#and i still think they could do a good job of it

[sloaneispunk]

“teacher’s pet” (mdni 18+)

teacher!in-ho x you

──── ୨୧ ────

when in-ho’s wife tragically passed, he found comfort in a certain student in his class. how far was he willing to go with a student?

──── ୨୧ ────

in-ho had a perfect life. stable job, great friends and a loving wife.

he loved his wife unconditionally, they had the perfect relationship. they rarely argued, and the sex was amazing.

but his life came crumbling when he received a phone call from the hospital. his wife had gotten into a car accident.

in-ho was lost after that, for a few months he stepped down from teaching. he spent his time trying to find his happiness again. it was hard, he was stricken with grief, he thought there was nothing else for him in life.

eventually in-ho felt like he should get off his ass and do something.

he met with the principal of the school he was teaching at, wanting to get back.

he thought of it like a distraction, just something he could look forward to in the daytime.

──── ୨୧ ────

it was the first day of school, students were pushing and shoving to get to class.

you entered the classroom with your friends, seeing a new, unfamiliar teacher at the front of the classroom, taking your seat at the back.

“good morning class, my name is mr in-ho, i’ll be your new math teacher this semester.” the teacher announced as he turned to face the students.

“hey, he’s pretty hot.” you turned to look at your friend with your mouth hung wide open, slapping her on the arm as you both laughed.

lesson went on as per normal that first day, mr in-ho spent the hour introducing himself and getting to know everyone.

as the bell rang, signalling the end of class, everyone packed their bags frantically.

“that’s all, i’ll see everyone tomorrow.” mr in-ho said.

as the students got up to leave, a loud thud was heard from the front of the classroom.

“get up, nerd.” you heard.

you sighed, walking towards the girl who had been tripped by another student, helping her up as you glared at her bully.

“fuck off, what do you want?” you asked, taking a protective stand in front of the poor girl.

the bully said nothing, simply turning on his heel and leaving.

by now, all the students had left, leaving you, the girl, and mr in-ho behind.

“t-thank you.” the girl said, bowing her head as you frowned.

“you don’t have to thank me. he shouldn’t be doing that… are you okay?” you asked.

she then nodded, giving you an awkward smile as you scurried off.

“hey, what’s your name?” you heard a voice call out from behind you.

“oh, i didn’t realise you were still here.” you replied, seeing the new teacher behind his desk, packing his bag. “i’m y/n. y/n l/n.”

“that’s pretty.” he commented, offering you a small smile.

“thank you.” you blushed.

“that was really kind, what you did there.”

“oh, yeah, he has been really mean to many students. poor girl just didn’t have anyone looking out for her.”

“you’re a good girl, y/n.”

oh.

“t-thank you?” you chuckled nervously.

“what’s your next class? maybe i could walk you there.” mr in-ho said as the two of you stepped outside into the hallway.

“english. but i think i’ll be the one leading you.” you joked, causing him to let out a laugh.

──── ୨୧ ────

that night, in-ho went home feeling better than he had been the past few months. he felt like he had really connected with his new students.

they were so kind, so gentle, so sweet…

no, you were.

you were so kind, so gentle, so sweet.

the interaction he had with you kept replaying in his mind, he couldn’t think about anything or anyone else.

you reminded him of someone he used to know, and that fueled him.

the next day, he went to class as per usual. however, he didn’t take your class until noon, which meant he had to wait patiently for your class.

by 11am, he got pretty bored he had to admit. in-ho felt like he was just going through the motions, teaching the different batches of students that came in one after another.

however, when the clock striked 12, oh he was excited.

what he was excited about? he didn’t know.

he then heard a familiar laugh echoing through the halls. he turned to the door, waiting expectantly for you to come through.

the door flew open, revealing not only you to his dismay, but your group of friends surrounding you. he couldn’t make out what you were laughing about but he was incredibly intrigued.

“good afternoon.” you said cheerfully as you gave him a small wave before you took your seat.

in-ho felt a wave of flush run through him, he cleared his throat and ruffled his hair. “good afternoon, y/n.”

“oo, someone already made a move before the rest of us.” your friend teased, nudging your elbow playfully as you rolled your eyes.

time passed quickly as in-ho taught his first lesson to your class. he had found himself stealing tiny glances of you as he walked around, trying his hardest to not make it obvious.

his heart was beating so quickly he thought he could pass out.

maybe he was being delusional, or maybe even hallucinating, but he swore at times when he stole glances, you were already staring. and that made him nearly choke on his words multiple times.

after class, he stayed behind again, hoping that you would somehow approach him, striking up a conversation.

but you didn’t.

someone did approach him, but it wasn’t you. it was your friend.

“so… where did you teach before this? do you like it here? how is it like teaching our class?” she bombarded him with questions.

you took it as a sign to leave.

as you walked out, you turned for one last look. but to your surprise, you were met with the eyes of mr in-ho, as soon as he had been caught, he looked away, pretending to be interested in the conversation.

“see you tomorrow, mr in-ho.” you called out. but before he had the chance to reply, you had left.

somehow, you felt jealous. jealous that he was talking to someone like you first did. but why did it matter? he was just your teacher afterall.

──── ୨୧ ────

that night as he got home, in-ho dropped all his things. he practically ripped open his shirt and unbuckled his pants as fast as he could.

god, he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

he thought of your soft voice and your innocent face as he started to stroke himself.

‘fuck.’ he cursed as he started to go faster, his mind racing with images of your face.

he could almost hear your voice calling his name again. he replayed your laughter over and over again like a broken record.

in-ho went to sleep that night with you and only you on his mind. he knew he was fucked.

──── ୨୧ ────

weeks went by and in-ho found himself getting bolder and bolder.

within a month, he moved on to not so subtle touches.

as he paced around the classroom teaching, he took your seat at the back of the classroom to his advantage. he tested waters initially, brushing against your arm as he walked by.

when you seemed okay with it, he tried to deepen the contact.

he would place a hand on your shoulder as he passed you. when you didn’t move away or seemed uncomfortable, he knew he hit the jackpot.

his touch started to linger for longer than it needed to. somehow he craved touching you more and more.

what made him more desperate was the fact that he could smell your perfume whenever he walked anywhere near you.

it messed with his head in the best way possible.

furthermore, he started to notice how his actions took a toll on you. whenever he gently touched your shoulder, you would draw your legs together. was he really turning you on?

if he had happened to see you in the hallways, he would call you by name, greeting you, even starting small conversations.

he loved how everytime he did so, you light blush would creep onto your cheeks and you would struggle to meet his gaze, looking anywhere but into his eyes.

if this continued, he didn’t know how much he could take. all the cock-teasing, the small interactions.

he wanted more.

[ouchmaster6000]

What's funny though is the creator has gone on record saying he only wanted to make an entertaining story, not teach morals or philosophy.

Anyway, I'd argue the biggest problem with the Death Note is its hard to know if the person your killing is actually guilty of what you think they did.

Like, obviously ignoring not all crimes are equal in severity, and that everyone is gonna have differing subjective opinions on who is deserving of death, we see in the potato chip scene that Light is just writing down the names of anyone accused of a crime on the news.

