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aliyahwritings · 3 days ago

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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (12)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player!Rafe & Supermodel!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 7k words

Aliyah's Notes: me when i come back to life after a month of inactivity ☝️😈 say goodbye to the good times guys we're slowly falling into hell

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, surrounded by a chaotic pile of clothes scattered across the floor. Dresses, skirts, jeans, and even your old sweatpants were strewn about like the aftermath of a fashion war.

Living with Rafe for the past two days had been an adjustment—his penthouse was sleek, modern, and always spotless… a stark contrast to your current state of disarray. It made you self-conscious sometimes, like when you’d spilled coffee on the pristine marble countertop and panicked while scrubbing it clean before he noticed.

Your brows furrowed as you held up a pair of ripped jeans and a plain white crop top. “Too casual,” you muttered, tossing them aside. Next came a flowy sundress. “Too try-hard.”

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you sank onto the edge of your bed, arms crossed. Why were you putting so much thought into this? It wasn’t like this basketball game was your debut as his fiancée. Well, technically it was, but it’s not like anyone expected you to look the part.

Or maybe they did?

Rafe hadn’t given you any details, just a cocky grin and a, ‘Don’t embarrass me.’ The memory of his smirk made you groan.

You picked up a sweater, holding it against your chest before throwing it onto the growing pile. Why does it even matter? It’s just his stupid game. You’re going because… You paused, biting your lip. Because you lived with him now. Because you were his fiancée. Because showing up wasn’t optional.

Your gaze drifted to the jersey draped over the back of your chair. His number, 13, stood out in bold print. Would wearing his jersey to the game feel too... personal? No, that was ridiculous. People wore jerseys all the time. It wasn’t special. It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

Right.

You hesitated before picking it up, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric. It smelled faintly of his cologne, and something about that made you pause. You shook the thought away and slipped it on, the material loose and comfortable against your skin. It paired surprisingly well with the black mini skirt you’d put on earlier—a little sporty, a little casual. Perfect. You turned to the mirror, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric.

For a split second, you wondered what he’d think when he saw you. Would he tease you? Would he flash that grin that somehow made your stomach flip? The thought made your chest tighten, and you scolded yourself immediately because you didn't care about his opinion.

Your cheeks warmed despite your internal protest. Grabbing your bag, you made your way to the door, slipping on your shoes with determined efficiency. Your phone buzzed just as you were about to leave. Unlocking it, you found a series of messages from Rafe.

Rafe: You better not be late. Superstition or not, you’re about to be my good luck charm.

Rafe: BTW, try not to drool too much when you see me on the court.

Your lips twitched despite yourself, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face. You quickly typed back:

You: Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just going there for the snacks.

His reply came almost immediately.

Rafe: Liar. You’re obsessed with me.

Rafe: BTW, that jersey on the chair? My idea. You’re welcome.

You blinked at the screen, heat prickling at your neck. How does he know? The man must’ve had a sixth sense for reading your mind. Or he’d guessed—he did that a lot too. Before you could think of a retort, another message popped up.

Rafe: Also, don’t leave without turning off the kitchen lights again. Unless you want me to write you a manual for living here.

Your lips twitched despite yourself, a reluctant smile breaking free. He was insufferable, and yet the thought of him noticing the smallest things—like your mistakes or your outfit—made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready to admit.

You: Good luck, Rafe. You’ll need it.

Rafe: The only luck I need is you in that jersey.

You rolled your eyes, locking your phone and shoving it into your bag with a shake of your head. His ego was unmatched, but as you stepped out the door, a tiny flicker of anticipation stirred in your chest—a feeling you couldn’t quite name but weren’t ready to let go of either.

The leather seats of the car felt cool beneath you as you shifted in place, fingers tapping restlessly against your bag. Gregory, your driver, glanced at you through the rearview mirror, offering a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about the delay, Miss. It’s the construction on 5th Avenue—completely backed up. I’ll do my best to get you there on time.”

“It’s fine, Gregory. Not your fault,” you replied with a sympathetic smile.

Outside, the glow of brake lights illuminated the street, a reminder of how hopelessly stuck you were. The distant sound of car horns blended into the hum of the city, making the minutes feel like hours. You glanced at the time on your phone. Rafe’s game had probably started, or was about to.

With a sigh, you opened your messages, typing quickly.

You: Traffic’s insane. Running late.

The reply came almost immediately.

Rafe: Typical. My fiancée can’t even show up on time.

You rolled your eyes, already expecting the teasing.

You: Not my fault NYC doesn’t know how to manage its roads.

Rafe: I’ll pass the message along to the mayor. Very helpful.

You could practically hear the smirk in his words.

You: Be serious for once.

Rafe: I am serious. If you miss me scoring, it’s grounds for annulment.

Your lips twitched despite yourself, fingers hovering over the screen before typing back.

You: Don’t tempt me.

Rafe: Tempting you is, like, my full-time job.

You leaned back against the seat, biting back a grin. The nerve of this man. The audacity. Still, his ability to lighten the mood—even when he was being insufferable—was irritatingly effective.

You: Just play well. I’ll be there soon.

Rafe: Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m saving all my best moves for when you’re watching.

You locked your phone with a shake of your head, stuffing it into your bag. Gregory, ever the professional, glanced at you again.

“Almost there, Miss. Just a few more blocks.”

“Thanks, Greg,” you murmured, tugging at the hem of Rafe’s jersey. The fabric felt oddly comforting against your skin, a reminder of the strange new reality you were navigating. Living with him, wearing his number, showing up to his games like a dutiful fiancée—it was all so... surreal.

By the time the car pulled up to the arena, the faint roar of the crowd was already audible. You stepped out, adjusting the strap of your bag and smoothing down your skirt. Gregory gave you a small wave before driving off, leaving you standing at the entrance with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

As you made your way through the bustling hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the lingering stares. Heads turned, whispers followed, and you caught snippets of conversations that made your stomach twist.

“Oh, my God! That’s her, isn’t it? YN YLN?”

“She’s gorgeous. I saw her in that Vogue spread last month.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s a weird match? She doesn’t seem like his type.”

“I heard their engagement was super sudden. Like, out of nowhere.”

You kept your head high, forcing yourself to focus on the sound of your heels clicking against the floor. The familiar pressure of public scrutiny was something you’d grown used to as a model, but this was different. This wasn’t about your career. This was about you—your personal life, your choices, your supposed love story with Rafe.

The tension only grew as you climbed the stairs to the seating area. You found your seat with your name on a piece of paper, sliding into the seat and exhaling slowly. The crowd around you was buzzing with excitement, their cheers and chatter filling the air. You adjusted the jersey again, pulling it down slightly as your eyes scanned the court below.

Players were warming up, their movements fluid and confident. Your gaze lingered on Rafe almost instinctively. He was standing near the bench, laughing at something one of his teammates said. Even from a distance, his presence was magnetic—broad shoulders, easy swagger, and that stupid grin.

You were so focused on him that you almost didn’t notice the glances directed your way. A group of women a few rows ahead whispered behind cupped hands, casting subtle looks in your direction. Two men seated nearby exchanged knowing smirks, as if they’d just shared some private joke at your expense.

Your phone buzzed in your lap, pulling you from your thoughts.

Rafe: You better be watching. Game’s about to start.

You glanced down at the message, your lips curving into a faint smile.

You: I’m here. Stop texting me and focus.

Rafe: Can’t help it. You’re too pretty. I can’t look away.

You stared at his reply, the words making your chest tighten. He had a way of saying things that left you questioning whether he was teasing or if there was something deeper hidden beneath the surface. Shaking your head, you locked your phone, determined not to let him get to you.

But as you tucked your phone back into your bag, you couldn’t resist the pull to look up. Your eyes scanned the court, weaving through the blur of players warming up and the steady hum of the crowd. Then, you found him.

Rafe stood near the bench line, towel slung casually over his shoulder, his stance relaxed but commanding. He wasn’t talking to his teammates anymore or listening to the coach’s instructions.

His attention was fixed on you.

The moment your eyes met, it felt like the air shifted. The noise of the arena—the cheers, the clapping, the announcer’s voice—all seemed to fade into the background. It was just him, standing there, looking at you like the game didn’t matter. Like you were the only thing that did.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, one that was entirely too confident for its own good. Slowly, he tilted his head, his blue eyes holding yours with a softness that contrasted the cocky energy he carried on the court.

Then, he mouthed the words, “You’re so pretty.”

You felt your breath catch, the heat rising to your cheeks as his gaze lingered. It wasn’t just the words that made your chest flutter; it was the way he looked at you, like he was seeing something no one else could.

Heart pounding, you mouthed back, “Focus on the game.”

His smile deepened, transforming into a grin that made your stomach flip. He shook his head lightly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Can’t.”

The unspoken word hung between you, and for a moment, it felt like the space between the court and the stands wasn’t so far after all. There was a vulnerability in his expression, a quiet intensity that made you wonder if he meant more than he was letting on.

He lifted his hand, brushing his thumb across his chin in a subtle motion, but the meaning was unmistakable: he was thinking about you.

The referee’s whistle blew sharply, breaking the spell. Rafe turned back toward the court, tossing the towel to a teammate with a practiced ease, but not before glancing at you one last time. His gaze softened, and for a fleeting second, you could have sworn there was something unspoken in his eyes—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

You exhaled shakily, your hands tightening around the strap of your bag. Around you, the crowd erupted as the game began, but your focus was still on him. The way he moved, so sure of himself, every step purposeful, every pass calculated—it was mesmerizing.

