and hugo there!!!!!

5. Can you write a fic/make the show

I fucking wish

Srsly tho i would absolutely LOVE to write a fic about my interpretation of vat7k (although i can hardly call it enough to make a fic, i rlly just have Very passionate ideas of like everyones dynamics and character arcs). My writing skills are decent but unfortunately im not to the point w writing as a hobby where it comes as naturally to me as drawing does, so it takes me a lot of extra effort to go out of my way to write. Can barely finish oneshots atp (Sorry to the children of the moon fans its been a fucking year. i promise have a draft for the next chapter i’ve been touching like. Once a week)

My writer friends are like holding me at gunpoint to practice more though so maybe ill be able to write some oneshots abt them one day,,,,,,,,,

[mapofsouthdakota]

❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀

❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀°。❀

Details: 1800 words of pure Caleb fluff: think spring vibes, heart-thumping dokidoki moments, playful banter, flirting bonanza, sweet confessions, and cozy childhood memories. Oh, and of course, a hint of those soft, yandere, possessive tendencies we all adore. Maybe even a lil kiss heheee

Bloom for Me

The Lambo purrs to a stop like a satisfied beast, its sleek dark grey body gleaming against the gold-tinged sky. Silence follows as the engine cuts—no city noise, no people. Just wind, and the stretch of open, blooming field ahead.

You barely get your hand on the door before Caleb’s already there, smug grin and all, pulling it open like a prince who traded his horse for carbon fiber and horsepower.

“Milady,” he drawls, offering a hand with that infuriating little smirk. “After two hours of your… inspired karaoke, I’d say you owe me a stroll.”

“You loved it,” you say as you step out, letting him guide you. “You sang louder than me during the second chorus.”

“I was harmonizing,” he says, mock-offended. “It’s called talent.”

You laugh, and he sighs with exaggerated tragedy.

“Honestly,” he says, “you should be mourning the fact that I was driving. We could’ve had a full acoustic set—if your hands weren’t busy wrestling snacks and trying to pair your phone to my car for half the trip. I was robbed of a ukulele duet.”

“Like you’d ever let me drive.” You scoff, though your feet still find his, falling into step as he guides you along the edge of the field.

He stops just long enough to glance sideways at you, grin curling wicked. “How could I?”

Frowning, you raise a brow. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent driver.”

“No doubt.” He leans in, voice low. “But if you’re driving… how am I supposed to keep my hand on your thigh the entire time?”

You blink. “Hey—”

“I mean,” he cuts in smoothly, “I’d end up distracting the driver,” adding a wink that’s anything but innocent. “…Safety first, you know.”

A laugh bubbles up despite the eye roll. The field stretches wide before you, untouched and swaying with the breeze. A thousand wildflowers bloom like spilled paint, pinks and purples, whites and blues dancing in the spring air.

“Come on,” he says, tugging you gently forward, eyes already scanning the field. “I want to make you something.”

You arch a brow. “If this ends in a clumsy daisy chain, I’m going to—”

“Well, excuse you,” he interrupts, dropping your hand only to crouch and start gathering blooms with sharp precision. “You taught me, remember? You had dirt on your nose and declared yourself ‘Princess Bloomybelle the First, Ruler of Spring and All Things Pink.’ You even made me bow.”

Your chest warms at the memory, and you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips. “And you almost cried when your crown broke, Prince Bloomguard. Defender of the Bloomybelle.”

He glares up at you, plucking a violet with almost comical aggression. “I was invested, Princess.”

As you chuckle and sit beside him, your fingers drift through the flowers while he works—meticulous as ever. Caleb selects each bloom with care, threading them into a delicate crown as he murmurs their meanings under his breath.

“Daisy,” he says, holding one up. “Innocence. Purity. The first flower you gave me.”

He adds it to the crown.

“Violet. Loyalty and devotion,” he says, with a little shrug. “What can I say? Some habits stick.”

“Wow,” you tease, nudging him lightly, “a poet and a florist. Be still my heart.”

He grins, ignoring you, and keeps going.

“Forget-me-not. Obvious.”

“Caleeeb, you—”

“Shh.” He places a finger to your lips, soft and brief, then lowers it. “Bluebell. Kindness. Clematis… ingenuity. You’ve always found a way to surprise me.”

With practiced care, the next flower finds its place in the crown. A faint smirk tugs at Caleb’s lips—private, almost like he’s entertaining a thought only he finds funny.

“…Though I think I gave you a run for your money on that one,” he mutters. “Crawling my way back from the dead? Pretty clever, right?”

You lift your hand to smack him, but he catches it easily—gently—and presses a kiss to your knuckles before you can protest.

“What can I say?” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “Some people write love letters. I break natural law.”

As he glances up, that signature smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“I just happen to do both.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

His grin spreads slow, dangerous. “You say that like your hand wasn’t just wrapped around mine.”

Before you can reply, he suddenly leans in and tickles your side with wicked precision. You yelp, swatting at him, laughter spilling out as you stumble back.

“Tell me again how you’re the reasonable one—” his hand sneaks in under your arm, fingers attacking without mercy— “because the evidence is really not on your side.”

“Ca—Caleb—” you gasp between giggles, “you—dummy!”

He just grins wider. “Ah, name-calling. The final move of a clearly defeated mind.”

One last teasing nudge leaves you laughing, and then his attention shifts upward—drawn to a lilac branch swaying just overhead. The mischief softens, giving way to something quieter. A low hum escapes him as he steps forward, rising onto the balls of his feet to reach. His shirt lifts with the stretch, sunlight tracing golden over the lean lines of his torso.

Fingertips brush the lilac gently, careful not to damage the bloom. Once he plucks it free, he brings it to his nose, eyes half-lidded as he breathes in the scent.

Then he turns back to you, the lilac still in his hand—and something softer than sunlight blooming behind his eyes. Bruised and blooming at once—as if you’re the last truth in a world full of fading things.

“And this—” he lifts the lilac between you, “—for the first emotions of love.”

You blink.

“I’m not done,” he says, suddenly serious, fingers tightening the last weave of the crown.

Then, gently, he places it on your head—the crown of wildflowers woven with care and memory. His hands rest at your temples, fingers brushing skin. Violet eyes—always so certain—flick, uncertain now. There’s something in the way he looks at you, as if he’s standing at the edge of something he’s wanted for too long but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to step into.

He swallows.

“All these together,” he says quietly, “say one thing: You are my spring. My beginning. My rebirth. My resurrection. Every part of me that still dares to bloom.”

Reaching for the crown, you can only stare at him—breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your heart.

And he, in true Caleb fashion, smirks and adds, “Also, you look hot in flower crowns.”

You roll your eyes at his last comment, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. “Stop looking at me like that,” you mumble.

“Like what?” he asks, voice low.

“Like you mean it.”

Caleb shifts, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. But his hand lingers. So does his breath.

“That’s not the problem,” he says quietly. “The problem is I’ve always meant it. Every time. Even when I shouldn’t have. Even when it hurt.”

A thumb traces your cheekbone with a care he never learned how to hide. “Even back then. When we were kids and you bossed me around and made me flower crowns that fell apart after ten minutes—I kept every one.”

You look up at him, startled. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” He chuckles softly, eyes flicking away for a second before returning to yours. “Pressed the petals in a notebook. They’re probably dust now, but… I couldn’t throw them away. Not when they were from you.”

Without another word, he sinks into the grass, folding his arms behind his head. His eyes flick to yours, and he reaches up to take your wrist, voice too soft for teasing.

”You really think I came all the way back just to watch the sky alone? Come here, Princess.”

With one steady pull, he draws you down beside him, the world tilting until your shoulder brushes his. The grass bend around you both, and for a moment, everything is still.

He turns his head toward you. “…You ever think about what would’ve happened if we hadn’t met back then?”

You shake your head. “No point, my Prince. We did.”

He smiles at that—really smiles, soft and free of sarcasm. Then, slowly, he shifts closer. One hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb tracing a tender line just beneath your eye.

With his forehead against yours, breath mingling in the quiet space between, the crown of flowers dips softly where your heads meet. And in this realm suspended in wildflowers and sunlight, Caleb presses a soft kiss to the crown he made with his own hands. His voice follows—a murmur, warm against your skin.

“Don’t look at me like that—I might do something reckless…”

He exhales, his index finger tracing the shape of your lips.

“Like trap you in spring itself,” he whispers. “A field that never ends. A sky that never fades. Just you. Just me.”