The problem is people get falsely accused all the time. To me the possibility Light might have killed some innocent people just to be sure Kira's still killing while he's under surveillance is way worse than killing FBI or Police Officers who tried to catch him, cause at least they knew they were risking their lives when they signed up for the job.

Id argue the Death Note, on its own, is pretty useless for making major changes in the world, cause it's hard to pin point who exactly is responsible for the worlds problems.

A lot of pain and suffering, for example, is made in board room meetings with CEOs, some of whose names aren't very easily available, and it's hard to know who's responsible for what decisions unless you were there, or if the people taking their place are gonna be even worse.

I feel like the only way you could actually use the Death Note to change the world for the better was if you had some sort of second magical artifact, that could omnisciently answer any question. Only then maybe you could know who's responsible for what problems, whether or not those people have any sort of remorse, and what the actual outcome for getting rid of them would be.

As mentioned earlier in the replies, the death Note itself was just a tool for shinigami to extend their lifespans, so it makes sense that on its own it really isn't useful for doing anything good, at least not in a grand scale.

(I say "grand scale" cause I would argue that Light killing the crazy gunman when he was holding elementary schoolers hostage, and the guy in the middle of trying to rape a woman in the first episode is not inherently bad, since they were in the process of commiting a pretty major crime that he prevented, which is different from someone who already committed a crime or was accused of commiting one without evidence. However, those were VERY specific circumstances.)

i don't know how you can "the curtains are just blue! ACAB lol" fucking Death Note of all pieces of media

this is a show for thirteen-year-old boys. the only writers I've seen who are less subtle about what they're going for were fucking Victorians.

[zerocoded]

summary: when caleb appears at your front door on a random thursday night after faking his death for weeks, you can't help but want to punch him straight in the knees. lucky for you, you do just that.

authors note: this beautiful drawing that i'm using in the banner is from this lovely artist, credits to them! go check their x account ♡ ANYWAYS, the caleb post i've been daydreaming about the last two days is finally here. CALEB GIRLIES I GOT YOU. let's hold each other's hands until the 22nd comes. i hope i succeed in portraying a real mc bc i'm tired of seeing us being just happy when seeing caleb for the first time when BRO DECEIVED US and played with our emotions like that. without further bs, live laugh love caleb.

warnings: SLIGHT yandere!caleb • gaslighting and manipulation • sfw content • bad writing lol, be warned! • depressive thoughts • reader is on her grieving period • work exhaustion • mental illness mentioned • minor injury • manhandling and pining • height & size difference • caleb literally invades our home • fighting bc reader is a badass and tolerates no bitches • mc bites caleb's hands lol • others LI mentioned • one kissy scene hehe • caleb screams at mc once (boo) • ANGST Y'ALL!

word count: 6.1k

your apartment was silent, except for the faint hum of the city outside. tossing your jacket onto the back of the couch, you leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily. the weight of the day pressed down on you like a vice, your fingers brushing the edge of the message from linkon city hall still lying unopened on the counter.

confirmation of deceased: caleb. adoptive grandmother, dr. josephine. cause of death: explosion – classified incident.

you hadn’t needed to open it. the words were already carved into your memory, and the weight of them had crushed you all day. it didn’t matter that the explosion was months ago—seeing their names on an official report felt like losing them all over again.

you pushed away from the counter, willing your mind to focus on anything else. the hunter uniform hugged your frame perfectly, as it always had, and your reflection in the glass windows of your living room showed how tired you looked.

did anyone notice how wrecked you felt? you wondered if tara had gossiped to the other hunters about your predicament, and if she had left you alone because she somehow understood the weight of what had happened to you.

the message was awful. being asked to confirm the deaths of your loved ones had thrown you into a depressive spiral you hadn’t felt in days after returning from the N109 zone. your troublesome heart sometimes made you feel like you shouldn’t have even been born. when you trauma-dumped this on rafayel a few days ago, he had almost hit you with his paint brush, the words coming out of your mouth too much for him to process. the painter was pissed that you could think of yourself like that.

but that was how you felt—unworthy of being alive, because the person who raised you had been brutally killed.

why not me? you wondered.

linkon city was adorned with shiny skyscrapers, and your privileged view of the city made you feel even smaller, your grievance nothing more than a joke to the world outside of your apartment. knowing you’d have to show up to work again tomorrow added to the weight pressing down on your shoulders from choosing to be a deepspace hunter.

these last few weeks, you had questioned why you chose this job in the first place. since coming back from onychinus and befriending sylus of all people, you’d been thinking about your life decisions more frequently. sylus made you question every little thing you had once thought was a virtue, which now seemed like selfishness in disguise.

the man was good at disturbing your thoughts and making you feel things that put you on the spot.

you became a deepspace hunter because you were selfish. you wanted to make a difference, like the people you grew up with had made.

you wanted to be smart like zayne and attentive like josephine. you wanted to be helpful like caleb and as notorious as your other anhaunsen classmates. you wanted to do anything to escape the feeling you’d had since birth—uselessness.

as you sank deep into the living room cushions and exhaled heavily into the lonely air of your apartment, your phone buzzed with a text from zayne.

fate was joking with you today.

are you okay?, it read.

his worry made your heart flutter a little before sadness took over your entire form again.

you didn’t have the heart to respond. lying required more strength than you had in that moment, so you tossed your phone onto the center table and ignored him.

i’m sorry, zayne, i wish i was stronger for you.

your stomach rumbled, and your ribs ached. earlier in the evening, you had let a wanderer get too close before killing it, distracted as you were. the mistake had left you with a swollen rib and a deep sense of shame. you’d promised to take care of it when you got home, but right now, all you could do was discard a few of your sharp weapons onto the floor before dozing off on the couch.

you’d probably hate yourself in the morning for sleeping with these tight boots on.

for you, the hardest part wasn’t the silence left behind. it wasn’t the way the world seemed to keep spinning while yours had shattered. the hardest part was feeling like you needed to smile, to nod politely when people said, “stay strong,” as if strength could stitch together the pieces of your broken heart.

the hardest part was the way people looked at you, expecting you to move forward, to let the memories be enough. but how could you, when the smell of smoke still haunted your nightmares, when you could still hear caleb’s laughter drowned by the deafening roar of the explosion? how could you heal when your soul was still bleeding, the wounds too fresh, the pain still pouring out with every breath you tried to take?

how could you move forward when you still couldn’t clench your fists as strong as you were accustomed to because you were thrown into the air and broke both of them at the incident?

you wondered if it would ever be enough, and if someday you’d find out who was responsible for all of this pain.

the kitchen candles were the only light in the room when you heard the doorbell ring. sharp and sudden, it cut through the haze and fought off your sleepiness in a second, your hunter’s bells ringing warningly.

your heart jumped, and your hand instinctively went to your side where your pistol usually rested, only to find it absent. you’d left it in your locker at the deepspace headquarters, thinking you wouldn’t need it tonight.

the bell rang again, more insistent this time.

