#To like. Help me remember what he thinks of different people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

floodflameschosen · 13 hours ago

Note

"You're shaking." – "So are you." or "You're mine now. Say it." with Noah please? I can't decide which one so you choose🥹

CW: first time, unprotected sex (p in v), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), lots of fluff and gentleness, best friends to lovers, open/happy ending.

🔞 nsfw, minors please dni.

You hadn’t meant to say anything.

It just slipped out one night while you curled up next to Noah on your couch, the battered old thing in the tiny apartment you’ve been sharing ever since you had to move away for college.

You still remember how terrified you were during your last year of high school, when the time to leave started closing in on you. You were terrified of what it would mean to step out into a new life, of what it would mean to leave Noah behind.

You didn’t know how to exist without him. You didn’t want to.

But just when you were trying to figure out how you were supposed to say goodbye, he looked at you with those steady, sure eyes and said: “What if I wanted to go with you? You know there’s nothing left for me in this deadbeat town, anyway. Not if you’re not here.”

You couldn’t believe it at first.

Couldn’t believe he would choose to follow you, to start over somewhere unfamiliar, just because he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else if it wasn’t with you. And maybe it was selfish, but when he suggested you move in together—split rent, save money—you said yes so fast you barely remembered to breathe.

God, you were so excited.

Excited to finally move away from home, to meet new people and have all the privacy and independence you’ve always dreamed of. Excited by the prospect of living with your best friend, of not having to say goodbye when night came and it was time to go home for dinner—as childish as the thought could be, it was still true.

Now, six months into classes, the excitement had started to wear off a little—not the living with Noah part of it, but everything else. Being in a bigger city, surrounded by people who all seemed so grown up, so sure of themselves, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind.

They talked about internships and life plans like it were all so simple. They talked about hookups and dating and sex—and you couldn’t even pretend to keep up. You didn’t even have the basic experiences they all seemed to take for granted.

You just felt a little… small. Inadequate.

And somehow, in the haze of tiredness and cheap beer and the warm, safe weight of Noah beside you, the words just slipped out.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, sounding almost pouty. “Maybe I’ll just… pick someone tomorrow at the party. Get this whole virginity crap over with, at least.”

You felt him freeze beside you. The air shifted, like the room itself was suddenly holding its breath.

When too many seconds passed and he still hadn't said anything, you turned to look at him, and the way Noah was looking at you—like you’d just given him the worst news in the world—made your heart stutter.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said quietly. His voice was low, tight, so heavy it almost cracked.

“Why not? You did.” You tried to argue, all of a sudden feeling uncomfortable talking about this with him. Still, you kept going. “You lost it to some random girl at that high school party when you were like, eighteen, remember? Why would it be different for me?”

Noah’s jaw clenched as he looked away, and the arm he had draped around you tightened, pulling you closer for just a second before his fingers curled into a fist in the soft material of your shirt, like he physically needed something to hold on to.

He didn’t answer at first, just stared at the TV, but when his gaze finally snapped back to yours, there was something raw and fierce and possessive flickering in his brown eyes.

“Because it is different.” He said, his tone almost angry. Like it was that simple, just because he said so.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“I didn’t think it through, alright? I was drunk and just went with it because it was there.” He shook his head, a rough, humorless breath of a laugh scraping out of him—and it made something inside you feel heavy. “I was going through some shit back then, so I just thought maybe if I fucked someone else, I’d stop feeling so fucking alone.”

You blinked at him.

“Wait. What?” You asked, pushing yourself up a little, trying to meet his eyes. “You never told me you were going through anything back then. What's that about?”

Noah faltered for a second, eyes darting away from yours again, and for a moment, you saw something almost panicked flicker across his face.

“It’s not important,” he said quickly, dismissively, his fingers tightening in the fabric of your shirt. “It was a long time ago, and that's not the point. What I’m trying to say here is that you’re not me, and it doesn't have to be like that for you. You have options.”

You swallowed hard, heart picking up speed inside your chest at the words, the mention of another option.

“It didn't mean anything to me, and I don't want you to have the same shitty experience.” Noah’s voice softened, but there was still an edge of something rough in it. “You deserve to have your first time with someone who actually cares—someone who’ll notice if you’re scared, who’ll be patient. Someone who’s gonna make sure it’s good for you.”

A lump formed in your throat, because—this was it, wasn’t it? You knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and it terrified you. This was the moment, the tipping point where everything could change.

The safe route would be to dismiss it entirely—just go to bed and pretend this talk never happened, try to protect that friendship you’d always had with Noah. But as you sat there, your stomach fluttered with a warmth that twisted something inside you.

With a rush of heat flooding your veins, you made your choice, and instead of shying away from this, you opened your mouth and went down the scary route, voice barely a whisper when you asked him:

“And who would that someone be, Noah?”

For a long moment, Noah didn’t say anything.

He just stared at you, his eyes holding you in place as if he were searching for something. His breathing was measured, controlled, like he was trying to hold himself together, but you could see it, just barely—that quiet breaking point inside of him.

You weren’t sure what to do, or if you even could do anything at all to make this easier. The silence between you two stretched long enough that it almost felt suffocating, but you didn’t dare look away. You needed to know.

His voice was barely audible when it finally came, hoarse and vulnerable.

“Me.”

The word hung there between you, fragile and burning.

You stared at him—at the boy who had been your best friend for years, who had held you through every heartbreak, who knew every single one of your fears and dreams—and suddenly everything made too much sense.

The way he touched you sometimes, lingering like he didn’t mean to. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he held you, like he never intended to let go if you didn't make him.

Your heart raced in your chest, thumping against your ribs like it wanted to break free. Your mouth felt dry as you stared into his eyes and realized the truth that had been there all along:

It was Noah.

It had always been Noah.

That feeling you hadn’t named yet, the things unsaid, were now slipping through the cracks.

“If you’ll let me,” he added quietly when you took too long to speak, scared, voice breaking at the edges. “I could be that person.”

You didn’t know what to do with that realization, but you didn’t need to figure it out right away. Not with him. Not at this moment. And for once, you didn’t overthink it. You didn’t run.

Noah was still staring at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, like he was waiting for you to reject him, to make everything easier to walk away from. Instead, you reached out and threaded your fingers through his, squeezed.

“Okay,” you whispered, the words trembling in your chest. “You, then.”

Noah froze for the second time that night.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might’ve misheard you. But then his eyes darkened with something intense—relief, yes, but also something much stronger, something you haven't seen in him before.

He reached out for you, fingers brushing your cheek softly before cupping it, his touch a mix of reverence and disbelief.

“I trust you,” you said, stronger now, your voice steady, even if your heart felt anything but. “I want it to be you, if that's an option.”

His mouth opened, like he wanted to say more—anything, everything—but all that came out was a shaky, amazed chuckle. He closed his eyes for a split second, like he was gathering himself, before looking back at you with such intensity you almost couldn’t stand it.

“We’ll take it slow,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything he was feeling. “As slow as you need.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you even as your mind raced. Turning your head slowly, you nuzzled against his palm, feeling the roughness of his skin against your cheek.

The tenderness of the moment overwhelmed you in the best of ways, the heat between you building, and with it, the longing you’d tried so hard to pretend wasn't there for all those years.

And then, barely above a whisper, you breathed out:

“I’m not so sure I want slow now.”

Noah’s whole body seemed to tighten at the words, as if he were holding back a storm. The groan that left his chest was low, almost helpless, and when he finally kissed you, it didn't feel like just a kiss—it was everything he’d been holding in, all the years of tension and want finally crashing over you both like a wave.

It started almost shaky—his lips molding over yours carefully, tasting, testing.

But when you sighed into him, when your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his hoodie and tugged him closer, it snapped something loose. Noah kissed you harder, one hand sliding around the back of your neck, the other spanning your waist, big and warm and there as he pulled you into him.

You shifted without a second thought, climbing into his lap, straddling him on the couch. Your bare thighs bracketed his hips, your t-shirt brushing against the skin of his arms where he’d shoved the sleeves of his hoodie up. He groaned softly into your mouth at the feeling of you settling over him like that—like you belonged there—and let his hands roam.

He caressed his way up your thighs, squeezing lightly, making you gasp. Over your hips, your waist, the small of your back—exploring, learning, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

You gasped louder against his mouth when the tip of his fingers slipped under your shirt, barely skimming over your heated skin, and he shuddered, breaking the kiss just long enough to look at you.

“Tell me if you want me to stop…” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, already breathing hard.

“I don’t. I won't.” You whispered, breathless, and kissed him again, deeper this time.

After that, it got heated fast—hands everywhere, breathing uneven, small needy sounds spilling from you without thought.

Noah’s hoodie was bunched up between you, and you tugged at it blindly, a frustrated noise crawling up your throat because you wanted it off, making him chuckle against your mouth before helping you pull it over his head and toss it aside.

You flattened your palms against his now bare chest—feeling the steady thud of his heart, the solid warmth of him—and he squeezed your hips like he was grounding himself, trying to keep control, to be careful.

But you didn’t want careful, so you pressed your body closer, hips rolling without even meaning to, grinding your center against the soft front of his basketball shorts. You could feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin material, and when you hesitantly grazed your fingers over the fabric, that seemed to do the trick—Noah groaned, swiftly wrapping his arms around you and lifting you effortlessly off the couch along with him.

You squeaked in surprise, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, arms around his neck, but he just chuckled—a breathless, beautiful sound—as he carried you down the hallway. Catching your gaze, his lips curved into that crooked smile that always made your breath catch.

“Bedroom,” he muttered before ducking down and pressing his soft lips to your throat, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses there as he walked. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on a couch.”

Noah kicked the bedroom door open and crossed over to his bed in two quick strides, laying you down gently, like you were something breakable, something precious. And when he climbed over you, bracing his weight carefully so he wouldn't crush you, and looked down with those stormy eyes of his—so full of want, so full of need—you just knew.

You were never getting over this, never getting over him.

You didn’t want to.

Noah just stayed there, hovering over you for a breathless moment—his chest heaving, arms trembling slightly from how hard he was holding himself back. You reached up without hesitation, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging gently on the soft strands.

The reaction was immediate: he groaned, low, borderline broken, and leaned into your touch like he couldn’t help himself—like you were gravity and he had no choice but to fall.

His hand reached up and closed around your wrist, gentle but firm, and he pulled your hand from his hair to bring it to his mouth instead, pressing a slow, lingering kiss into your palm, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough and tender all at once.

“So are you,” you whispered, accompanied by a shaky little laugh, heart slamming against your ribs.

That made him smile—small, a little unsteady. Like he was just as nervous about this as you were. He turned his head and kissed your wrist next, lingering there for a moment longer before finally letting your hand go.

And then he was leaning back in, sealing his mouth to yours again—slower this time, deeper—like he wanted to taste every single breath you gave him. His hands started moving again, reverent and hungry, skimming down your sides, over your hips, down to squeeze the soft skin of your thighs.

When his mouth finally broke from yours, he didn’t go far. He just kept kissing a path across your jaw, down your neck, leaving a few more warm, open-mouthed kisses that made your whole body arch toward him, desperate for more.

“You feel so good, baby… so soft,” he murmured against your throat, his voice low and raspy, like the words were being dragged out of him.

You whimpered his name, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

“Tell me if I do something you don't like, yeah?” He said softly but firmly. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, like he couldn’t help himself, needing to touch. “At any point, you tell me if you don't like something, and I’ll stop. I mean it.”

Your heart cracked wide open for him.

“I trust you.” You whispered, eyes shining as you nodded and reached forward, pulling him back.

Something flickered across his face at that, and then he was moving again. His hands slipped under your t-shirt fully this time, fingertips ghosting up your ribcage, and you gasped at the feeling of his palms against your bare skin. Noah eased your shirt up, pausing with a questioning look, and all you could do was nod again, breathless, heart in your throat.

Carefully, he peeled it over your head and tossed it aside, leaving your upper body bare to his gaze—his eyes darkened instantly, raking over you with a reverence that made your skin prickle. For a long moment, he just stared, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he needed to burn the sight of you into memory.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, and then he ducked his head down, kissing along your collarbone, giving it his full attention before trailing lower.

You gasped when his mouth closed around your nipple—gentle, teasing—his tongue flicking slow, delicious circles over the sensitive skin. He gave it a soft, careful bite before soothing it with his tongue, pulling a broken little sound from you that made him groan against your chest. Moving to the other side, Noah gave it just as much attention, his big hands holding your ribs like he was scared you might slip away if he didn’t anchor you, if he didn't hold you down.

You arched up into him instinctively, needing more, needing everything, and Noah’s hands slid lower, gripping your waist, kneading the flesh there like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His fingers found the hem of your shorts at some point, toying with the waistband as he pressed his mouth lower, kissing a slow, hot path down your stomach, the scruff on his jaw dragging against your skin in a way that made you shiver. When he reached your lower belly, just above where your shorts sat, he nipped softly at the sensitive skin there, earning a whimper from you.

That’s when Noah stilled, mouth still pressed to your skin, and looked up at you through heavy, hooded eyes—his gaze burning. One of your hands threaded into his hair again, tugging lightly, and the way he closed his eyes at the feeling made your heart stumble. Wordlessly, you nodded once his eyes set back on you, giving him the permission he so clearly needed.

He kissed your stomach again, reverently, before hooking his fingers under the waistband and carefully, slowly, tugging your shorts down—inch by excruciating inch—exposing more of you to his hungry eyes. Once he pulled your shorts off and tossed them somewhere over his shoulder without taking his eyes off you, you were left trembling beneath him, stripped down to just your underwear, and Noah looked at you like you were a miracle he didn’t deserve.

You felt his gaze like a physical thing, heavy and hot, making your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat over and over.

Slowly, he ran his hands up your legs—starting at your ankles, dragging his palms over your calves, your knees, your thighs, until he was cradling your hips, thumbs stroking circles into your skin.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” He rasped, voice shaking, raw with emotion. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And the way he said it—not just like he wanted you, but like he worshipped you—made your whole body ache with need, the throbbing between your legs almost unbearable by now.

You couldn’t stop the way your body shifted restlessly, legs spreading just that much wider, silently begging for more, needing him. It made Noah chuckle softly—like he could feel the way you were unraveling for him—and then he was lowering himself again, dragging the tip of his tongue just above the waistband of your panties, from one hipbone to the other.

You whimpered, and your hands found his hair again, tugging him closer without thinking.

Noah groaned deep in his chest at your touch, and his hands slid higher, smoothing up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, your ribs, until they found the swell of your breasts, squeezing gently. He paused, and looking up at you through his lashes, he grinned—slow, wicked—and moved lower to mouth over the damp fabric of your panties, pressing an open-mouthed kiss right against the heat of you.

You gasped, arching off the bed with a choked sound, and Noah groaned again, deeper this time, and kept going—kissing, licking, sucking, teasing through the thin barrier until you were clutching his hair in both hands, tugging hard, trembling.

“Fuck,” he moaned quietly against you, voice low and hungry. He nuzzled his face into you like it was the most natural thing, breathing you in, already addicted. “Oh, baby… you’re already soaking wet for me.”

Another slow, filthy kiss through the fabric, so warm it felt like burning. Another whimper ripped from your throat.

He lifted his gaze to meet yours again—eyes dark and glazed—and while one hand continued to tease your breasts, the other slid up your thigh, thumb stroking along the sensitive crease where your hip met your core, making you shiver.

“Been thinking about this for so long,” Noah rasped, kissing the damp cotton again, mouthing at it lazily. “Thinking about you like this. How fucking sweet you’d taste.”

You couldn’t stop the helpless little whimpers spilling from your lips, your hips rolling instinctively against Noah’s mouth as he kissed you through your underwear—slow, purposeful, almost torturous.

Your hands tightened in his hair yet again, needing something to ground yourself to, your heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

“Noah,” you gasped, the sound broken, desperate, and you felt him smile against you—the smug curve of his mouth pressed right where you needed him most.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured, breath hot against you. “Gonna take my time with you.”

You tried to bite back a moan, but the second he sucked gently at the damp fabric again, your thighs trembled around his head and the sound tore free from your throat. You felt dizzy, drunk on the feeling of him, every nerve in your body sparking to life under his touch.

“Noah, please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for anymore—just more, just him, just now.

He hummed, pleased, and the vibration sent a sharp bolt of pleasure shooting through you.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he said, and your face flushed so hot it nearly burned.

But you didn’t stop—you couldn’t. Not when he slipped two fingers under the soaked fabric, finally pushing it aside, and leaned in to taste you properly, giving you a long, slow lick—flat and firm, from your entrance to your clit—and so good it made your whole body jolt.

You arched up into him, crying out his name again, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

All you could do was clutch his hair, hips rocking helplessly against his tongue as your voice broke again.

“Don’t stop, Noah, please—don’t stop—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.

As he kept tasting, taking, he groaned against you like he was the one falling apart, sucking your clit gently into his mouth and teasing it with the tip of his tongue until your thighs shook around his head.

“Fuck,” he muttered between kisses and licks, voice hoarse, lips slick with you. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

His free hand still around your breast started squeezing again, teasing your nipple with his thumb while his mouth worked you over relentlessly, eating you out like he was starved. You whimpered something broken and incoherent, tugging at his hair hard enough to sting, nails scratching his scalp. Noah just hummed against your clit as he enjoyed it, sending another ripple of pleasure straight through you.

“That’s it, don’t hold back.” He encouraged, tongue teasing you mercilessly, “Let me hear you. Let me feel you.”

And you did—because with the way he was worshiping you, savoring you, there was no way you could stay quiet, no way you could survive this slow, devastating pleasure without falling apart in his mouth.

You were already spiraling toward the edge, your body tensing and shaking and aching for release—and the way he kept murmuring sweet, filthy things against your skin only dragged you closer, unraveling every last bit of you.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

It was perfect.

You were so close—so close—your whole body tightening, hips stuttering against Noah’s mouth, and then a sharp, involuntary clench ripped through you.

Noah felt it—you knew he did, because he groaned low in his chest—and then he pulled back.

You sobbed out a desperate sound, trembling beneath him, but before you could even form the words to beg, he was hooking his fingers into the waistband of your soaked panties, finally dragging them down your legs and tossing them somewhere across the room.