And then he kisses you.

His lips carry the warmth of spring, the hush of all the things you never had to say. You fall into him without hesitation, the present collapsing to the shape of his arms and the way he holds you, not like a man kissing someone, but like a man clinging to his only proof that life still wants him.

The silence breaks in the soft parting of breath—his tongue brushing yours. And when he pulls back, the distance is barely a breath. Your noses touch—your hands stay endlessly tangled.

A little crooked now, the crown tilts until Caleb straightens it with a lazy smile. “You wear it too well,” he coos teasingly. “Might have to start making you a new one every week.”

You hum, feigning deep thought. “Hmm. I suppose I could be convinced.”

Caleb leans in, lips just a breath from yours. “Does this convince you more?”

The sky turns amber as the sun begins its descent, casting scattered light over the field. Suspended in golden stillness, scented with lilac and grass, the world feels too perfect to be real—like the universe paused just to give you this breath, this kiss.

“I’m never letting go,” Caleb whispers, his voice folding into the breeze. “Not in this life,” he adds, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Not in the next.”

Untamed flowers sway around you, nodding as if they understand. His thumb lingers at your jaw, resting there, a tether in the hush between heartbeats.

“There’s no future that doesn’t end with you,” he says softly. “I’ll build you a kingdom of flowers—and lock the gates behind us, Princess.”

And as the last syllable leaves his lips, he reaches for something small—one final bloom. Pale yellow petals, trembling in the breeze. With infinite care, he tucks it behind your ear.

“Primrose,” he breathes. “I… I can’t live without you.”

Endless violet eyes catch the final light of day—every part of him already yours, and still he reaches.

And in the stillness that follows, spring kisses you both.

——————————————————————————

In turning divine

We tangle endlessly

Like lovers entwined

——————————————————————————

[rhaeverie]

No Pain, No Gain — ljn

pairing. gym-rat!jeno x aider!reader genre. fluff, (kinda)friends-to-lovers, a dash of hurt/comfort, slice-of-life wc. 4.3k summary. Jeno’s well aware that he looks like an idiot in front of you, but what else could he do when just the sight of you makes him feel like a kid with a schoolboy crush?; or in which, Jeno’s been coming to your office with the tiniest of scratches just so he has an excuse to see you warnings. mentions of minor injuries (fake & real) and some bleeding (nothing super detailed but it’s still there), I sorta wrote this as if it were like a sitcom, cliche scenario an. clearing my wips! yet another fic set in the most random place u can possibly think of and it’s bc I (unhealthily) romanticize everything (×-×)—I started writing this during my gym rat (mouse?) era in 2023 but never finished it til now oops dk if its any good,,, enjoy!!

“I can’t move my thumb.”

You use your finger to smooth down the sports tape over its first layer, gently grabbing the younger boy’s wrist to inspect your work, “That’s the point, Chenle.” 

“How am I supposed to play basketball with this,” Chenle pouts, bringing his taped thumb and wrist to show you as if you weren’t the one who just did it. His posture grows worse at the realization of his small injury and now he’s slumped on the bed. 

You sigh and repeat yourself, “That’s the point. You need to rest it or else you can get an injury worse than this. I recommend maybe a week? But I’m not a doctor.” 

You start cleaning your station up, fully expecting Chenle to understand and leave. But instead, he remains seated on the medical table, pouting. You know he’s trying to get you to change your mind, but seeing that he reported his wrist feeling tight and stiff, you know that it’s sprained and playing with it could make things worse.

“Chenle, I’m being serious,” you groan, “You need to rest it or you can’t play basketball for the rest of your life.” You were obviously exaggerating, raising your brows for even more emphasis. If he won’t listen to you by simply telling him, you might as well scare him into listening to you.

“Rest of my life?” He frowns, looking down at wrist, “I… I guess a week doesn’t seem too long… Thanks Y/N.” 

You smile, relieved that he’s choosing to listen to your advice, “I’ll see you next week then?” 

He nods and gathers his duffel bag and his sweater, dragging himself out the door of the first aid room. 

You turn away from the door, ready to busy yourself with some housekeeping items when you hear a knock at the door. It’s quiet, and you almost think that you were imagining the sound, but when you turn to face the door, you’re met with the vibrant gaze of Lee Jeno, accompanied by a sheepish smile. 

Ah… Lee  Jeno—of course.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show up today,” you joke, “What happened now?” 

To anyone unfamiliar with the two of you, it might come across as if you weren't exactly doing your job well, seemingly rushing through treatments even when faced with potentially serious injuries. However, the guy standing in the doorway right now has been delivering the most poorest excuses for injuries you've ever heard.

Sure, perhaps a couple of questionable 'injuries' wouldn't bother you much, because maybe the person was just overly cautious about their well-being. But when Jeno strolled into your office recently with the tiniest scratch on his left calf, you couldn't help but suspect that something was definitely up. 

“I need ice,” Jeno side-steps into your office and pulls the corners of his lips higher on his cheeks, “Please?” 

“Next time, just jog over to the nearby McDonald’s and get ice there,” you say jokingly. This was his nth time in the past month asking for ice. You wonder if he’s just been using it to put into his water or if this dude just has some kink involving ice. 

You only question Jeno’s recent tendency to visit your office because, ever since you started working at the gym, he's been a regular. Hell, his physique alone is proof to his long-standing commitment to the gym. It just doesn't add up that Jeno, with his apparent gym ‘seniority’, would be falling victim to injuries so frequently.

“Here you go,” you hand him a small, transparent bag that was partially filled with ice, “Anything else?” 

Jeno’s irises fall to the right corners of his eyes in brief thought, “More… ice?”

You groan to conceal your amusement and move closer to Jeno, “Goodbye, Jeno. See you again another day!” You gently place your hands to his elbows, spinning him around and out your door.  

“No, wait I—“

“See you!” You wave, leaving Jeno no choice but to actually take his leave. 

Your coworker Jaemin sees the interaction from the front counter, and seeing that there weren’t any gym goers coming into the facility, he waves you over. 

"Everything alright?" he asks, his gaze flicking briefly from the computer screen to you.

You glance at his screen and notice a game of minesweeper unfolding. Suppressing a snicker, you retort, "Yeah, same reason as last week." Swiftly, you click on an empty tile on his minesweeper grid, revealing the mine locations.

“I’m trying to help you and you do this,” Jaemin clicks his tongue against his teeth and diverts back to the situation, “It’s not in a creepy way, is it?” 

You give yourself a moment to think everything through, “I’m not sensing anything weird or creepy with it, if I’m being honest. He’s going about it… in a cute way?” 

Jaemin lets out a hysteric laugh and it echoes throughout the gym, “A cute way?” 

"There's no other way to put it," you casually shrug. Leaning against the desk, you absentmindedly flip through the management binders laid out before you.

Jaemin's brows knit, his curiosity piqued. "Cute, how?"

“I don’t know.” You’re lying. You know damn well what you meant. 

Every time Jeno decides to pull one of his ‘stunts’, he’s at your door, eyes all glossy and resembling a hopeful puppy. And when you choose to pretend not to notice him, he doesn't hesitate to clear his throat (rather obnoxiously) or hum out a soft, "anyone home?" even though you're clearly rummaging in your cupboards for more supplies.

Jaemin reads right through your feigned innocence, eyes narrowing, “Sure you don’t.”

“Well, it’s not something I can explain,” you groan, “Just take my word for it.”

“Okay… cute… does that mean you’re enjoying all this?” Jaemin’s eyes wiggle your way and you’re glad that no one’s around to see or hear this. 

You scoff, “Enjoying what?” 

"Come on, Y/N. Let's not play naive," Jaemin smirks, "Jeno is practically inventing reasons to see you.” Jaemin pats your head like you would a child, which you dodge almost immediately, “Which is honestly disappointing. A guy like Jeno could probably think of something way better but he resorted to something so basic.” 

You glare at Jaemin, your annoyance evident, “I hate that you’re probably right.” Because what else could the reason be? Jeno couldn’t be that concerned for his well-being. And you distinctly recall questioning your other coworker, Xiaojun, about whether Jeno tends to show up frequently on your days off. His response? A shocking no.

“I always am,” Jaemin brushes non-existent dust off of his shoulder, “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” At times like these, you have the memory of a goldfish.

“If you were enjoying it,” Jaemin clarifies, "You did call it cute, and cute usually equals enjoyment."