The arena buzzed with energy as the game commenced. The rhythmic dribble of the basketball and the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished court filled the air, blending with the cheers of the crowd. You found yourself transfixed, your gaze locked on Rafe as he moved across the court with the ease of someone born to dominate the game.

He was commanding a force of nature. Every movement was deliberate, powerful and precise. He wove through the opposing team effortlessly, his presence undeniable as he directed his teammates with sharp gestures and focused intensity. The scorebag flashed: 2-0. Rafe’s team was already pulling ahead, and it was clear who the driving force was.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Every time he scored, the arena erupted, but your heart thudded for a different reason. There was something magnetic about the way he played—a mixture of skill, confidence, and an edge that made it impossible to look away. Even from a distance, you could see the determination etched on his face, the slight smirk when his shot landed perfectly in the net, the way he winked at you.

This was Rafe Cameron at his peak, untouchable and undeniably captivating.

Suddenly, the seat next to you shifted. You felt the slight weight of someone standing next to you, but you didn’t glance over. Your attention remained locked on Rafe as he leapt to intercept a pass, the sheer athleticism in his jump drawing another cheer from the crowd.

But then, a familiar voice cut through the noise, low and dripping with condescension.

“Well, this is unexpected.”

Your stomach dropped, and for a fleeting moment, the lively arena seemed to tilt and blur around you. Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away from the court, where Rafe had been dominating with his usual confidence, and turned to the source of the interruption.

There she was, Chiara Romano, lounging in the seat beside you like she owned the place. She looked as impeccable as ever, her designer coat draped artfully over her shoulders, not a single strand out of place. Her lips curved into a smug smile that made your stomach churn, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against the armrest.

“Chiara,” you greeted flatly, forcing a polite smile that didn’t come close to reaching your eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you here... sitting next to me,” you added under your breath, your tone laced with barely concealed irritation.

“Of course I’d be here,” she said breezily, flipping her hair over one shoulder in a gesture so practiced it felt rehearsed. “Rafe and I go way back, you know. I’ve been to more of his games than I can count.”

You clenched your jaw but refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you turned back toward the court, your eyes automatically searching for Rafe. “That’s nice,” you replied tersely, hoping to end the conversation there.

But Chiara wasn’t one to take a hint.

“You know, basketball games can be overwhelming if you’re not used to them,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. “The noise, the energy, the spotlight—it’s not for everyone.”

“I’m managing just fine,” you replied evenly, your voice steady despite the simmering annoyance beneath the surface.

“I’m sure you are,” she said with a patronizing little laugh. She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as if settling in for a long chat. “So,” she said with an air of faux curiosity, “how’s life been since we last saw each other? It’s been, what, almost a month?”

You resisted the urge to groan. The last thing you wanted was to engage in small talk with her. “Not much,” you replied curtly. “You?”

Chiara’s eyes sparkled with amusement, as if she relished the power dynamic of the exchange. “Oh, nothing too exciting,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Then, with a calculated tilt of her head, she added, “But ‘nothing much’ seems like a strange way to describe getting engaged. That’s pretty big, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Chiara’s smile widened, and she leaned in just a fraction, as though to share some intimate secret. You instinctively recoiled, unnerved by her sudden proximity. Whether it was meant to intimidate you or to ensure you heard every word of her next comment, you weren’t sure.

Either way, you didn’t like it.

“I have to admit something,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was surprised to hear about the engagement—” Womp womp, you thought. “—I mean, Rafe never struck me as the settling-down type.”

You exhaled sharply, turning to face her with a calmness you didn’t quite feel. Your voice was smooth, but the edge was unmistakable. “Maybe he wasn’t with the right person to give you that impression.”

Chiara’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing together in a thin line. The sudden shift in her posture told you everything—you’d struck a nerve. “And you think you’re the… right person?”

You leaned in just slightly, your gaze sharp and unyielding, your lips curling into a smug smile that didn't reach your eyes. “Well, I mean, I’m the one he plans to marry, aren’t I?”

The words landed like a slap, and for a brief moment, her face flickered with a blend of jealousy and frustration, a brief vulnerability that she quickly tried to mask.

“Right,” she nodded, the sound forced. “But you do realize, Rafe isn’t usually into girls like you. He has... a type. Or at least, he used to.”

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused by her attempt at a jab. “Okay?” you said, a little too casual.

She laughed bitterly, flapping her hands in the air, clearly trying to backpedal. “I didn’t mean anything bad by that. You’re beautiful, sure, but you’re just not the type Rafe typically goes for.”

Was she serious right now?

What’s so surprising about a white guy only being interested in white girls? Did she think I was born yesterday?

You scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that info, Chiara? Am I supposed to fall apart? ‘Oh no, another white guy who doesn’t like brown girls like me. My life is over. I wish I was white.’ Is that the reaction you were hoping for?”

Chiara blinked, clearly thrown off by the intensity in your voice. The color drained slightly from her face as you held your ground, watching her squirm just a little.

“You think you're clever, don’t you?” she said, her voice now tinged with frustration, but you could see the crack in her facade.

“Not really,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just tired of people thinking they can throw their insecurities at me and watch me flinch. But I don’t play that game.”

Her jaw tightened as she glanced around, searching for a way to regain control. “You know, you’re not exactly what he needs. You’re all—” She gestured to you, eyes sweeping over your appearance, “—flashy, a model, all glitz and glamour. But Rafe needs someone real. Someone who actually gets him.”

You leaned forward just a bit, a challenge flickering in your eyes. “I’m pretty sure I get him just fine. What you’re really trying to say is that you can’t stand the fact that he’s chosen me. And it’s not because I’m not ‘his type.’ It’s because I’m the one who got him. And that’s something you can’t wrap your fucking head around.”

The words landed heavy, and you saw the small twitch in her eye. For a brief moment, she looked almost... vulnerable. Then, just as quickly, the facade slipped back on.

Chiara scoffed, her lips curling into a tight smile. “You’re just a placeholder. He’s going to get bored of you eventually.”

"Listen," you began, stepping closer to Chiara, your voice steady and sharp. "I’m here to watch my fiancé win his match, not waste my time arguing with someone who clearly peaked in high school. So why don’t you take your insecurities and your cheap, high-school jabs and shove them so far up your—"

"Hey, baby," a familiar voice interrupted, smooth and warm like honey.

Your head snapped to the side, and there he was—Rafe, running to you, with that signature cocky grin. His hair was damp with sweat, strands clinging to his forehead, and his jersey clung to every ridge of his chest, leaving very little to the imagination. The gleam of sweat gliding down his forearms and neck made your mouth dry, and for a moment, you completely forgot where you were.

"Did you see that dunk I just pulled off?" he asked, his tone a mix of pride and boyish excitement.

You barely registered the words because all you could think about was how ridiculously good he looked. His muscles practically strained against his jersey, his shoulders broad and commanding. Even the sweat dripping from his jawline seemed unfairly attractive.

Damn it, why did he have to look like that right now?

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus as Rafe jogged up the steps toward you, his eyes lighting up when they met yours.

"Did you see it?" he pressed, still grinning.

"Yeah," you lied, your lips curving into a soft smile as you reached up to adjust the collar of his jersey. "Don’t let it go to your head, though."

“Too late,” Rafe chuckled, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “That dunk? It was for you. Thought you might like it since, you know, you’re my good luck charm and all.”

You raised a brow, fighting to keep your expression indifferent, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Really? Do I look impressed?”

He inched closer, the grin on his face softening into something that felt almost intimate, his voice dropping lower. “You look hot, actually.” His eyes flickered to your lips for a heartbeat before meeting yours again. “Seeing you out there with my number on your back? It’s driving me insane.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat when his gaze lingered just a little too long, sending your heart racing.

“Cameron! Get your pussy-whipped ass back on the court!” JJ Maybank, his teammate, shouted echoed from across the gym.

Rafe groaned, the spell broken, before dropping his head dramatically onto your lap with a low chuckle. He turned his face to press a quick, feather-light kiss to your cheek, the touch leaving you both flustered and breathless, before he jogged back to the court.

For the next 30 minutes, everything was perfect. The energy was electric, Rafe’s team seemed to win and every time he did so he’d send a wink in your direction. You felt good, peaceful. You felt comfortable, almost like you were meant to be here cheering for him. It was too good that you almost forgot Chiara’s presence next to you… until she spoke.

“You know, Rafe and I used to have this little tradition after his games,” she said casually, as though the memory had just occurred to her. “We’d go to this rooftop downtown—he always said it was his favorite view of the city. We’d stay up there for hours, just talking about everything and nothing. It was… special.”

Your grip on your drink tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the court. Rafe had just stolen the ball, and the crowd roared as he raced toward the basket.

“You know,” she began, almost lazily, “Rafe and I used to have this little post-game ritual. He’d always say I was his good luck charm—”

Your heart clenched painfully. The phrase echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting like broken glass. Good luck charm. That was what Rafe had called you just today, his lips brushing your ear as he teased you in the stands. It had felt personal, intimate, like a secret between you and him. But now it seemed cheap, rehearsed—just another line he used, a meaningless phrase recycled from his past with others.

You kept your face neutral, though your pulse thundered in your ears.