“Shh, baby,” he rasped, voice rough as he soothed you. “I’ve got you.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, still shivering from the edge he’d left you dangling from—and then he was crawling up your body, covering you again with his weight, kissing you deep and slow. You whimpered against his mouth at the taste—your taste—on his tongue, and the filthy intimacy of it made your head spin.

He swallowed every broken sound you made, one of his hands cradling your jaw, the other braced beside your head, arm trembling slightly as he supported his weight, grinding his hips down against you.

You gasped into his mouth when you felt him—hard and so warm, even through the thin material of his shorts, pressing right against your core.

“Can you feel that?” Noah whispered against your lips, his voice low and hoarse. “Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

He rolled his hips again, harder this time, deliberately, and you whimpered helplessly.

“Do you get now just how fucking crazy you make me?”

Your hands scrambled at him, fingers digging into skin, desperate to pull him closer, to feel more.

“Noah,” you breathed, a pleading note in your voice you didn’t even try to hide.

He kissed you again, devouring—and rocked against you one more time, dragging yet another choked little cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, your throat, retracing a path he’d already explored. “And you’re mine, aren't you? You’re mine.”

You nodded frantically, your body straining toward him. Noah chuckled softly at your eagerness and kissed down your chest again, lavishing attention on every inch of you until he reached the curve of your stomach.

He paused there, hands sliding down your trembling thighs, gently spreading you open wider for him.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with need. “Gonna stretch you out on my fingers real nice now, get you ready for me.”

Your breath hitched loudly at his words, a rush of heat surging through you as you watched him settle between your legs again—this time with a kind of determined adoration that made your heart ache.

Noah pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, closer to where you needed him. And then he lowered his mouth to you again.

You gasped, hands flying to his hair like before, fingers curling tight when you felt the first slow swipe of his tongue over your aching core again, the wet muscle parting your slick folds.

You barely had time to process the overwhelming feeling of his warm tongue directly against you again before you felt one of his hands joining in, his fingers teasing lightly at your entrance, slick and desperate for him.

“Can I?” he asked against your clit, mouth still working you over in soft, devastating licks.

“Yes,” you gasped, tugging his hair, needing him, needing everything.

Noah moaned, and slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, the sensation making you whimper and arch into him.

“So tight, baby.” He muttered brokenly when you clenched around his digit, kissing the inside of your thigh like he needed to ground himself, too. “So fucking perfect.”

He moved slowly, working you open with careful, patient strokes of his finger, all while his mouth never stopped—licking, sucking, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough. When he thought you were ready, he slid in a second finger, stretching you wider, deeper, and you cried out for the millionth time, hips rolling down against him, chasing the friction you craved.

“That’s it,” Noah groaned. “Take it, princess. Gotta get you ready for me.”

You couldn’t even form words anymore, your whole world narrowing down to the feeling of him—his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, the heat of his breath, the filthy praises falling from his lips between long strokes of his tongue.

All the while, you could feel it—the slow, steady build of pleasure winding tighter and tighter inside you, ready to snap. You were so close again, completely at his mercy, and you didn’t want it any other way.

Noah felt it, too—of course, he felt it—the way your walls fluttered helplessly around his fingers as they fucked in and out of you, the way your thighs clamped around his head as if trying to keep him there forever.

“Go on, baby,” he rasped against you, voice thick and breathless, hand moving faster. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

Then he crooked his fingers, hitting something inside that almost made you scream, and that was all it took. You shattered completely, reduced to nothing more than a whimpering, broken mess as pleasure tore through you like a tidal wave.

Your whole back arched off the bed, your fingers fisting tight in Noah’s hair as he kept going, working you through every last pulse, every desperate little aftershock. You were vaguely aware of Noah moaning, too, while he licked all over your core, around his fingers still stretching you, like he was addicted to the way you tasted, the way you fell apart for him.

You barely registered when he finally pulled back, kissed his way up your shaking body, and hovered over you—his face flushed, his mouth and chin slick from you, his eyes dark with something wild.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you slowly, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue again. You whimpered into his mouth, still shaking, still high from your climax.

Noah kissed you again and again as he cradled your face in his hands like you were something fragile and precious, patient as he waited for you to come back down from your high.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured when your breathing wasn't so loud anymore, resting his forehead against yours.

You nodded, still breathless but less so now, still blinking back the tears of overwhelming pleasure pooling behind your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Fuck, I’m more than okay.”

Noah smiled against your mouth—small, crooked, so full of love. He pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you—and brushed a stray strand of hair off your forehead, his thumb stroking your cheek in soothing, grounding circles.

“Do you wanna stop here for tonight?” He asked, voice low and careful, gentle with the kind of patience that always made your heart ache. “We can, if you need to. We don’t have to do everything all at once. I’m not going anywhere.”

You blinked up at him, still flushed, trembling, and felt panic bloom in your chest at the thought of stopping now, at the thought of not feeling him completely.

“No—no, please,” you rushed out, voice cracking, hands sliding desperately up his arms, his shoulders. “I want you, I want all of you, Noah. Please.”

Noah’s eyes softened, so full of emotion that it almost hurt to look at him.

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours for a second before soothing you with a kiss to your temple, your cheek, your mouth. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. We’ll do it, okay? I want it too, princess. I want you so fucking bad.”

He said it like a confession before kissing you again, slow and lingering, like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn't achingly hard and craving relief himself. You could feel him, though—hot and hard through his basketball shorts, pressing against you—and a frustrated little sound broke from you because it wasn’t enough, the layers between you feeling unbearable.

Without second-guessing, you let your hands slide down his bare chest—hot and solid under your touch—until you were pulling impatiently at the waistband of his basketball shorts with clumsy little tugs.

Noah pulled back just enough to look at you, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth, his eyes dark with heat.

“You want them off me, princess?” He teased, voice rough and sweet all at once, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

“Yes.” Your face burned, but you refused to look away—you nodded, all flushed and desperate, and whispered, “I—I want to see you.”

Something about that—the honesty of it, the way your voice trembled—made the teasing fall right off his face.

Noah sat back on his heels between your spread legs, kneeling there, before he pushed his shorts down slowly, the fabric sliding over his thighs until it bunched at his knees. He kicked them off the bed without ever standing up, leaving him in just his tight black underwear.

The sight of him made your whole body clench, heat flooding your core all over again.

His cock strained against the thin fabric, thick and heavy and leaking, leaving a dark wet spot at the tip, and your mouth parted at the sight, a needy little gasp slipping from your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

Noah’s smirk returned, lazy and devastating.

“See what you do to me, baby?” He rasped, palming himself through the thin material, deliberately showing off for you. He stroked himself lazily, the pressure making his hips jerk slightly, a low groan rumbling out of him.

Your entire body ached at the sight, heat flooding between your legs, making you shift restlessly on the bed. Noah watched you squirm, his hand still working himself through the cotton, and tilted his head slightly, voice rough with need, but still amused.

“Is this enough for you?” He murmured. “Or do you wanna see more?”

“More,” you whispered immediately, almost desperate.

He smiled again, much too pleased, and reached for the waistband of his underwear, fingers hooking into the sides. But before he could push it down, you shot forward, sitting up fast enough to make his eyes widen in surprise for a second.

Your hands closed around his wrists, stopping him.

“Let me,” you whispered, voice shaking with how badly you needed this, needed him, needed to touch, to see.

For a moment, Noah just stared at you, like you’d knocked the breath clean out of his lungs. Then he nodded, slowly, amazed, his hands falling away, surrendering himself completely to you.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m all yours, princess.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and hooked them into the waistband of his underwear. Noah stayed perfectly still—watching you with that reverent look you’ve seen so many times tonight, like you were something sacred—as you slowly peeled the last barrier down his hips, revealing him inch by agonizing inch.

You sucked in a shaky breath when his cock finally sprung free and you saw him fully—thick, flushed, perfect. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and Noah groaned at the way your eyes visibly darkened, pupils blown, his cock twitching slightly under your hungry gaze.

"Jesus, baby," he rasped, voice unsteady. "You’re gonna kill me."

You didn’t even realize you were biting your lip while you stared at him until he reached out, brushing his thumb over your mouth, tugging it free with a soft, coaxing touch.

"You don’t have to be nervous," he murmured, so gentle, so patient. "We’ll go slow. I promise I'll take care of you."

"I know," you breathed, meeting his gaze. "I—I’m not nervous. I just..." Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t lie. Not now, not to him. "I want you so bad, Noah."

Something inside Noah snapped at the confession. His hands slid back to your body, pulling you against him as he kissed you hard—hungry—his cock pressing hot and heavy against your bare stomach.

He swallowed every whimper, every soft little moan you made, kissing you so deep it felt like you’d never be able to catch your breath again. His hands were everywhere—roaming your body, tracing every curve, every dip, like he couldn’t get enough of any part of you.

One of them slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly and pulling you tighter against him before Noah ground his cock against your stomach as he kissed down your neck. The weight of him there made your insides flip, heat pooling between your legs as your thighs tried to press together instinctively.

You couldn’t help it—you kept glancing down between your bodies, your face flushing deeper the longer you stared. You didn’t have much to go on—no frame of reference, not really. You’d never seen a dick in person before, let alone had one pressed against you like this, but Noah looked big.

Thick, too—perfectly thick. The kind of heavy weight that made your breath stutter in your throat, made you ache to feel him inside you even though you had no idea how you’d possibly take him.

Noah must’ve noticed where your gaze kept flickering, because he let out a soft, breathless chuckle against your neck.

“You’re gonna make me lose my mind if you keep looking at me like that, baby.” He teased, his voice a low rasp as he nipped at your skin. His hand squeezed your ass again, pulling you closer so you could feel every inch of him pressed right up against your belly, precum dampening the skin.

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding in your ears as you dragged your eyes back up to his, cheeks burning.

“I just—” Your voice cracked, and you bit your lip before forcing the words out, quiet and breathless. “I didn’t know it would be like that.”

“Like what?” He asked, tone soft but still dripping with amusement as he pressed a trail of kisses along your jaw again, following it up until his lips were lingering just below your ear.

Your breath stuttered, embarrassment and arousal tangling together when you whispered, “You’re just… really big. I guess.”

Noah cursed softly at that, his hips grinding against you harder, teeth grazing your skin as his grip on you tightened, the motion sending sparks of heat straight through your core.

You chuckled shyly at his reaction, cheeks burning hotter, but couldn’t stop yourself from looking down again—your curiosity overpowering the lingering nervousness fluttering in your chest.

You hesitated for half a second, and then, in the smallest, breathiest voice, you whispered, "Can I touch you?"

Noah’s whole body jerked—a rough sound breaking free from his chest, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or moan or cry.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Yeah, baby. God, yes. Please."

He let himself fall back a little, settling more heavily on his heels as he knelt between your thighs, giving you the space, the invitation.

Your fingers still trembled a little as you reached out, but the moment you wrapped your hand around him—finally—a sharp, broken moan tore out of Noah’s throat, hips giving an involuntary little twitch at the first brush of your hand.

His cock was hot and heavy in your palm, the silky skin stretched tight over the thickness of him, pulsing faintly against your touch. You stroked him slowly, experimentally, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his stomach tensed, the way his breath hitched with every little movement.

He was—God, he was beautiful. Thick and long, with a perfect flushed tip that leaked precum, making your palm slippery as you slowly started to move your hand up and down a bit more confidently.

Noah’s head dropped back slightly, his mouth falling open in a choked-off groan. His hands fisted in the sheets beside your hips, like he was physically stopping himself from doing something reckless.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, wonderingly, tightening your fingers a little just to see his stomach twitch in response.

“Fuck, baby—” he gasped, his voice a wreck. He cracked his eyes open, looking at you through heavy lids, pupils blown wide. “Jesus, princess, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You bit your lip again, utterly fascinated by the way his body responded to even the lightest touch from you—every little gasp, every shudder, every twitch of his hips.

Encouraged, you shifted closer, wrapping your other hand around the base of him too, stroking him with slow, careful movements, getting bolder as you watched him come undone. Noah growled low in his throat, his hips jerking helplessly into your hands, his entire body tensing.

“Fucking hell, baby, you keep doing that,” he panted, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw, “and I’m not gonna last long enough to be inside you.”

You tightened your fingers a little at the praise, dragging your hands up and down in slow, careful strokes, watching the way his cock twitched and leaked under your touch. Your mouth watered for a second time at the sight, a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong it made your lower abdomen ache.

You blinked up at him, heart stuttering—and then, reckless with the heady rush of control you had over him, you whispered, “Can't have that, can we? Need you to fuck me. Want to know what you feel like stretching me open.”

You could see the moment Noah snapped.

He surged forward, kissing you hard, swallowing the whimper that escaped your lips. His hands slid back down your body, urgent now, needy—one guiding your hips back down against the bed, the other gripping the back of your thigh, hitching it up around his waist as he settled over you.

“Tell me you’re ready,” he breathed against your mouth, voice hoarse and shaking, pleading. “Tell me you want this.”

“I’m ready,” you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Please, Noah—I want you. I need you.”

He groaned like you’d just handed him the world—and then he was reaching between you, lining himself up, the thick, leaking head of his cock sliding through the slickness between your thighs, making you both shudder.

But just as he pressed a little harder, enough to make you gasp, Noah squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to stop. He let out a shuddering breath against your lips, almost in pain.

“Wait—wait a second, baby,” he rasped. His hand slipped away from you, fumbling blindly toward the nightstand. “I need to grab a condom.”

“No,” you gasped immediately, your hands flying to his chest, stopping him. “No, please—I don’t want one.”

He blinked down at you, stunned.

“Baby—fuck—I don’t wanna risk anything, and I don’t wanna—”

“I’m on the pill,” you rushed out, desperate. “Ever since we moved here I've been on the pill, I swear. I just—” You swallowed hard, flushing. “I want to feel you. All of you. Please, Noah. I want to feel it when you come inside me.”

Noah made a sound you could only describe as wrecked, his whole body shaking above you, hands trembling against your skin as he tried, tried, to hold on to the last shreds of his sanity.

“Jesus Christ, princess,” he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You kissed the side of his head, wrapping your arms around him, feeling the way he was already giving in. He always gave in to you.

“Please,” you whispered again, right against his ear. “I want all of you. I want you to make a mess of me.”

That was it.

Noah let out a harsh, broken sound, and then he was lining himself up again, nudging his hips forward, the thick head of his cock pressing in slowly—just a fraction before he froze, a strangled groan ripping from his chest.

The heat of you, the way you squeezed around just the tip of him, nearly ended him right then and there.

“Fucking hell,” he choked, voice broken. “You’re so tight.”

You whimpered, clawing at his hips instinctively as the thick stretch made you burn and sting, pleasure and pain knotting together deep in your belly. He felt huge inside you—too much and somehow not enough all at once.

Noah immediately stilled, chest heaving against yours, his hands finding your hips to anchor you—and himself—gently stroking over your skin in soothing, grounding motions.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered against your forehead, lips pressed to the already damp skin. His voice trembled with restraint. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. The pain won't last, I promise. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You nodded, desperate tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you tried to relax, breathing hard against his chin as you angled your head up. You didn’t want him to stop—you just needed a second, needed to get used to it.

Noah kissed you then, deep and soft, while he held himself there—barely inside you—until he felt the iron tightness in your muscles start to ease, your body slowly learning to open for him.

“Good girl,” he murmured into your mouth, voice breaking. He brushed his thumb over your trembling hipbone, breathing you in like a prayer. “You feel so good—so perfect around me, baby.”

You whimpered again, nails digging into the small of his back, desperate for more even through the burn.

“More,” you breathed. “Please, Noah—more.”

He let out a shuddering groan, forehead pressing against yours—and then he pushed in deeper, just an inch more, stretching you open around the thick weight of him.

You gasped, a sharp, choked sound against his mouth as the sting sharpened—your walls fluttering desperately around him—and Noah immediately kissed you again, swallowing your sounds, his whole body shaking from the effort it took to stay gentle, to stay slow.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered raggedly against your lips. “You’re taking me so good, though. Just a little more, I promise. Here, let me—”

His hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit with careful fingers, and he started circling it in slow, featherlight strokes—barely there at first, coaxing, soothing, trying to pull you back into pleasure.

You gasped again, but this time the sound was softer, needier. The burn didn’t vanish completely, but it dulled, blurred, eclipsed by the sweet rush of pleasure blooming low in your belly as Noah worked you open with his cock, his hands, his words—every part of him devoted to making it good for you.

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice shaking. His forehead rested against yours as he rocked his hips ever so slightly, still shallow, still slow. “That’s my good girl.”

You moaned, clenching helplessly around him again, and Noah nearly lost it—gritting his teeth, fighting to keep control as he felt your body start to yield to him, start to welcome him inside.

He slid deeper again, hips rocking before giving you time to adjust, to breathe through it, to feel every inch of him. And when he finally bottomed out, when his hips met the insides of your thighs and he was fully buried inside you, both of you just clung to each other—panting, trembling, overwhelmed.

You whimpered after a while, hips shifting instinctively beneath him, desperate for more, for him to move, to do something.

“You can move,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging, scratching his scalp. “Please, Noah. I need you to—”

But he shook his head, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body shuddering like he was hanging on by a thread.

“I—fuck, I need a second,” he rasped, voice breaking apart. “You feel so good, baby. Too good. If I move right now, I’ll lose it.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your hands through his hair now just to soothe him.

“How long’s it been for you?” You whispered curiously, smiling against his mouth.

Noah pulled back a little—just enough to look you in the eye—and what you saw there made your smile falter.

The rawness. The fear. The love.

It was too much for him to hide.

“Since I was eighteen,” he said hoarsely.

You blinked, stunned, your heart stumbling.

“What?” You breathed, sounding as surprised as you felt. “But—”

“My first time was my only time,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours like he needed the contact, like he needed you close enough to survive this.

You stared at him, struggling to make the dots connect through the haze in your mind.

Eighteen.

He was twenty-two now.

Only once, and nothing since.

Because—?

You barely dared to ask. Your voice cracked when you whispered:

“Why?”

He exhaled a broken little sound, closing his eyes for a second like he didn’t even know how to explain it. Then he opened them again, and you nearly drowned in the weight of his gaze.