There were a couple ways you could go about Jaemin’s question. Was he asking if you were reciprocating this attraction Jeno seemingly had for you? Or maybe he wanted to know if you found amusement in the ongoing situation?

Regardless, your cheeks betray you by warming at the question and the thought of your answer sliding off the tip of your tongue.

“I’d be lying if I said no.”

—

It’s no surprise when Jeno shows up to your office two days later with the same smile plastered on his face. 

He’s standing right outside of your office, waiting for you to welcome him in. When you do, he enters the room slowly, greeting you as he moves toward the medical bed situated at the far corner and away from the entrance. 

Jeno watches as you rake through a pile of disorganized supplies, “How are you?” You weren’t in search of anything specific, but you were trying to busy yourself now that Jeno was in the room with no clear purpose. 

“I'm all right," you reply casually, your voice calm. "You?” You quickly glance up at him and almost crumble to your knees. Today, Jeno is sporting a black muscle tee and grey sweatshorts, and though you've never really taken notice of his outfits before, you secretly (and shamefully) remind yourself to start doing so. 

“I’m okay,” Jeno hums, “I was wondering if I could get a heat pack?” 

You take a good look at him and narrow your eyes, “It doesn’t look like you need one.” But regardless, you make your way toward the heat packs sitting in a cupboard by the fridge. You simply wanted to hear what his reason was this time. 

“My quads are really stiff today,” Jeno replies, subtly gesturing to his legs, “I could barely get through leg day with them.” 

“Well, this should work,” you say. You pop the pack and wrap a towel around it, “There you go. See you!” 

“Can I stay here for a bit?” You don’t see the way Jeno pouts. You’re too busy making your way to your box full of miscellaneous things. He presses the pack against the upper side of his thigh, remaining seated on the bed, “I’ll leave when the heat pack is finished.” 

Jaemin’s voice echoes in your head, "Jeno is practically inventing reasons to see you.” And you can now see that it was painfully obvious. 

“Of course,” you say, “Take as long as you need.” 

You move on to organizing the supplies, trying your best not to mind the pair of eyes that were burning holes into the side of your head. 

“So…” Jeno starts, “How was your weekend?” 

“You don’t need to make small talk you know,” you say, pulling out three pairs of medical scissors, “You could take a nap or something.” With your back turned to him, you go to put the tools away, “I don’t mind.”

Jeno swings his legs in the air and slumps, “Yeah, but I—uh—do want to make small talk.” He’s half-assedly holding the heat pack to the side of his thigh, growing annoyed that it wasn’t staying in a specific place. He resorts to pinning it under his thigh. 

“Which I also don’t mind,” you say, biting back a smile, “My weekend was okay… stayed home and relaxed. Nothing super special. You?” 

You stop and turn to look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the man who was now leaning back against the wall. The position looks uncomfortable, yet Jeno appears to be content. 

“Similar to yours,” he replies, “Except Hyuck forced me to play a few games online with him. It was fun, actually! But don’t tell him that.” 

You let out a snort. You’re familiar with Donghyuck, recalling how he and Jeno had made a deal that if Jeno managed to bring him to the gym for a few workouts, then he had to play some of his PC games in return. 

“How’s he doing anyways?” You question, “I haven’t seen him in a while.” 

Jeno’s brows furrow for a sliver of a second before they sit back to where they had originally been, “Last leg day killed him, so he’s given up until he recovers.” 

“Ah,” you giggle, “Can’t keep up with you, I’m guessing?” 

Jeno shakes his head, bangs creating a blanket over his eyes. He sweeps them aside, “Not really. I don’t really go hard on leg days. I’m more of a back and biceps type of person.” 

Your eyes defy you as they scan Jeno’s arms. You blame him. His statement was practically an invitation to look at his upper limbs as if you needed some kind of evidence, “I believe you.” It comes out a lot more flirty than you intended and you want to sprint out of the room before you make one more wrong move. 

“O-oh,” Jeno stammers. It was a sight seeing Jeno grow shy, using his hands to hide arms. And although he was hoping to conceal them, the man forgets that doing so only means he had to flex his arms, “Thanks?” 

You’re not sure how to reply, resorting to rummaging through the same box. You find some empty rolls of tape and you toss them in the trash. How do you even go about this conversation? Say ‘you’re welcome’? Weird. Ask him about his routine? No, it wasn’t like you were looking into building your arms. Ask if you could feel his arms? 

Shut up, brain, be fucking for real right now.

“Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You look up and Jeno’s looking back at you expectedly.

“Sorry, I zoned out a little there,” you sheepishly confess, playing with one of the box’s flaps, “Did you say something?” 

“I… uh, nevermind, it doesn’t matter,” Jeno clears his throat, “It was just about—um—something. But it can wait another day.” He smiles and it just about reaches his eyes. 

“Wait, no, tell me,” you frown. 

“It’s…” Jeno’s eyes flicker back and forth, contemplating if he really should go through with his question. He wants to—he really does—but his words fail him, teeth biting at his bottom lip. 

“It’s really nothing, ha-ha!” You watch as his gaze drops to the heat pack suffocating underneath his thigh. He uses the back of his hand to feel it. It’s still very warm, but regardless, he uses it as an excuse. “I’ll just take my leave… Um, I guess I’ll see you around?” Jeno slips off the bed, tossing the pack into the trash before he moves past you. 

“Wait, Jeno…” You make another attempt to stop him, guilt slowly creeping up on you, curiosity accompanying it because you should’ve been listening. 

For once, you wished he stayed just a bit longer. 

—

It’s been almost a week and a half since Jeno last visited your office. 

But who’s counting?

You check once, twice, thrice over your shoulder for Jaemin’s presence, nodding to yourself when you’re sure that your coworker wasn’t there to see the down-bad bullshit you were about to pull. 

Pulling up the gym’s database, you quickly type Jeno’s name into the search bar. While it loads, which feels so so painfully long, your fingers tap against the edge of the desk. You can’t believe you’re doing this.

“Hm.” 

Once Jeno’s profile finally appears on the screen, you follow his row to the Date Last Active column, seeing that he was at the gym this morning, two hours before your shift. 

A low whistle knocks you out of your trance and you jump, almost knocking the keyboard off the desktop. 

“Fucking hell, Jaemin!” You swing at his shoulder at a strength you knew damn well he wouldn’t even feel, “You think you’re funny sneaking up on me like that?” 

“Yes,” Jaemin shrugs, “Misusing the database I see…” His eyes narrow at you, brow raising. Then, he smirks and pokes at your rib, “Stalking your boyfriend.”

“Shut up,” you quickly exit the application and pull up Jaemin’s minesweeper game, “He’s not my boyfriend… Acting like you don’t do the same shit with other gym goers…” 

“I don’t see why you can’t just walk up to him and talk to him,” Jaemin sighs, “He’s still here, you know.” 

“He is?” 

“Awww your eyes lit up!” Jaemin teases, diabolically sticking a finger in your face. 

You threaten him again, which Jaemin completely disregards out of spite.

“But tell me why he’s been coming to the gym more often when you’re not here,” Jaemin, like you, was quite familiar with Jeno’s routines, “Did you do something that would force the poor guy to change his routine all of a sudden? Sometimes he wakes up at ass o’clock to get his workout done.”

Your mind reels back to your last interaction. Playing back each and every second and overanalyzing each and every word that left your mouth that afternoon. Yeah, you probably did but you don’t want to think that you’ve scared Jeno away. 

“I don’t think so?” 

“‘I don’t think so?’” Jaemin mocks, “Writing ‘liar’ on your forehead would be more subtle than whatever the hell that was.” He pauses his game and decides to fix all his attention onto you, “Now spill.”

“I really don’t know, okay?” you groan, “Last time I spoke to him, I zoned out and I missed what he was saying and then he left and he didn’t even choose to repeat it or anything.” 

Jaemin narrows his eyes at you, almost as if he’s lost all hope in his very good friend and coworker, “Y/N, did you not just graduate with a master’s?” 

Your brows meet, “Huh? What do you mean?”

He mutters a dumbass under his breath, which completely flies past your head. “Nothing.” Jaemin smirks subtly, turning away to leave in hopes that you don’t ask any further questions.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Jaemin gets flashbacks to his mom, “Uhhhhhhh, there?” The man points to nowhere in particular before taking off. 