“probably xavier,” you muttered, trying to shake off the lingering unease. your neighbor and cute colleague had been away on a special mission as a hunter. his absence had started to feel noticeable in the quiet moments.

you liked spending time with xavier because he seemed to understand you on another level. he never seemed to expect anything from you, which made grieving next to him a little less daunting. you missed his midnight visits and occasional talks about claw machines and stupid wanderers, and you wished he would respond to your texts asking when he was coming back.

you felt like you needed to hear his voice right now.

without thinking much, you unlocked the door, combat boots still on and dark circles framing your usually bright eyes.

“took you long enough—”

the words died on your lips.

it wasn’t xavier.

standing in your doorway, dressed in a pristine daa military uniform, was a man—ridiculously intimidating and strange. he looked at you with judgment and arrogance, making you step back a little and guard more of yourself.

thank god you still had your uniform on and wasn’t wearing some flimsy nightgown. the man seemed to be eating you alive in his head.

before you had the chance to question the stranger’s presence at your door on this random thursday night, he tossed you aside and pressed you against the corridor wall of your kitchen, your breath instantly hitched and your ribs ached from the impact.

your hunter’s awareness triggered instantly, instincts flaring and mind still trying to process what the hell was going on. your hands struggled against his grip, desperately searching for an evol to resonate with. if your mind had already been spiraling out of control before, now you felt like you could fight a thousand wanderers at once and focus on surviving with mere instinct.

you couldn’t scream. his right hand clamped over your mouth, his left gripping both your wrists in front of your chest and preventing you from punching him like you planned to. somehow, this was a professional individual who knew your fighting mannerisms and wrestling tendencies by heart.

with great effort, you managed to bite his hand that was closest to your mouth and heard his pained grunt right after. you swore you heard him cussing before his head raised and his eyes finally met yours.

your heart stopped. the world narrowed to the faint outline of his silhouette as you finally were able to look at his face. his hair was concealed beneath a presumptuous cap, the daa symbol shining bright at its center. black, red, and gold adorned the unknown uniform of the man who handled your body as if it were weightless, plastic.

you thrashed and twisted in his grip until he was forced to pin both your hands above your head, hissing when you managed to land a kick on his right knee. the door clicked shut beside you as he silenced your attempted scream with his hand again.

amethystine eyes stared back at you, thick brows furrowed as your gazes locked. chills ran down your spine. your hunter uniform pressed uncomfortably against the wall, your combat boots barely touching the floor. yet, despite your effort, he towered over you.

you wanted to cry.

the hidden freckles were the first clue your mind was playing tricks on you, the shape of his mouth the second, and his skin tone the third. countless times since the explosion, you’d dreamed of caleb’s touch—more nights than you could count. but as the weight of the day bore down on you, your fighting spirit waned, the initial rush of adrenaline fading as you stared into his eyes.

everything felt cruelly unfair.

his gaze was uncharacteristically hard as he watched you, his bruising grip on your mouth and wrists warming for a moment before you snapped out of your daze.

a smirk made way to his lips and his stupidly manly perfume set itself on your senses. another attempt at kicking him made him press himself further into you, ribs screaming from the pressure. if he noticed your pained expression, he didn’t mention it at all.

“caleb,” you whispered, the name barely audible. your voice cracked, your body frozen in place, your mind unable to reconcile the impossible reality before you.

he didn’t seem to hear you, but his hand left your mouth, his gaze sweeping over your body and his face so close to yours you could count his naturally defined lashes.

the tension between you two shifted as he eyed you closer, curious eyes landing on your pretty figure. he could swear for a moment you wouldn’t recognize him and that thought perturbed his mind for the next few seconds he allowed himself to bask in your beauty.

caleb was familiar with the sight of you in a hunter’s uniform, but never had he seen you looking this wrecked.

so pretty, but so unfairly exhausted, he thought.

in the weeks leading up to the explosion, he’d promised himself he’d never let you get hurt by ever ever again. now, seeing you like this, he wondered if things looked different from your perspective.

would you hate him?

would you hate him for the decisions he made? for the people he deceived and the families he destroyed? for the secrets he exposed so he could be at advantage and fight for you from a more privileged position?

would you hate him for wanting you all to himself and sharing the same fate as him as a human experiment? for wanting to take you to the ever base and expose you to everyone right before killing them? for being the demise of your life but still wanting to keep you as close as possible?

would you still love him after he told you all of the wrongings he did to make things right for you and him?, he wondered.

the look in your eyes told you no, and because of that, his grip on your pinned hands loosened, the silence between you two remaining charged with tension. he saw the exact moment reality crashed down on you. your gaze faltered, and for a moment, you looked like you were going to cry.

he would hate to see you cry because of him, even though deep down he knew how lovely you looked while pouring your eyes out. he have seen it a thousand times before. caleb wanted to make you cry in other circumstances, not right now.

his lips pressed into a forced smile, and your breath hitched as his eyes shone faintly in the dim light of the kitchen candles. though the light wasn’t very effective, the touch of his gloved hand was enough to confirm the truth: this wasn’t a fucking stranger.

caleb felt when you stopped fighting and caved into his touch, scared to death. he let go of your mouth and stared right at your lips.

“no,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to clear a hallucination. your hands remained bound, your feet still searching for the floor. “this can’t be true.”

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “it’s me.” his voice was calm, too familiar, too real. too cruel.

your body trembled with his tone, his breath fanning on your cheeks while your eyes scanned his. it felt wrong to say anything at the moment, fear still there in your eyes.

your body snapped into action, reality slamming into you like a tidal wave. you raised your knee, aiming to knock him off balance, desperate to banish the ghost standing in your kitchen.

but the colonel moved faster.

his hand shot out, catching your leg with unnerving precision. before you could react, he hoisted you over his shoulder effortlessly.

you stumbled, panic surging through your veins. your instincts screamed at you to fight, to move, to do something.

“let me go” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and fury, punching his back in a futile attempt to stop him. “who are you? who sent you?”

“i came to see you,” he said simply, his voice steady and unnervingly calm. his eyes darted around the apartment, scanning every corner like a predator assessing its prey. “you didn’t think i’d stay away forever, did you?”

why did he sound so smug and heartless? it pissed you off.

realization set heavy on your shoulders—did he... did he fake his own death?

“you’re a fucking asshole.” you didn’t care that this man was more than six feet tall or that he wore a military uniform of all things, you kicked and screamed as much as you could after he threw you onto the couch—the very place you’d landed earlier that evening.

the moment he released you, you inched toward the center table where your spare weapon was stashed.

caleb’s smile faltered, replaced by something darker. his voice dropped, softer but laced with unsettling intensity. “i hope you cooperate from now on, pipsqueak.”

the words sent a chill down your spine.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you spat, pistol in hand, ready to aim.

his gaze flicked to your movement, and before you could react, he was there. his hand closed around your wrist, pinning it to the couch with a force that made you gasp.

“you’re not going to hurt me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing, though the intensity in his purple eyes told a different story. “i’d never hurt you. you know that.”

you struggled against his grip, your heart pounding as fear twisted into anger. “let me go, caleb.”

“not until you listen,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “will you stop fighting and thrashing around? i need to see if you are ready”

“ready for what?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage.