“Because it wasn’t you,” he said simply, helplessly. “I tried, okay? I thought it would help drown out the way I felt about you.” His thumb brushed your cheek, reverent. “But it didn’t. It just made it worse. It made me realize I didn’t want anyone else. Couldn’t want anyone else.”

Your throat closed up, your eyes stinging with sudden, overwhelming tears. The full force of it crashed into you all at once—

All these years. All this time.

And he’d always loved you. Even when you hadn’t known. Even when you hadn’t seen it. Even when you pretended not to.

A shaky sob bubbled up in your chest, but you didn't want to cry, not now, not like this—so you kissed him, kissed him like you were trying to pour all the shattered pieces of yourself into him, your hands frantic against his bare skin, grabbing, gripping, squeezing.

“Noah,” you whispered, a broken plea, barely able to speak, to breathe. “Please, I—I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, and I need—”

He didn’t answer, because he didn’t have to. He knew exactly what you meant, and he gave you what you needed, like he's always done.

Only this time was so much better, because there was nothing else between you now. Nothing else in the world.

Noah drew back, just enough to pull his hips away—and then he pushed forward, sinking into you again with slow, reverent force, filling you until your back arched and a sharp gasp punched from your lungs.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, and he groaned against your mouth—deep, guttural, broken—as he moved in you, moved with you, careful, patient, trying so desperately to give you time, to give you everything.

He rocked his hips once, twice, three times, and you whimpered, wrapping your legs tighter around him like you couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.

“More,” you gasped. “Noah, please—more.”

He kissed you again, messy and breathless, and you could feel how badly he wanted to give it to you, how hard he was holding himself back just for you.

And then, when you tilted your hips to meet him, when you whispered one more desperate, wrecked, “Please” against his lips—he finally gave in.

Noah’s rhythm deepened, the slow roll of his hips picking up force, each thrust dragging another helpless sound from your throat. The ache, the stretch, the sweet friction—it was overwhelming, it was everything. It set every nerve ending alight, made your fingers scrabble at his shoulders, made your body arch into his with reckless need.

“You feel—” he choked out against your ear, losing the words as his pace quickened, as your walls fluttered around him and your moans filled the space between your bodies. “Jesus, baby—you feel so good. So fucking good.”

You couldn’t even answer—you could only hold onto him, feeling him drive into you harder, deeper, until every thought dissolved. The feeling of him inside you was almost too much, too good, driving you higher with every deep, perfect thrust.

And there was only him, only this, only forever.

Noah’s hand slid between you, finding your clit again, rubbing tight, desperate circles that made you cry out, made your body clamp down around him without warning.

“Fuck,” Noah choked out, voice breaking against your mouth. “You’re mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You were—you always had been—and the way you clung to him, the way your body responded, said it louder than any words ever could.

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that,” he groaned, hips stuttering as you tightened again, your body greedy for him, for all of him, the pleasure spiraling fast and out of control.

You whimpered, threading your fingers through his hair, dragging him closer, needing him deeper, needing everything.

He shifted his weight slightly, pulling one of your legs up higher around his waist, and the new angle made you keen—made him press against that devastating spot inside you with every roll of his hips.

“Right there?” he murmured, smiling against the skin of your cheek when you writhed beneath him.

“Yes, yes—oh my god, please—” You gasped, voice wrecked and high and desperate. “I’m—I’m so close, I can’t—”

“Me too,” Noah groaned, picking up his pace now, hips slapping into yours harder, faster. “You feel so good, baby—fucking made for me.”

He shifted his hips, grinding against you in a way that made the pleasure snap like a live wire through your entire body—and then you broke.

Your orgasm ripped through you so hard it nearly blinded you, your whole body locking up tight around him, shuddering, trembling, sobbing his name.

“Fuck, that's it, that's it, pretty girl,” he rasped, forehead pressing against yours, the muscles of his back flexing under your palms as he fucked you through it, driving into you faster, chasing his own high. “Fucking come for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.”

Noah cursed low and broken against your skin, thrusting deep one last time before he lost it too—burying himself to the hilt as he came, hot and overwhelming, the sound of your name on his lips like a prayer as he spilled inside you.

You clung to each other through it all, panting, shaking, completely wrecked—completely his.

When you were both done, neither of you moved for a while.

Noah stayed buried deep inside you, pressed as close as he could get, breathing hard, holding you like he never wanted to let go. His hands were everywhere again—petting your hair, tracing your spine, rubbing slow, soothing circles over your hips.

“You okay?” He finally whispered, voice hoarse, broken with tenderness.

You nodded against his shoulder, still trembling, still trying to breathe him back into your lungs.

“I’m perfect,” you whispered back. “Because of you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and the way he did it—like you were everything, nothing but unfiltered adoration in his eyes—made you feel like you were simultaneously suffocating and coming up for air.

Slowly, carefully, he eased out of you, murmuring soft apologies at the sting, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness. But before you could even miss him, Noah was gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, covering every inch of your bare skin he could reach with adoring, lingering kisses.

You both stayed like that, tangled up in each other, sweaty and shaky and wrecked, until your heartbeats finally slowed, until the only sound was your quiet breathing and the soft brush of Noah’s lips against your hair.

“I love you,” he whispered against your temple, so soft you almost thought you imagined it.

But you heard it—you heard it, and you knew, without any fear or doubt or hesitation, that you loved him too. And when you whispered it back, he pulled you impossibly closer, as if he was stitching you into his soul.

You fell asleep like that—wrapped up in Noah, wrapped up in love—knowing deep down that nothing would ever be the same again.

You couldn't have been more okay with that.

hiii, v! 🤗 i chose the "you're shaking" – "so are you" dialogue prompt for this one 'cause nobody's asked for that one yet and i wanted to try it hehe. also, i'm sorry it took me this long to post your request, but i got so carried away with this one and it turned out way bigger than i planned, so it took me a moment there to finish lol. i hope the 9.3k words of pure fluff and smut made up for the delay here. hope you enjoyed this, friend! x

#flowery-mess #request #this was so self indulgent like damn #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x reader

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luna-azzurra · 2 hours ago

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Crafting Breakup Scenes That Actually Hurt

(because “we can still be friends” is a war crime)

Listen, if your characters are splitting up and the vibe is “mutual and mature” and “no tears at all”, congratulations, you’ve written a politely boring obituary for a relationship. Breakups are messy. Even the amicable ones. Especially the amicable ones. Because it's not just losing a person, it's losing the version of yourself that existed next to them.

❥ The “We’re Still Halfway in Love” Break Most people don't walk away clean. They still love each other a little. Or a lot. It's not a neat amputation—it’s tearing Velcro off skin. Show that ache. The lingering looks. The fingers almost reaching out and then clenching into fists instead. The “if one of us said ‘stay’ right now, this wouldn’t end” tension. Make your readers beg for one of them to crack and then don't let them.

One character leaves their favorite sweater behind. Not on purpose. Not exactly. They just... forget it. Or maybe they want to give themselves an excuse to come back for it later.

❥ The "Wrong Words at the Worst Time" Implosion Nobody says the perfect thing during a real breakup. They stammer. They say too much, or nothing at all. They lash out in clumsy, cruel ways because "I’m hurting" doesn’t sound heroic, but "you never loved me right anyway" comes out real easy. Write the fights that should have gone differently. Let your characters regret what they said before the echo even fades.

“I guess you never needed me after all.” Silence. The other person blinking like they’ve been shot. Because that wasn’t true. But now it’s hanging in the air, poisonous and permanent.

❥ The “Silent Break” Because Sometimes Words Are Useless Not every heartbreak needs a monologue. Sometimes it's sitting in a car together, staring out the windshield, saying nothing. Sometimes it’s standing at a door, one hand on the handle, too many words trapped in your throat. Let silence be heavy. Let it say, “I love you but I can’t anymore” without making anyone say a damn word.

The engine's ticking as it cools. Neither of them moves. One finally gets out of the car. They don't look back.

❥ The “Stupid Mundane Detail That Breaks You” Moment Big speeches are forgettable. But a breakup feels real when it’s tied to something stupid and tiny. Like they’re arguing and suddenly one of them notices how the other always folds the pizza box before throwing it out. Or how their coffee mug is still sitting on the table. Ordinary things take on the weight of the extraordinary loss.

She’s screaming, he’s begging, and somehow he notices her chipped nail polish and thinks, God, I’m losing her, and I still know what shade that is.

❥ The “One Last Selfish Touch” Goodbye Before they walk away, before its final, one of them touches the other’s face. Or smooths their hair. Or pulls them into a hug that lasts way too long. Selfish, tender, desperate. Knowing it’s the last time and doing it anyway because they physically cannot help themselves.

“Don’t go.” “Then tell me to stay.” Silence. Shaking heads. They kiss. It doesn’t fix a damn thing. It just hurts better.

Remember: The breakup isn’t the death of love. It’s the death of hope. That's what you need to break. Not just the hearts. The possibility of a different ending. That’s when it wrecks your reader in the best way.

#writing #writerscommunity #writer on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #character development #writer tumblr #writblr #writing help #novel writing #fiction writing #tumblr writing community #unrequited romance #romance #aspiring writer

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minh907 · 3 days ago

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Lost Spirit.

Sung Jinwoo x Ghost Reader

« Chapter 7 ✭Chapter 8: Red Gate.

__________________

"Where are we?"

"It doesn't look like a dungeon at all?"

"The Gate is gone!"

The Hunters looked around and couldn't help but panic. Jinwoo examined the area by squinting his eyes as he remained composed.

'I don't feel anything suspicious...'

Thanks to the system, at least in this situation, Jinwoo was able to maintain his usual concentration. The first thing he analyzed were the trees. The giant green pine tree, which didn't exist in Korea, was reaching up as if it wanted to touch the sky, covering the landscape. The treetops were covered with a thick layer of snow.

Jinwoo looked down and met the eyes of the A-rank Hunter. He was also wary and observing the surroundings.

'...'

The two exchanged glances until they turned their faces simultaneously. You stood next to Jinwoo while you automatically held onto his shirt and observed the surrounding area with anxiety.

Red Gate.

So by chance, everyone was pulled into a red gate, or rather, another world, from which there was no way to return without defeating the boss.

Even though you couldn't feel the temperature around you right now, you couldn't help but shiver. In your hazy memories, a part of you could still remember and sense the danger of this situation, that it was very possible that everyone would be stuck here for a long time, or worse, killed.

A frown crossed your face as you held Jinwoo's shirt with a firm grip. Jinwoo noticed your discomfort so he took your hand while sending a reassuring look through his eyes.With him here, everything would be fine.

This worked, you relaxed a little more. More than anyone, you knew and saw that Jinwoo's power was stronger than anyone else's, and he was becoming more and more powerful.

Oh, and why you are in a Red Gate?

We need to return to several days back.

_________________

"I would like to request a favor from you if it's acceptable."

Jinwoo nodded. "If it's within my ability!"

At the very least, Jinwoo would try to hear what it was. He didn't refuse right away. First, he didn't know what it was, and second, he felt that she was a very enthusiastic person.

The teacher quickly spoke as if she was afraid that Jinwoo would change his mind.

"A female student here has just gone through an awakening phase. And she's planning to drop out of school to become a hunter. She hasn't come to class for a while now..."

You frowned.

That was quite common. Some people, after awakening and receiving their abilities, quickly threw themselves into the Hunter profession. Even though they didn't know what the job required or what it would achieve, they were still proud that they had become different from ordinary people. Achieving the hunter title and easily making money had blinded many people.

"If this continues, the school has no choice but to take strong action. I don't want that to happen. Even if you’re a hunter, I think it's better to have a high school diploma, right?"

Jinwoo nodded in agreement. At the positive response, her face brightened a little. "Can you help me, try to convince her, at least get a diploma?"

_____

You and Jinwoo leave the teacher's office.

"What is everyone in the world thinking now? Dropping out of school to become a hunter? How reckless, how stupid."

You complained.

Jinwoo just chuckled lightly at your annoyed attitude. He calmly replied, "Everyone has their own reasons. Besides, Songyi is still very young, she doesn't know what she's facing."

You pouted. "There's no need to be so reckless! She was just awaken, her rank is low... And she hasn't even graduated from high school yet."

Your voice carried a hint of reproach, as if you were the one whose best friend suddenly dropped out of school. Jinwoo glanced at you, his deep eyes seemed to be pondering something.

The sound of your footsteps blended into the stream of students leaving school in front of the school gate. You unconsciously stepped closer to Jinwoo, snuggling up to him to avoid the sudden cold wind.

Jinwoo silently shielded you, not saying anything more.

The two of them arrived in front of Han Songyi's house, a troublesome girl that he had to convince.

'People like that will die first in the Dungeon...'

Jinwoo had experienced it himself, so he understood it very well. The thin line between life and death that an E-rank Hunter always encounters. If it weren't for his mother's terminal illness, he would never have set foot on this path. For an E-rank Hunter, the Dungeon was too dangerous. The situation would become irreversible if he delayed his action because she would definitely end up with regrets.

'That happens pretty often.'

Every day, dozens of Hunters in the world lost their lives. Jinwoo didn't care, nor did he have the right to care about their lives. Simply put, those were their decisions.

'However...'

This person was no stranger. If the teacher didn't give her name, even if she was Jinah's classmate, he would still refuse. But, she was someone Jinwoo had met before, there was no way they could have the same name.

"Uncle, why are you here?"

As expected, the girl recognized him.

A high school girl who wanted to become a Hunter. The only female member of the Yoo Jinho raid party. After all, his relationship with her had been established before the teacher proposed it.

'Han Songyi!'

Hearing the name spoken by the homeroom teacher, Jinwoo knew who it was without even looking at the file. The day she left school was the day he started raiding with Jinho. When he realized this, even though he knew it wasn't true, Jinwoo still thought it was partly his own fault. Because those were extremely unreasonable raids, it couldn't be used as a measure of a Hunter's income. In just one week, a high school hunter had earned 30 million, it was unimaginable.

'But one thing is certain.'

In the future, if he heard that the girl died in the Dungeon, it would prick his conscience. A thorn in his heart that could not be erased. That was why, today, Jinwoo decided to persuade Songyi, not to let things go any further.

Han Songyi stared at Jinwoo with wide eyes. She hesitated for a moment.

"So the Hunter that the teacher wanted to introduce to you is an uncle?"

You started laughing because Jinwoo appeared annoyed by the uncle title yet he managed to force a smile.

"I don't what the teacher told you and I won't return to school. I won't give up on being a Hunter!"

The girl firmly cut everything off before Jinwoo could say or do anything. When she was raiding, she was quite quiet, but when it came to the future, she was a decisive person. Kids these days really grow up fast.

'It's like some little girl living at home with me...'

He said calmly.

"I don't intend to make you give up being a Hunter either..."

Songyi reacted with stunned disbelief after hearing the news. "Really?"

"Jinwoo?" You were surprised, too.

He looked at you with a reassuring gaze. Jinwoo knew very well that telling a child not to do something was the best way to make them do it. From the beginning, he had no plans to persuade them with words. Reality was a thousand times better than talking.

"Then, why are you here?"

Jiwoo stepped forward. The little girl stepped back in surprise but still didn't flinch. Looking at Songyi, Jinwoo smiled. He didn't mean anything by it, but it was a rather 'sly' smile, with a hidden evil nature.

"I want to train you to be a top hunter!"

No need for any more convincing. The vision Jinwoo had drawn of the Baekho Guild's rookie training course made her unable to hold back any longer. She eagerly followed Jinwoo without any doubts.

_________________________

And that's why you all are here.

Han Songyi hurriedly approached and pulled your shirt.

"Excuse me, but something's wrong, right?"

Before you could reply, Jinwoo spoke. "We're in a Red Gate. That means until we're all dead, or the Dungeon explodes, no one will come to us."

Her eyes were filled with fear. The confident appearance before entering had completely disappeared. You looked at her, it was terrible that Songyi was caught in this, after all, she was only 16 years old. Suddenly, a sense of danger came over you, making your heart stop. Unconsciously, you quickly waved your hand in front of Songyi.

Her eyes widened.

Whoosh!

The arrow that was caught was still swaying in your hand. It seemed like it was still angry because it missed its target. It was right in the middle of Songyi's forehead. Then it crumbles to dust, your hands are completely fine.

"Ah... ah..."

As if she had just realized what had happened, Songyi's face turned pale. But she couldn't say anything. Screams came from the remaining Hunters.

"Kiyaaaaaah!"

"U-uwaak!"

Thud!

Blood leaked from the unfortunate Hunter's mouth. He fell to the ground with the arrow aimed straight at his forehead. The crimson blood spread evenly on the white snow. The remaining Hunters groaned in fear. Two arrows flew towards them at the same time. And like the other victim, they didn't see the arrow you caught.

Immediately, Jinwoo stood in front of you and Songyi.

Kim Chul pushed away a person who was approaching.

"You, you, you and you!"

Apart from the man just now, Kim Cheol pointed at a few more people, including you, Jinwoo and Songyi. Jinwoo's eyes twitched. He realized Kim Chul's intention. The muscular man pointed at five people. Five C-rank Hunters and below.

"Unfortunately, I can't take you guys with me. A day in here is only an hour outside. Worst case, it will take months until I take down the Boss. Babysitting does not suit my natural abilities."

Your expression showed disapproval while you crossed your arms in front of you. 'How arrogant. How presumptuous."

The hunters who were eliminated by Kim Chul tried to protest. But Kim Cheol's glance silenced them all. With false kindness, he continued.

"It's not too bad. You just have to survive until I take down the boss of this place."

The Hunters were looking at Kim Chul's team with pleading eyes, but in vain. All of them ignored them, except for one person.

"Excuse me!"

A female B-rank Hunter in Kim Chul's team raised her hand. When Kim Chul turned around, she gestured towards Jinwoo."Can I go to that team?"

"If you want!"

Without hesitation, she walked straight towards Jinwoo. Kim Chul was quite surprised by this situation. He looked towards the female Hunter and Jinwoo, but quickly snorted and said loudly. "Well, it seems like there's still a vacant position, I'll recruit another member..."

"I... it's me..."