“Na Jaemin!” You call out. Your voice echoes through the gym and you groan, slumping against the desk before accepting defeat—because what did Jaemin mean? Was he calling you stupid or something?

Not even five minutes pass when you hear Jaemin’s voice boom over the speakers, “Y/N, you’re needed in your office. Y/N, you’re needed in your office.” 

You look over to Jaemin’s office and shoot him a look that could kill. And again, Jaemin ignores your threat, grinning menacingly before he waves cause he knows he’s pissing you off. You’ve never grown used to this man’s attitude, but it doesn’t mean you don’t adore it. 

Logging off the computer, you let out a huff and pad your way past the exercise machines and into your office. And from all that you were expecting, you sure as hell weren’t expecting to find a very worn out Jeno, the hem of his tank sprinkled in faint drops of blood. 

“Jeno?” You don’t even try to mask your worry, fast-walking straight to him before you guide (practically tugging) him to the medical bed, “What happened? Are you okay?” 

An annoying and almost spiteful grin shyly appears on Jeno’s lips before he turns his palms up for you to see. His hands were covered in blisters, some popped and others brand new. They looked extremely painful to even look at.

“Fuck,” you mutter, “Didn’t I say not to overwork yourself that one time?” You turn your back to Jeno and begin gathering all the supplies you need to treat his blisters. You’re rambling under your breath, words unrecognizable from where you’ve sat Jeno down. 

Your heart’s beating out of your chest, mostly because this is the first time you’ve seen Jeno in a while. But to add his injuries on top of that? You’re certainly not sure how you’re keeping composure. 

Meanwhile, Jeno really can’t do much but watch you move from one corner of the room to the other. He wants to get up and help, but by the way an eleven forms in between your brows, he’s reluctant to even say anything. 

It’s funny because despite how aggressive you’re handling all the supplies, the second you make contact with his wrist, your demeanor changes, suddenly shifting to be more gentler. You hold his hands as if you were holding a newborn, delicately rotating them to understand what had to be treated.

“If it hurts, tell me,” you say quietly, “Actually don’t. I’m mad at you right now.” 

Jeno’s head tilts to the side like a confused puppy. Then he finally says, “Mad at me?” 

“Yes,” you grab a sheet of gauze and begin wiping away at Jeno’s palm, dabbing carefully when it comes to the blisters, “I’m mad at you.”

“Why?” 

“This is why you need a break.” You ignore his question, grab new gauze and continue wiping away the new and old blood that’s accumulated in his palms. “Jeno, I know you like it here, but your body needs rest, too.” 

A response sits at the tip of Jeno’s tongue and he’s not sure whether or not he should tell you. The last time he decided to take a step out of his comfort zone, you didn’t even hear him. 

Does he want to try that again? 

You spray his palms with disinfectant before applying some ointment to help them heal faster. At this point, you hadn’t done as much as looked up to make eye contact with the man. 

“But..” Big step. “But this is the only place that I get to see you.”

What the fuck? 

You hope Jeno doesn’t notice the way you freeze for a burning second before you try to play it off by grabbing long bandages. It’s a good thing he can’t see the way your heart is beating erratically—and you’re hoping he doesn’t hear it, too. 

“You can literally see me wherever you want if you just asked,” you say nonchalantly, voice quiet, “But instead you resort to…” You stop yourself from speaking any further, unsure if you would even want Jeno knowing that you had suspicions of him pulling fake injuries out of his ass to make excuses to see you. 

“I’m not even sure if you’d even agree to it,” Jeno confesses, “I like… I really like talking to you but—“ 

“But what?” You slowly begin wrapping the bandage around his wrist, making your way up to his palm. 

Jeno can’t help but whisper, “You don’t seem to like me as much as I wished.” 

You hold back a giggle. Jeno’s always so accidentally cute and he doesn’t even know it. It’s literally pissing you off that a man you’re fake-mad at is doing absolutely nothing to earn your affection, yet here he was, doing just that. “You don’t know that.”

“I do know that,” Jeno counters. 

“No, you don’t,” you ping-pong back. The bandage crosses between his fingers and you manage to finish wrapping the bandage around his palm. 

“I do.”

“Did you ask me?” You gulp, because at this point you’re afraid where this conversation was going. 

“Well, do you like me?” 

You move onto his other hand, grabbing another roll of the long bandage. You could feel the atmosphere in the room begin to shift and now you’re beginning to sweat in your light sweater. 

“I do.” 

Jeno clears his throat, “In the way I like you?” You groan. Of course he’d say that. It was a valid follow up question, simply because your answer could very much cover that broad spectrum of like. 

You ask, “How do you like me?” 

Jeno takes a moment to think about his answer, watching as you start replicating your work from his other hand, “I honestly… think it’s obvious how I like you.” “Mmm,” you hum. At this point you’re teasing him on purpose, “How so?” 

“I make myself look like a fool when it comes to you,” Jeno huffs, “Ice? Heat packs? Who am I kidding…” Jeno scoots back in his seat and you follow, practically falling between his knees from the way he’s sitting. “Every time I come here looking for you, that’s when I gain the confidence to finally ask you out… well not always out but maybe for your number or just simply talk to you or something. I wanted to be friends and then more if it went well…” 

Your movements slow, attention failing to even do a decent job at bandaging. 

“But, when I finally reach this room and see you? It’s like I lose all that confidence and it’s stuffed in the bag with the ice you give me,” Jeno explains. “I’m even lucky enough that I can finish my sentences around you…”

You blink at his injured palm and the realization dawns on you. So this was what Jaemin was hinting at, “And that last time… you asked me out and—”

“And you didn’t hear me,” Jeno finishes, “And I couldn’t for the life of me repeat what I asked because my confidence plummeted and then the fear of rejection kicked in.” 

Your hands have since halted, cradling Jeno’s hand as you try to calculate your next move. It’s now clear as day that Jeno has feelings for you, and you’ve slowly been coming to terms with yourself that you care a little too much about Jeno than a normal person should. 

“Ask me now.”

“What?” Jeno practically jumps, startled and confused. 

You drop the bandage roll and lightly tighten your grip around his hand. Looking up, you find that Jeno’s gaze has already been sitting and waiting for your own to meet his. You clarify, “Ask me what you asked then, now. This time, I’m listening.”

The reassurance from you lifts some weight off of Jeno’s shoulders, ones he didn’t know even existed. Then, he fixes his composure, moistens his lips and finally says, “Would you–um–like to go out for dinner with me?”

“My answer then and now are the same,” you smile down at your feet, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, “I would really love to.”

Eyebrows reaching for his hairline, Jeno’s eyes widened, “Wait, really?” 

“Really,” You nod. And although you try to look anywhere else in the room, Jeno’s eyes capture your eyes once again, holding them there for a few skips of your heartbeat. 

You clear your throat and let out a breathy laugh, “Haha so um… let me just—“ You hastily pick up the bandage roll and return to your work. 

It doesn’t take much longer before you finish, concealing and protecting his injuries under the bandages. “Now that you’ve got me, promise me you won’t overwork yourself like this?” 

“I’ve… got you?” Jeno’s cheeks heat up at your choice of words, the shift between the both of you being so evident now that he’s experiencing a weird case of whiplash. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, “Just promise me. I don’t wanna have to keep worrying about you getting hurt.” 

Jeno laughs, completely enamoured at your own flustered state. 

“Yeah, yeah… I promise.” 

[wolveria]

Strange Love - Ch 3

Pairing: Cad Bane x f!Reader

Series Warnings: Smut, mistaken identity, accidental mating bonds

Summary: “I'm his... what?"

AO3

You wished you could say you’d forgotten all about Cad Bane months after your last encounter, but when you got a private ping on your datapad with the message, “Got something. Can we meet?” your heart stopped.

But it was only one of your underworld contacts reaching out. You made the arrangements, a warehouse on one of the sublevels in the bowels of Coruscant, and set out, pretending the distant sting of disappointment wasn’t there.

When you arrived at the massive warehouse, you sensed something… off. Rows and rows of stacked crates cast large pockets of shadow where anyone could hide, but you sensed no other living beings in the entire building. Which was a problem, considering you were waiting for a Rodian whose inner life Force should have shown like a beacon in the dark.

Instead, there was only darkness.

Movement behind you, bumping into something to send over a pile of boxes. You spun around, igniting your lightsaber in the same movement, casting the light of its blade to illuminate the intruder.

“Please, do not attack!” squeaked a mechanical voice. “I am unarmed!”