“for us,” he said simply, his tone calm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them pressing down on you like a storm. “what the hell is ‘us’? you died. i watched you fucking die, asshole.”

he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours, his voice a low whisper. “and i came back—for you.”

the weight of his presence, his words, was suffocating. for a moment, you froze, your mind racing for a way out.

it sounded so intimate, so romantically unsettling having him above you and saying things that made your heart clench. you hoped the hurt in your eyes was visible to the man. you hoped he still had sympathy and felt guilt somewhere underneath that uniform.

caleb stepped back, releasing your wrist but still blocking your path, his expression softening slightly as he examined you. “i need you to be quiet until i can tell you everything.”

“who do you think you are? you filthy liar”. 

caleb’s gaze flickered as your words hung between you, unspoken accusations slicing through the air like shards of glass. he shifted his weight, his broad frame now more a shadow than a presence in the dim room. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something—anything—but instead, he exhaled, a quiet sound that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"you look as pretty as always, princess", his whisper reached your ears and you felt a wave of anger wash over you.

"i don't know what you did to caleb, but right now is not the time for games". you spat the words with disgust.

"you think you know anything?" he asked, voice low but steady. his eyes, catching the faint glow of the candlelight, held yours. he looked scary above you. 

"you think that you are right?," you bit back, the ache in your ribs forgotten under the pressure of the moment. "faking a death isn’t something i take lightly in my books”.

his jaw tightened, the faintest tremor in his hand betraying him as he sighed. the silence stretched again, taut and heavy, before he finally spoke. “trust me to take care of you as i always did, pipsqueak, i just need more cooperation from you this time. i needed to do that so I could've gotten rid of josephine”.

the vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, stealing whatever biting retort was forming on your tongue. you searched his face, the faint scars etched into his skin, the weariness in his eyes. "what the fuck did you just say?" you said softly, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. 

caleb’s expression shifted as he saw the tense tone of your voice, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. regret? anger? it was gone too fast to tell. "i said what i said," he replied, his tone measured, almost calm—too calm. "josephine was a threat. she had to go, and i handled it and you should put this in your mind and move on."

"you handled it?" the words came out as a growl. the disbelief, the rage, the grief—it all boiled over. "you’re talking about the woman who raised me, caleb. who raised you. and you expect me to just—what—trust that you had your reasons? that it’s fine because you handled it?"

you got up from the sofa and watched him tower over you once again, not being afraid to fight him out of your house this time. you took a step further and watched the surprise on his face mix with a hint of mischief.

"you must have lost your mind, who the fuck sent you here? answer me." you asked, your voice sharper now, frustration spilling over.

he stepped closer, the shadow he cast stretching long across the dim room. his voice dropped, soft but firm, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. "the sooner you accept the truth, the easier all of this will turn out for you. josephine was a loose thread that could put you at harm and, trust me, i won’t let anything or anyone put you at risk."

"shut up," you snapped, your hands shaking as they clenched into fists. "don’t you dare put this on her. don’t you dare tell me you did this for me." you pushed past him, pacing to the other side of the room as if distance could lessen the fury building inside you. "you’re out of your fucking mind if you think i’m going anywhere with you. you—i mourned you, caleb".

caleb turned, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locking onto yours. "you don’t have a choice," he said simply. "if you want a chance of surviving, you’ll accompany me to the farspace fleet so you can prove to me that you are not a threat, this isn’t a quest, Y/N.”

"stop acting like you’re my savior," you shouted, spinning to face him. "you lied to me, faked your death, and now you show up here, in my home, telling me what to do? you’ve lost the right to give me orders, caleb. i don’t have to prove you shit"

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, something like frustration flashed across his face. "you’re impossible," he muttered, more to himself than to you. “don’t make me take you by force, princess, this is already hard enough for me”.

his presence felt heavier now, more intimidating and more overwhelming. “hear me out on this one, pipsqueak, you do as i say and we can have a nice chat. there’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room, can’t you see? you do what you’re told and you don’t cause any trouble, this is my final warning”.

caleb’s gaze didn’t waver, feelings too strong for him to back down.

“you think i trust you wholeheartedly as well? don’t you think i know about what you’re capable to do, what weapon they made you become?”, he questioned, raising more questions about your past to the surface.

you hesitated, your chest heaving as you glared at him, every instinct screaming at you to fight, to run, to do anything but listen.

“you think i don’t know what you’re capable of? you’ve got every right to hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in danger and i’m the only one who can keep you alive.”

he stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the tiled kitchen floor, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with your unease. the space between you vanished with every deliberate step he took, and before you realized it, the cool edge of the counter pressed against your back.

“i came here to get you so i can protect you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender, though his eyes burned with something far less kind. “won’t you trust me, pipsqueak?”

you swallowed hard, your ribs aching as the tension tightened around you like a vice. the pain flared again on your right side, but you forced it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing your weakness. caleb’s arms came up, caging you between them, his palms braced on the counter on either side of you. his breath was warm against your skin, the faint scent of mossy perfume and something metallic clinging to him.

his amethystine eyes locked onto yours, drawing you in and daring you to look away. “josephine wasn’t innocent,” he murmured, the words deliberate, each one cutting deeper than the last. “she was the only way left they could get to you easily. so i had to get rid of her.”

the shock and fury bubbling in your chest clawed their way to the surface, but before you could lash out, he moved. slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands, his movements calm but weighted with unspoken meaning. his right hand hovered between your bodies as he tugged off his glove, revealing cold, gleaming metal where flesh once was.

your breath hitched, your eyes widening despite yourself. the intricate machinery of his prosthetic glinted dully in the dim light, a jarring contrast to the warmth of his other hand still braced beside you.

“i didn’t get out of there without paying a price,” he continued, his tone dipping lower, the faintest hint of bitterness creeping into his words. “if that makes you feel better.”

the sight of the metal, the weight of his confession, sent your mind reeling. you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the fury that kept you standing, but the cracks in his armor—the familiar of his voice, the faint tremor in his hand—made it harder to breathe.

“turns out i gave them everything they wanted to have even more control over my body,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, studying your reaction like a predator watching prey. “you’re not the only ever victim in this room, princess, don't you see?”

his words hit like a punch to the gut, the nickname twisting something deep inside you. your eyes burned, the sting of unshed tears making your vision blur. compassion clawed its way forward, fighting against the iron grip of your fury.

he leaned closer, his voice softening, wrapping around you like a velvet noose. “don’t you see now? i’m your only way out. only i can make you safe, princess.” his head tilted slightly, his gaze piercing through the layers of anger and fear you’d built around yourself. “why don’t you see it?”

the way he said it—like it was inevitable, like you were foolish for resisting—sent a fresh wave of defiance coursing through you. your fingers twitched at your sides, curling into fists. the tears threatening to spill were not ones of submission but of frustration, of fury that he could twist your pain and vulnerability into leverage.

your hands trembled as you shoved against his chest, trying to create even an inch of space between you. “you’re the danger here, caleb.”

his expression hardened, though the faintest flicker of something else—hurt? regret?—crossed his features. he caught your wrists before you could push him further, his grip firm but not painful, his proximity suffocating.