The man who was pushed down earlier, he hurriedly ran over. It seemed like everything was already arranged. Jinwoo clicked his tongue.'This woman, she's strange...'

Jinwoo studied her face with a mixture of curiosity and caution. She quietly approached Jinwoo to speak directly in his ear so he could hear her words alone. Your discomfort grew as she approached Jinwoo because their proximity made you frown.

"Kim Chul, he didn't see the arrow coming!"

"So what?"

She smiled. "You're not an E-rank, right?"

________

Jinwoo's group moved towards the forest. As soon as he saw them disappear into the bushes, Kim Chul laughed loudly. It seemed like he had stopped laughing for now.

"Fools"

"Huh?"

"Look over there."

Kim waved his arm and pointed at the trees in the forest. It wasn't just a few trees. That direction was filled with scratches, made by giant beasts.

"Ice bears!"

Bears were especially dangerous among beasts! The scratches on the trees were how they marked their territory. The Hunters in Kim Chul's group clicked their tongues.

"I'd rather wait here."

"That E-rank guy will lead the group to their deaths."

"What the hell does an E-rank know?"

Kim Chol looked at the forest. "That's right. What the hell does an E-rank know..."

Wait. Suddenly, Kim's smile disappeared. 'There are two C-rank Hunters in that team, and even one B-rank Hunter.'

But why did he think Jinwoo was the captain? He still didn't understand why. 'Well, whatever.'

They'll die soon. Kim shifted his attention to his responsibilities while dismissing those weak individuals. Living requires hard work to discover survival methods because death comes easily. Kim Chul turned towards the road and spoke with authority.

"Let's go."

___________

Jinwoo was leading the way. You walked side by side with him, and Songyi was still holding onto your sleeve, wary. However, Park Hee-jin had already run up in front and blocked your path.

"Are you crazy?"

You crossed your arms, not hiding your annoyance. "Watch your words."

Park Hee-jin softened her tone after seeing your expression. "There is something important I must share with you." Hee-jin's fingers pointed at a nearby tree. "Do you see that?"

A large claw mark on the trunk. All the trees around them were severely damaged, to the point that it was hard to find an intact one

"That's how bears mark their territory! This entire forest is the Snow Bear's territory!"

In the animal world, a dog or a monkey is weaker than a tiger or a lion. The same is true for the magical beast world. A tiger or a lion is much harder to deal with than a dog or a monkey.

And what about bears? They are definitely strong, especially when they take the form of a white bear - one of the strongest carnivores. Now Jinwoo's group has set foot in the territory of those terrible beasts.

That's why Park Hee-jin is furious. "We have to go back now! Before the bears come!"

Jinwoo clicked his tongue. Hee-jin thought he would make one of three expressions: angry, surprised, or dumbfounded. But contrary to her expectations, he looked at her with pity. Park Hee-jin's face turned red with embarrassment.

"W-what?" She raised her voice again.

He sighed and opened his mouth. "It's hard to find an intact tree, which means there's more than just one or two ice bears, right?"

"Yes, so we have to go back soon..."

"That's why we moved into the forest."

Hee-jin looked at him with wide eyes.

'She still doesn't understand?' You pouted. Strange, why do you feel angry at this person?

"When we're in the forest, we only have to be wary of bears."

Hee-jin finally realized what Jinwoo wanted to say. If the forest was the territory of the snow bears, then there was nothing that threatened the bears. The system protected them from the appearance of more powerful beasts.

'I should have considered that earlier...'

Hee-jin felt ashamed about her loud outburst directed at Jinwoo. Her face was red all the way to her neck, and she didn't dare to look up.

You clicked your tongue, and Jinwoo looked over at you. He wondered why you were more upset than everyone else. Then he saw that everyone was shivering. Maybe it was because you were cold?

Sighing, Jinwoo called the store and searched through the list of available items. He picked out a thick down jacket and winter boots. He gently put the jacket on you, and making sure you were warm enough, he pulled you closer to him. You blushed.

And so as not to discriminate, he also gave the jackets to the others. Everyone's eyes widened in surprise.

"Space magic!!?" Hee-jin was surprised and raised her head.

Ignoring their expressions, Jinwoo said calmly. "Each of you choose one." The man reached for his coat while continuing his speech. A sudden force pulled at his hand.

Jinwoo rotated his head to spot Han Songyi. She tried to avoid his gaze and stammered, "Uncle, what are you?"

You stealthily removed her hand from Jinwoo's.

Jinwoo frowned. The stream of questions showed no sign of stopping which would give him a headache. "We need to reach an agreement."

Jinwoo said sternly. "I bring you here, so it's my responsibility to protect you. But..."

Jinwoo lowered his voice. "Don't ask me anything." Jinwoo looked up, looking at Hee-jin and the other hunters. "You too. Don't ask me anything, and don't ask for anything."

And he continued. "If you don't agree, just leave. I don't forbid it."

"What's about her?" A hunter pointed at you, who was still daydreaming about Jinwoo's gentle actions just now. Seeing yourself mentioned, you raised your head in question.

Jinwoo looked at you for a moment, then said. "This person is an exception, she's my partner. Of course, you don't have the right to ask her anything either. Otherwise, then leave the team yourself."

______

Screams echoed throughout the forest.

"Oh my god!"

"Ice bear!"

You froze, looking at the giant monster in horror - a white snow bear twice the size of a polar bear, its chest glowing with magical marks.

"Gwahhhh!!!"

The bear roared, the heavy sound making the air tremble. The Hunters were almost frozen in place, except for Jinwoo. Beside him, you unconsciously clung to his shirt tighter. Park Hee-jin ran up in panic.

"I'll attract it, everyone hurry-!"

Before she could do anything, she was pulled back decisively by Jinwoo. He said coldly. "These magical beasts, leave it to me."

You saw his eyes clearly, strangely calm, as if life and death were nothing. Not paying attention to the shouts of resistance behind him, Jinwoo walked straight in front of the ice bear. Jinwoo briefly turned his head towards you while you held your breath from fear before he tried to comfort you with eye signals. "Don't be afraid."

You pursed your lips, nodding slightly, though your heart was still churning with unease. The bear swung its huge claws like a white storm.

Woosh.

But Jinwoo disappeared from its reach in the blink of an eye.

Immediately after, BAM!

A decisive punch landed squarely on the ice bear's head, sending it crashing to the ground, blood staining the snow.

[Level up!]

The announcement rang out in Jinwoo's head, while you and the other Hunters could only stand there, speechless. Park Hee-jin stood frozen as she asked "You...what the hell are you?"

Jinwoo checked on you before he turned around to scratch his head in a lazy manner while saying "I told you. Don't ask anything. If you don't like it, go back."

But Park Hee-jin, after a moment of shock, immediately bowed her head deeply. "Please lead us! We will follow you!"

The other hunters also nodded vigorously.

You looked up, meeting Jinwoo's gaze, which, compared to when you were facing the monster, was much gentler. He gently lifted his hand, gently brushing the stray snowflakes that had just fallen into your hair. "Let's go."

His voice stayed steady but his eyes showed a soft warmth that existed only for you and could be felt only by you. Your belief in safety rested on staying near Jinwoo because his presence shielded you from both the frigid conditions and potential threats.

________________________

To be continue.

_________________________

Chapter 9 »

________________________

tag: @weaponxgames @sky2lar @snowy-violet @joannthebish @fackeraccount @tanspostsblog @perkypeony @ssolarsystm @winter-soldier-101 @soft-dots @snowlycanroc @sweetchimpeaches @daiyanomochi @sabrina-senpai

(let me know if I forget to tag anyone)

and special thanks to @delusionillusion3322 and @o-qi-shisme who have supported and motivated me a lot while making this serie.

Love you all! ❤

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x you #solo leveling #jinwoo #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung

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lvsjuno · 3 days ago

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( DRA. DOLITTLE ) ▬ Jason Todd!

request: can i ask for a Jason Todd x fem!reader? Where the reader is an absolute sweetheart and adores animals but can kick ass when required. (it would be nice if the reader was a civilian)

Jason todd x fem!reader

note: I'm pretty out of practice, so sorry if it's not what you expected, I need to get back into the swing of things. :)

open request ☆ masterlist

Since you were little, you'd had a special connection with animals. While other children had fun playing with their toys, she spent hours in the garden watching birds, petting the neighbor's cats, or chasing butterflies with a calmness and patience that only someone with her peaceful soul could possess.

As a child, you'd often be yelled at by your family for your respect and love for all animals. I mean, what's so wrong with bringing a toad or a skunk into the house? They're perfectly harmless animals, in your opinion, but not for your family.

You remember with a smile the horrified expressions on your parents' faces when they found creatures of all kinds in the dining room, the bathroom, or even in your bed. You explained with the same seriousness that if they didn't let them in, the animals would have nowhere to go. But your parents, with typical adult concern, didn't share your perspective. Then came your threats: "If you don't let them in, I'll sleep in the garden with them." (Spoiler: you ended up sleeping in the garden... but not with the animals.)

However, that connection with animals never faded. As you grew older, you continued to seek out various opportunities to pursue this vocation. You soon found yourself working in veterinary clinics or shelters, surrounded by puppies, cats, and rescued animals in need of love, attention, and care. Your job became your passion, and every day, as you helped those in need, you felt more at home than ever.

And since passions are very important in people's lives, once again yours, in some way, helped you find the love of your life.

Jason Todd.

The first time you saw him was in the middle of the night, during your shift at the vet. The night was quiet, not too busy, when a tall figure appeared at the door. This time, he came in with a very worried Damian. The boy had been having some trouble with his cat, Alfred. The poor little animal had an ear infection, and Jason had no choice but to accompany him.

Jason, with a serious expression and a slight glimmer of concern in his eyes, approached the counter, glancing at Damian before speaking.

"This is Alfred. He needs help. Do you think you can help him?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his voice, deep and direct, but with a touch of gentleness when it came to the cat. It was hard not to notice how much he cared about that little creature's well-being. You smiled, approaching Damian to pick up Alfred with the same gentleness you treated all animals.

"Of course, leave it to me. Let's make sure he's okay," you told him calmly, as you began examining the cat.

Jason watched you silently as you cared for him, and for a moment, he seemed completely absorbed in the scene, as if you had something hypnotic about you.

That evening, after a few explanations and some care for Alfred, Jason said goodbye with a simple "thank you" and a glance that lasted a few seconds too long, but what seemed like a casual encounter soon turned into a series of unexpected visits.

But there were later second, third, and fourth visits, all under the guise of needing medication for the pets. He even kidnapped Titus from Damian once to take him for his vaccinations.

The excuses became less and less credible ─as if they had been in the first place ─ until he finally dared to ask you out.

Over time, Jason became a part of your life, as constant and natural as breathing. He was always there: waiting for you at the end of your shifts, accompanying you to rescue animals, or simply showing up with lame excuses to see you.

That night was no different. The sun had already set, tinting the last traces of the sky orange, and you were closing up the vet. Jason had promised to pick you up before going out on patrol, like he always did, making sure you got home safely.

You were cleaning the counter when you heard a noise in the back.

You frowned. It wasn't Jason; he always knocked twice and said your name quietly so as not to startle you. This was different: abrupt footsteps, shadows moving quickly. There was someone else there, just you and them.

You sighed, setting the cleaning cloth aside. You remembered Jason's words: "Come on, babe, you have to know how to defend yourself. I won't always be there for you. If you have to fight, don't hesitate. Strike first."

Smiling softly, almost amusedly, you picked up the safety stick they used to control large animals. It was heavy, but with the training Jason had given you, you handled it fairly easily.

You approached the source of the noise.

In the warehouse, two men were rummaging through supplies, tossing boxes to the floor. They were looking for anything of value, but they found nothing there but medicines and old papers.

"Can I help you with something?" you asked, your voice so soft it almost sounded out of place in the tension of the moment.

Both men turned around. The shorter one smiled cheekily at you. "Relax, honey. We're just looking at. Keep quiet and we won't hurt you."

"Just a look?" You tilted your head, as if you truly believed his words.

The larger man confidently reached out to grab you. But before his hand could even touch you, you acted: you nimbly spun around, dodging him, and slammed your cane down hard on his knees. The man fell like a sack of potatoes, groaning.

The second tried to grab you, but you remembered another of Jason's lessons: "When they're distracted, strike quickly." You landed a precise elbow in his stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, then swept his legs aside in one clean motion.

By the time Jason arrived—walking casually as if he had all the time in the world—the scene greeted him like a comic slap in the face: two men tied up with dog leashes, and you, sitting at the counter, wiping your hands with a wipe as if nothing had happened.

Jason blinked a couple of times. Then he let out a deep, proud laugh, but also a laugh of nervousness, not knowing what had happened.

"Are you..." he looked at the guys writhing on the ground, "practicing without me, princess?"

You smiled at him sweetly.

"Isn't that what you taught me?" you asked, raising an innocent eyebrow.

He crossed the distance in a couple of steps, gently took you by the waist and kissed your forehead with a tenderness that contrasted with his rough appearance.

"You're fucking perfect," he murmured against your skin.

And in that moment, as he called the police with one hand and held you close with the other, Jason thought that teaching you self-defense had been one of the best decisions of his life, and choosing you had been another one of them.

#imagine jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem reader #jason todd #jason todd fluff #dc x reader #jason todd masterlist #jason todd imagine

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prettydaisygirl · 3 days ago

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zombie au with Rafe Cameron x fem!reader & how they met ✿ 979 words

cw: zombie apocalypse, lots of cursing, Rafe is an asshole, reader needs help, Ward gets eaten by Sarah

rafe cameron masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Rafe needs to get out of this fucking town.

Sixteen hours ago, he watched his little sister bite their father’s face off. And while part of him enjoyed his father’s harsh and cruel end, Rafe also knew that things were well and truly fucked and he needed to get out of there.

The highway isn’t an option. It got backed up the moment word got out that something was going on. The side roads aren’t any better, especially now that people have abandoned their cars in the middle of the street.

Rafe decides that taking the ATV is the best option. He rides through the rough terrain of the outskirts of the city. He can see smoke coming up from different places around him, several miles away. He has no clue what the fuck is going on.

By the time the ATV runs out of gas, Rafe has no clue where he is.

“Fuck,” he groans, kicking the tire of the ATV roughly. He hadn’t passed a single gas station that wasn’t swarmed. By humans and… whatever the other things are. Monsters in human skin.

He grabs his backpack, a few meager things inside that he managed to grab before he left. As he settles it on his back, he continues moving forward. He stays decently far from the road, and he tries to move as silently as possible. He thanks the fucking Lord that he wasn’t high when he heard the emergency broadcast.

He walks and walks, trying to find somewhere with gas that isn’t crowded. Actually, he’d be alright with anywhere that wasn’t crawling with… whatever people become when they start chewing on other people.

Rafe finally comes across a barn. It looks old, there’s nothing around it. Not even an old truck like you’d see in pictures. He decides to risk it. He grips his pocket knife in his hand. Rafe had kissed it when he’d remembered it had been in his bag. He’s not afraid to fuck someone up if he has to, obviously.

The large barn door creaks open and he steps inside.

“Hello?” He calls out, but no one responds. Okay, he thinks. So far so good.

He moves further into the barn, noticing that he seemingly has good luck today. It’s full of farming equipment, which means there is probably some gas stored somewhere.

“Fuck yes,” Rafe visibly perks up when he spots gas tanks by the far wall of the barn. His steps speed up but then falter when something moves out of the corner of his eye.

He stiffens, pocket knife pointed forward. If it’s one of those fucking monsters trying to bite him, he’s stabbing it.

But it’s not.

It’s you.

You scream loudly when you see the knife pointing in your direction. Rafe is stupid enough to move forward on instinct, covering your mouth with his hand.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” He hisses, his tone harsh and biting. The knife is too close to your face and you let out panicked screams, muffled by his hand and the handle of the knife against your lips. You struggle more and he backs you into the barn wall.

“Shut the fuck up!” He stresses, hoping that no one (or no thing) outside has heard your skirmish. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ kill ya. But you’re gonna get us both killed if you don’t quit.”

It takes you a few more moments of struggling against him to register his words. You slowly stop fighting, eyes looking up at him widely with fear. When Rafe decides you aren’t going to scream again, he removes his hand from your mouth.

“If you aren’t going to hurt me, why did you point your knife at me?” You ask him defiantly, but you still heed his caution and keep your voice low.

Rafe huffs. “I thought you were… one of those… things.”

“The zombies?” You ask, brushing dirt off your pants. Rafe’s eyes narrow at you as he moves over toward the gas cans.

“They aren’t zombies.” He states, reaching down to grab two of the large red cans. You follow him as he brings them back to the barn door, placing them there.

“They’re dead people eating people.” You counter, and he turns to move back to the other side of the barn again. Your steps follow his. “They’re zombies.”

Rafe shrugs his shoulders back and pops his neck as he picks up two more gas cans. He shoots you another dirty look when you trail behind him again.

“What are you doing?” You ask him. He’s the first person you’ve talked to since the beginning of the End. He’s the only living one you’ve seen.

“The fuck does it look like?” He spits harshly, and you flinch a bit. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t even look guilty. You stay silent as he sets the new gas cans down by the old ones. He seems to think to himself for a moment before cursing under his breath and turning back in your direction.

“Well?” He asks, and he scoffs when he sees you look at him dumbly. “What’s your plan, huh? If they are zombies.”

You look like a deer in headlights. He hates that stupid look on your face, or at least that’s what he is telling himself that deep feeling in his gut is.

“Oh Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Rafe bends over to grab two of the gas cans, biceps flexing as he moves. You stand still, watching as he turns to make his way to the barn door and steps outside. A sense of dread and fear starts to overtake you. What is your plan?

Rafe’s voice interrupts your spiral.

“Are you fuckin’ comin’ or what?” He grunts roughly. You scramble toward him and he’s already groaning.

“Grab the other cans, dumbass.”

He already knows he’s going to regret bringing you with him.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's writings #rafe cameron au #obx au #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron zombie au #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #obx fic #rafe obx #obx fanfiction

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buckybabybaby · 18 hours ago

Text

puzzle pieces

A/N: Just a very short piece of mostly fluff for my favourite new falcon <3 All the avengers are still alive in this au, not very relevant to the plot but I miss them, so.