You peered down at the droid, its elongated head ungainly on a smaller body with a rotund middle and spindly metal legs and arms.

“State your name and business.”

“Todo 360. I am a techno-service droid.” He peeked out from between his hands. You kept your eyes on the droid, reaching out with your senses and still finding nothing.

“Your business?”

The droid looked up, appraising you with its circular, button light eyes.

“Well, I, uh. It is a delicate matter, one we should discuss in private. Elsewhere.”

At your refusal to move and your hard stare, he added, “Your contact isn’t coming.”

“You made him send that message.”

“He was compensated fairly.”

“Guess I need a new CI.”

“I assure you, I would not force a Jedi to burn their contacts if it wasn’t a matter of urgency.”

“First it was delicate, now it’s urgent.”

“It is both.”

“Right.” You sheathed your lightsaber and reattached it to your belt. You didn’t sense any danger from the droid, and from what you could remember of its model, it wasn’t built with weaponry. “If you wish to appeal to the Jedi Order for aid, there are official channels to do so. I hope you’re able to resolve your matter.”

“It’s about Mister Bane.”

Halfway through your turn to leave, you froze. Then you slowly faced the droid again.

“What did you say?”

“Mister Bane.” The droid twisted its delicate hands into anxious knots. “He… requires your assistance.”

You scoffed, a hint of anger and some other complicated emotion flashing across your thoughts.

“If he requires aid, he can go through the same official channels I spoke of earlier.” Not that you believed the Council would give aid to the infamous bounty hunter, though they might help him into a jail cell.

You turned your back on the droid again.

“Goodbye, Todo 360.”

You walked exactly three steps before something tugged on the back of your cloak; the droid had snagged the heavy fabric in his hands, activating the repulsors on his feet to give him more force. Not that you couldn’t have easily swatted him away, but the droid’s behavior was so desperate it gave you pause.

“You can’t go,” he spoke, a little tremor in his voice. “You’re the only one who can help him.”

Something in his words caused a chill to settle over your skin.

“Is he hurt?”

Seeing you weren’t about to walk away, the droid deactivated his boosters and landed on his feet with a clumsy stumble. He still held onto your cloak, as if afraid you might try to leave again.

“N-no. Not hurt.”

“Is he ill?”

“In a way.”

You frowned.

“What does that mean?”

The droid sighed, something you didn’t know droids could do.

“It would be easier if I simply showed you.”

“He’s here? On Coruscant?”

The droid nodded, the servos in his neck whirring to move his head.

“I was afraid to move him anywhere else.” His hands twisted again. “He doesn’t know I’m here, and he would be very unhappy if he did.”

You appraised the strange little being.

“You’re not just a messenger. I assume you’re his droid?”

He straightened his stooped posture, puffing out his chest.

“I am Mister Bane’s partner.”

“His partner?”

“He relies on me. Counts on me. I would never let Mister Bane down.” He tugged on your cloak, emphasizing the point as he said, “Which is why you must come with me.”

You didn’t move even as the droid tugged ineffectually at your cloak.

“Why me? Surely, he has allies he could go to.” Especially considering you weren’t his ally to begin with.

“No one he can trust.”

“…I’m sorry. Are you implying Cad Bane trusts me?”

“Of course!” chirped the droid. “You’re Mister Bane’s m—”

He slammed a hand over his mouth, even though the mouthpiece was more for aesthetic than actual speaking.

“I’m his… what?”

“Nothing!” he squeaked and pulled frantically at your cloak. “Please, Master Jedi. I’ve already been away too long, and I do not wish to leave Mister Bane alone in his condition.”

You frowned and considered shaking off the droid and going back to the Temple. It’s what you should do. The right thing to do. Whatever Bane had gotten himself into wasn’t your concern.

I do not wish to leave Mister Bane alone in his condition.

You’re the only one who can help him.

You sighed.

“I’m not a healer.”

The droid perked up visibly, sensing your surrender and his victory.

“Not to worry! As I said, he is not injured, and his malady is… Well. You’ll see. Come, come.”

And with that, the small droid activated his hover mode and led the way, and you followed the blue lights of his repulsors into the darkness.

Of all the places for the droid to lead you, you didn’t expect it to be a ship hangar, one that you knew was used by criminals because one could buy the convenience of not being asked questions or checked for a valid ship signature.

Todo led you up a ramp into a ship that was easily the meanest, most predatory-looking vessel in the yard. An assault-class transport that must have been a custom job by the looks of the various weapons hanging off the ship, and it fit someone perfectly who was in Bane’s chosen profession.

As Todo sealed the ramp and hatch behind you, you felt like you’d been led into a den of nexu. Or at least, one particularly nasty nexu who wouldn’t appreciate you treading in his territory.

You took in the hard angles of the interior, the cold, utilitarian surfaces, and realized you were behind enemy lines, without backup, and without having commed anyone first. If Bane wanted to set a trap for a Jedi, this was how he would do it.

But the Duros remained out of sight, and when you reached out, you nearly balked. He was across the ship, definitely not lying in wait to ambush you, and he was certainly in no condition to fight. The agony you sensed wafting from him was like tendrils of steam, leaking through the cracked barrier of his mental shields.

Without a word, without even thinking, you headed in his direction, only pausing when the droid intercepted you, hovering in your path and barring you from going any further.

“There are some things you should know before—”

“Why didn’t you call for a doctor?” you interrupted him with a growl. “He’s suffering. He could be dying.”

“Mister Bane is not dying.”

“You can’t possibly know that without a doctor to examine—”

“This has happened before.” The droid once again wrung his hands. “At least, that’s what he said. It was a long time ago, before our partnership.”

“Todo.” You walked forward until you were towering over the small droid, your voice low and careful. “What’s wrong with him?”

If droids could swallow nervously, this one would.

“He’s in heat.”

“…”

“Well, that’s a crude way of putting it, more accurate to mammals. What he’s experiencing is an involuntary mating cycle, one that’s activated when a Duros finds a new mate.”

You didn’t move.

“So, you see the problem,” the droid continued, his voice driving higher as if he were on the verge of a hysterical breakdown. “Mister Bane didn’t realize what was happening until the cycle was nearly active, and I did manage to find a brothel for him on Canto Bight, one that is discreet about this sort of thing. They even had a few Duros females available! Very useful since mating cycles don’t end for the equivalent of a standard week, and he would have to go through several—Anyway, it was the perfect plan, but once we arrived, he completely lost control! If anyone even attempted to get close, he attacked them, and I barely got him back to the ship before local planetary security arrived.”

The droid didn’t have any lungs, but he was still out of breath by the end of his rant, a result of his circuits overheating rather than a lack of air.

“You… you see the problem?” he repeated weakly.

You stared into the distance, sensing through the partitions and bulkheads to the source of agony so potent you could almost feel it shivering across your skin.

“He told you about the bite?”

“Yes. Mister Bane was concerned it would expose him.”

“Expose him how?”

“Well… a claiming bond can leave the claimer quite vulnerable. And you, being a Jedi, aren’t exactly lacking in ways to harm him.”

“I wouldn’t hurt him that way.”

The words were out before you realized what you were saying, but the droid nodded as if he’d expected your response.

“I know. He has the same weakness.”

You blinked, but the droid continued, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

“When I suggested he use the mating bond to lay a trap for you and sell you off to Dooku, he threatened to melt me down for slag. It was only a suggestion! He’s far too sensitive when it comes to—”

“Will he attack me?” you cut him off before he could continue his thought.

The droid deactivated his repulsors, slowly sinking to the ground, his blank expression thoughtful.

“I… I don’t know. He’s deep in the throes of it, and without any relief, he’s not in his right mind.”

And he’s not exactly pleasant when he’s in his right mind, either, you thought.

“Please.” Todo looked up at you, his button eyes somehow conveying a look of raw pleading. “I do not know if he will attempt to harm you, but I do know he will harm himself. This… involuntary biological process is difficult to endure, especially for him.”

You sensed something there, a deeper meaning full of pain, but it was a private pain. One you may never understand, but you felt to be real.

And then Todo’s voice became small, as if afraid to admit it aloud.

“He has no one else.”

You took a deep breath, held it, and then breathed out.

“All right.”

The droid’s head perked up.

“You’ll help him?”

You unclipped the lightsaber hilt from your belt and pretended not to see the droid flinch back. You handed it to him, the ignition outlet faced away.

“Please keep this somewhere safe for me.”