“He always said he couldn’t play his best unless I was watching,” Chiara continued, her voice tinged with amusement. “It was sweet, really. Afterward, he’d grab my hand, pull me into his car, and we’d drive down to this diner he loved. He insisted the milkshakes there were the best in town.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from finding Rafe on the court. He was electric, his movements precise and powerful, his confidence unmistakable. But as you stared at him, anger and hurt churned in your chest. You felt foolish, betrayed, for letting yourself believe you were special to him.

“And when he scored that game-winning shot last season,” Chiara added, leaning slightly closer as if to deliver the final blow, “he said it was because I was there. He made me feel like I was part of it, you know? Like we were a team.”

The game’s final whistle blew, and the crowd erupted in cheers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to clap. Your hands stayed clenched in your lap, your eyes locked on Rafe as he turned toward the stands.

His gaze swept across the crowd until it landed on you.

You weren’t smiling. You weren’t even standing. You just sat there, staring at him, your emotions too tangled to mask. Hurt, anger, and disappointment simmered beneath the surface, your expression giving away enough for him to know something was wrong.

Rafe’s brow furrowed, his grin disappearing entirely as he took a step closer, clearly intending to come over. But you didn’t wait. You pushed yourself up from the seat and turned on your heel, weaving your way through the crowd toward the exit.

“YN!” His voice carried over the noise, confusion laced in his tone. You didn’t stop.

He called your name again, louder this time, his footsteps heavy behind you as he tried to catch up. “Hey, wait—what’s going on?”

But you couldn’t face him. Not now. Not with your chest tightening and your mind replaying Chiara’s words like a broken record. Good luck charm. The phrase rattled in your head, mocking you for ever thinking you were something new to him.

Just as you reached the corridor leading out of the stadium, Rafe’s hand grabbed your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“YN, stop,” he said, his voice firmer now, though there was still a trace of confusion in it. He turned you around gently, his blue eyes searching yours. “What the hell is wrong?”

You yanked your wrist free, your emotions bubbling too close to the surface. “You're such a fucking asshole,” you snapped in your native language.

“I don’t know what you're saying!” he said, confused. “What is this? Why are you walking away from me?”

“Hey!” His tone was sharper now, frustration evident as he jogged after you. You were halfway down the empty corridor when his voice rose again, louder this time. “What the hell is going on?”

Still, you didn’t look back.

Rafe finally caught up, his footsteps heavy as he moved in front of you, blocking your path. “YN, stop!” he barked, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His blue eyes searched your face, desperate for answers. “What is wrong with you?”

You gave him nothing, your expression unreadable as you stared past him, silent and unyielding.

“Seriously? You’re just going to ignore me?” Rafe demanded, his voice rising with irritation.

You crossed your arms, your jaw tightening as you stepped around him and continued walking. He let out a low curse behind you but followed, his confusion giving way to simmering anger.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured as he touched his hair before going back to shower quickly and change.

Rafe stepped into the dimly lit private parking lot, his thoughts tangled in knots as he tried to make sense of your behavior. The tension from earlier lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took. What could he have done to make you this angry? He replayed the events in his mind, searching for answers but coming up empty-handed.

Then, he spotted you.

You were leaning against his car, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as though shielding yourself from more than just the cold. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, a deep frown etched on your face. Rafe froze for a moment, his confusion momentarily replaced by something softer.

Even now, angry and upset, you looked stunning.

He noticed the way your bottom lip jutted out slightly in an unconscious pout, a habit he’d come to associate with your frustration. It was endearing, almost enough to make him smile if the circumstances weren’t so tense. His eyes softened as he watched you, taking in the delicate lines of your profile and the way your hair shifted slightly with the cold breeze.

But then his phone buzzed in his pocket, the sudden noise shattering the stillness. The sound caught your attention, and your head snapped up to meet his gaze.

The moment your eyes locked, Rafe felt like he’d been struck.

Your glare was fiery, your anger radiating in waves that he could feel even from a distance. It was a look that could melt steel, and for a fleeting second, Rafe thought you might actually set him alight with sheer willpower.

In stark contrast, his own gaze held nothing but intensity, a raw, unguarded passion that made him forget to breathe. He knew you were furious, but he couldn’t stop the way his heart ached for you—or the way you made it race despite everything.

The phone in his pocket buzzed again, but he didn’t bother checking who it was. He pulled it out, pressed ‘decline’ without even glancing at the screen, and slipped it back into his pocket. His focus never wavered from you.

“Can I walk over,” he called out, his voice a mix of humor and hesitation, “or are you going to eat me alive?”

You didn’t respond. Your piercing stare didn’t falter, and the silence felt deafening.

If Rafe was honest, he was a little scared.

Drawing in a deep breath, he willed himself forward. Each step he took felt heavier, weighed down by the intensity of your gaze. When he reached the car, he pulled out his keys, unlocking the doors with a soft beep.

The sound seemed to jolt you, and without a word, you slipped past him and climbed into the passenger seat. He noticed the way you folded into yourself, shrinking away from him as you hugged your arms tighter against the biting New York City air.

Rafe stood outside for a moment, his hand gripping the door handle as he stared at you through the window. You wouldn’t even look at him, your face turned resolutely toward the dashboard. The cold breeze tugged at his jacket, but he barely felt it.

With a quiet sigh, he got into the driver’s seat, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. The tension was suffocating, and as he started the car, he couldn’t help but glance at you again, his chest tightening at the sight of your distant expression.

The car ride was agonizingly silent.

Rafe’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as he stole quick glances at you, each one more anxious than the last. The occasional flicker of streetlights illuminated your face, but you kept your gaze locked on the window, your expression unreadable.

"YN," he started, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on?"

You didn’t even blink.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. "Come on," he said more firmly. "I’m not a mind reader. Just talk to me."

Still, nothing.

He sighed heavily, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “I don’t know what I did to make you this mad, but—”

“Then stop talking,” you interrupted, your voice sharp and cold.

That shut him up. The rest of the drive was thick with tension, the kind that settled in your chest and made it hard to breathe.

By the time he pulled into the parking garage, Rafe’s patience was stretched thin. He parked the car, cutting the engine, and turned to you.

“Are we really going to keep doing this?” he asked, his tone edged with irritation. “You’re acting like I killed your dog or something. Just tell me what’s wrong!”

You ignored him, pulling open the door and stepping out into the cold. The slam of the door echoed through the garage.

“Great,” Rafe muttered under his breath, getting out and slamming his own door harder than necessary. “This is just perfect.”

He followed you into the building, his longer strides catching up to you easily. “YN, stop,” he said, his voice growing more urgent. “Will you please just stop for a second?”

You didn’t.

The moment you stepped into the apartment, you made a beeline for your bedroom. But Rafe was right behind you, his frustration boiling over as he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low and firm. “What the hell is going on?”

You yanked your arm free, glaring at him with such ferocity that he actually stepped back. “Don’t,” you snapped, your voice cutting like a blade.

Without waiting for a response, you stormed into your room and slammed the door shut so hard the walls seemed to vibrate.

Rafe stood there for a moment, stunned. His hands rested on his hips as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Seriously?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Are you for real right now?”

From the other side of the door, you could hear him pacing. His voice grew louder, tinged with disbelief and frustration.

“YN, come on! What the hell is your problem? Why are you acting like this?”

You pressed your back against the door, your arms wrapping around yourself as your emotions warred inside you. Chiara’s words played on a relentless loop in your mind—good luck charm—and your chest ached with a confusing mix of anger and betrayal.

When Rafe’s voice came again, it was louder, more exasperated. “I don’t get why you’re so mad!”

That was it.

You flung the door open, your eyes blazing as you stepped out to face him.

“You don’t get why I’m mad?” you snapped, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “Are you serious, Rafe? You really have no idea?”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. “No! I don’t!” he shot back. “One second we’re fine, and the next you’re acting like I did something unforgivable!”

“Your good luck charm!” you practically yelled, the nickname tasting bitter on your tongue. “Every time I think you’re finally getting better, that I can finally get along with you, something comes along and ruins everything. It’s like I can’t trust a single thing you say, Rafe!”

Rafe’s brows furrowed deeply, his confusion palpable. “What are you even talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” you snapped, your voice breaking as emotion overwhelmed you. “Chiara. She said it—she said you used to call her your good luck charm. That you couldn’t play without her watching. And then you—you turn around and call me the same thing. Do you have a script you use with women, or am I just another recycled chapter in your pathetic little book of tricks?”

Rafe’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He stared at you, stunned, as if trying to process what you were saying. “I—I never said that to her,” he finally managed, his voice quieter than before. “I don’t even know why she’d say that. I’ve never called her my good luck charm.”

“Oh, so now she’s the liar?” you shot back bitterly, crossing your arms. “Convenient, isn’t it? Blame her, act like you didn’t do anything wrong. But why would she make that up, Rafe? Why would she lie about something so specific?”

“I don’t know!” he said, his voice rising in frustration. “But I swear, YN, I never said that to her. That nickname—it’s yours. I called you that because I meant it. Because that’s what you are to me. I don’t just throw that around like it’s nothing.”

His words were raw, almost pleading, but they didn’t soothe the ache in your chest. You shook your head, stepping back. “How am I supposed to believe you? After everything—after all the lies, the games, the constant reminders that I’m just another person in your long, messy history—you expect me to just take your word for it?”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his every movement. “I’m not lying to you, YN,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I know I’ve screwed up in the past, and I know I’ve given you a million reasons not to trust me. But this—this isn’t one of those times. Chiara’s lying, or twisting things, or—I don’t know. But I do know that I’ve never felt about her the way I feel about you.”