Can be read as the same relationship as in first and last if you want.

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x reader (gender neutral)

Plot: Joaquín reassures you when you feel out of place at a party.

Warnings: very mild angst

(fluff, established relationship, self doubting reader, reassuring Joaquín, background Sambuckysteve - mentioned once, bff Bucky)

Word count: 1.3k

Masterlist

AO3

***

You have made a mistake. When Joaquín invited you out this evening, to a party, you thought it would be a lot more formal than this, and so you dressed to fit the occasion.

It's an easy assumption to make. Joaquín gets invited to all sorts of events, and the avengers own parties can rival the biggest film premieres and award shows in terms of dresses and suits, so you didn't want to turn up and be mistaken for press, or worse, a crazy fan.

Seeing everyone in their t-shirts and jeans has you stopping short in the entrance, your outfit choice suddenly feeling ridiculous.

You want to leave but Joaquín spots you before you can make a break for it. Waving to you as he takes a last swig of his drink, he claps his friend on the back and makes his way over. As he approaches his smile turns bemused, taking in your outfit.

"You get a better offer, mi amor?" He calls across as he squeezes through the crowd. "Ditching me for something fancier?"

Leaning in to kiss you when he arrives, you struggle not to freeze up and reject him. He takes your hands from where you've crossed your arms and pulls them out to get a good look at what you're wearing.

"Should I buy you a corsage? You look like you're going to prom!" He laughs.

"Don't, Joaquín." You whine, tears welling up in your eyes. "You said it was a party. I wasn't expecting Tony's galas level of dress up, but something closer to that than this."

"Clearly, my pretty pretty baby."

He tries to kiss you again but this time you do pull away. That's when he takes a second to really read your body language, your frown, wet eyes, hunched posture.

His own demeanour changes, softly taking your hand again. "Let's go sit, okay?"

He leads you away from the crowd over to the far side of the bonfire. Pulling you down with your legs over his, he holds you close as you look around the party, at all the carefree people, how different they are from you.

How different you are from Joaquín.

The old doubts come to the surface again and you sigh. "Why are you with me, Joaquín?"

He looks horrified at the out of the blue question. "Sweetheart, what?"

"I'm useless. I can't even work out the dress code correctly for a simple party."

"You're the most beautiful person here, that's not a bad thing."

"But it's more than that." Your voice breaks but you push through. "I always stick out. It takes it all out of me to even get here, let alone interact with others. While for you, it's easy, natural. Don't you want someone who can match that? Someone who doesn't need a weeks notice to prepare themselves to be social?"

Joaquín shakes his head through your whole speech, and as soon as you finish he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

"Nope." He states simply. "The way I look at it, you don't need to be the same to fit together. Like puzzle pieces. We work because we're different. Imagine how tired I'd be if I didn't have someone like you to remind me to chill? To take a break?"

He kisses your forehead this time.

"And I like to think I help you get out of your head sometimes. You always enjoy these parties even if you don't want to go to each and every one, yeah?"

You nod, letting a few tears fall.

"So try to remember that," He finishes, dabbing at your eyes gently. "You keep me calm in this crazy world. I don't want anything else."

Joaquín always knows the right word to say. He also knows when to let you sit quietly, enjoying his company and warmth, admiring how good he looks tonight, skin glowing and curls fluffed out in the way you love.

"Sorry for being silly." You say eventually.

"Never silly, my pretty." He squeezes your waist. "Especially pretty today. If this was a gala you'd be the prettiest, best dressed person there. This outfit is very old school glamour isn't it?" He looks you up and down again, finally clocking your choice of footwear. "Apart from the trainers. I haven't seen these before?"

"They're new."

"I can tell, they are fresh. I need sunglasses looking at them."

You laugh, his efforts to cheer you up working.

"Are you okay to stay?"

Humming in agreement, you add, "Just a little cold. I thought it'd be more inside than this."

"All right, how about this. I get you a plate of all your favourites, and-" Joaquín scans the crowd. "Oh, there's our favourite anti-social super solider. Wanna go keep him company? And I'll find you a sweater."

You look where he's pointing, at Bucky who is sat alone on the opposite side the pit, nursing a beer you know has no effect.

Nodding, you let him press a longer kiss to your lips before he bounces off, making you giggle at how full of energy he is.

Scooting around the edge of the fire, you wave to Bucky as you get near and he stands to pull you into a hug.

"Hey, glad you made it."

You snort. "Only just. And looking like I missed a turn on the way to the Oscars."

"Nah, you look good. Better to be over dressed than under, I think."

Bucky brings you to sit close, watching you carefully for a moment.

"Don't doubt how good you are for Joaquín, okay?" He says, tone serious. "That boy adores you as you are. You don't need to be anything more for him."

You blink at him, surprised. "Did you hear?"

"Not on purpose. Super solider hearing is a curse sometimes, sorry."

"It's okay." You give him a small smile. "Thank you for saying that."

"Only because it's true. Like he said, I don't want to think how much more insufferable he'd be if you weren't able to rein him in at times."

Bucky being playful is a rare sight and you laugh in delight at his faux insult. "Speaking of annoying boyfriends, where's yours?"

"Over there."

He gestures to the ping pong tables, where Sam and Steve are playing some sort of drinking game with a few others you don't recognise. The rules seem unclear even for those partaking, Sam looking a lot more gone than anyone else and half hanging off Steve as he cackles loudly.

"I'm leaving them to it for now."

"Sensible." You say, remembering all the times you've sat with Bucky, watching your boyfriends cause mayhem together before eventually intervening to advert disaster. You wouldn't be surprised if tonight ends in a similar way.

Joaquín returns, placing two full plates on the table and draping the sweater he found over your shoulders. The scent of his cologne washes over you and you snuggle into it, letting Joaquín wrap you up in his embrace and offer you the first bite of food.

"This all for me?" You ask once you've finished chewing.

"Too much? I wanted you to have a bit of everything. Sam's sister Sarah provided a lot so you know it's going to be good." He gets another fork full ready, adding, "Anything you don't want I'll have."

He goes to feed you again and you try to protest, taking the cutlery yourself. He takes it back just as quick.

"Let me, please."

Typical Joaquín, always looking after you. Your heart warms, but you still ask, "Don't you want to go back to your friends?"

"I am with friends. As much as Bucky likes to pretend otherwise."

Bucky looks like he's going to object, giving up and admitting dryly to you, "I'm warming to him."

"Ha!" Joaquín almost jumps out of his seat, only held back by being entangled with you. "From Bucky that is practically a confession of love."

"Don't push your luck kid."

Bucky hides his smile behind his bottle, you own growing as you watch them together.

However this night started, you're glad you stayed. In the glow from the soft fairy lights, Joaquín sends you a look that says he will always be there, like your matching puzzle piece, stuck together through it all.

***

Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres fic #buckybabybaby

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soo-won · 17 hours ago

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About the shoulder wound parallel I have so many thoughts about it but to reach the suwon/zeno part of it I first need to make it about Suwon and Hak I swear it makes sense stay with me. I've been obsessing over Suwon's shoulder wound ever since ch249 and I think it can be symbolically connected to the wound Hak caused in chapter 2, which is the Suwon I drew here. Like, the thing is, Kusanagi gave Suwon a wound in chapter 249 on the same shoulder as at the start of the story, a few chapters before giving Zeno another wound on the opposite shoulder and said wound became plot relevant in a chapter that makes direct parallel between Suwon and Zeno in ch256... So much to unpack here, right? Maybe it's all coincidence, but even if so it's fun to think about it so here I am!!

So first, Suwon's shoulder and the development of his relationship with Hak. It's always hard to tell if Kusanagi completely forgot about Hak slashing Suwon's right shoulder in chapter 2 since it's never mentioned again and we never know if Suwon even has any scar left of it, but, Suwon's right shoulder comes into play a few times later in the story sooo...it could be... In chapter 259 when Zeno fights against Hak and Yona, Hak tells him that he would never use his weapon against him. In a set up that is very similar to the night of the coup (with this time Yona protecting Hak against the Betrayer(tm)), to me it resonates strongly with Hak's actions that night. Unlike back then with Suwon, Hak refuses to use his weapon against a friend, even if said friend betrayed him, is threatening them and hurt people he cares for. Hak refuses to treat Zeno as his enemy like he did with Suwon then. (The circumstances are a bit different of course, but this scene makes me think Kusanagi does remember well how things happened that night, and Hak hurting Suwon.) This obviously surprises and moves Zeno.

I don't really want to interpret Hak's thoughts and feelings here. It could be interpreted as him regretting doing things this way with Suwon before, or it could not... But the thing is, he is doing things differently. To be fair in chapter 2 Hak could only do what he could in an high risk and unexpected situation to avoid Yona being killed and then to escape together. But when facing a similar situation again he now has the conviction he wants to do things differently and that's the meaningful part that feels important to me here.

And that new conviction was already already seen with Suwon before.

Hak giving Suwon the senjusou in chapter 224 is already a parallel to many other Suwon/Hak scenes before, and I want to argue it's also a parallel to chapter 2. On the same shoulder Hak afflicted a wound in the past, he now rests and falls asleep in his act of trying to save Suwon and heal him. Like with Zeno, he's not treating Suwon as an enemy here, but like an old friend he wants to help. Suwon, the one person Hak has always be in extreme alert around since the coup, becomes a person Hak lets himself be vulnerable with and finally rests on. Actually, the parallel with chapter 2 hits even more when you realize that chapter 224 is the very first time Suwon and Hak have a physical contact ever since...chapter 2 and their swordfight.

On top of that, we know that Suwon remembers the very feeling of Hak on his shoulder so much he gets lost in thoughts about it before Minsu bursts his bubble in ch225. As Suwon also thinks to himself, "at that moment, I forgot the pain". A feeling so intense he feels no pain at all for a second, in contrast to an act that physically hurt him in chapter 2...I could go on like that for hours. In a way, Hak becomes a bandage on Suwon's symbolic scar. Suwon still carries the pain of discarding Yona and Hak for his goal, convinced he doesn't need nor deserve their help and support, yet longing for their presence by his side, and then here is Hak and he can feel his warmth. Also making a parallel between his freezing hands a few chapter earlier and the comforting warmth he feels from Hak. It's healing, as much if not more than the senjusou itself.

Suwon until now was in a way indulging in the pain of Hak hating him and trying to kill him, of Yona killing him one of these days. It's easy, it's to be expected, it's what he thinks he deserves, it's fate in a way. It hurts but he will accept it and endure, like his illness. Yet Yona and Hak actually both resisted against this fate and went against the tides.

So the events of this arc were totally unexpected for Suwon. It started to make him rely on them more, but it sadly didn't change Suwon's convinction that this is "not even", that he still deserves a punishment and to be in pain. Chapter 249 in many ways is when everything the characters tried to maintain until now breaks apart. Shinah losing against his powers, the ropes to tie him down tearing apart, the alliance between yona and suwon's sides seeming to break apart too... They couldn't hold it together against fate and the gods, even after getting over everything together as humans until now.

But as Suwon says himself in chapter 262 about his wound, it wasn't so much Shinah or the gods then but him. He offered himself up to Shinah. As if to erase the comfort of Hak on his shoulder, it's now replaced by a new wound on that very same shoulder. It's his punishment. He believes he doesn't deserve the former. He has to pay a price for Yona and Hak helping him despite betraying them, and using them for his goals even now, and he ends up finding that solace in the Heavens' intervention. They validate Suwon's most self destructive thoughts. These ideologies go hand in hand.

That Hak in chapter 262 questions Suwon about his wound, that Suwon tries to brush it off and endure the pain like he always does, and that Hak insists and makes him ask for help himself is extremely moving because of all of this of course. Suwon was the receiver until now. He received his wound by Hak, then he received the senjusou by Hak too, and Hak's warmth and protection. Then he received Shinah's attack, and he received Minsu and Yun's treatment etc... Suwon stays passive and in the expectation when it comes to his own body. Suwon doesn't hurt himself directly, he lets others do it for him. His own self guilt is a reality in many people around him. He's the object of most people's gaze, we see him a lot of time through how others view him and what they think of him. To Suwon, Shinah's furious gaze at him in the castle and then in ch249 are the symbol of this. So when he couldn't find and get this retribution from Hak or Yona directly anymore, here was Shinah in his monstrous dragon form. (Suwon not moving in ch249 is very similar to Suwon not moving in front of Hak in ch91 too).

This is where I finally arrive to Zeno. Zeno in opposition to Suwon very much hurts himself directly, he's the main perpretator of his own injuries. That's exactly why the idea that to be killed he has to be the receiver and have Yona do it for him is torture, I think. To me, this is the horror of his realization when he looks at his shoulder wound in chapter 256.

Even after coming to the realization that only Yona can kill him, he still says nothing to her and tries to make her kill him by his own hands. The cruel thing in the situation with Zeno is him realizing how little agency he has, even less than the little he thought he could possibly get. The way he interpreted the prophecy, made a plan on his own without telling his friends and causing the end of the dragons himself...it's all part of Zeno trying to have any sort of agency. But he doesn't. It's all the gods and Yona in this case.

Again it's ironic. Zeno who wants to die more than anyone else has to force it again and again for it to happen, whereas Suwon has it coming for him from every direction. Yet, neither are dying in the end. All they have is that open scar on their shoulder.

To be honest, I'm still not sure what it could symbolize for Zeno as Yona inflicted it to him on accident. But just like Suwon, it's an open wound. And just like Suwon, Zeno lives with the idea of "even" exchange. After all, his power activates only if he gets hurt. Unlike Yona who learns to protect others together while protecting and defending herself too, Zeno keeps hurting himself to protect others without hesitation. He and Yona share the same desperation over their powerlessness to protect the people suffering around them, but act on it differently. Zeno's power encourages him to do so, it ingrained in him that he should and has to suffer to use a power that shouldn't exist in the human world. Unlike Suwon who first acts in a certain way and then wait for the payback(retribution), Zeno gets hurt first then waits for the payback(sacrifice). I think that's why Zeno's shoulder wound actually come before his real betrayal to Yona, it works in a different logic than Suwon's. Being hurt by Yona isn't a consequence of betraying her, it's a condition.

And it fits very well with how Zeno did things to try to die: He made a sacrifice with the dragon warriors and then waited for the Gods to pay him back after he completed their supposed requirements. He naturally did things just like when he wants to use his power. First hurt yourself, sacrifice something, and then the Gods should give you what you want.

From experience he thought he had control here. He's used to it after all. But he soon had had to realize that he actually has no agency over this system at all and is not in a so much different position than the other dragon warriors. Neither in relation to his power nor the conditions for him to die.

Zeno ended up thinking that he deserved to be hurt as condition for his powers, just like the dragons can only get short lifespan for theirs, erasing in a way how none of them ever decided for things to function this way. He rationalized it when the truth is there is nothing rational about the God's rules and how they make decisions. The fact he gets so frustrated when the DDHHB stops him from hurting himself shows this well. He normalized it. The truth is the dragon warriors were always only exploited. He didn't actually want to hurt the dragons or to ask Yona to kill him, but he accepted and normalized that it was the only way for him to achieve his goal, even though it's this whole system that needs to change. Against this cruel reality, Zeno can only make himself numb to the pain and convince himself he's okay with all of this. That it's all logical and set in stones. That it's fate. Ah- just like Suwon.

I went a bit on a tangent and we're not talking much about the shoulder wounds themselves anymore, but as for everything with Suwon and Zeno, their differences are always two sides of the same coin that join together, if that makes sense. In the end, I see these mirroring wounds as the symbol of how they're objectified by the Heavens and how it's ingrained in them, literally on their body. Their bodies receive the mark of trying to get something themselves inside this system ruled by the Gods and the Heavens, this determination also symbolized by Yuhon and Hiryuu's swords.

For Suwon, it's the belief that if he makes the decision to judge others and hurt them for his goals, it's only logical and fair he will be judged in return, and that it's fine this way. If that's how things work and that's the system, he won't change it, he will just pragmatically exploit it to the best of its capacities and then accept the consequences too. Once he takes a place in it and holds the reins as a King, he believes that's just how things should be. He can't conceive there is value in fighting against it and trying to change it. And he loses all reason to do so once he kills Il and discards Yona and Hak. It's too late after all, he accepted to corrupt himself in this machine to get what he wishes for. That's his illusion of control. Suwon is responsible for his own choices, beliefs and actions, and he's extremely self aware of the consequences of his own choices: he will be judged, hated, attacked and killed someday in return gods or not.

But even if he chooses this path full aware, is that really empowering? Is accepting and letting it happen really give him control when deep down what he wants is to live and to not discard the people that he hurts? Suwon thinks that's just how it is, but who truly decided that and why can't it be changed? Is it really himself, or was it heavely influenced by his environment and the people around him?

I don't mean to say that Suwon is not responsible for anything because We Live In A Society(tm), though. That'd be even more disempowering than it is. Suwon's choices were undeniably influenced by his environment and the people around him but that's how it is for everyone, and I wouldn't want Suwon to regret what he did. That's his life, and he still accomplished and experienced many good things and they're all meaningful and his too. That's why I find this very good that he says he doesn't regret killing Il because that's something he chooses. It's not so black and white. What is harmful though, is the resignation in repeating this pattern despite how it hurts him, the idea that things are fine like this if he's hurt and punished in the end. That he's never allowed to be healed and loved and happy and refusing it when he gets anything good. How that doesn't leave any room for reparation, change and hope.

And painfully, both Suwon and Zeno were progressively forced to accept how little agency and choice they truly have and to adapt, submit, to the system of the Heavens despite taking a strong stance against them. In a way, in their very declaration of rebellion against the Heavens, they were already influenced by them, as it still exists, and they position themselves in relation to them. By trying to take back control and agency from the gods (which is more than fair like, they deserve this agency!) they still mold themselves in the gears of this system, they don't truly change it, they negociate with it. Suwon by leaving it alone in the hopes of it leaving him alone too, and Zeno by walking alongside it.

Whether it's Suwon carrying on Yuhon's sword and his legacy and striking down others for his goals even if he will never be allowed to live happily in consequence, or whether it's Zeno taking Hiryuu's sword to kill himself after bringing an end to the other dragons too, it's the same. It's still taking and being taken from. Giving and being given back. It dooms them, it's self-fulfilling prophecies.