“i won’t let you go this time,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge replaced with something closer to desperation. his eyes seemed to ignore every red signal your body emitted. “what are you afraid of, pipsqueak? c'mon, it’s me, caleb”.

the charged silence that followed was unbearable, the tension between you a living, breathing thing. the weight of his words, the intensity in his gaze—it all felt too much, too close, and yet not close enough.

“answer me.”, he demanded, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “you need me, Y/N.”

you wanted to scream, to shove him back, to wipe that look of control and simmering frustration off his face, but the words stuck in your throat. it wasn’t fear keeping you quiet—it was the truth you didn’t want to admit. the truth you couldn’t admit.

“you don’t get to do this,” you managed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “you don’t get to leave me, fake your death, and then come back like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just—just fall in line and listen to you.”

his lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. instead, he exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as his grip on your wrists loosened ever so slightly. “i didn’t come back for you to listen,” he said, his tone soft but laced with an edge of frustration. “i came back to make sure you survive. with me.”

“you are crazy” you spat, shaking your head as you finally yanked your hands free from his grasp. “i don't know why you changed so much. you call this survival? being hunted, manipulated, dragged into whatever mess you’ve made? that’s not survival, caleb. that’s hell.”

“didn’t you want answers?!” he snaps, his voice cutting through the charged silence like a whip. his tone is sharp, frustration crackling in the air between you. for a moment, you flinched at his tone. “answers about your past, about granny, about the aether core that lives inside of you?”. he motions for your chest and you lean away from him.

caleb throws his daa hat on the floor and runs his gloved hand over his hair, desperation clinging into his actions. a move you were so used to seeing him doing as a teenager now seemed to paint his figure as someone totally different.

“guess what,” he continues, stepping closer, his boots scraping against the floor as the small space between you shrinks to nothing. “i’m the only one who can give you that.”

your back hits the counter again, the cold surface biting through your shirt as his presence looms over you. his hands grip the edge of the counter on either side of you, boxing you in, and his voice drops lower, quieter, but no less intense. “i know you’ve been looking for the truth. don’t pretend you haven’t. every decision you’ve made, every risk you’ve taken, it’s all been for answers.”

the weight of his words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, as if the walls of the apartment were closing in. his voice, low and deliberate, carried the kind of certainty that felt like a blade against your resolve. you hated that he knew so much, hated the way his presence seemed to draw out every buried question, every lingering doubt you’d tried so hard to silence.

the truth of it stung more than you wanted to admit. because it was true—wasn’t it? every decision, every desperate move you’d made since josephine’s death had been about finding the missing pieces. about understanding why your life felt like a jigsaw puzzle with crucial parts deliberately torn away.

you grew up with people like zayne and caleb so you’d become the best version of yourself. still, you felt unworthy of everything you have ever achieved.

you were... at a loss of words.

your ribs screamed in pain against the counter, the cold seeping through your shirt and grounding you in the moment. you wanted to push him away, to snap back with something that would shatter the arrogance in his voice. but instead, you found yourself staring at him—really staring—seeing the desperation etched into every line of his face. it wasn’t just his words that rattled you; it was the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of something far greater than just your shared past.

you noticed the tremor in his hand, the way it lingered too long on the counter’s edge, as if he were holding himself back from reaching for you. the way his eyes, though sharp and unrelenting, flickered with something almost... pleading.

caleb seemed to be holding himself back—as he always did. this time, though, you were not sure if you wanted him to break and consume you or to let you go and forget the two of you. this was the first time in your life where you felt close enough to the truth, close enough to calm the storm of questions in your mind. still, your grip on your ego seemed to be as tight as ever.

everything felt unfair because you were oh so tired. since onychinus, sylus and the aether core, your mind has been settled into finding answers of questions that were never asked in the first place. you were running in circles and you dreamed every night about how you missed caleb. how you knew he would guide you into the right path if he was alive at the moment.

now that he was here, something felt uncharacteristically right for the first time in weeks.

you need me, he said.

it was a bold statement, a manipulative one, but the worst part was the whisper of doubt it planted in your mind. what if he’s right? what if caleb, with all his possessive behavior, really did have the answers you’d been chasing? could you afford to ignore him—risk losing whatever truth he claimed to hold—just because you didn’t trust him right now? just because his posture changed and his eyes seemed a little darker?

had you the privilege of saying no to him?

you have always been so weak for him, haven't you?

your gaze dropped to his gloved hand, still gripping the counter, then to the hat he’d thrown carelessly onto the floor. there was something raw about the gesture, something that pulled at a part of you you’d long thought buried. it was the same caleb you remembered, the one who’d run his hands through his hair in frustration when things didn’t go his way, but now there was a hardness to him, an edge that made him almost unrecognizable.

he leaned in slightly, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. caleb’s hands cradled your face with an unsettling gentleness, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize every inch of your skin. his breath, warm and steady, fanned over your face, and the proximity made your pulse race despite every instinct screaming at you to pull away.

“do as i say, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of honeyed persuasion and steel. “you know deep down that i’m right.”

you hated how easily he saw through you, how his words made your chest tighten with the weight of unspoken truths. but there was a flicker of something else now—a sliver of curiosity, of reluctant consideration.

you stayed in silence.

“you’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the words were meant for no one but you. “what are you afraid of, princess? me?”.

his breath fanned over your cheek, the tension between you felt alive, electric, as if the air itself buzzed with anticipation. caleb’s hands cradled your face with a deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing your jawline like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch. his thumbs traced lazy circles just below your cheekbones, sending faint shivers rippling down your spine.

caleb was very meticulous about the way he touched you. his words—carved in desperation just for you. he brushed away the tears you were shedding, breath in synch with yours as if he wanted for you to share your burden with him.

his thumb brushed against your skin, warm and steady, the faintest hint of mint and wood lingering in the space between you. the closeness made your pulse quicken, the steady rhythm in your chest now erratic and impossible to ignore. his forehead almost touched yours, his lips dangerously close but not quite there, as if he were savoring the moment, drawing it out until the anticipation was unbearable.

you gripped his forearms, confused at the needy feeling clawing its way out of your chest, the longing for closeness and safety that your brain always seemed to tie with the body in front of you. the tenderness he reserved only for you made your heart flutter despite the cruel truths and harsh words that had passed between you.

“what are you afraid of, princess?” he murmured again, his voice impossibly soft, like a velvet thread weaving its way into your thoughts. “it’s just me.”

the way he said it—low and intimate, like he was speaking to the deepest parts of you—made your knees weak.

his metal hand slid down from your face, the cool pads of his fingers brushing over the curve of your neck and coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. the weight was grounding, steadying, but it also sent sparks racing across your skin. the meaning behind his touch was at odds with the coldness of his prosthetic; it felt like both a tether and a promise.

you wondered if he was using your evol against you, manipulating your emotions, or if it was just your stupid, traitorous heart making you feel like you were floating.

your breaths came shallow and uneven as the tension between you thickened, palpable and inescapable. his gaze flickered to your lips, the intensity in his eyes making your stomach twist with anticipation. you hated how much you noticed the way he leaned closer, the way his presence filled every inch of the space around you, until there was nothing left but him.