Your breath caught at his words, but you forced yourself to stay guarded. “And what way is that, exactly? Because it feels like I’m constantly walking a tightrope with you, Cameron. One wrong step, and it all falls apart.”

Rafe took a hesitant step closer, his expression pained. “I don’t want it to fall apart,” he said softly. “I’m trying, YN. I’m trying to be better—for you. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I don’t always get it right, but I care about you."

“If you care about me as much as you say you do,” you said, your voice trembling but steady, “then tell me what happened between you and her.”

Rafe froze, his jaw tightening as the weight of your words hit him. He took a small step back, almost as if putting physical distance between you could lessen the pressure. His eyes darted away, avoiding yours, and you could see the conflict etched into his face.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low and hesitant.

“Why?” you repeated, your voice rising as the flood of emotions inside you threatened to break free. “Why?!” Your chest heaved as you tried to contain the frustration boiling over. “Because if we’re going to have something real, something fresh and healthy, I need to know what happened between you two. I need to understand, Rafe.”

His brows furrowed deeply, and you could see the panic in his eyes. “I don’t… I don’t think I can,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

The words hit you like a physical blow, and your breath caught in your throat. You felt your heart tighten, the ache in your chest spreading as tears stung your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from falling, but it was no use.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice cracking. It wasn’t angry or accusatory—it was resigned, heavy with disappointment.

“YN, wait,” Rafe pleaded, stepping toward you, his voice desperate. “I—”

“No.” You cut him off sharply, your voice suddenly firm despite the tears streaming down your face. You held up a hand, keeping him at bay. “I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Rafe stared at you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words. But for the first time, you didn’t want to hear them.

Before he could say anything else, you turned on your heel and walked back into your room, slamming the door shut once more, leaving him standing there in silence.

The silence between you was deafening.

Rafe’s hand hung loosely by his side as he stood outside your door, staring at the wood like it would somehow provide answers. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the weight of your words still pressing on him like a heavy stone. The anger in your eyes, the way you looked at him—he could still feel it burning into him. But more than than, there was something else, something far deeper that gnawed at him, something that felt like it was tearing him apart.

With a frustrated groan, he let himself slide down the door, his back hitting it with a thud. He bent his knees, resting his head in his hands for a moment as he exhaled deeply, his mind racing with confusion. Why did this feel so goddamn difficult?

He had always been good at avoiding things, at keeping his distance from complications, at never allowing anyone to get too close romantically. But with you, it was different. Every touch, every look, every moment felt like something that mattered. More than that, it felt like it was changing him in ways he wasn’t sure he could handle.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside him like a storm waiting to break.

What the hell is wrong with me? he thought. Why am I so messed up about her?

The sound of movement behind him made him glance up. You had shifted as well, and now you were sitting on the floor with your back against the door. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, your face buried in your hands. It wasn’t a sobbing kind of silence, but more like two people utterly drained from the weight of everything that had happened.

He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension. But words felt useless right now.

Ten minutes passed. Neither of you moved, both of you stuck in your own swirling thoughts. Rafe could hear his heart thundering in his chest, the confusion churning inside him. He wanted you. Badly. He could feel it—every inch of him aching for you, wanting to close the distance between you, but something held him back.

It wasn’t just the anger. It wasn’t just the words that had been said. It was the fear.

The fear of losing you, of fucking everything up, of showing you the side of him he’d spent so long burying deep inside.

Chiara. The past. His mistakes.

He had told himself that he could protect you from all that. That you didn’t need to know. But sitting here, staring at the door like it held all the answers, he realized how much he needed to open up. He needed you to understand.

“YN,” he muttered, his voice strained, “I… I can’t do this anymore. I’m so fucking lost.”

He hesitated for a second, feeling his throat tighten. “I don’t know how to do this,” he confessed, his voice breaking just a little. “I don’t know how to make it right between us. I just… I need you to understand. I need you to know what happened.”

Behind the door, you still didn’t look up, your face hidden in the shadows of the room, your eyes closed as though bracing yourself for the storm that was coming.

Rafe’s hands shook as he finally opened up, his emotions raw and unguarded in a way he had never allowed himself to be.

“Chiara,” he started, his voice low and rough. “She wasn’t just some ex. She was part of my life when I was at my lowest. When I was 19, I was… I was a fucking mess. I was lost. I was drowning in everything—drugs, alcohol, all that shit. I didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t care. I was just… numb. I needed something to keep me afloat, and Chiara, she was there. She was a part of that world. I don’t know why I thought she was the one who could help me, but she was. And I used her, just as much as she used me. We were a fucking disaster.”

He stopped there, the words tasting bitter in his mouth, but they were true. They were the only truth he had been hiding.

“I went to rehab, and when I came back, everything was different. But Chiara, she was still there, still holding on, and I didn’t know how to cut her off. I didn’t know how to let go. She was struggling, and I felt guilty—so I kept her around. I thought if I just… if I just stayed close, maybe I could make up for all the shit I did. I don’t know. But I wasn’t being honest. Not with her, not with mys I saidelf.”

His breath hitched, the weight of the past crashing into him like a wave. “And when I’ve never called her that. My good luck charm. I don’t know how she knows about it but I promise you, on everything precious in my life, I’ve never called her that… But when I say it to you, it’s different. It means something. You’re not some… replacement for her. You’re not some fucking substitute. You’re real. And that scares the hell out of me.”

He exhaled sharply, his voice barely above a whisper.Rafe leaned back against the door again, his head pressed to the cool surface, his eyes closing as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He was exposed now, more vulnerable than he had ever been, his heart in pieces. He had said everything that had been suffocating him, and yet, the silence still felt like it was swallowing him whole.

He waited, his breath shaky, his thoughts a whirl of regret and hope and fear. All he could do now was wait for you to respond, to open the door—or for you to walk away, to decide that he wasn’t worth the risk.

The waiting was unbearable.

chapter thirteen

INFO ABOUT UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @aliyahwritings-notifs and turn on notifications!!!

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thewitchblue · 2 days ago

Text

"You know, in the animal kingdom, this rock would be a proposal."

Tim mused as he took it from your hands. Don't ask how he knows penguins and otters give rocks to show affection and also mate for life. He was in a rabbit hole after the first rock you gave him. You said slowly,

"Tim... humans propose with rocks."

Tim gave a distracted hum as he eyed the rock you gave him. You found a rock that you said was "pretty like his eyes." A beautiful blue agate you found near a lake when you went swimming a few days ago.

It didn't even register in his brain what you said. He was too distracted by the rock you gave him. He turned it over in his hand and marvelled at the beautiful shimmer it produced.

"Yeah, but this is a rock rock. Not a diamond."

He said. His eyes turned to you again. You looked incredibly amused. A rock rock? You wanted to laugh. You've been giving him rocks for the entirety of your friendship. It's become your thing to randomly hand him a rock.

You're hoping one day he'll realise that the rock means you are interested in him romantically, but you were starting to doubt it will ever happen, or maybe he's simply ignoring the message.

"Give it back if it's just a rock then."

You knew he wouldn't give you the rock. He hoarded everything you gave him like a squirrel hoarding its nuts for the winter.

"No take backs."

He replied as he held the stone closer to his chest. You laughed at his suddenly very protective stance. It's adorable seeing him turn into a pouty toddler.

"Stop being cute or I'm going to vomit."

Jason said as he passed into the kitchen. He says that as if he doesn't internally smile at the cute duo. He can't help his romantic heart from its love for love, as much as it annoys him.

You were so amused by Tim's fascination. It's like this every time you give him a rock. He has a full rock collection at this point, all gifted from you. He never stopped to think about why you give him all the pretty and rare stones. He accepts every stone with as much love and adoration, even the plain ones that you grabbed while hanging out with him.

Tim smiled as he said,

"I might turn this into a ring."

He really loved your rock giving. He wanted to memorialise your special gift giving. He's grown to love rocks because of you.

"Are you saying you would say yes if I proposed right here, right now?"

You asked. It was a bold move to ask him such a question, but a necessary one at this point.

"Yes."

He said confidently. Jason shook his head and sighed at his oblivious brother. He's stupid not to see how obvious you were. Where is his brain when it comes to personal relationships? Jason started eating the granola bar he stole when Alfred wasn't looking. He wanted to watch the show about to happen.

You shrugged and casually said,

"We're engaged then."

It took Tim a minute to comprehend what you said. Did he hear you correctly? What just happened? Are you skipping straight to marriage without dating him? He was extremely confused.

Jason was also confused, but more about why you decided it would be a good idea to propose, especially so casually. He knew you were smitten, but now is kind of a bad time to randomly propose. You completely skipped the romantic build-up. Tim asked,

"Wait, what?"

You smiled fondly at him. You knew he'd be confused, but you were getting annoyed with him not taking the hint. You repeated,

"We're engaged now."

It took a minute for him to realise how serious you actually were. You stared at each other as his brain tried to catch up with what had just happened.

"You're not joking?"

He said in a mystified tone. You shook your head.

"Nope."

What does he even say to something like that? It came out of nowhere, in his eyes. He stated plainly,

"You skipped dating me."

You shrugged. You've had a crush on him for well over two years. You've done all the couple things aside from kissing. Why not propose? The dating was never going to happen at the rate of which you were going. You said,

"I don't care. Do you?"

He looked at you with a serious expression for a moment. You weren't kidding about this proposal in the slightest. His eyes turned back to the rock. He supposes an agate is a gemstone, which he could definitely turn into a pair of engagement rings.