That's why even after Suwon was forced to acknowledge that the Gods have more influence than he thought and he was saved by the dragon warriors and Yona, it still very compatible with his way of thinking and the path he always followed. Even if Yona and Hak won't punish him directly anymore, ch249 with Shinah attacking him shows that the Gods will. Even without it, Suwon was still resolved to return to war and die for it. Whether it's from Yuhon, from Il, or from the Gods it's not so different in the end. Like this, the Gods validates and reaffirms the very ideology personified by Yuhon that Yona and Hak were resisting against when they tried to help and save Suwon.

For Suwon and Zeno, resisting against the Gods is still equal with accepting using a weapon that gives them a similar form of power attached to a legacy. And even if they're different, they're bound by their laws and ideologies the same.

Zeno's case is still a bit unique because he started from a very different place. His journey started with him accepting the yellow dragon's blood and powers. Even if he was later ready to go against the Gods to have his wish realized, he was still very aware of the reality of their existence and power, and how they bind him and every dragon warrior. Because of this, Zeno always tried to still get some agency. His whole quest to find a way to die is a quest to cling to humanity and free will, to be more than an empty husk living forever, not caring about anyone or anything. Yet little by little, without him realizing, they still made him compromise more and more. When he tried to assemble the dragon warriors before Hiryuu was reborn, he had to face the truth that it cannot happen without Hiryuu. He had to wait for Yona. As Zeno says in chapter 208, even with eternal time it doesn't mean it makes things happen like he thinks at all, but by accepting passively all of it and going with the tides, he waits for the one chance he can finally act and end it all for good. But even then, when he made a whole plan around it to end things himself, without Hiryuu/Yona again, it failed. Because it has to be Yona. She is the one with the authority needed.

In a way, at the point Suwon and Zeno accept/try to die, it was maybe also them trying to bring an end themselves to these cycles of taking and giving and how it burdened Yona. After all, if Suwon dies not by Yona's hand, then there's nothing Yona will have to take from him directly and she will be innocent, there is no revenge anymore, Suwon will die from an "unrelated" cause and things will be "even". Suwon seems to feel guilt over "pushing" Yona to her limits and hurting her by her being forced to support him. Whether this is also influenced by the time Il told him he's unpleasant and Suwon fearing this might be true for Yona too, in the south kai arc this was definitely his vision of it. So when Yona is conflicted between her promise to Suwon and saving her friends in ch242, Suwon "frees" her from it and gives her the chance to leave and to never return again. He pushes her away, not burdening her with his own situation anymore. If she doesn't plan to return he will even give up on making her his successor. Again, he unconsciously repeats the same pattern of not involving Yona at all, separating her from the rest.

Zeno always felt like the dragon warriors were a burden to Hiryuu, a symbol of the Gods' overwhelming love to him, giving Hiryuu too much and pushing him to give back. If he dies, this will put an end to this as well. They saw their death as the ultimate solution, their life having become an uneedeed burden and source of potential conflict. But by trying to do so they both stripped Yona of what she really wants. I would say the conflict between them and her in this arc is exactly this tension between first trying to get Yona uninvolved and ending things themselves in their latest and most tragic attempt to have one crumb of agency against the Heavens and their obsessive love for Hiryuu, and then how this has repercussions on the human Yona in how that strips /her/ of her agency. Again, Yona is fatally a victim of the consequences of a battle that shouldn't involve her, yet very much does.

Despite this attempt and all their resistance against it, Suwon and Zeno are both made to depend on Yona/Hiryuu for their most important wish. These things were also due to their very human and personal relationships with Yona, and them feeling like they can trust and rely on her more should be a positive thing to be happy about, but it tragically aligns with the Heavens' agenda, so something about it feels fundamentally wrong. After all, Suwon is made to rely on Yona this way because of how the Crimson illness weakens him, and Zeno because that's his only hope to die. This is the tragedy of Yona's fate: everything was moving forward because of her growth and positive accomplishments as Yona and her efforts to gain her own agency, but her position and the authority she always owned as Hiryuu validated even more so all the Heavens' harmful ideology. Her will and actions can't be dissociated from the higher narrative with the prophecy and the Heavens. This against shows how the conflict between her identity as Yona and Hiryuu is the source of all the tensions in this arc and the core of the entire story.

Yona always wanted more power and agency, but here it disgusts her. She doesn't want to have to kill Zeno. She doesn't want Suwon to die and to have all his responsibilities as ruler be pushed on her. She doesn't want to stain her hands herself with those maybe, but I think it upsets her also because it is against the very things she was trying to achieve for both of them so far. Her promise to Suwon was to support him until the end of the war and then they would both go back to their separate life; her goal was to get all the four dragons back and then they'll be forever together, not this either. Suwon was the one person she wanted to regain a sense of agency with, yet in consequence it's stripped away from her again because his upcoming death doesn't leave him a better choice but to make her his successor; Zeno is the person Yona wants to help regain agency and justice on his own fate, yet is made to have the authority over Zeno's entire existence however she likes. Her and Hak were trying to break these cycles of even exchange but it is maintained with a firm grip by the Heavens, and it's then all placed on Yona.

But Yona never asked for all these irrational things. These developments are what progressively made her face that there is something insidious, deeper, that needs to be changed, triggering her decision to enter the chalice and face the Gods in chapter 261. Chapter 258 also suggests that Yona wants Suwon to still be there and she makes sure Hyoori is still here for this sake. I don't know what she thinks about the Suwon situation since the illness matter is not a thing for now, but at least it makes her stance clear : she is against this fate with both of them gone and against them leaving her behind without letting her have a say in any of this.

I deviated a bit from the wounds and swords topic again, but they're all things connected to Yona too after all. They exist in relation to Yona/Hiryuu. Suwon was hurt for being an "enemy" who hurt Yona first and Zeno can only be killed by her. After all this, Yona, Hak, Suwon and Zeno all had to let go of their weapons. Yona threw Hiryuu's sword away when the Gods imposed it to her to kill Zeno in chapter 264, Hak refuses to use a weapon on Zeno like he did on Suwon when he caused his shoulder wound in chapter 2, Suwon leaves Yuhon's sword in chapter 262 as a symbol of him leaving this legacy behind to try another, different path for the very first time. But what of Hiryuu's sword now?

I wrote 90% of this before chapter 269, so the truth is now I have even more things to add because of it, except this post is already so long I'm embarassed. Maybe someday I'll add a part with developments of chapter 269. That being said what I mean with all that (that I'm afraid makes no sense and it's totally disorganized), is that their wounds and stories are connected in how whether they're related to Yona personally or her as Hiryuu, it's intertwined and the result of the same harmful ideology based on punishment and sacrifice. However, there is hope. Because Yona and Hak learned and then kept resisting against those things. They're still all struggling against the authority of the Heavens right now and there are still the issues surrounding Yona/Hiryuu's identity, but with their efforts they at least prevented these wounds from being a symbol of Suwon and Zeno's capital punishment and now they're still living to face the Gods another way. Suwon is still ill and Zeno is still immortal, but they're going beyond already, they're not submitting to legacies harming them anymore. All these parallels have an infinity of layers to them and they add so much to the story right now, but I think were truly all for what is happening now, and far more than simply being cool parallels for the sake of it. They have meaning.

Also I'm not sure if writing this under my own fanart is a good move, I feel a bit selfconscious so just to make it clear I very honestly didn't think about all that at all when I drew it. I went with the vibes and it's only afterwards that I started to try to organize my thoughts so hmm...please keep enjoying the fanart as it is :)

The price for our ambitions

#akayona #lumen rants #suwon #soowon #zeno #suzeno #suhak #hak #soohak #yona #princess yona #hiryuu #yuhon #just saying whatever

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prettysatomii · 2 days ago

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Angel

FOR A MOMENT I WAS HEAVENSTRUCK...

Synopsis: You caught a certain white haired boys attention! This takes place during the Hunter exam arc. Inspo from Kokomi Teruhashi :) Its hard being so perfect. The blossoming of something new. Meeting killua in the hunter exam.

Ridiculously pretty. That's what Killua thought when he saw you. His eyes widened so much you thought that you had accidentally committed a crime.

It wasn't unusual for eyes to linger on you. In fact, if someone didn’t look you would assume something was wrong. But this gaze was different. The bluest eyes you’ve ever seen stared right back at you when you looked across the room.

You were picture perfect. An angel on earth could be debated to be an understatement. You were the kind of girl others tried to replicate. There were girls with some of your features, sure. But on you? They just made sense.

Of course, you always defended them whenever you heard these comparisons! Kindess to everyone was one of your priorities.

Your eyes reflected the sunlight and shined despite the lack of sun. Your hair, face, energy, it was unbelievably perfect. You had a strong aura surrounding you before you even knew what nen was. His eyes lingered on your face before slowly scanning you as a whole. The tunnel was long, and you kept a soft, practiced smile, looking straight ahead. The typical stare never bothered you, but his was... different.

‘Geez..even her bodys nice.’

Killua shook his head, looking down suddenly finding his skateboard way more interesting. He was embarrassed at how obvious he was being.

‘So many poor people are struggling to keep up..maybe I can help motivate them! They’ll be so appreciative.’

You thought to yourself glancing around the exam. The smile-and-wave combo was a classic of yours. It always seemed to brighten the mood.

‘They look so happy! Honestly, I should be thanked by the hunter corporation..’

Despite the interesting crowd, boys would always act like boys. You heard the soft whir of skateboard wheels before spotting him again.

When you'd first entered the exam site, you saw him drinking a soda. Tonpa had offered you one too. You took it politely, saying you’d drink it later. Lucky for you, someone warned you not to, said it was dangerous for a girl like you.

You heard Tonpa ask for his name to cheer to a new friendship.

Killua? If you remembered correctly… he’d drunk two.

Unlucky for you, you zoned out looking at him. He definitely noticed. You tried to recover by waving at him.

‘Oh shit, Me?’

He blinked rapidly, cheeks tinting pink. Killua had stares you down for a moment before trying to save himself and gave a halfhearted wave back.

Was this is his way of trying to act uninterested? That irritated you… not that you’d admit that out loud.

‘How dare you take for granted something other people would die for—‘

Your inner rant was cut off by a boy suddenly next to you.

“Hey, what’s—how—uh…”

Damn, The poor boy regretted even approaching you. He cursed at himself for thinking he could be normal around you when he never talked to anyone. Let alone a girl he found attractive. He fell silent so you decided to step in.

“Hi, my name is (y/n) , what's your name?”

(Y/n)…(y/n)…it suited you. He gulped, eyes darting away from you.

“Killua,”

it came out more passive aggressive than he wanted it to. He was nervous and the poor attempt at acting cool didn’t help. He didn’t want to look at you, but you caught him sneaking glances every few seconds.

“Nice to meet you, Killua. I’m glad you said hi to me.” You offered him a small smile.

He blinked, surprised by how easy you made it sound. No teasing, no pressure. Just genuine warmth.

A beat passed before he nodded, almost to himself. “Yeah. Me too.”

It was quiet for a second, not awkward, just enough to make the air between you feel different. You looked forward again, keeping pace with the crowd, and for the first time since the exam started. Killua found himself slowing down just a little - like he didn’t mind matching your pace.

“You have a nice name,” A second later you added, “I’ve never heard it before.”

The smile plastered on your face only grew. His face twitched as you spoke. It seemed like he didnt recieve much compliments… You almost felt sorry for talking so much.

Killua was cute. His nonchalant attitude intrigued you. But you weren’t here for that.

You were here to become a Hunter. To prove that you were more than perfect—you were one in eight billion. Not just a pretty, pampered girl. You could pass this exam. And you’d do it with ease.

He opened his mouth again, trying to find the words to thank you or say something. But before he could, he noticed… the intruder.

A girl had slowly drifted to your side.

Pon. Ponzi? No—Ponzu.

You’d approached her back when the first phase started, and now she was talking to you. You made easy small talk with her. She seemed comfortable, even a little nervous, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. Odd.

Killua, meanwhile, was practically shooting daggers at Ponzu.

He had clearly talked to you first. And she had the nerve to interrupt?

With a huff, he pushed off and skated to where he eventually stopped near a green-haired boy.

You noticed his absence. Eyes scanning the crowd until you spotted him again. He was beside the other kid, but his gaze flicked directly to you before looking away.

You smiled to yourself, this exam was going to be more entertaining than expected.

#killua zoldyck x reader #hxh killua #killua zoldyck #killua x reader #hxh fic #hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter exam arc #hxh x reader #fluff

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hvnsinureyes · 2 days ago

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YOU LIKE TO SAY THAT YOU'RE RIGHT ! austin reaves.

request | "omg rennie… more like a challengers-esque version where golfer!austin hires you, a has-been golf player sidelined to teaching by an injury—whose career he’s inadvertently followed because you used to train at the same club when you were kids, to help perfect his swing then one thing leads to another and suddenly you’re being fucked in a golf cart with a [CALL DROPS]"

warnings | angst-ish, reader is somewhat tashi coded, nsfw— austin fucks you in a golf cart, unprotected sex, creampie, austin's lowk obsessed/delusional (that's how i like 'em)

author's note | it's a long one! also forgive me i know nothing about golf, learned all of this from google! also i am sick (once again) so i may take a teeny break from tumblr after this one! sorry :(

AUSTIN REMEMBERS YOU CLEARLY. more than he should, to be honest. he first met you at golf camp— where his parents enrolled him in so he had something to keep him occupied during the summer. he was used to playing baseball and basketball, golf was meant to be a challenge. golf keeps you balanced, his dad says. forces you to try and try again until you're sick swinging your arms around, but in the long run, you'll improve.

camp was boring at first, he won't lie. but then he met you.

you were here for different reasons— a rising prodigy in golf, a legacy already guaranteed by your skills alone. you were only 15 at the time, yet already considered a future GOAT. despite all the whispers and pressure, you didn't break. never let anyone see you fall. the first one at the range, practicing for hours on end, practically glued to your golf club. austin wasn't jealous of your skill, far from it. he understood the hype the moment you arrived, didn't need any more convincing. if it wasn't from the way you exuded dominance, then it was your skill. he was entranced by the way your face looked when focused, eyes sharp enough to kill, with the perfect posture, your swing controlled and precise.

but regardless of how austin noticed your presence, it was like he was invisible to you. well, everyone was. you wouldn't let anyone distract you from your goals. you weren't here to make friends. the only time you ever talked to him was in passing or asking him for a simple favor. even years later, austin didn't forget you. he wasn't obsessed or anything, no. he simply wanted to see your progress. after all, the whispers were right.

you rose through the ranks like it was nothing, win after win, working hard to fulfill the prophecy laid out for you.

but before the world could fully cement your place in golf, before you could really savor the taste of what it meant to be great, you career ended in seconds. suddenly, the music you were listening to turned into shrill sirens, red and blue surrounding you. it was all a blur, from the murmurs of the first responders to state of your totaled car.

it wasn't your fault. a reckless driver, drunk off his ass, speeding past a red light and hitting your car in the process.

"are you awake? hello? how do you feel?"

what you felt— or what you couldn't feel— was your wrist.

you didn't have to listen to what the doctor had to say, the look on his face said it for him. a severe wrist fracture.

and that was all it took to dethrone you.

you love golf. sometimes, you like to think golf loved you just as much, if not even more. it's a silly thought, but it's the only one that brings you comfort. better than the ones who call you "wasted potential" or "the princess who never became queen". you've degraded yourself to a mentor now, helping people become close to what you used to be. it's not bad, actually, having a purpose once again feels good.

it’s good enough. it'll never be the same as playing, but oh well. there's nothing you can do about that, right?

you look at your watch— 3:02 p.m. 2 minutes after you were supposed to start today’s session.

he's late, again.

the new pain in your ass, austin reaves, is your new student. your only student, matter of fact. he's the only one who can handle your teaching style. you remember him as the cute, country sounding nerd from arkansas. back then, his game was decent, but when he reached out for help years later, it was like the skills he learned had vanished.

he wanted you, out of all people, to teach him what he forgot.

he likes the push you give— wants you to be hard on him, to hold him accountable, to make him better. you didn't understand why. he still has another sport to go home to at the end of the day, one who takes up much more of his time than golf.

austin's willing to be molded into your image of a perfect golfer. every move he makes, he looks back at you, eyes asking, "was that okay?"

whether it’s praise or criticism— austin soaks your words up, like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, and in return, he gives results. you like to say he’s the best student you ever had. not out loud, though.

you catch the soft hum of a golf cart approaching— low and steady, the familiar "rrrrr" noise cutting through your thoughts. finally, he's here. his tour bag’s propped in the back of the golf cart, swaying slightly as he pulls up and parks a few feet away from you. without hesitation, he grabs his bag and jogs over, face flushed, hair a mess— he clearly rushed over here.

you’ll have to cuss him out about being on time later.

there's a sharper edge to you today— more pissed off than usual, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by austin. maybe it’s because he was late, maybe it’s undeserved anger built from the day you lost it all. whatever the reason, the look in your eyes stings more than any words. you're looking at him like a failure and it eats away at his core.

"again," you mutter, harshly. austin breaks out of his stance, setting his arms back down. he's exhausted, maybe nearing his limit, but you continue on anyway. his swing’s gotten sloppy, and he still hasn’t made the correction. he sets another ball on the tee, casting a quick glance your way. body settling in, feet planted, arms raised, breath held—

"stop." austin holds his pose. "what's wrong with your stance?"

"...i don’t know."

you sigh and roll your eyes, not even trying to hide your exasperation as you step toward him. the grass crunches lightly under your feet, hand landing on his shoulder. "you’re stiff," you say, your voice quieter now, but still with the same bite. “too stiff. you’ve got to relax, alright?” your gaze travels down, scanning his body until it catches the problem. "and your knees aren't bent. how many fucking times do i have to remind you?"