The hilt looked comically large in Todo’s arms, but he held it as if it were a delicate treasure.

“Of-of course. And if you need anything, I am at your service.”

Your eyes kept drawing to the corridor, the one you knew would lead to the place Bane had sequestered himself.

“I suggest, Todo 360, that you don’t attempt to approach or disturb us until it’s over. No matter what you hear.”

“But—”

“Todo.”

“—what if he hurts you?”

You expected the droid to be worried about you hurting Bane, not the other way around. Interesting.

“I can handle Cad Bane. Promise you won’t go in that room.”

“I… yes, all right. I promise.”

You gave a small smile and bent to place a hand on his large head, and he looked up at you.

“Everything will be fine.”

With the droid silently watching you, you walked down the corridor, and prepared yourself for a very different kind of battle.

[shizuturnspages]

Hello! I like the headcanon where male reader reject those three cuz they're a man.

Can you do it with tartaglia, alhaitham and zhongli too? Thank you!

Broken Confessions Part 2

Synopsis: You never thought of yourself as cruel. You tried to be kind when you rejected their feelings—after all, you never led them on. But what you didn't realise is that for men like them, the rejection isn't just a wound. It's an insult. It's an unravelling of the false calm they forced on themselves, all to be worthy of you. Now, the truth is out, and your words aren’t the end—they're the spark. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Tartaglia, Alhaitham, Zhongli x Male Reader

Tartaglia – The Smiling Monster Beneath the Ice

At first, he just grinned.

It was the same easy, charming grin he always wore—the one that made you think maybe you’d misunderstood the obsessive undertones in his gaze, the way he always “coincidentally” showed up wherever you were, how he always inserted himself between you and anyone else.

So when you said it—“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in men like that.”—he smiled.

Wide.

Too wide.

"Ohhh," he exhaled, like you’d just told him a funny joke. “You’re not into guys. That’s what this is?”

He stepped closer, hands raised like he was trying to calm you down. But his fingers twitched with something violent.

“I see. So if you were into guys, then you’d choose me, right? If that’s the only thing stopping you…”

You backed up. “Tartaglia. I said I’m not—”

“No, no. Don’t walk that back.” His voice was low now, far from his usual singsong tone. “You like me. You just don’t want to admit it. You don’t know what you want.”

He was smiling still, but there was something unhinged in his eyes now—desperate. Dangerous.

“If that’s the only barrier, then I’ll fix it. I’ll make it easy. We don’t need labels. You don’t need to say it out loud. Just stay with me. Let me protect you. Let me have you. It’s fine if the rest of the world doesn’t understand.”

He was in front of you now, close enough for you to see the crack in his composure. Close enough that you could feel the pressure of his obsession like a hand around your throat.

“You don’t have to love me yet. Just don’t leave me. I can’t handle that again.”

The smile dropped.

“I won’t let you leave me.”

Alhaitham — The Scholar Who Refuses to be Denied

He’d waited.

He’d calculated, analysed, dissected every interaction between the two of you like a scholar unearthing ancient scripture. It had taken him months to admit he even had feelings, much less confess them. So when he did—it wasn’t a question. It was a conclusion.

“I’ve considered every factor. Logically, we’re compatible. Emotionally, I want you. And I know you feel something in return.”

You looked at him, careful with your words. “I respect you, but I’m not interested in men romantically. That’s just not who I am.”

The silence was absolute.

No wind. No breath. Nothing.

You watched his entire body freeze, like a statue cracked by its own weight.

“… That’s not rational,” he said finally, in a voice so low it didn’t sound like him. “You’re rejecting me based on an identity parameter that shouldn’t affect compatibility.”

“Haitham, it’s not something I chose. I’m just not into men.”

“That doesn’t matter.” His voice sharpened. “You’re into me. You smile differently when I enter a room. You listen to me. You let me touch you. Do you think I missed that? Do you think I didn’t catalogue every single variable?”

He stepped toward you. The logical man you once knew—methodical, detached—was gone. What stood before you was something far more unstable.

“You don’t need to understand it. You just need to stop fighting it. I’m not asking for your permission.”

His eyes bored into yours, cold and brilliant. “I’m claiming what’s already mine. Rationality has no room for your denial.”

Zhongli – The God Who Cannot Be Refused

You never expected Zhongli to confess.

He was always distant. Polite. Reverent. You’d assumed he saw you as a fleeting mortal friend. Nothing more.

But then he spoke—softly, with the weight of eons behind his words.

“I have lived through dynasties of change, oceans turned to dust. But none of it has ever held meaning until I met you. My heart, once stone, has moved for you.”

It would have been beautiful—if it wasn’t terrifying.

You tried to be gentle. “Zhongli… I’m sorry. I’m not interested in men. You’re… I care about you. But I’m not someone who can return your feelings.”

There was a silence. A deep, reverberating silence, like something divine had been wounded.

“… You are not,” he echoed, as though testing the words.

He turned from you, placing a gloved hand over his chest. “In all my time, I have never been rejected.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“You cannot hurt me,” he cut in, voice sharp now, tectonic in its depth. “But you have misunderstood. I do not love as mortals do. I do not ask for affection—I bestow it. You are not rejecting me. You are denying fate itself.”

Golden eyes locked onto yours, brilliant with pain—and fury.

“I chose you. That is all that matters.”

The air around you shifted, heavier now, laden with the weight of a god’s desire turned wrathful.

“I have waited centuries for a reason to feel again,” he whispered, stepping closer. “You will not take that from me. Even if I must bend the world into a shape where your heart remembers me—I will do so.”

And as he looked upon you—not as a friend, but as a being he had already claimed—you realised:

You never had a choice.

[missidk1121]

A Cozy Bloom ☕️ (Preview)

Pairing: Dino x Fem!Reader

Estimated word count: 20K+

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comedy

Tags: Barista!Chan, Software Engineer!Reader, Best Friends to Lovers, fluff, humor, one-sided pining to mutual pining, very light on angst, OT13, other members as helpful (and unhelpful) side characters

Story Synopsis: You and Chan have always appreciated the quiet moments, whether it’s enjoying your favorite hobbies together or drinking the coffee he makes for you at The Cozy Bloom. And somehow, even through uncertainty and changing dreams, they blossom into something even better.

Author’s Note: So excited to post this story I’ve been working on nonstop for the last month!!! A little bummed I can’t get it fully finished before posting it, but I feel so grateful to be able to contribute to this fandom I’ve been a part of for so long now! This story will be available here and on AO3. It will be updated regularly, likely weekly but that’s TBD. The first chapter will be posted May 26! 💎

The sunrise began to pour through the windows, its light shining through behind you to cast a soft glow around your figure. You and him in the café at sunrise. No one else but the two of you sitting across from each other at a small table in the corner as you quietly drink the coffee he made for you.

The two of you sat in the peace of an empty café for a while longer before the bell rang.

“Morning, Chan!” entered Seungkwan, stopping abruptly when he didn’t see anyone behind the counter. He looked around to find you and Chan. “Oh, there you are. And look who else is here! Good morning!”

You waved at him. “Good morning, Seungkwan.”

The door opened again, this time with Vernon moseying in. He let out a yawn, the words muffled as he said, “Morning. You’re here early.”

“Yeah, thought I’d bug Chan for a quiet drink before the morning rush,” you said. Then you glanced down at your watch. “Well, I’d better start heading toward the office.” You searched your wallet and pulled out some cash, placing it on the table in front of Chan.

Getting up, you turned toward him, facing away from the others as you quietly added “Plus a big tip,” with a wink before quickly heading toward the door, leaving him amused by your subtle burst of spontaneity, still yet a rare thing but was becoming more and more frequent.

“Later, guys!”

“Bye! Good luck today! Fighting!” Chan cheered.

“Fighting!” Seungkwan and Vernon joined.

The door shut behind you, and you looked through the window for a moment, raising your fist along with them before rushing off.

The three of them watched you cross the street, and as soon as you were out of sight Seungkwan gave Chan a curious look.

“Sooo, how are things between you two?”

Vernon nodded approvingly. “That looked like progress.”

“Knock it off,” Chan said, rolling his eyes. “I keep telling you, it’s not like that.”

“Sitting together alone in the café? At sunrise? That’s not the first time that’s happened either,” Seungkwan said, mocking suspicion.

Chan grabbed the cash and walked toward the register, saying “Listen here, busybody: we only do that sometimes. And besides, it’s not like she sees it that way.”