“you don’t have to be scared of me,” he said softly, his lips brushing the words into the air between you. “i’d never hurt you.”

the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think of a reason to stop him, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide, waiting to see if you would break the moment or lean into it. and for a heartbeat, you froze, the shock of it rooting you in place.

but the tenderness of his kiss, the way his hand tightened slightly on your shoulder as if to steady himself, drew you in. your fingers curled into his forearms, no longer in protest but in something closer to surrender, the heat of his closeness chasing away the cold air of the room. you felt something stir deep inside you when you felt the dips of his muscles underneath his uniform.

when did he became so big?

the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a mix of urgency and restraint, as though he were holding back a tidal wave of emotion. you felt the shift in him—the desperation, the longing he’d tried to bury under layers of control. it poured out now, raw and unguarded, and it pulled something equally raw from within you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven. his hands stayed where they were, steadying you as much as himself, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any words could.

“just me,” he whispered again, his voice breaking slightly, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

you're here┃caleb uses you as hostage at the farspace fleet next!┃caleb teaches you his love language ( on going series )

author's note: want to cry more while reading? listen to remember me by d4vd and tell me that this song doesn't describe mc and caleb perfectly. SORRY FOR THE POOR ENDING, i'll make a part two of this post soon, follow me to get updated when i post or just check my masterpost from time to time :) send me a request • my masterpost

[immoral-stranger]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 // 𝐌𝐕𝟏

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒. 🪐 “I like to stick to walls. Observing conversations, lifting them when they fall.” – Foster the People, Fire Escape.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: There's a dinner party and reader is a chef, so a lot of talk about food. Reader is also very self-deprecating. Allusions to issues regarding mental health and self-worth, but it's not really the main story. It makes sense, I promise, I just don't know how to warn about it.

A/N: My sister requested this after we watched the movie Sommartider (very swedish), so there's a similar scene in that. I personally find this one very cute. ♡

The apartment smelled of butter and garlic, the scent clinging to the sun-warm kitchen, filled with light that spilled through the sheer linen curtains. It was small but charming, a snug little nest tucked into the hills of the French Riviera, not too far from Nice. You stood at the counter, hands damp from having peeled potatoes, a half-prepared gratin tray in front of you. It had been a gift from your parents, a fittingly named Marseille bleu Le Creuset roasting pan. You would’ve never bought it for yourself—too expensive—but as a gift, you’d been thankful to receive it. 

“Did you decant the wine like I told you?” Imogen’s voice drifted from the other room, where she was preening in front of the gilded mirror you’d picked up at a flea market. It wasn’t her style—too rustic, too worn—but she’d said it added “charm” to your place, always opting for a backhanded compliment instead of the truth. She hated your style because it was the opposite of hers. 

You didn’t look up from your work. “No, uhm—”

“Kinda busy,” she interrupted, breezing in. Imogen always moved like she was on a runway, even barefoot in her sister’s modest kitchen. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun, and she wore a silk blouse that you suspected cost more than your entire apartment deposit. Sponsored, most definitely. She paused to eye the tray in front of you. “What even is that?”

“The base to dauphinoise potatoes,” you said, flicking a glance at her. She didn’t care about the answer; she never did. Imogen asked questions to fill the air, not to gather information. You also suspected that she loved the sound of her own voice so much that she never felt the need to shut the fuck up. 

She wrinkled her nose, but it was half-hearted, like a habit she wasn’t willing to break. “I still can’t believe you do this out of pure enjoyment.”

You shrugged, lifting a knife to thinly slice another potato. “Everyone needs to eat, Imogen.”

“Yeah, that’s what Uber Eats is for,” she said breezily, perching on one of your barstools. “No need to go to culinary school.”

You turned to give her a pointed look, hand on your hip. “And who do you think works in the kitchens at the restaurants you order from?”

Imogen made a face, part exasperated and part amused, and waved you off. “You do not always have to poke holes in other people’s logic. It’s an unattractive trait.”

Before you could respond, the sharp trill of the doorbell cut through the room. Imogen’s eyes widened, and she hopped off the stool in a single fluid motion. “Oh god, that’s them—” She smoothed her blouse and gave herself a quick glance in the reflection of a hanging copper pot. “Do I look good?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but your voice softened in spite of yourself. “You always do. It’s your job.” 

As Imogen floated toward the door, a knot of tension twisted in your stomach. It wasn’t jealousy—it never had been. It was more complicated than that: a mix of frustration and yearning that you didn’t want to untangle. Imogen walked through life as though she owned the air around her, while you had spent most of yours holding your breath. 

She pulled the door open with a practiced flourish, stepping aside to let Daniel stroll in first. His confidence and laughter preceded him, a quick kiss placed on Imogen’s cheek, and she giggled in a way that made you want to hurl. 

Daniel moved with the kind of ease that made it impossible to tell if he was posing or simply existing. Former Formula 1 driver, now Imogen’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, who appeared far more interested in globetrotting and sponsorships than in anything truly meaningful with her. With a bit of self-distance, you actually really enjoyed Daniel’s presence. He was funny and kind, even though you had nothing in common. 

“Danny, always good to see you,” you said, managing a polite smile as he stepped into the kitchen, lifting your attention from the food preparations. 

“Whatever it is you’re cooking smells wonderful,” he replied, inhaling deeply. “This is Max,” Danny added, stepping aside to reveal the man behind him. 

Through a gap, you could spot Imogen in the entryway, observing your reaction and how you greeted the both of them. It was almost like she wanted to make sure you wouldn’t embarrass yourself—or, worse—embarrass her. You, of course, knew who she had invited over for dinner. You’d had to sit through hours worth of gossip all the times you and Imogen caught up on each other’s lives. So, having two world-famous athletes stand in your kitchen wasn’t as surreal as it may sound. 

Max was taller than you’d expected, his broad shoulders and quiet presence making the doorway seem smaller. Clad in a simple black t-shirt, he seemed like any other guy your age. He looked relaxed but not indifferent, his gaze curious as he took in your modest apartment.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to resist the rising amusement. “Danny, I don’t know if it’s funny or offensive that you think I don’t know who he is.” 

They both chuckled slightly at your words, and it was like you could see how tension released from Imogen’s shoulders, instantly becoming a couple centimeters shorter. 

“I would shake your hand, Max, but I have oil all over mine,” you said, holding up your slick fingers as evidence, before returning to the food, dealing with a marinated cut of meat. 

“Right,” Danny said, clapping Max on the shoulder and steering him further into the room. “She’s got this whole culinary genius thing going on, doesn’t she? Always smells like a five-star restaurant in here.”

“Not exactly,” you said, though the compliment made your cheeks feel warm. You glanced up at Max, who was still watching you, his smile small but genuine.

“Well, don’t let us interrupt your masterpiece,” Imogen said airily. “We’ll stay out of your way. You’ve got this under control, right?”

You only nodded, turning back to the food. It wasn’t until you heard Imogen’s laughter trailing into the living room that you allowed yourself to relax. There was a faint comfort in being in your element, even if you weren’t entirely alone.