"sorry coach." it's a more than an apology, a plea for you to have mercy on him. you're already starting up and austin knows it won't end soon. you pull away from his shoulder, backing up to observe him. "sorry won't change that sorry ass stance. fix it and try again." you say. it's quick, barely noticeable, but austin falters.

you wait to hear the crack from the club hitting the ball. it doesn't come.

instead, austin drops the club completely, the loud thud of the club hitting the ground, sound echoing through the air. "i said try again." but austin doesn't make a move to pick it up. he ignores your demand, walking towards you, his expression mirroring yours. he's pissed.

"what’s wrong with you?"

"excuse me?"

"you heard me. what’s goin’ on?" silence fills the air. you don't know what to say back. austin's never stood up for himself like this— often taking the brunt of your harshness without a single complaint. what's even worse is, you can't give him a real answer.

you can't say you're still bitter about what happened to you. bitter that your entire future, wasted because of someone else's poor decision. it should be you practicing your swing, winning tournaments, and making a name for yourself. austin could be great too, but golf is "just a hobby" to him. golf was your life, it still is. he can play whenever he wants for fun, while you can't grip a golf club without your wrist aching.

it's not fair.

but instead, you say, "what are you talking about?"

"don’t bullshit me." he steps forward, voice low as he closes the last bit of space between you, his shadow overtaking your figure. austin lowers his head slightly, tilting it just enough to catch your eyes under the brim of your cap. the eye contact is intense, the both of you refusing to back down as your emotions clash. "y’know, i’ve dealt with your attitude since day one. i never complain. i don’t talk back. i treat you with respect. but still, you treat me like i’m shit."

"i thought you were okay with the way i teach you. if you can’t handle it—"

but austin continues on, cutting you off. "oh, i can handle it. don’t get me wrong, i like the way you teach. but there’s a fine line between bein’ strict and straight up rude. so again— what’s your problem?"

you say nothing. your insecurities sit too deep inside of you, buried under layers of pride and fear— your lips part like you might speak, but no words come out. "won’t talk?" austin watches you carefully, scanning your eyes as if they'll reveal the truth themselves, but you're not budging. he scoffs. guess you'll be stubborn about this.

"that’s fine by me. i’ll jus’ have to get it out of you another way."

"austin."

"shut up. all you ever do is run your mouth. it’s my turn." you press your lips into a tight line, while the corner of his mouth curves upward. a smile not filled with amusement, but with satisfaction. good girl, he thinks. "now you listen to me good n’ well." his finger points at the golf cart behind you.

"i’m gonna fuck you right here, in this cart. better tell me now if you want me to stop."

austin expected you to yell at him. call him crazy and delusional for even thinking you’d consider doing something so dirty with him in public, in the same country club you frequent often. if you were to get caught— your reputation would be done for.

your conflicted look isn’t lost on him. but then, you nod.

"don’t stop." you whisper. you don’t have to tell him twice. he grabs your arm swiftly, dragging you over to the cart. despite his tight grip, he lays you down gently on the front seats, making sure you don't hit the handles, lowering himself to catch your lips into a kiss. austin says a quick thank you to god in his head, glad a bunch of trees are covering the two of you from any nosy bystanders.

his lips and hands are everywhere all at once— your thighs, breasts, hips, and neck, working together to bring you to pleasure. it’s not long until austin’s sick of how covered you are, unbuttoning your polo and throwing it off your body. your skirt, bra, and panties are next to go, and once you’re bare underneath him, austin’s breath hitches. "you’re so gorgeous," he mumbles, distracted by your beauty. "too bad you’re so mean to me, hm?"

"i’m sorry."

"sorry won’t fix that sorry ass attitude. remember?" you glare at him and he snickers. you realize you don’t have that power anymore, to boss him around. austin’s in control and as a way of making it up to him, you’ll let him have it. just this once. after pulling his shirt over his head, austin goes back down to start trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. he nips at your skin, eliciting a soft whimper from your throat. as much as austin wants to ravish every inch of your body, the longer he takes, the more likely you’ll get caught. he doesn’t want to be banned at the club (or arrested) for public indecency.

when he makes it past your stomach, austin can’t help but smirk. acting like you couldn’t stand him, when all this time you were soaked. a finger goes in to dive between your lips, letting him in with no resistance. one finger becomes two, pushing in and out, making you moan loudly. your fingers grab onto the plush seats of the cart, trying your best to keep your composure.

the heat inside of you builds and builds, until austin stops, pulling away.

you whine at the loss of contact, but austin chuckles at your neediness. "don’t worry, m' not done just yet." he says, unbuckling his belt. he unzips his pants quickly, pushing them down to his ankles. with a swift tug of his cock, he buries himself inside with a swift thrust. he sighs in relief, throwing his head back.

you feel like heaven. he’s addicted and barely even got a full taste of it all. "been wantin' to fuck you since we met again." hands gripped the handles of the cart, fingers curled tight around the warm metal, as he thrusts his hips into you.

"if i had known it was gonna be this good, i would’ve made a move the first day." you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping somehow, blocking out the world will make austin's voice disappear. but it doesn’t work— each one finds their way into your head. you feel the heat rise inside, spreading through your chest, your body betraying you with every breath. a raw, burning want cuts through your attempts to hold back. you want him. desperately. your body is already giving in before your head can make it's mind up. "how does it feel, baby?"

so good, you think, but you settle for another moan instead.

"these strokes good enough for you? not too stiff?"

"fuck— fuck you, austin."

"you are, right now." his smirk is devious, practically getting off to the thought of finally putting you in your place. "funny how you're not telling me off anymore." he drives the point in when he changes the pace of his thrusts, slowing it down just for you. his cock enters in slow, but deep, hand running down the small bulge poking through your tummy. "i bet you love this." you mewl when he presses down, "maybe that’s what i'll do now, fuck you stupid when you get too smart."

you don't dignify him with a response— but your pussy does. the way it's squelching around him, covering his dick with your slick. "because i'm the only one who makes you feel this good."

"y— you sure about that?" austin laughs again, dismissing your words. he doesn’t take you seriously— not in the way you want him to. you said it to hurt him, a desperate attempt to get back some control. he knows better. you’ve told him before, "i don't have time for relationships." you’ve never been the type who gets around either, not like he does, at least. "with how you're stutterin'? you won't want anyone else after today."

"i'll be the only man bendin' you over," he murmurs, saying it like it's a promise. he sees you struggling, head thrown back against the seats. "you're close aren't ya?" your pulse quickens, and that familiar pressure coils low in your stomach. "cum all over this cock, sweatheart." his fingers quickly find your clit, rubbing relentlessly.

"let go for me." you try to hold it off, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he single-handedly wrecked you so quickly, but the pace of his thrusts combined with his fingers are overwhelming. that's all it takes for your orgasm to hit you violently, juices squirting around his cock. austin hisses at the sudden feeling of your pussy clenching around him, suddenly gripping him like a vice.

with every ounce of energy you can muster, you wrap your legs around his waist. legs locked around him, his body against yours leaving nowhere else to go but deeper, closer. austin freezes as if he's been caught off guard, but gathers himself quickly. hunched over like an animal, he says against your throat, "where d'ya want it? inside?" a warning that he was close.

"yes, yes, yes! please, austin."

"you wanna risk it? might knock you up, make you a mommy."

"i don’t care—ah! anymore! please!" in an instant, the warmth of his cum floods your insides, thrusts faltering as he drives into you in one fluid motion, all the way to the hilt. your pants fill his ear, his head pressed into the crook of your neck. you can feel the faint beat of his pulse against your chest, hearts beating together.

you try to savor this moment of silence, try to pretend austin's cum isn't dripping out of you. he's still your annoying ass student, the same one who didn't fuck the shit out of you a few seconds ago. you definitely don't have any feelings for him either, oh god no.

"we might have to look at baby golf shoes. y'know, just in case." he says, pressing a teasing kiss to your shoulder. "ugh, shut up." you snap, making him laugh all over again. yup, still annoying. he lifts himself away, looking for your clothes sprawled across the grass. "did you forget plan b exists?"

"still sassin' me, huh?" he smirks. "you didn’t learn a thing."

#rennie writes #nba imagine #nba imagines #austin reaves x reader #austin reaves #nba fic #nba fanfic #austin reaves imagine

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pedripics · 1 day ago

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PEDRI'S INTERVIEW WITH UEFA CHAMPIONS LEAGUE ahead of the game against Inter - April 28, 2025

On becoming a Barcelona fan

"It’s my life. Since I was a young kid, that has been the case. I would always watch the games with my family, and my father always instilled it in me as a kid. I would always go to watch games at the supporters’ club and always wanted them to win, and now, I can enjoy it from the inside. I’m living everything I dreamt of, and right now, it’s everything to me." "I got to experience the moments where we won everything, with moments of great joy and celebrating goals. It’s a different environment to watching it at home, on the sofa with three friends. There are 30 or 40 people there who are experiencing it just as you are or even more so, and it’s wonderful seeing everyone supporting a team."

On Xavi and Iniesta inspiration

"By watching so many matches on TV, watching videos of Andrés or Xavi, I think something sticks with you. You try to copy them, you try to practice it, but it’s tough to be at that level. So, you try to improve every day so that, one day, you can do what they did." "I would often watch an Iniesta video, who was my idol, and I would try to copy what he did in the video, or what he did in a specific play, how he protected the ball. You sometimes try to copy them; other times, you struggle because it’s tough, but you still try to do it in the best way possible."

On memories of Barcelona’s 2015 Champions League victory

"I especially remember the final, [Ivan] Rakitić’s goal. It was a final I enjoyed a lot at the supporters’ club. It was an amazing final, particularly because of the playing style of the front three [of Neymar, Luis Suárez, and Lionel Messi]. They were genuine stars who had great numbers, and the football they played was very fun to watch."

On Flick and Barcelona’s high defensive line

"It is a young squad and he is a father in the way that he always tries to look after us. He is there for you if you’re not playing. He always tries to help you and, asides from being strict – which he is and which you can see from outside – the side of him that you don’t see from outside is that he always tries to help you when you’re playing badly. He speaks to you, asks what’s wrong." "It was hard to adapt [to the high line], especially when I was watching it from the outside during pre-season and they were implementing it. But from the very start, I think the team has done it really well and when it works, and you see that something is going well with the coach’s idea, I think it gives you much more confidence."

On Gavi

"An amazing person. If he's with you, he's with you to the death, wherever he needs to go. That is a big part of who he is."

On Dani Olmo

"He's often surrounded by four defenders and with just one touch, those four are gone, and he's already facing the goal."

On Ferran

"Ferran is like a brother to me. I think he's the one who's helped me the most – both on and off the pitch. Aside from the goals he scores, he's the one who works the hardest in every training session, always looking to improve."

On Ballon d’Or aspirations

"Since Rodri won it, it’s shown that a player who runs the midfield and dictates the tempo and the rhythm of the game can win a Ballon d'Or. I was really pleased he won it because aside from the season he had, I really enjoy playing with him when I’m with the national team. He’s a player who controls the game really well, wins the ball back, gets forward, scores goals – he’s everywhere on the pitch." "It’s always been a dream of mine to lift the Ballon d'Or. But right now, there’s a month to go, and the focus is on the team – on winning the three trophies, which is what really matters and once that month’s over, we’ll see if we can start talking about things like that."

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #fc barcelona #fc barça #barça #*interview

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ceratedfish24 · 2 days ago

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Knowing that most wildcards if not all were made in a week between the sessions, it feels like a much bigger task than sorting through viewer suggestions and making them up from scratch, tho I can't know for sure.

Yeah, the difficulty of the tasks varied a lot, but it kinda didn't bother me too much, because then they could be done with the task and do their own thing. I did love Pearl's task of getting hearts from people, but I'm a Shadowmoon shipper and the moment it created has been ingrained in my heart.

From Etho's episode I mainly remember the part where he washes himself away, so that he doesn't actually move, but moves. I'm a Doctor Who fan and I loved the reference, but yeah, quite limiting, especially with how they have to travel some time between bases and you can't know if someone is spying on you from afar.

Hm, you could say keeping it a secret is like if everyone was a boogeyman or well, playing a game of mafia. I do remember that a few times others were able to guess the task, but if they wanted to help the person, they played a game of crocodile, not being able to say anything outright, just imply.

To me a lot of tasks felt opposingly team uniting. With how Bdubs task started the whole Mounder thing. And then Joel's task (the cult one) brought Mounders even closer in a way, pft. And sometimes guessing the task incorrectly spawned an event, like almost the entire server hanging out at Pearl's mound base. Also Pearl helping Bdubs and Mumbo with their tasks (dragon, cursed tower). So yeah, I love Matchbox and Mailbox.

Out of context, but i remember people (CCs as their characters and the fans) were saying that Mounders aren't loyal and will fall apart or something. And in the end, Mumbo started to act as a red and tried to kill his teammates a few times, but they still accepted him. You can tell I love Mounders, tho all the other teams were great. The dog boys had such a fun dynamic, them often going to talk to BigB or Scar and having silly interactions together. To me the Bamboozlers flow so well from Secret Life: the winner, the unlucky and the loser /affectionate, they're definitely my favorite team that happened in Wild Life. Pearl and Mumbo would have fitted in with them too, all a little bit pathetic.

I agree with the love island team point? They are such a fun team up and there could have been more. Definitely the fact that BigB started as a loner because of his task and leaned into the backrooms creature vibe made it seem like he had to play two different characters at a time? Perhaps, that is not what you're talking about, but people were suspicious that BigB won't stay loyal and is more by himself, but they trusted each other. I don't fully remember the moment, but I think Skizz made someone think that he believes that BigB is a traitor, but then turned on them instead. Or this is memories connecting wrong bits. I don't joke about having troubles rewatching stuff, even when I love it.

Oh, yeah. Mine is all subjective and personal heaven, which I know is flawed, but I see the good and the bad bits and enjoy it as a whole, like you are with Wild Life. I am not a Third Life lover 😔 It's good, but if I'm ranking it, it will go to the bottom (all cause Pearl wasn't in it /hj)

Yes! It all felt like wacky cartoon episodes, which to me is a high praise, as I love Adventure Time and other episodic shows with an overarching plot. Again with my hyperfixation, Pearl died a lot, she literally had the first death on the server (i am replying as I am reading or else I'll forget my thoughts, but you mentioned it and we kinda divided on it? I agree, but also I can excuse it. It's brutal and unfair, but it did help others avoid the same fate. This is also a point in the: I think they should have given themselves more time to test the wildcards, because it feels like a thing you could fix, if found). But it was all because of a part of a mechanic of a wildcard that has not been found out before, which she immediately shares with her teammates. The opportunity to play around and find a way to work the wildcard in your favor or at least to not die from it is amazing. It just felt dissapointing, when people were trying out ways to have an advantage over snails in a way and got punshed for persisting and being curious (the inconsistency of when the snail jumps in your face. I know it's like 3 blocks but some were closer or farther, and with Pearl's second death potentially being caused by Aussie ping). I understand that if there was a way to battle snails completely, everyone would have gotten rid of them in the first hour and there is no more wildcard. But the whole point of an immortal snail is that you get some advantage (money in the original case) and you can figure out things to feel at least somewhat safer.

I would have said that making each snail have their own thing to slow them down/make them stop for a moment and have some cool down for that effect is too much, but they made a whole superpower wildcard so.. It's different but something lesser, like being able to feed them a certain somewhat rare item to slow them could be cool? Idk if the range could allows it, but if you can click on snail with an item (like feeding a dog a steak) and not get it jump on your face immediately. There is a possibility of no one even figuring that out especially if the items are too rare, but at least there would have been something? For Bdubs to feed his snail a clock and make it slower or stop for a certain amount of time with a cooldown (you would have a moment to breath, but you might also forget about it, so it's still a risk). I just feel like they are smart enough to flesh it out more, and I never fully understood why they put such a harsh time limit on themselves. They were most likely concepting wildcards for longer, but when you actually get the moving snail and test it out, you might have to fix some issues and if it's too close to deadline, you'll just have to give up on a good idea.

I know that if you are creating a big time sinking project, you have to organize and pay every person who is involved in the creation, so extending the time frame or the complexity, would have upped the cost significantly. I read some comment about how they could have made a whole series out of each of the wildcard, and I am on the side that having a new thing each week is a cool concept. The only part I do agree is the superhero wildcard. I just think a superhero life series (or maybe a sibling series) could be genuinely fun. Am a sucker for AUs.

Snails were very cute and funny, but they were undeniably too much. They had to stop the session earlier and all the CCs were exhausted by the end of it. You can see how the death count skyrockets because of snail, and the balancing by giving players 6 lives worked out i guess, but them ending early means if it wasn't stopped, there could have been even more deaths or even a first person to get out of the series in session 3(4?).

And final deaths are supposed to be at least somewhat tragic or emotional (in a funny or sad way). Skizz's and Mumbo's final deaths were cool, but Gem, Impulse, BibB, Scar died in a less fair(?) way. And Grian knows how important it can be to get out of a series in a satisfying end, Jimmy and Lizzie dying was sad, but epic and he helped to achieve that.

Okay, that's a fair point. I was afraid of getting into life series, because it felt like there were so many people and all had their own unique storyline. To me, I just accepted that I will get information about their videos secondhand, and if it intrigues me, I would go and watch the episode myself. I am happy that it was enjoyable for you and easier to engage with.

Big groups feel clanky to me in a way that everybody is trying to help the team, but when you have to listen to so many people at once, it becomes either a corporate meeting or a hangout at the loud bar. I do understand the appeal of a bigger group interacting, but I always feel like a lot more people get talked over and if there is no enemy, there is no conflict and there is no one to fight? A lot of times people were trying to mention who they were enemies with and it consisted of "hmh, we are kinda okay with them, and them too, and them". To which, Secret life didn't have that much outright betrayal or enemies, it was kinda more sitcom-ey. There were a lot of rivals, not enemies. In wild life it feels like there are almost no evemies and no rivals. Even bringing up the Impossible Minecraft, it's a smaller series, but there is a collaborative process, so big groups are encouraged, because there is no competition (the winners and placements don't actually mean much in the same way as MCC or similar stuff does obviously. It's all more about people creating a narrative and a story).

I do think Scar is a pretty good player, just unlucky at times. He did win by his own strength in Secret Life and got to the end in Third Life (while being the first one to go down to red and so early), he and Grian also being the 4th(?) soulmates to die and it was Grian who died, I'm pretty sure. You might not be implying that, I just dislike when people kinda dismiss his achievements.