He decided he didn't care about skipping the dating phase. It saves him the effort of planning a proposal further down the line anyway. He shrugged and said,

"Okay."

Jason didn't know what just happened. Did Tim seriously get engaged before his eyes? And accept? Is the wedding going to be as equally unusual? What did he just witness? His brother is an anomaly. Jason said,

"I'm telling Dick."

It sounded like a threat, but Tim didn't care. He knew the future him was going to care when Dick dramatically announced the engagement, but that's not a problem for now.

You kissed him for the first time and almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. You're engaged! You never thought this would happen!

Jason gagged and left, but you could make out the tiny smile on his face. He was happy for his brother. Finally.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT ENGAGED?!"

Dick screamed when he found out the news. Poor Bruce was trying to take a nap in the background. Tim made it to the doorway before Dick was on him like a shark in the water.

Tim was still holding his engagement rock and cradled the rock closer to his chest. If Dick is going to get mad, he's going down protecting this rock. He said offhandedly,

"Don't make it a big deal. We haven't even turned our rock into rings yet."

Tim and you had both decided to use the agate as your matching rings. It was a large enough gemstone after you both researched how big a rock had to be to become a ring, and Tim found a shop in Gotham who could do it. You were moving fast, sure, but he was certain he wanted to spend forever with you.

Dick was floored. He couldn't believe how casual Tim is about getting engaged. There was seemingly no thought put behind getting engaged. Dick said,

"Don't make it a big deal? Tim, you are about to get married! This is a huge deal!"

Tim smiled fondly. He's going to get married! The reality hit him in that moment. He's excited. He had not even thought you could feel the same way he did despite all the signs. All the rocks, all the hugs, all the times you held his hand and cuddled with him but nobody else. You could not have been more obvious.

"What's this about an engagement?"

Bruce asked groggily. He was used to waking up to screaming, but certainly not to an engagement. Who got engaged? Probably Jason. He definitely would hide a relationship from Bruce and get married before ever showing them.

"Timothy Jackson Drake got engaged without telling anyone! I had to find out through Jason!"

Dick sounded accusatory. He was hurt. Jason found out about it before he did. He's supposed to be the best big brother of all time. Tim quickly defended his actions,

"We've been engaged for an hour!"

Bruce muttered, about to fall asleep again,

"That's nice."

The words set in a moment later. He hesitantly opened his eyes and turned his head to face the bickering duo. He didn't sit up from his position on the couch, however.

"Wait. Tim? Not Jason?"

Dick looked at Bruce in pure confusion. Jason isn't even dating anybody. How would he get engaged? Then again, neither was Tim. Tim just skipped straight to marriage.

"Yeah. Tim."

Bruce eyed Tim for a long while. He asked,

"When did you start dating?"

What did he miss? He's Batman. He misses nothing. Dick was the only one freaking out about this engagement. How was Bruce so calm?

"They never dated!"

Bruce sighed. He just wanted to nap in peace. He needed this twenty minute nap. He grumbled,

"Don't make me a grandpa yet. I'm still too young."

Tim blushed. You would be laughing so hard if you were here. You loved making him flustered, and it's even better if it's from family drama.

"You are in SO much trouble, Timothy."

Dick was still fuming. Is it a friends-with-benefits turned lovers situation or what? Everybody with eyes could see the pining, but he never thought Tim would actually get married. Tim immediately threw Jason to the wolves by pointing and saying,

"Jason witnessed it all."

Dick paused his scolding. His gaze turned to Jason, who was rapidly retreating into the kitchen. The kitchen has a back door that he can escape out of if he's fast enough. Dick immediately began chasing him.

"Jason Peter Todd, get back here! I have questions for you!"

Tim slipped out the front door in the midst of the chaos and began his walk to the ring store. Dick will calm down by the time he's back. Probably. Hopefully.

#tim drake x reader #batfam x reader #gn reader #x reader

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silent-hill-2-official · 1 day ago

Text

Hi, you summoned me, the big gorgeous linux fairy, and this is the Jack Joy's Guide to Linux. This is going to be a long read, so be prepared.

Chapter 0: What do we want? The first thing I would recommend is asking what you want from linux. Linux is open source, has 30 years of dedicated nerds working on it, and is driven by giving people choice and control over their computer. You got options, but with that decisions to make. Is it simplicity? Is it Stability? Do we wanna game, or is this basically just a fancy browser machine with some word processors attached? It all depends on knowin what you want, because there is going to be something that will cater to your needs. Chapter 0.5: Making the tough call The second thing to know about linux is that you are going to be giving up some stuff to gain a LOT of control over your computer. Linux has done a wonderful job getting easier about what it offers, but ultimately you are going to run into some jank. You are going to have to be prepared to touch the scary obelisk that is the terminal. And you are going to have to say goodbye to some programs that just don't work on linux. If you use Adobe Products you are SOOL for example. There are replacements, but you will inevitably end up having to learn something new. Personally, I found the task to be refreshing to get myself acquainted with stuff, but that isn't what everyone wants. Hopefully this is not a dealbreaker.

Chapter 1: Go Oynon, I need to collect my tools.

To Install Linux, you are going to need a few things, and before you begin to just follow this guide as you are doing it, read this entire chapter as there are going to be some things that are gonna be important to know before you get into things.

A flash drive (preferably just a big USB stick, messing around with USB to SD card readers got me a fucked install of mint once)

Balena Etcher

Your preferred Flavor of linux

Some knowledge on the bios of your machine

And preferably a secondary boot device in your machine (IE a second SSD)

First grab the ISO file of the OS you want to install on your PC, which maybe you have already had a potential distro of linux in mind. If not, let me recommend some potential good candidates for someone first messing around with linux.

Side Tangent 1.1: Jack Joy's Pixie Picks for easy Linux Distros

Linux Mint is the gold standard for stupid simple linux distro. It just works*, it comes with a DE(desktop Enviroment) that is reminiscent of windows 7 so adjustment should be minimal and overall, is very uncomplicated. Is a bit bland tho. *(things still break sometimes)

Ubuntu meanwhile you probably already heard of. Think of it as the MacOS of Linux. It has the most company support, it's DE called GNOME is very MacOS like in it's design language, incredibly stable, but also very poor in customization. If something says tested on linux, a lot of the time, it means tested on Ubuntu.

EndeavourOS is my linux distribution of choice. It's based off of Arch Linux, which is what powers the Steamdeck with SteamOS, and as such has a lot of nifty Arch linux niceties, like the Arch User Repository, and KDE Plasma as it's DE. It tries to combine being user friendly while letting you tinker with everything, it is on the cutting edge of linux, but that also means that stuff CAN break more often.

With this side tangent over, install balena etcher and flash your ISO on your USB stick.

Reboot your PC, and as it boots enter into your BIOS. Most systems use the F12 function key, but it might also be any of the other F keys because no one can agree on anything in the fucking tech space. From the BIOS your going to want to look into your boot order and if your USB stick is available, pull it up in the order. If it isn't there, your gonna have to wrestle with your BIOS as there might be some secure boot shenanigans going on. BIOS' vary so much that you'll have to look into your system in particular (which could be a good time to learn more about your PC in general).

Once done, exit out of the BIOS and things should hopefully be happening. Depending on the Linux Distro you used this might look more or less scary, but if it looks like it is doing some WEIRD SHIT instead of booting windows, it's going good. At some point you'll enter a "live enviroment" of your OS (a version of the OS that exists entirely from the USB that will be gone once you reboot) and an installer will be on the desktop or have popped up automatically (at least, for all three of the beginner friendly Distro's I recommended. Please don't try to install raw Arch Linux on your first Linux Install.)

Once the installer gets to formatting drives is where we have to do a hard pause, because formatting drives is SCARY and DANGEROUS if you aren't doing it to an extra drive that has nothing in it. In general it is always scary and dangerous. The installer is going to give you a bunch of options on where it wants to be put, and what it is going to do to the drive where it makes itself at home. If you are putting this on an extra SSD, tell it to do what it wants with that extra SSD and bob is your uncle. If you are putting this on the same drive as your windows install, you are going to have to be real careful and tell it to make a partition, give it however much space you can give it, and voila. Or, if you just want to ensure you never go to windows ever again, nuke the entire drive, in which case you might want to invest in another USB drive to keep a clean copy of a non shit windows OS. Think of that USB drive as an "In case of emergency, Break glass" type safety precaution.

The Installer will finish, either asking you to reboot the PC or doing so by itself, and once it is done it will now do the standard linux boot sequence. Congratulations. You have transitioned your PC from widows to whatever flavor of Linux picked your fancy. From here on out, what you do with your PC is up to you and you alone. Fuck around. Look at all the software that came with your linux install, especially the actual software store where you can get even more stuff.

Hope this guide helped.

im sure someone already made a post about it but i came across a ublock origin add-on that blacklists around 950 AI websites and disables AI overview ☝️ so u can be free from seeing AI in your search

#linux #linuxposting #I am sorry this is such a long guide #i wanted to make it shorter but it always felt like i forgot something that might be messed up by someone #i wanted to be as thourough as possible

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mocchii-writes · 2 days ago

Note

do you write for dae ho (squid game)? if so can you do one of him getting jealous but instead of being angry he just does dumb stuff to get the readers attention on him (like a little kid trying to show his mum a cool trick)

Paring: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Warnings: none! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A/n: This is so Daisuke coded- anyways, I hope hcs work, this has been sitting in my req, and I didn't want to make u wait anymore ♡♡

~🍡🍡

Dae-ho seems like the type to get jealous for sure

Whether it's a friend you're talking to, or literally some stranger

But I don't think he'd get excessive with it, nor mad at you obviously

He tends to just feel small and insecure

So, he'd do things to grab your attention

'cuz he lovessss your attention!!