“Okay, first of all,” rebutted Seungkwan, “I am merely invested in the story between you two. Second, you two did this a couple days ago. She came in this early, on a Saturday. And third, how do you know she doesn’t see it that way?”

Chan couldn’t offer a counterpoint. He knew you like the back of his hand, as though you were one side and he was the other. You were, aside from that off-the-cuff wink a minute ago, rigid in a way that made you predictable. Over time he had picked up on what you liked and didn’t like, how to read between the lines of your stoic expressions. And yet, he couldn’t tell what you thought about your quiet mornings together, or the times you spent with each other outside the café, from dance classes, to movies at your place, dinner at his place, or just hanging out anywhere in between. He knew you liked them, but he wasn’t sure you felt anything beyond that.

Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling either. Moments like earlier, moments that had once felt temperate and pleasant but somewhere along the lines had stirred into a tender warmth, over and over again. They’ve become so commonplace, a routine ingrained in his everyday life, a habit he can’t break. They were so familiar now that trying to picture anything beyond them feels too uncomfortable.

Thankfully, the door opened again, the bell snapping Chan out of his spiralling thoughts as customers began to line up, prompting Seungkwan and Vernon to quickly get moving behind the counter.

“Get to work, you two!” Chan said almost— no, definitely smugly.

“Agh, just because you’ve worked here longer than we have doesn’t mean you get to treat us like we’re younger than you!” Seungkwan huffed as he shooed Chan away from the front counter.

“Saved by the bell,” Vernon remarked.

[destinysrequiem]

Monogamous LaDS???

Just cause I’m curious, I want a consensus from the LaDS fandom.

My friend and I are tinkering around with an idea to write a fanfic— a retelling of the story of Love and Deepspace, but with a twist. Rather than there being one MC to rule them all, each of the boys have their own, separate partner that they follow through time and space (or who follows them). And they’re all sisters. Sort of…

I know a lot of people like the polyamorous structure of LaDS as it is, but my friend and I aren’t as into that ourselves. I know we can’t be the only ones.

I for one am using it as a thought experiment yo understand the world, lore, and overall story better. It’s so fascinating trying to untangle it all like this, and a lot less overwhelming too. But the idea that the story would have to be divided among five women to keep it balanced, not to mention the LI’s interacting with not just their partners, but the others as well? It adds a layer of complexity I’m truly enjoying.

A drawback is that the structure wouldn’t be reader insert— all the sisters would have names and personalities and faces all their own, among other things. I’m also currently working under the assumption that there will NOT be a sixth LI, simply because the devs didn’t plan on having a sixth one. However, if a sixth does appear… we’ll see where things go. That’d be a fun wrinkle to work through.

To be clear, I’m writing the fanfic regardless. I’m already drafting my way through the first few main story chapters even. But if this sounds like something ya’ll would be interested in seeing come to life, I might set up a blog to show you guys some of the stuff we’ve been working on! Like what each character looks like with the in game graphics (we spent two whole days fiddling with the character creator).

Let me know what you guys think! And no matter what your opinion is, thank you, and Happy Hunting! 💛💙💜♥️🧡✨❄️🐠🐦‍⬛🍎

[loveinthevein]

”Sure Ain’t Sweet”

chapter four

A few hours later, John was skating around down by the docks on his skateboard. He needed something to distract him from the thoughts that plagued his mind like a locust swarm. Some of his acquaintances he made over there tried to wave him down and invite him to come hang, but he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even know he was there. But he did notice Paul. He came to a rough halt, kicking up his skateboard into his hand. He narrowed his eyes at Paul, who was staring at him through the haze of cigarette smoke he blew out.

He then slowly walked over to John, who’s hand unconsciously clenched on the skateboard to try and ground himself. He took a deep breath, Paul stopping mere feet away from him. “John.”

“... Paul.”

The two nodded awkwardly at each other, both of them on bated breath. “How’s it goin’? Ain’t heard from you in a while.”

“Well, I-”

“Eh, come off it. I know why.” Paul shifted his position and cocked his head, letting out a scoff. “I really can’t believe you’re letting our friendship go all jarg over a girl. You barely speak to me now. You haven’t even reached out or tried to- tried to explain yourself after we fought last time. You just don’t care.”

“Piss off. Stop gegging in my business, Paul. Besides, you’re the only one feeling this way. The other lads in our band … they don’t give a rat’s ass!”

“Oh! Oh, sorry John! Sorry I miss my fuckin’ friend! Sorry that I’m upset you’re fuckin’ me over like a whopper and choosing Y/N over me! I- I mean- Am I not your best mate?”

“You are, it’s just-”

“Oh, belt up! Ever since you met Y/N, it just feels like you’ve been driftin’ away from your mates every single day. All you did was blabber about that … that damned judy and-”

“Watch your mouth!”

“Belt up! See? You’re all fuckin’ defensive over her! Even now, all you do is talk about her and half our songs you’re writing are about her– Don’t think I didn’t notice, John! I’m not a knobhead like you! You don’t do anything else but mope about her hating you, and she has good reason to! You’re abandoning me for a fuckin’ girl!

“You? You! I’m abandoning YOU ?! Paul, are you fuckin’ bat?! Why the hell are you actin’ like a jealous meff?! Can I not speak to her? Am I suddenly not allowed to want to be her friend?! You said yourself that you wanted us made up together, and here you are actin’ bloody scally! You’re acting like a fuckin’ meff, Paul!

“You know what, yeah? Fuck you.”

“Pardon?”

“Fuck you, John. You’re a bloody bastard so lovesick for a fuckin’ heffer that you forget you have mates that care about you more than she ever will.” 

John suddenly snapped and socked Paul right in the jaw, which was the starting point to a rough and bloody brawl. The other skaters gathered, some trying to break the two entangled men up as they elbowed and swung at each other and hit some of the other people in the process. Paul was the one who was ripped off of John by a bystander, cursing and shouting with blood seeping out his nose and mouth. John was on the ground, panting and beaten up in the face. His nose and lip were bleeding, his cheek starting to get swollen and his whole face was red. He had cuts on his brow, nose, and blood leaked from the corners of his mouth.

“You’re a fuckin’ meff, John! Fuck you! You bloody no-good fuckin’ bastard!” Paul kicked and shouted, the bystander trying to calm him down even though it was clear it’d be in vain. He broke free of the bystander’s grasp, but stormed off in a pissy fit.

John stumbled to his feet, wiping the blood off his nose as he watched Paul storm down the sidewalk. “Fuckin’ hell.” He picked up his skateboard that was discarded on the floor upside down, stumbling to the pub down the street. After all that, he needed a drink.

He walked inside, and Y/N was sat there at the window table with her friend Marge. Marge was boisterous, waving her hands and laughing as she spoke. Y/N contrasted her energy, silently nodding her head as she listened to Marge’s ramblings about … honestly whatever. Y/N’s eyes immediately snapped to John, and she let out a sharp gasp. “John!”

She bolted up from her seat, tripping on the legs and almost fell down. She hurried over to him, her eyes raking over his battered face and the blood on his shirt. “What the hell happened to you?! You- You look- Who-”

“Relax, Y/N. Come off it. It’s nothing.” John said dismissively, pushing Y/N back a bit. “I just got into a tussle. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding from your mouth, John!”

“Yeah, that happens when you get bloody socked, Y/N.” John wiped the blood on his lips, and let out a heavy sigh. “... I’m sorry. I- … I just need a moment to myself.” 

Y/N’s breath hitched, a little frown on her face. “John …”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” He turned away and ran his fingers through his hair and went up to the bar, completely dismissing Y/N which, in all truth, kinda stung. Y/N let out a sullen sigh, her hands clenching as she fought back the urge to march up and demand he let her in … but she knew she shouldn’t. She turned away and went back to Marge who was watching with a shocked expression that was frozen on her face.

“What in the bloody hell is going on with you two? Who’s that?” 

“... John.”

“John?! That bastard who plays that racket above your apartment?”

“... Uh, yeah. Yeah, him.” Marge��s expression turned skeptical, raising a brow.

“Yeah … Him …” She repeated, her eyes flicking up and down at Y/N. “What’s changed about ‘im? Clearly he ain’t a nuisance to you no more.”

“What? Sure he is! He’s just as insufferable as he always has been-”

“Sure.” She let out a dry chuckle. “You ain’ barkin’ like a mad dog about him anymore like ya usually do. Usually you’d be bloody heated talkin’ bout that man. Clearly something’s went jarg with that.”