I also enjoyed the Gs. The only thing I have a beef is that Tango was hanging around them at the start and I was so hoping for him to join them, tho the Tuff guys is also cool. I do find it funny how Gem and Pearl exchanged teammates from last time.

This all is a toll on anyone and when you have to organize and also be involved in the project, where your friends's income partially depends on you and you have to try to cater to them and to the viewers all at once. And well, when you see your friend so exhausted and trying so much to make you enjoy the series, I think it would feel brutal to complain about anything. They're friends and I don't know how they interact behind the scenes, but I would never want to upset my friend over something like that. Of course, if someone didn't vocalize their concerns, it's partially on them for doing so, but it's understandable. There is a part of me that wants Grian to delve more into different series, and with Impossible Minecraft, it seems like something he had in mind? Fans like to find parallels and will always compare previous seasons, so anything new will be met with a bigger criticism. Impossible Minecraft didn't capture everyone's attention, but I still feel it got good reviews and players seem to enjoy it. There is a difference that even through you can analyze CCs as characters, it is definitely much less roleplay and more survival. Not everyone found it appealing, but people also weren't compelled to compare it to life series, because it is distinctly different and we got both traffic and it. If Grian makes more of completely different series with no overarching expectations or limitations, it could be cool. Some people might be angry that they have to wait for a new life series season longer because of it, but it's not like we were ever really promised it and even if we were, he can decide to not go forth with it, if he wants to, it is his project. Idk if all my blank suggestions or ideas are out of place, but I very much love all the CCs and wouldn't want for any of them to get burned out and not participate in the life series or other projects.

I completely understand and agree with your whole last paragraph. Mine is similar, just replace Wild Life with Secret life. And I still enjoyed a lot of Wild Life, and I do have my own criticism of the Secret Life. I do understand people voicing and sharing their complaints, and not all should be like, thought out essay. Sometimes you watch a movie and find it meh, but can't put it into words. People not wanting to give Wild Life or any season a chance for whatever personal reason is understandable. Grian and others are still content creators and have to take into account a criticism of a casual viewer, which most of their viewers consist of I would think. But that's kinda why still discussing those things in the fandom is important. How would Grian know what we want to see, if he can only see the passerby viewer say "meh, not the same" and nothing else. Being afraid to hurt the CC can lead to it either way, when fans lose the interest and stop watching at all. It's not that Wild Life was horrible, it's that a lot of fans felt unheard. I assume that when you are making content for a long time, it can become stale and samey and you might lose confidence of if your content is actually good or not. They became CCs, because they wanted to share something that people would love, so hearing back is useful. When you start to see anycritisism as hate, it makes fans not want to share their thoughts and CCa are left one on one with angry/indifferent redditors (idk how bad reddit is, never used it besides googling weird things).

Idk where Grian saw that fans didn't want for him and Scar to team up, most fans love their dynamic. I do know some were complaining about the sameness of the teams, like the 3Gs. But some simply called 3G toxic, which is not completely untrue and doesn't mean they disliked the team? They have a very complicated history and that's the fun part of them trying to rebuild this. It's unrealistic for them to just forget everything and forgive. You can say that you forgive, but that doesn't automatically rewrite how you feel about it. There was a great episode in Amphibia that ended with the main character Anne forgiving a side character Hop Pop, but in the next episode Anne and Hop Pop are being weird and it escalates into a fight. There were still things unsaid and Anne just bottled everything up to try to move away from the situation, they needed more talk and more time to truly understand and forgive. I know that I reference a scripted cartoon show and Life Series is not a scripted play, but it is a roleplay for a lot of CCs, and dnd shows how improvisation can create great narrativess. It wouldn't be a death series without all the drama and all the betrayals and complicated relationships.

I hope this ask won't get killed by Tumblr, idk what's the word limit and how it works in general. I also reread it just once, sorry for any inconsistencies. Thank you for your time!

Hey! Sorry that it took so long for me to respond, but this was a really long ask that I had to break down paragraph by paragraph, which isn’t a bother! It just means that it takes me a little longer to respond to.

The problem that I had with the tasks was when tasks were too hard or had players do something consistently throughout the episode that didn’t really make their episode much more interesting. For example, I loved the concept of Etho’s weeping angel task. I’m also a Doctor Who fan! It’s just, yeah. It was difficult for him to enforce when in an open space. If the tasks were consistently like that, then I wouldn’t care as much, but it felt unfair for some people to be able to progress with more freedom than others. It wasn’t that big of an issue, of course. It’s just a little pet peeve.

As a com sci major, oh my gosh I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to program all of those wild card in such a short amount of time, especially the ones that were only decided upon in response to episodes (I believe the quiz bot was originally a scrapped wild card but was then brought back to the workshop last minute in response to players’ performances, but I may be misremembering).

I totally recognize that players still found ways to help each other, I just wish out of preference that there was a way for them to have been a little freer with their firm factions. I know that such a rule would be difficult to make concrete decisions on, but I know that Impulse felt disappointed that he didn’t get much of a chance to get to know Scott as a teammate. I don’t think that it was a bad decision. After all, it is called Secret Life. I just wish I could’ve seen certain teams loosen up a little more around each other. You raise a good point about the Mounders, though! They were a really great team. It’s just a shame that other teams weren’t able to communicate with each other as subtly yet effectively as the Mounders. Honestly, I’m not sure why people insist that a team will fall apart before that team shows signs of falling apart. Each season is a fresh start. While there may be history, each person still chooses whether or not to let that go.

God, someone PLEASE make BigB the leader of a big team. I need to observe his behavior in such a role. It's for science.

Third Life isn't at the top of my list either! There's definitely parts of it that I loved, but there were also parts that I was personally frustrated with. It’s not anyone’s fault at all. It’s just a matter of preference. It also totally gets a pardon due to it being the first ever season, but that doesn’t necessarily win it more points in my heart.

Pearl’s first death, I totally excuse it too. I didn’t mean to come off as if I disagree with the decision to keep it in. It’s a game mechanic and all. It just felt like such an unlucky “first to find out” situation, but that's part of the game. As for the snails, Grian didn’t intend for this to be an easy wild card. He expected more player deaths than normal, though he did say that there were still more than he expected. However, he also said that he had a moment where he considered using the Quizbot to gift back lives and decided not to. He wanted players to really feel the cost of each life. It’s a decision that he’s very firm about, and I respect that. I will say that the players who died significantly more than other players had a lot of deaths that were simply careless. There were of course many deaths that were the cost of an experiment or were just so terribly unfortunate (double Bdubs death), but I think a lot of deaths were from not keeping an eye on their snail (Scar gets a pass because his snail was literally turned invisible by other players). Here’s the thing. The problem that many players experimenting with the snails had was that they were experimenting with their own snail. Jimmy is a great example of someone who did NOT experiment with his own snail very much, despite his crazy number of deaths. Most of Jimmy’s snail experiments were done on other people’s snails, and he learned a lot from testing on them. In other words, there were ways to test on the snails that were much less risky, especially if you have a friend helping you.

The feeding the snails to slow them down is a really cool idea! I just don’t know if it would be worth the risk of getting close to your snail nor do I think that the players would have figured out that they could feed their snails, especially if the required items are player specific. I think that it would be a really really cool concept for a longer series or just snails, but it doesn’t work well for only one episode. Grian could’ve told people, of course, but Grian was already telling people quite a bit about the snails and he evidently would have trouble remembering what each snail eats (he couldn’t remember assigned superpowers even though not even everyone had an assigned superpower. I don’t blame him, though. I can’t remember people’s names ten minutes after meeting them, and I can’t throw stones in glass houses).

I would TOTALLY be down for a whole season of superpowers. I thought the superpowers were so so so cool. I do find it weird that someone commented that they could make a whole season out of each wild card when so many people said that the wild cards were boring. I don’t think that would go well in terms of viewership.

I understand finding the snails to be too much, but every creator we know of said that the snails were fun, even if they were stressful. After the snail episode, Grian very urgently checked in with everyone more so than usual, and, according to Impulse, Grian, Martyn, and Skizz, everyone found the snail episode to be a lot of fun. I don’t think that the snails were too much, because everyone had fun and got a great episode out of it. Additionally, due to how long the season surprisingly ended up being, I worry that trying to make the wild cards safer might have resulted in a longer season than the cast was hoping. They typically try to keep the seasons to 8-9 episodes, and Wild Life hit that quota despite the number of people saying that it would definitely be the shortest season ever (which is a little strange considering Double Life was only 6 episodes long, and I doubt that Wild Life ever even looked like it would only be 5 episodes long what with so many people having all of their 6 lives for so long). All in all, I don’t think that the players minded a shorter session when they all got an exciting normal length episode.

I absolutely understand being disappointed in some of the final deaths, but that’s not really a concept that’s new to Wild Life. I mean, while Grian’s final death in Limited Life was thematically cool, it would’ve been pretty anti-climactic without Jimmy’s death. It’s something that happens, and I’ve made my peace with that, especially with how exciting everyone’s life was to me. Of course, I understand that all of that is a matter of personal preference.

I’m glad that you understand my perspective on having an easier time staying caught up. I’ve been watching Minecraft YouTubers for a long time, and I was a big fan of particular big groups. I’m pretty used to hearing them talk over each other and didn’t really think about how that was absolutely a matter of personal history of enjoying hearing 6-10 people in the same call all of the time. I’m sorry to hear that it was more frustrating for you, and I totally understand feeling like there was less content in Wild Life and that the content that was available felt socially clunkier. I hope the next seasons are more your taste!! I got my fair share of what I wanted :)

I understand what you mean about feeling like there were no enemies, but I interpreted that as feeling as though there was no specific enemy (other than everyone vs the family) because most teams had wronged people pretty equally. There was definitely enemies and rivalries, they were just more player specific than team specific, which I understand is unusual for the Life Series. Impulse vs Gem was a pretty big rivalry, as was, of course, Grian vs the Bamboozlers, particularly vs Scar. Mumbo vs Scott was a weirdly spawned in rivalry. I don’t know why Mumbo latched onto that so hard, but I respect him for committing to the bit like that. Another rivalry, which was mostly a result of miscommunication, was Scar vs the Tuff Guys. See, and this is the most insane looney toons incident in the series, Bdubs pretended to do something “tuff” to the Bamboozlers so that Tango and Etho would think he was tuff. Then, Etho actually did something “tuff” to the Bamboozlers, which Scar got payback for by burning down Tango’s base. Tango then got revenge by attacking ALL of the Bamboozlers’ parrots. In other words, I don’t really think that there were fewer enemies and rivalries. I think that the relationships between individual players were just insanely more convoluted. The only team vs team enemies who I can really think of were the Spanners vs the Gs. Grian really wanted to eliminate the try hards who were stronger in numbers (though, as Scott has said, larger groups don’t often do better in the Life Series). The whole thing was like watching a drama series. I really loved it, but I totally understand how it’s a lot more confusing compared to past seasons, where enemies are more straightforward and agreed upon within teams. The problem was that players were having a lot of personal beef with each other but then projecting that onto the other player’s whole team, who hadn’t been told about this beef and is then confused when told that something is wrong. The Gs and the Family were a little better at communicating between each other, but that didn’t mean that they always entirely agreed on how to deal with the issue. As for the storyline and collaboration points, I totally understand wanting that. I think I gave Wild Life a lot more grace, because every episode was like a first episode, where everyone is still helping each other navigate the new gimmick. That’s a part that I, personally, really enjoy about first episodes. This is much less a rebuttal against your point and more of a “this is how I understood it in the moment and a matter of my personal enjoyment, and I absolutely understand if it wasn’t for you”.

Oh I definitely agree that Scar’s a great player! I think he doesn’t really pick up on new situations as quickly, but, once he has it, he’s mastered it. He’s also just a generally skilled player. That man is INSANE in combat. Who taught him how to fight like that. It’s so strange when people say that Scar isn’t a “real” winner. Winners may statistically be more likely to rise from smaller teams, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easiest to get to the finale all by yourself, especially when you have as many enemies as Scar did that season.

I also love the Gs and the Tuff Guys, but GOD I understand what you mean. I’ve been dying for Tango to team up with new people, particularly Scott, for AGES. I want more Snowbugs content. Please, Mr. Smajor, PLEASE team up with different Hermits. I love every single one of Scott’s teams and dynamics, but I’m so eager to see him interact with people we don’t often get to see him hang out with.

I understand what you mean about not wanting to hurt your friends feelings, but Grian specifically requested criticism from each player after every session. There are of course so many ways to go about this situation, and no one way is necessarily the “correct” way to deal with it every time, but, if my friend was asking for criticism, I would want to help them feel as though they have improved their project as much as they are ready to. I’m not saying that I would complain or criticize or be harsh, but expressing an honest opinion about your own experience is so so so critical during game development. This is particularly critical in the Hermitcraft community when Hermits ask other Hermits for criticism. Grian in particular likes honest constructive criticism when he asks for it.

I absolutely agree about wanting to see a variety of series. While I understand that it doesn’t always do as well as their main content, I find it really exciting to see my favorite creators in new situations with different goals and expectations.

When I get upset about people sharing their complaints about Wild Life, I absolutely do not mean people who have real complaints about how the game operates or how it played out. Everyone is entitled to their preferences. What I mean is people who blatantly commented on Grian’s videos stuff like “Grian, these wild cards are boring” and “how is this an episode” or tweeted at him about how they hate Wild Life but didn’t have anything constructive to say about it. There were a lot of comments like this on Jimmy’s Instagram too, and that just sucks. If you have something like that to say about someone’s project that they’re so passionate about, there are more appropriate places to do so. Do I expect Twitter and YouTube comment sections to be free of hate? Absolutely not. However, people need to recognize that Grian doesn’t go on Twitter and YouTube looking for those types of criticisms. The kind of hate that pops up on Twitter and YouTube is so common that a lot of seasoned creators tend to be rather unbothered by hate on those platforms to the point where they skip over genuine criticism. Reddit would’ve probably been a more appropriate and effective platform for constructive criticism when trying to communicate your opinion with people like Grian, who don’t use Tumblr and have been on Twitter and YouTube for too long to take those kinds of comments into consideration.

The Grian and Scar thing was almost entirely Twitter and YouTube. While there are definitely people on Twitter and YouTube who LOVE Scarian, they’re also the platforms that are most concentrated with Scarian haters. It’s really tumblr with a denser population of Scarian fans, but Grian doesn’t get his feedback from tumblr, especially when tumblr and hermittwt are a lot more shy than haters tend to be.

Here's the thing about the Gs. A lot of people were insisting that the Gs were going to break up because “Cleo and Scott always betray Pearl”. This is not true. Scott’s history with Pearl is more complicated, but Scott had a good reason to not want to team with Pearl again. He couldn’t communicate this very well in character, but Scott literally could not be her teammate again, not after he just won Last Life with just Pearl as his teammate for a majority of the season. In other words, Scott didn’t really feel significant negativity towards Pearl until she started acting crazy, which Scott isn’t entirely at fault for. He wasn’t neutral in the matter, but it would be unfair to blame it entirely on him when Martyn immediately abandoning Pearl despite being in the same situation as her, Scar and Ren pushing the “5AM Pearl” character, and, of course, the fact that it was 5AM for her are all fairly equal contributions to the way Pearl decided to present herself. Additionally, Pearl chose to forgive Scott immediately after he blew himself up, which isn’t to say that frustration and resentment can’t ever resurface, especially if the event was particularly traumatic, but Pearl and Scott both gave themselves a whole lot of time to reconcile with what happened and come to forgive each other. It’s also not something that either of them ever bring up, spitefully or not. They’ve never held Double Life against each other even as enemies, and it’s not something they hold against each other when they have disagreements as allies. As for Cleo, Cleo has never betrayed Pearl. Has Cleo been enemies with Pearl, sure! But never when Pearl was ever entitled to Cleo’s loyalty by any means. The Gs was the first time where Cleo and Pearl were on the same team for the whole season, and it's not like Cleo betrayed Pearl during Last Life either. I genuinely believe that there’s an excess of attention on Cleo and Pearl hurting each other because they’re both women in a male-dominated space, because they haven’t been crueler to one another than would be expected of people on different teams. It’s kind of like saying that Scar and Lizzie are a bad team because Lizzie hated Scar in Secret Life, when what we were seeing in Wild Life didn’t show significant evidence of that grudge.

Were the Gs toxic? That’s up to interpretation, but I don’t think it deserved the amount of backlash some people gave it without criticizing other teams. I once made a post about Mumbo “manipulating” Skizz and Grian in the same way that Smajor haters claim that Scott is “manipulative”. I DO NOT believe in what I said about Mumbo. The point of the post was explicitly to show what the narrative looks like on someone who gets way less hate for behaving the same way or “worse”, and I do state that at the end of the post. The Tuff Guys, too, were SO messy. They could rarely agree on anything and almost always resorted to insults, but that wasn’t the result of people who hate each other. That’s the result of people who love each other so so so much and trust each other to know when they do and don’t mean things and to feel safe bringing it up if a line was crossed. I mean, no matter how much Tango and Bdubs insulted and rolled their eyes at Etho or were mockingly offended by his comments, the only time they acted properly upset with him was when they found out that they might not be his priority team (and they didn’t even know about the team he was actually loyal to in the end!). In that same sense, Scott, Pearl, and Cleo are best friends who love each other so much. Their friendship is apparently strong enough to withstand tough breaks in that relationship. It’s one thing to say that you like a team and interpret their dynamic as antagonistic, but it’s another to actually get mad at the actual Scott and Cleo for “teaming up with Pearl to manipulate her”, which was such a common kind of post that I was seeing throughout the first several weeks of Wild Life.

Your ask did not get killed by tumblr! I’m starting to think there may not be a character limit on these things. I copy asks and write out responses in Google docs cause it’s more convenient to access when I have time, and this ask was 5 pages long in 12 point font 1.15 spacing. Whatever kills asks, it’s not word count. Thank you for the ask! I love long asks :D And thank you for your patience! My housing situation has been... weird. I'm not in danger of losing my place or anything; it's just been over-complicated and slow to progress.

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