He would start with simple things, maybe surprising you with a task he did for you, or he'd bring you a treat, like candy or maybe chips you like

But usually, you don't get the memo :<

So, he resorts to doing things

Pretty stupid things, if I might say

You could be out at a park, talking to someone else and you suddenly hear your name

You look over n he's just like

"Watch me do this backflip!!"

"What? Dae-ho get down from there! You can't even do a backflip???"

He'll end up getting injured regardless

But when you help patch him up, he doesn't regret a thing

"Why did you do that? That was stupid, and you know it."

"I dunno..."

"Dae-ho."

Then he would totally spill and ramble about how you weren't talking to him, and he thought you didn't like him, and he thought he would look cool, and you're like oh...

Just please please give him attention and reassurance because he needs it

my poor baby :'<

He probably wouldn't stop doing it, though

I mean, it worked the first time, didn't it

And you both know it'll keep working, no matter how much you complain to him as you wipe the scrapes on his elbow

He would also say stupid things, tryna impress the guy talking to you

"Yeah, I'm a marine. No big deal or whatever."

"Uh okay"

"And I've wrested 3 bears with no weapons. And won." >:)

"..?"

Sometimes, when you do pick up on it, it's pretty funny to mess with Dae-ho

Just like, agree with him

"Mhmm I was there."

"Uh YEAH. She was there!"

"Why was she there...?"

"I was the bear."

The look he gives you is astronomically funny

The guy walks away, and he's upset like why would you embarrass him like that

You're like "bro."

But you're sure to give him extra cuddles as an apology

He's just a little puppy :<

#mocchii writes #squid game x reader #squid game #dae ho squid game #dae ho x reader #dae ho #kang dae ho #player 388 #player 388 x reader #kang dae ho x reader #squid games x reader #dae ho fluff

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dreamsteddie · 3 days ago

Text

I'm obsessed with The Price is Right and therefore I think that Steve is obsessed with the Price is Right also.

He watches the reruns on weekends and loves the days when he's sick (or pretending to be sick) and he can watch it on the living room couch when he's in high school. When he graduates he tries to get all his shifts to start after 12:00 even if it means he has to close.

He loves watching and judging people's fashion and hair choices. He does all his own shopping so he's pretty good at guessing prices and scoffs when people make stupid guesses. He's convinced himself that there's a technique to spinning the wheel to guarantee the best results.

When he gets together with Eddie the other man is incredibly indeared by Steve's love for the show. He loves the days when he gets to stay home with Steve in the mornings and watch him watch The Price is Right. He thinks it's funny how heated he can get about it like it's a sports game. He delights in bugging Steve when it's on, asking him questions really loudly right in the middle just so Steve will give him that annoyed leave me alone look that scrunched up his eyebrows.

It's also what gives Eddie the confidence to start bringing Steve back to the trailer instead of holing up in the otherwise empty Harrington house. Wayne is similarly in love with the Price is Right and since he usually works 4 10s over the weekends he has three mornings a week completely available to watch every week. The two days a week he does have work he just waits up after his shift lets out at 8 eating "dinner" and trying to keep himself awake enough to catch it at 11. Half the time he passes out in the armchair.

Eddie takes Steve back to the trailer one night and invites him to stay the night and passes out with a grin on his face thinking about his two favorite people in the world meeting tomorrow. Eddie wakes up to an empty bed and scrambles out into the living room to the happy sight of Wayne and Steve talking about unfair Take Two is like they've known each other for years instead of a couple of hours at most.

Eddie makes them all box mix pancakes and takes the last of the mostly empty coffee in the pot for himself. He bangs the big pan down loudly on the counter just to get a rise from the two on the couch and turns his back to hide his smile when they grumble at him to keep it down.

Eddie takes Steve with him on a seemingly impromptu road trip to California. Supposedly it's to scope out what kind of metal scene can be found there but the real reason is to take Steve to wait in line to audition to be in the audience of his favorite show and get a chance to play. Steve is so excited and also incredibly annoyed with the surprise. He complains about not being able to pick out his best outfit and only lets up when Eddie assures him several times that he looks fantastic.

Steve, of course, handsome as he is gets pushed through with no fuss and Eddie gets to come with him as a companion. He goes on and on about how much smaller the set is than it even looks on TV and how excited Wayne is going to be. He whispers in Eddie's ear about people's silly handmade shirts and all the people wearing suits when it's gotta be almost 80 degrees in there. Eddie just knows that the camera is going to be panning over his boyfriend as much as it can. He's going to be great for ratings.

Steve ends up getting called down and makes the closest bids on a pair of his and her watches that he's going to split with Robin. Eddie can see his eyes light up as he banters with Bob, cool as a cucumber, the bastard. He gets a nice recliner that will definitely be replacing the old, sagging one that Wayne uses now in the Clock Game and barely misses out on the second prize of a fancy game table that the kids are definitely going to bully him about. When it's time to spin the wheel he holds out on a 75 and goes to the showcase. He is very smug about it all.

In the end, he wins an okay showcase with a strange little toy car he's going to give to Erica to terrorize the other kids with and some ugly living room furniture he's probably going to reject. The real prize is the 55-inch color TV that's going to take pride of place in the Munson house.

At the end Eddie bitches and moans about all the space this crap is going to take up in the van and how their gas bill headed back is going to be at least twice what it was coming down, but he can't really feel too put out with how happy Steve looks.

Back at their hotel room, Steve tackles Eddie into the bed and thanks him profusely for doing all this for him. No one has ever gone out of their way to make him happy quite like Eddie has, and they both can't wait to get back to Hawkins and wait for their episode to air. Eddie is already planning to coordinate with the kids to get them to record a couple of VHS for them to keep.

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hissweetdarling · 1 day ago

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Every time I go on Instagram reels between stuff I'm actually interested in that app there is at least one reel about being in your twenties or thirties and not feeling old or things you should have known by then and let me tell you that I don't feel / remember to feel old until I see such reels-

And people compare a lot how our childhood used to be vs today's kids'childhood but I genuinely believe it's also adults fault (not all of them , obviously) who would rather give a kid a tablet / phone than play with them with toys or encourage them to play with other kids in the park or other places and I feel sad somehow even for these kids who might will also feel "old" later.

Besides my childhood was good only until a certain age and later I had and still have a lot of adult responsibilities but treated like a child.

Now I have adult responsibilities and I ask to be treated like an adult in case the people don't already treat me like one (a lot of people see disabled people and automatically assume I'm stupid in my country).

Back to " feeling old ", in a way I almost always feel "old" but I also don't think too much about it, ya know? I have a few friends I can be childish with or really excited about things without them making me feel angry or turn serious and mature ten seconds later because they actually like seeing me happy even if I seem childish in that moment.

Also I'm trying my best to do stuff that I enjoyed as a kid (until that certain moment which changed things even more)and later in life because even just a tiny bit or more of that joy it's still joy that I deserve to feel at that ages and now too.

This "old" concept it's so controversial especially because I think we should be focused more on actually living our lives as we can than "oh no I'm old based on different society standards it means I'm a failure I didn't do 100 things by this age and I will never be able to go back to that age and do them blah blah blah" everyone has a different life after all.

important addition to my 2025 moodboard

#HisSweetDarling thoughts #thoughts #personal thoughts #positivity #postive suggestions #feeling old

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angelfic · 21 hours ago

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theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n

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k1mbe3rly · 2 days ago

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Hii, I was wondering if you could do a yandere se-mi headcannons/story?💕🫶

real.

Yandere Se-mi headcannons

warnings: kills, NSFW, ⚠️WLW STRAP⚠️

Yandere! Se-mi who will obsess over you and constantly stalking you and watching your every move, and will go to great lengths to keep you to herself.

Yandere! Se-mi who slowly becomes extremely possessive and jealous, lashing out at anyone who she perceives as a threat to yalls relationship

Yandere! Se-mi who will try to control every aspect of the your life, from who you talk to, to what you do and where you go.

Yandere! Se-mi who does emotional manipulation to control you and what you’re interested in, using techniques like guilt-tripping and gaslighting to make things go her way.

Yandere! Se-mi who becomes violent if she feels like you’re trying to break away from her or if she feels like she is losing control of the relationship.

“Why haven’t you came over in 2 days? what the hell is going on huh?! fucking cheating on me you slut?!”

Than proceeds to fuck you harshly while her hands are wrapped around your throat, tightening and softening her hands around it.

Yandere! Se-mi who buys many airtags and places it in your purse, and car., she also buys small cameras and places them around your house when your fucked out on the bed and can’t even move after she fucked you

Yandere! Se-mi who follows you thru malls, grocery stores and even when your with your friends, she also makes sure when you tell her your with your family that your actually with your family

Yandere! Se-mi who forces you to give you all her passwords to anywhere you can communicate with other people snapchat, instagram, facebook, messenger, and twitter

“Who the fuck is ‘Jun hee’ talking about her baby daddy isn’t myung gi?”