In the background, you heard them talk as Imogen poured up glasses of wine for everyone. The wine she had forgotten to decant—that you knew needed air to taste decent. You heard her talk about the wine like it was something special. You, however, knew that she had stolen all of her knowledge from when she shot an ad for a winery somewhere in South Africa, and it didn’t particularly look like either Max or Danny cared that much. Ironic, for someone who had their own wine company, but you also got tired of hearing Imogen talk about things she didn’t really care enough about to research but talked about anyway to seem interesting. 

As she poured the fourth and final glass, you saw Max pick up two of them in your periphery. You tried to not visibly tense up as you heard his steps approach across your creaking wooden floors. He set both the glasses down on your kitchen island with a careful clink. 

With a wordless nod, you thanked him, picking one of the glasses up and swiveling the red liquid around to aerate it. 

Max lingered near the counter, his hands tucked into his pockets as he studied the array of ingredients you had spread out around you. “Is that you?” he asked, nodding toward a framed photo on the wall. 

It was one of the few remnants of your short-lived modeling career—an editorial shot of you, disturbingly close up, showing skin texture and flyaway hairs, vivid watercolour-like makeup in patches around your face and neck. You didn’t even look like yourself in it, which maybe was why it was the only photo of yourself you could bear seeing every day as you spent time in your kitchen. 

“Totally narcissistic, I know,” you snorted, keeping your eyes on the frying pan sizzling on the stove. 

“No, uhm, I didn’t mean it like that.” Max’s tone softened. “I think it looks cool. You must model too then?” 

“Nope.” You shook your head, glancing up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “I mean, I tried to, but I quit a while ago and went to culinary school.”

“That explains all this.” Max said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“I may have gone overboard,” you admitted, laughing softly. 

Imogen, perched on the edge of the sofa like a cat surveying her domain, twirled a lock of her hair idly before cutting in smoothly. “Is she boring you with her food talk, Max?” Her voice had that lilting quality you recognized well—equal parts teasing and dismissive, designed to simultaneously charm and belittle.

You stiffened instinctively, your movements freezing, spatula scraping the bottom of the pan. 

Max, however, straightened slightly, his casual stance shifting. “Not at all,” he replied, his tone easy but resolute, as if dismissing her suggestion entirely. Then he turned toward you. “Actually…” He hesitated, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can I help with anything?”

“Oh, probably not,” you said, trying to recover from sounding too surprised. “Imogen always says that I’m like a dictator in the kitchen and that my recipes are unreadable.” 

Max stepped closer, peering down at your notebook with recipes, pages filled with messy handwriting, arrows, and scratchy diagrams. “No, I get it. It’s like a mind map. Makes it easier to see the process,” he said after a moment. “Even if I don’t know what half of these things mean. What even is… a wild turkey?” 

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised that he could make sense of your ramblings. Looking over, you saw his finger point to one ingredient. You let out an unguarded laugh, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it. “It’s bourbon, for the marinade,” you explained. “Does this look like turkey meat to you?”

The meat sizzling in the frying pan was obviously some cut of beef, to judge by the colour. You didn’t need to be a culinary expert to know that. 

“No,” Max admitted with a grin. “And it would be weird to measure meat in tablespoons.” 

Your lips quirked upward, and you reached for a pear from the fruit bowl beside you, along with a cutting board and a little knife. You were hesitant to give him one of your good knives, worried he’d cut himself the first thing he did. It was quite common for people to do when they were unfamiliar with the sharpness a chef’s knife could have. 

“I guess you can chop that pear in little cubes, if you want to help.” 

Max took the pear from you, turning it over in his hands as if he were inspecting some foreign object. “A pear?” 

“It’s for the salad,” you explained, already turning back to your own task. 

“You can put pear in a salad?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve eaten a pear since I was about seven.” 

You arched a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder to see that he was fully sincere. With swift movements, you took the knife and cut a slice of the pear before dipping it into a vinaigrette you’d already prepared. 

“Try it, for science,” you said, holding it up for him to taste. 

Max hesitated before taking a small bite, his brow furrowing slightly as he chewed. Then he nodded, his expression lightening. “Huh, you know what you’re doing.” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you dismissed his comment, turning to look at the stove again. 

Max chuckled in response, shaking his head. He then stepped closer to the counter as he grabbed a knife. His movements were unpracticed but deliberate, the pear wobbling slightly as he began chopping it into uneven pieces. You felt the familiar itch of not being in control, almost taking over your own movements. But, you stopped thinking for a moment. Dinner wouldn’t be ruined just because the pear wasn’t in perfect cubes. And Max was actually putting in effort, biting down on his tongue, a line forming between his brows as he focused.

“Are you always this much of a perfectionist,” you asked, viewing his motions, “or are you just showing off in front of me?” 

“I’ve never put this much brain capacity into anything before,” Max joked, adding a laugh as he examined one of the misshapen pear cubes. 

For a moment, the kitchen fell into an easy rhythm. Imogen and Danny’s laughter floated in from the other room, a sharp contrast to the quiet concentration shared between you and Max. You didn’t usually let anyone help in the kitchen—it was your sanctuary, your domain—but for some reason, with Max fumbling his way through chopping fruit and throwing curious questions your way, it didn’t feel like an intrusion. 

When the food was done, the four of you gathered around your dining table, decorated with pottery and plates that you had collected throughout the years. Nothing matched, just like you preferred it. The golden hour crept through the windows as the room filled with light from the sun and flickering candles. 

And the dinner went fine, just like it always did, even though you couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario of accidentally poisoning someone, or forgetting an allergy, maybe dropping the main dish right on the floor. Your sister and her company ate like they enjoyed it at least. The added blur of wine helping with the atmosphere. 

You were always the most quiet one in group settings, only speaking when spoken to, really. But you liked it that way. The stories Max and Daniel could tell from their lives were vastly more interesting than anything you had experienced anyway. Imogen too lived a more eventful life with fashion weeks and world travelling. Everyone seemed to like it that way too, the scrape of forks against plates punctuating Danny’s latest story. 

“…and when I finally got the bloody thing out of the house, the neighbour’s dog chased it straight back in,” Danny concluded, laughing as he leaned back in his chair. Imogen giggled, dabbing her lips with a napkin in that poised way of hers.

Max chuckled but shifted his gaze to you, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “So, how did you end up going from modeling to cooking?” He asked, after Danny was done telling the detailed story about a snake entering his house back home in Australia. 

You didn’t realise for how long you’d been quiet until you were now forced to speak, your voice sounding foreign to even your own ears. Setting your fork down, you answered, “I gave myself one last runway season to see if I could support myself. I walked three shows, while Imogen walked like thirty.”

“Thirty-two,” Imogen corrected, not missing a beat. She reached for her wine glass, taking a delicate sip before adding, “I’ll always believe you could’ve done it if you didn’t give up so easily.” Her tone was light but pointed. 

Your lips tightened. “I didn’t give up, Imogen—I moved on.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it,” she said with a faint shrug. “You never see yourself as anything special, always such a plain Jane.” 

The words settled heavily in the air, their weight pressing against your chest. For a brief moment, the table fell silent, the only sound the faint clink of cutlery against porcelain. You forced yourself to maintain an even expression as you reached for your glass of water. 

“It’s kind of hard to when you’re having dinner with three child prodigies,” you answered, letting out a pathetic laugh to conceal your emotions. 