“Please! God forbid I care about a man when he waltzes in beaten to a bloody pulp.” Y/N waved her hand dismissively at the thought, but it was clear Marge was still suspicious about the obvious. The two continued their conversations, but Y/N’s eyes were glued on John who was slumped over the counter with a bezzy in his hand. 

How she wished she could go over there and comfort the poor man. Even though another part of her was burning with a rage at the thought of her doing such. 

John turned over his shoulder, his eyes blank but still had a spark in them that flickered as soon as he met Y/N’s gaze. The two held their gazes for a minute, before Johns lowly turned away. 

Overcome with a strange urge that ate at her like a rabid dog, she surged up from her seat mid-conversation and went over to John. 

“Hey,” she crooned softly, placing her hand on his back. “You okay? Well, obviously not, but I-”

“Yeah. Yeah …” He looked up at her, turning to face her fully. His eyes glanced around the room for a moment, and then he took Y/N’s hands in his. 

“Can you please come over one last time tonight?” He suddenly blurted out. “I … I need you. I need to talk to you. It’s not urgent or anything, I just- I just gotta-”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Of course. Um. When, exactly?”

“Whenever you want. I’ll wait for you as long as I have to.” 

“... O- Okay. That’s sound.”

“Great.” John’s lips curled into a little smile, his eyes flicked down to Y/N’s lips for a brief moment, and his eyes suddenly turned desperate. “Wait. No. As a matter o’ fact,” He suddenly surged to his feet, his eyes suddenly burning with a strange kind of desperation. “Come with me now.”

“But I-”

“Please, Y/N. I really, really want you- Need you.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean! I- i mean I want to talk- Fuckin’ hell, my mind is all fucked right now, I- I just really want to spend some time with you again. I- I want to talk to you. I have things I need to say, like …”

“Like?”

“... I’ll- I’ll only tell you if you come with me.”

“But John, I’m here with my friend.”

“Tell her you’ll see her later. Or would you like me to tell her myself?”

“No, I- I’ll tell her.”

“Sound.” John suddenly began to drag Y/N out of the pub after he tossed his pocket change on the bar, Y/N barely being able to tell her friend goodby as she was dragged out the door. John didn’t turn back, he walked with a raging determination and his grip remained strong as he thundered to the complex. Once they got there, John swung the door open and ushered Y/N in.

“John, what-”

John immediately cut her off, and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. “Y/N,” He rasped, “Please. Please, tell me you feel it too.”

“What are you talking about-”

“YOU … You know what I’m talking about. How clear do I have to make it to tell you that I need you? That I love you?” John’s eyes widened a bit, and he leaned a bit closer. “Please … Please just tell me. This is eatin’ at me like a fuckin’ dog, Y/N.”

John’s hands snaked up to cup Y/N’s face, forcing her to keep his gaze. “Please. Don’t push me away like you did last time.” 

Y/N took a shoddy breath, the two silent and just staring at each other. John’s breathing suddenly began to spike, and he abruptly ducked down and roughly pressed his lips against Y/N’s in a desperate, pent-up kiss. Y/N let out a soft squeak in the kiss, her hands coming up to grasp at his shoulders … but she didn’t push back. 

She found herself easing into the kiss that increasingly grew more and more passionate after each affarming second went by. John only broke the kiss briefly just to murmur. “So do you love me, Y/N?”

“… Mhm …” 

“Hm?” 

“Yes! …”

John chuckled and pressed his lips back against Y/N’s, his body starting to get too hot to wear the leather jacket he had on. He awkwardly jerked it off of him, letting it fall onto the floor without a single care. All he could focus on was Y/N right now.

God; how he prayed for this moment to come. 

But then a soft knock came at the door. John’s head snapped at the door with both annoyance and confusion. “… Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”

He backed up from Y/N doing a “stay” motion with his hands, then walked up to the door and looked through the peephole. 

…

“Paul?”

———————————————————————

[hrrtshape]

hope youre doing well and happy. idk if youll read this long ask and if youre gonna reply but reading this that alone matters a lot to me.

I wrote my board exam knowing I’d do well. I genuinely believed I could do it. I walked in with confidence even when i was nervous for this huge exam like, “This is the new me, I’ve got this.”I really thought I’d finally see a good result. I’ve been manifesting for almost 6–7 years now. Affirming, visualizing, scripting, deciding even trying the void state. Persisting for days then week then months to more than half a decade. And still… nothing worked. Not once. I’ve never had a single manifestation come true. I feel so defeated that I started thinking maybe I should give up.

I don’t even know what to believe anymore.

People around me, those who used to get lower marks than me,are doing way better. And I’m stuck here, disappointing my mom, my family, my friends, my relatives, my siblings, and myself. I feel like I’ve destroyed everything. My mom doesn’t even go out anymore because people keep asking her about my results. She’s clearly embarrassed, but she doesn’t say much because she knows how sensitive I am and how much pressure I already feel.

She’s gone through hell for us. Married young. No higher education. She gave up everything just for us, especially me. She’s stayed in an abusive marriage with a man who’s mentally, emotionally, and physically destroyed her. And me too. She used to live in with my dad’s family who even spat at my mom’s face, didn’t let her rest when she was sick, made her work like a servant and my dad said to her “you are the waste remnants in my plate”. My dad and my grandmother used to team up and hurt her so bad its inhumane, now recently, yesterday, 3 days back, a week back and im completely helpless. Seeing her bruised body, bloodshot eyes from the hit, tears and shivering hands is something normal for me in a daily basis at this point. We’re financially struggling, emotionally drained, and it feels like there’s no way out.

I used to be her pride scoring good. Her hope. And now I feel like I’ve become just another reason for her pain.

Even worse, I look like my dad. I inherited his features, especially my lips. When my mom is hurt or angry, and she sees him in my face, it triggers her. She’s said hurtful things, but I know it’s coming from pain, not hate. Still, it breaks me. She deserves peace. She deserves love. She deserves a second chance at life, and I want to give it to her.

People have always bullied me for the way I look. I’ve been called names for being petite and fat. I have bad skin, dark lips, uneven facial symmetry, and people used to say my lips looked like chicken liver. Even my friends have made fun of me. I’ve never really had solid friendships, either. I was cheated on by a guy I trusted who then flirted with my own close friend. That betrayal hurt so badly, and I never really recovered from it.

Then my dad forced us to move from the only place we were finally happy in, our old city, back to this toxic environment. And now, my grades are low, I can’t even get into the college I wanted, and everything feels like it’s falling apart at once.

But I’ve made a decision. I’m done suffering.

I have to change my life. I have to change myself.

I want to completely transform. I want to study like a topper and get that 100%, not just for me, but as an apology and a gift to my mom. I want to rebuild my body, my skin, my mind, my presence. I want to become someone who no one recognizes. A version of me that is powerful, beautiful, smart, and unstoppable.

I want to create a future where my mom finally escapes this nightmare, where my abusive father is out of the picture, she can’t divorce due to personal reasons so i want him gone from the world and she meets someone kind, loving, understanding, gentle and wealthy who actually treats her like gold. I want us to move to Dubai, start over, and finally have peace. I want a new life.

But I don’t know how to start. I’ve tried for so long and failed so many times that I don’t know what works anymore. please don’t tell me to ignore my 3D that 4D is the real reality, to just “decide and persist” etc, etc. i cry myself to sleep every single day recently. I got distracted today and almost set our kitchen on fire. Everytime i clear my mind my moms face comes into my mind and the guilt, regret, pain engulfs me. I need to get us out of this as soon as possible. Please be gentle, I’m tired.

Thank you so much for reading this till now and even if you dont reply, It means a lot to me because someone listened to me. Hoping nothing but the absolute best for you. ❤️

hi sweetest soul☹️you're not delusional for trying, not cursed, not broken. you are tired. and i'm sending all my support to you. you are not invisible, your life is not some lesson or test in disguise

here's my words of wisdom: stop thinking you failed. not in a slogan way, not in a "repeat this affirmation 44 times" way. i mean, literally. every time your brain tries to tally your worth by results, cut the wires. you are the god in the room. you already decided you're getting out. from now on, everything bends to that. it doesn't matter that it hasn't worked before. that's not data, that's noise, and belief isn't measured in how long you've persisted. it's measured in how you keep showing up anyway.

ily stay here keep going it's not over💗