Yandere! Se-mi who records you getting fucked by her strap and moaning and crying for her as she pinches and pulls your nipples a bit than proceeds to send it to anyone who flirts with you

Yandere! Se-mi who drags you to a public bathroom only for you to get yelled out and fingered roughly

“Why is your ‘Childhood friend’ looking at you like that hm? the second we get home i want you to block them okay baby? Your mine. Cum on my fingers baby, Do what i say..”

Yandere! Se-mi who notices one boy who keeps texting you and even visited your job after she got a notification from your account with him texting you

“I’m glad I got to see you, wanna do that again some time?”

Yandere! Se-mi who know believes you cheated on her, so not only she goes and finds the guy and kills him brutually but goes to you with bloody hands and fingers you with his blood on her hands

Yandere! Se-mi who is fucking with you with the strap roughly as tears filled your eyes moaning loudly, she’s gripping on your hips hard enough to leave a bruise as she said soemthing that immediately turned you off

“Fuck! you know you kinda sound like that one boy i murdered for you” she said smirking as she wanted to see your reaction

Yandere! Se-mi who notices you stopped moaning and stared at her in fear as she kept thrusting into you, eventually she stopped

“What did you say..?” you spoke to her, “Nothing baby you just look so sexy right now..” she whispered to you, “No i heard what you said..what do you mean? did you actually kill someone Se-mi?!” you yelled out, “He was stealing what’s mine.”

Yandere! Se-mi who watches you cry in fear as she threatens that if you ever leave she’ll kill you too but deep down she won’t cause she just loves you so much

Yandere! Se-mi who has to strangle you down after you tried running for the front door

“Are you serious? your being so ungrateful! fucking went out of my way and murdered that stupid slut for you! and this is how you reward me?”

Yandere! Se-mi who ties you up teases you until you can’t take it

“Tell me you’ll stay with me. Tell me you won’t leave me and i’ll let you cum and even untie you”

“I’ll stay you! i promise! Just please i can’t take it anymore! I’ll be with you forever!” you cried out sobbing as she smirks, that night you had the biggest orgasm and find yourself crying silently on the bed as she cuddles you

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #squid game smut #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #lesbian #player 380 #player 380 x reader #se mi #se mi smut #wlw post #wlw #yandere #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #squid game headcanons #se mi headcannons

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sanni276 · 1 day ago

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*Tim and Kon sitting on one of the couches in Titan's Tower*

*Kon suddenly turning to Tim*: Tim my best bro, you need to help me.

Tim: Sure. What's going on?

Kon: There is this guy I really really like but I just don't know how to tell him because everytime I flirt with him he thinks I am just joking and whenever I ask him to go out, just the two of us he answers me with: "Oh! This and this friend will love that! We should totally all go together.".

Tim internally freaking out: He likes guys? He likes a specific guy? Wait, does this mean I could have a chance with him? No, that's stupid he already said he likes someone else. Does this mean that I'm not even an option when Kon likes guys? No why am I only thinking about what this means for me? I am a horrible friend and-

Tim externally: Well what exactly do you like about him?

Kon *with a soft smile*: Everything. He's smart, somehow handsome and pretty at the same time, he is strong and good at fighting and sometimes he does things that just infuriate me and we argue but he is probably the best thing that ever happend to me and if he asked me to become supervillains and take over the world with him I would so without a seond thought.

Tim *literally crying on the inside because he's pretty sure he could be all of these things if he tried*: Then tell him that. After that say something like "I really like you and wanted to ask if you would like to go on a date with me sometime" If he still doesn't get it after all that then he is probably just not interested in you but too nice to outright say it.

Kon suddenly seriously looking Tim in the eyes: Tim, you are smart, somehow the most handsome and prettiest man i have laid my eyes upon at the same time, you are strong and and so good at everything you do and Rao you infuriate me sometimes but I wouldn't change anything about you for the world because you were there every single time I needed someone and I'm afraid ou are my favourite person and that I would sacrifice everything for you. You are my biggest weakness. My Kryptonite. I really really like you, and wanted to ask if you would like to go on a date with me sometime.

Tim: Yeah. Just like that. I'm sure whoever this mystery guy is will instantly fold. Sorry Kon, I think you're gonna have to excuse me now because Bruce wants me back in Gotham.

*Tim runs away to cry in his room and then mope about his crush for the next 2-17 buisness days*

Kon left behind head in his hands: Dude...Just tell me if you don't like me.

Kon is completly convinced that Tim knows how he feels since he is literally the best detective in the world (Yes. Even better than Batman) and there is absolutely no way he didn't get Kon's confession. Tim does infact not know.

Much to the infuriation and pain of everyone that somehow knows them it takes them another three weeks to realize their feelings are mutual and in fat not unrequited.

Except Cassandra: She had guessed the date excactly right and she won a lot of money. (there was a betting pool)

#wow this post got a lot longer than i planned to #timkon #tim drake #tim drake x conner kent #timothy drake #conner kent #red robin #superboy #dcu #dc universe #batman #batfamily #batfam #cassandra cain #superman #young justice

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unpeeled-human · 8 hours ago

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congratulations. you said something so stupid it actually made me get up so i can type on a keyboard instead of my phone.

photography is not "art that can be made with 'very little effort.'" if photography is just "the push of a button," then a pencil sketch is "just a couple of lines." the fact that you simplify photography this much is already making your argument vapid, but ill give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you just, werent thinking clearly. exposure time, depth of field, differences in camera lens, lighting quality, lighting contrast, lighting colors, waiting for a certain time of day, picking the right subject, the right angle to capture the subject from. it is not "the click of a button." initially, photography was a process that took a *long* time. exposures would last from 5 minutes to half an hour.

every example you gave of using generative AI iN A MOrAl WAy is still the fucking thing making something for you instead of you putting in any effort to try and collage it yourself. no, it is not the same as looking through a stock photo site. i dont know how many times i have to explain this- THE FUCKING AI IS DRAWING SOMETHING FOR YOU. just because "ouuhh its just a widdle part of the background!!!" doesnt mean it didnt literally pull data from hundreds of thousands of millions of images online just to mash them together especially for you. like i dont know how this isnt a concept you can visualize. there is an explicit difference between transforming content you find online, and asking a robot to do it for you.

imagine the world was made of pudding. you can imagine a lot of things- do a single thing to make it a reality. find a single option out there that even remotely does what you're referring to.

....? is this really the angle you're going for? "uumhmm, theres actually even LESS eithical ways of doing art!! so...ai really isnt that bad!!!!" like, sincerely?

"where do we draw the line" it's pretty fucking simple. when the robot draws the thing for you, you're no longer putting your own will into the creation- why would anyone put their own will into looking at or interacting with it.

i literally dont care what your excuse for using AI is. if you didnt put your own effort into making it im not putting my own effort into interacting with it.

#utter dunce #please do me a favor and DONT respond regardless of how aggressive you perceive this reply #i cannot stand you people in my notifs

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aninipanin1 · 2 days ago

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MY BUMBLEBEE

Notes: Nothing just pure fluff and a lil jealousy, This is Miss Manager Junior btw:> And I got this idea from MemeSuga01's book titler "Blue Lock Specials" Special 18 in Wattpad! Please check out their books and account. They make really good stories!

"Bachira-san-"

"Y/N!!!!"

You were tackled with a hug that almost knocked the wind out of you. There were times like these where you remembered that Bachira was like the rest of the players in the facility, absolutely tall and built.

"Um...hi, how may I help you..?"

"Nothing! I just wanted to hug you!! You don't visit our stratum much anymore hmp!!"

He pouted, arms still around your neck as he happily cheered and tattled whatever was in his mind away. Seeing the excited look in Bachira's eyes made you quite happy and a bit guilty if you were to interrupt with whatever he was saying, so you nodded your head at whatever he was saying, even if it does not make sense at times.

As he talked, arms still around you, you started to let your eyes wonder about his features. You never noticed it, but the yellow in his hair was really bright and matched his pretty eyes. You think deep down that everyone has really pretty eyes, but the ones in the Blue Lock's facility take the cake, the variety of colors are all comparable to literal gems.

Bachira's looked like one of an amber, one preserved after so many years because of its shine and beauty. But it's not just beautiful but resilient as well, surviving whatever weather, temperature or disaster may occur around it. And it's not that far from Bachira's own story.

As you thought deeper, you then noticed how the black part of his hair mixed well with his yellow hair and eyes. He looks like a honeybee! Or even a-

"Bumblebee..." You ditzily whispered, not knowing you said it outloud, and unfortunately for you, Bachira heard it too.

"Eh? What did you say, Y/n-chan?" He tilted his head, his arms loosening a bit around your neck. Your ears and cheeks immediately flushed in embarrassment thay you said something so embarrassing out loud without a thought.

'Stupid Y/n...'

"Aww cmon Y/n-chan! What was it?"

"I..I said...you looked like a honeybee...I mean...I think you look closer to a bumblebee because of your personality! And because bumblebees are so chubby and cute and-" you covered your mouth, catching yourself talking too much again. There were moments like these where you would forget that you were talking to someone and you needed to filter out your words, and would instead talk their ears off with your unfiltered thoughts.

But, instead of being mad like you thought, Bachira's cheeks turned really pink before he hugged you even tighter than before.

"Aww Y/n-chan!! You're so cuteeee!! I like that nickname so much! I like it!" He cheered, jumping around as his arms were still around you making you a bit dizzy, before blinking at his words.

"Really? You don't mind I called you bumblebee?"

"Nope! I like it! Say, say, do you have nicknames like that for the others?" He asked, his smile still wide and the same but his eyes held some sort of hidden agenda. And he desperately wished that you only had a nickname for him and no one else.

"Uh nope! It just came out of me...!"

With that answer, his eyes became even brighter. He felt really special that you called him that, especially since bumblebee sounded so cute in his ears, giving him tingles on his heart.

"Sooo can you start calling me Bumblebee instead of Bachira-san?" He said excitedly, and you, being so oblivious at his hidden agenda immediately nodded at the idea. After all, you liked cute things and cute nicknames to your friends made you so happy and satisfied.

"Okay! You're my bumblebee from now on, Bachira-san!"

"Yay! I'm your bumblebee!!"

What you did not expect however was the reaction that the supposed innocent and cute nickname you gave the yellow and brown-haired striker.

You currently joined the boys in eating their lunch. Every Sunday, all the boys would share a cafeteria to eat lunch together for the sanitization of the other's they use everyday and for better bonding moments too (althoug Ego hides the latter reason). Picking your food tray, you tried to find a good spot to sit and enjoy your food. As always most of the tables had a vacant seat (which most would leave open in hopes you'd choose their table and sit with them).

But, before you can find a seat, you found Bachira entering the cafeteria and him being him, immediately ran to you and greeted you. He looked to be happier than he usually is, and he was. Deep down, Bachira was quite happy and flustered at the nickname you gave him. Even if a few hours had passed and training had done and went, he still could not keep it off his mind.

He really liked the way your tongue said his name, but the tone, the sheepish mutter of the word "bumblebee," calling to him and him alone made him feel so jittery and excited in a different way that he ever felt before.

"Hi Y/n-chan!!"

"Hi Bachira-san! Are you going to eat yet?"

"Awww...why did you call me that?"

He pouted at you, a little disappointed that you did not call him the nickname you gave him. Mostly because he really did like it and wanted you to call him that always, but also because he knew that the rest of the boys were listening and wanted you to call him thay in front of them to indirectly tell them that he was really special to you.

Tilting your head, you were a little confused as to what he was talking about until you remembered the conversation you had with him earlier. Your eyes brightened at the memory and looked a bit apologetic for forgeting.

"Oh, I forgot...'m so sorry, Bachira-san- I mean, my bumblebee!"

Crickets and silence.

That was all that was heard in the cafeteria the moment you called Bachira the nickname. The conviction and softness in your voice when you called him along with the sweet meaning that the nickname held, with the addition of the 'my' in the beginning made it feel so personal and possessive.

It can even be a nickname one gives to their significant other. And that did not sit right with them.

"Eh..? Did I say something wrong?" You wondered as you sat beside Bachira in the large table most of your friends sat in, yes even people like Rin, Barou and Kunigami who didn't think they were 'friends.'

"No fair, why does he get a nickname, while I don't Y/n-chan?" Nagi said from the other side of your chair as he rested his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with his sleepy eyes that held some sort of hidden conviction and annoyance.

"Yeah, Nagi's right, Y/n-chan! I want a nickname too!" Hiori raised his hand.

"Me too! Me too!" Kurona pitched softly.

"When did you even start calling Bachira that, Y/n-chan?" Isagi asked, feeling the familiar green face of jealousy. The question made you smile softly, because you thought that the nickname was just for friends, finding it absolutely adorable.

"I was talking with Bachira-san earlier this morning, and I kinda uttered how he looked like a bumblebee because bumblebees are so cute, fuzzy and chubby and his personality feels like one! So we agreed his nickname from me will be bumblebee from now on. Isn't it cute?" The happy and satisfied look in your face lessened the annoyance they felt to the brunette striker who just ate happily beside you.

"Yeah, cute." Rin said, his tone hid a sassy and annoyed tone.

"Can I still get a nickname, Y/n-chan?" Nagi asked, his stubbornness shining through at such a trivial thing. But to him, it was less than trivial. He wanted a personalize nickname from you, one that felt special to him especially because it was coming from you.

"Eh really? Um okay...uh you can be Ice Bear from We Bare Bears! You remind me of him, Nagi-san!" You offered with a bright smile. Finding his snow white hair, tall build and lazy personality mirroring the cute bear character.

Nagi seemee satisfied enough with the nickname, finding it endearing, but most especially because it came from you.

"Yay...I'm your Ice Bear."

Everyone else frowned at that, even Bachira who wanted to be the only one who had a nickname. But, hey he was not selfish like thay so he just continued eating.

And with that, the rest of the guys on the table started to ask you for nicknames too. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt so happy and excited in giving them the silliest and cutest nicknames your mind can think of. You feel like your inner kid (that you lack) was brought out by the moment, and well, you loved your friends so you were more than happy to give each of them a nickname!

"Um...Rin-san can be Keroppi...!"

The rest of the boys laughed at the comparison between Keroppi and Rin.

"Rin-chan is not cute at all like Keroppi!" Bachira laughed as the rest agreed, pissing Rin off.

"Hmm, I don't know why I called Rin-san Keroppi, but it just sounds right to me! My Keroppi!" At the final sentence, Rin's full cheeks from his food turned red in a snap, almost choking on his food due to being so flustered and shocked at the nickname.

"Um, and this is ashi which means leg!"

You were currently holding a newspaper that Loki tried reading and explained what some of the worrd meant, since he was curious. But to your suprise, all the foreign players crowded next to you to listen to the explanation. Sure, they were not really thay ready to learn another language altogether, but they were curious and spending time with you at the same time was not exactly a bad combo.

On the field sat Lorenzo, Ness, Charles, Loki and Kaiser around you as you pointed at the words that was foreign to all of them as you slowly explained each of the symbol and what it meant. They were listening, well until Rin entered the field to look for you. And well, you made a mistake in acknowledging him in the new nickname you gave to them infront of the foreign players.

"Oh um sorry, my Keroppi! I'll start doing the laundry later!" As if clockwork anytime you used that word, Rin turned a bright red before leaving the field to try and cool off and try to find a way to not get flustered like a damn fuse everytime you use that nickname.

But, the rest of the players noticed the rather cute nickname and well, they were less than pleased and more envious.

"Ehhh why does Rin-Rin have a cute nickname from you but I don't? Y/n-chaaannn please give me one too!!" Charles said as he clung to your arm.

"Eh..?"

"I agree with the kid, Y/n." Michael said with a smirk. You felt like a trapped mouse under the expecting gaze of the players. Loki noticed this and sighed before hitting Charles's head which made the midfielder let out an 'ow.'

"Don't harass her, you fools. If she wants, she'll give us one. Geez."

"Uh thank you, Loki-san. But it's really fine! I'll give you guys nicknames too!" You started to think for one as they all watched you, then you looked at Charles and fangs when a genius strike hit your head.

"Charles-san can be Meowth from Pokemon!"

"Yey! I'm fine with that! Thank you, Y/n-chan!"

He said as he hugged you even tighter which just made you smile, but when you turned to Kaiser, you remembered a memory about the time Isagi was ranting to you about Kaiser.

"Yeah, and he even has that annoying rat-hair! I hate him SO much, Y/n-chan!"

The word rat repeated in your head, and a character appeared in your head, but before you can filter your thoughts into words, you said what you thought out loud.

"Jaq-jaq from Cinderella."

And well, the entire field ended up in laughter. Loud and hard laughter. Even Ness could not help the chuckle that left his mouth, remembering the familiar mouse character.

And well, that pissed Kaiser a bit. Which made you panic a bit.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Kaiser-san! I just remember Isagi-san calling you a rat and well...it ran in my mind..."

"HAHAHHAA IT FITS! HOLY SHIT IT FITS!" Lorenzo laughed and hugged his stomach which made Kaiser even angrier.

"Shut up! You are more of a rat than I am!"

"I'm sorry! Pfftt-" Loki said as he continued laughing, meanwhile Charles had tears in his eyes from laughter. Was it just from the nickname? Or even from the way you said it with such seriousness and conviction that made them laugh?

"Ehhh 'm so sorry, Kaiser-san..." you said, animated tears running down your face because, well an angry Kaiser was a scary Kaiser.

"Its fine, dear...but if just some of you will shut up!" He said with pointed looks at Lorenzo and Charles.

In the end, you settled with Kaiser being Cinnamoroll in your eyes. Finding his aesthetic and his hair color similar to the color scheme of the cute character.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BLUE LOCK TV COMMENT SECTION:

User01: Awww but Kaiser fits the first nickname better🥺

Reply:

-> user02: right?! My favourite part of today's episode AHAHHAHA

User03: I want more behind the scenes moment wth?! Cmon editors and directors! I wanna see more of these moments lmao

User04: I don't think the Blue Lockers themselves, the directors and even the editors can deny that theyre all whipped for Miss Manager

-> User06: I super agree! Like, anyone with eyes can see that Miss Manager built herself a reverse harem in that place

User05: Nagi as Ice Bear is actually a really good nickname for him, but the Keroppi with Rin took me out for a bit LMAO maybe his behind the scenes personality is a bit more different to be guaranteed that nickname?

LMAO THIS ONE TOOK ME OUT but like help me out here, I wanna use these nicknames in the futhre so please do comment what you think the nicknames for the other Blue Lock players can be because I legit ran out of brainjuice just to think about it. But also, in the future Additional times I wiuld be putting the Blue Lock TV commment section buuut as a twist, I would be using some of my followers' username (if thats fine with you guys huhu) as the usernames, it would be used as some sort of shoutout and all, but also as a small thank you for all of you!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

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