For someone who was so afraid of you embarrassing her, Imogen really had no issue with her own words causing embarrassment for others. 

Max frowned slightly, his hands stilling as he turned toward you. “I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else—discomfort, perhaps.

“Yeah, right,” Danny said, nudging Max with an elbow. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, mate. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Max smiled faintly but didn’t reply. There was a softness in his expression that made your stomach twist, though you quickly moved your gaze to look at your plate; the uneven shapes of pear in the salad were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 

The conversation shifted, as it always did with Imogen, back to her. Something about a designer or a photographer saying she was the best model to work with. Something about a socialite event where ridiculous things had happened. Ridiculous meaning stupidly expensive or over the top. You wanted to laugh, knowing that they most likely didn’t use the real thing for the crazy champagne fountains she talked about, or that the sturgeon caviar they had served was a cheap knock-off, because no chef in their right mind would use the amount she mentioned. 

You zoned out as she talked, only starting to pay attention again when the conversation drifted towards what they were doing tonight and that they might need to call a cab soon. 

“Oh, where are you going?” you asked, unsure if you actually cared. 

“A sponsored event on a yacht in the marina. You know the jewelry company I did an ad for?” she replied casually, her tone almost bored.

You nodded, though the familiar ache of exclusion began to settle in your chest. You knew the exact advert she was referring to, not because you cared, but because those freaking pictures of her were everywhere. In stores, on every social media app, on digital billboards across multiple cities of the French Riviera—hell, you’d even seen it at a bus stop. 

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to come,” she added. The statement wasn’t cruel, but it stung all the same. “You never do.” 

Your fingers curled around the stem of your glass as you gave a small nod, keeping your face neutral. “No, I guess you’re right.” 

Max hesitated, glancing between you and Imogen. “I mean, she could come if she wanted to, right?”

“Yeah,” Imogen said, tilting her head as though the idea had never occurred to her. “I guess I could make a call to get you on the list.” 

“Don’t bother, you know it’s not my scene anyway,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you intended.

Danny grinned, leaning back in his chair. “A wild night for her is solving a crossword puzzle with a pen you can’t erase.” 

“Or,” Imogen added with a smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief, “when she’s brave enough, watching an episode of Criminal Minds instead of Friends like she usually does.”

Their laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls with the kind of ease you’d never quite mastered. It wasn’t malicious—at least not intentionally—but it still left a weight in your chest, heavy and familiar.

You kept your head down, pushing the last bit of salad around your plate, and told yourself you didn’t care. This was the dynamic, after all. Imogen had always been the star of the show, and Danny loved playing her supporting act. You had other friends who understood you better, who you had more in common with. Max, though—Max had been a surprise. And even now, as their laughter rang on, you caught him glancing at you from across the table, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

The dinner ended not long after. They had places to be, important people to talk to—while you had sitcoms to watch and dishes to take care of. You were happy to see Imogen every once in a while when she and Danny were both in Monaco, and you loved cooking for people, no matter who they were. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little happy knowing that Imogen was busy with work all throughout the upcoming month. 

As they filtered out, their voices trailing off into the warm Riviera night, the apartment felt suddenly too quiet. Locking the door after them, you slid down onto the floor, sitting with your knees tucked up towards your body, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hands, not caring if mascara crumbled all over your face. You felt empty, the hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. The half-drunk bottle of wine on the kitchen counter looked temping as you considered finishing it yourself. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Max trailed behind Danny and Imogen as they strolled toward the cab waiting just down the street. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of the sea, and the stars twinkled faintly above the rooftops.

Danny was cracking a joke, and Imogen’s laughter rang out like a bell, but Max barely registered it. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his mind somewhere else entirely—back upstairs, at the table, watching you push your food around with that faint, detached smile.

He slowed his steps, his feet dragging. The idea of the yacht party, the glitz and endless small talk, suddenly felt suffocating. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of leaving felt… wrong. Max hated events like that. Everyone knew that. And while it was nice to catch up with Danny since they didn’t see much of each other nowadays, he found Imogen insufferable. He could play padel with Danny tomorrow if he wanted to talk more with him. Before he could think better of it, Max stopped altogether.

“Hey,” he called after them, making Danny and Imogen turn around.

“What’s up?” Danny asked, his brow furrowing.

Max hesitated, then gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “I think I forgot my phone. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Imogen gave him a bemused smile, her head tilting slightly. “You sure? It’s not like we can wait forever.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Max said firmly, already stepping back. He waved them off. “Have fun.”

He turned before he could see their expressions and made his way back to the building.

The walk up the stairs felt oddly daunting now, each step heavier than the last, as though the weight of his own indecision was pulling him back. The soft hum of the building at night—the faint creak of pipes, the muffled sounds of life behind closed doors—seemed to grow louder with every passing moment. Max reached your door and hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly near the wood.

What was he even going to say? He wasn’t the type to overthink things, but this felt different. He didn’t want to overstep. What if you didn’t want company? The evening had already been a mixed bag of awkward moments, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse.

Max sighed, his arm lowering slightly, just about ready to turn back when he heard your voice from the other side of the door.

“I miss you too, like craaazy,” you said, your voice muffled but clear enough through the door. Max froze, his curiosity getting the better of him. You sounded close, as though you were standing right by the door. Picking up the pieces, he figured you were talking to someone over the phone. 

“Imogen and Daniel came over for dinner earlier, and he brought a friend of his, and it was the most awkward thing ever,” you spoke again. 

Max frowned slightly. He was the friend, of course. While he’d sensed some discomfort during the evening, particularly whenever the conversation turned toward you, he hadn’t thought it was that bad. Who would you be talking to like that anyway, debriefing something that had just happened? Did you have… a boyfriend? 

“Mum,” you added, your voice cutting through his doubt, “of course it was a boy.”

He relaxed a fraction, leaning slightly closer to the door without realizing it.

“A cute one, too,” you admitted. 

Max blinked, warmth creeping into his face. A cute boy. That was a twist he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t help but grin, his chest lifting slightly at the thought. And you definitely didn’t have a boyfriend.

“You don’t have to ask if I bottled it. You already know I did,” you said after a brief pause, your voice quieter now. “I’m not like Imogen. I don’t think I’ll ever learn to be that easygoing.” 

Max was back to frowning, this time for a different reason. He didn’t like the sound of that. He wanted to knock, to interrupt, but he didn’t move.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you,” you said, your tone softening into affection as you ended the call. “Tell Dad I said hi. Buh-bye.”

Max barely gave himself a moment to think before he raised his hand and knocked. There was a pause, long enough for him to wonder if you’d heard, and then your voice came through the door. 

“Did you forget something?”

By the sound of your voice, he could tell that you were expecting it to be Imogen coming back for something. Not him. 

Max smiled despite himself. “Yeah,” he said, the words coming out more confidently than he expected. “I think I did.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then he heard rustling from behind the door, almost as if you’d stumbled to reach it. The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing you with wide, startled eyes. You looked more tired than you had before, makeup and clothes a bit askew. He assumed Imogen had something to do with how polished you’d looked at the beginning of the evening. 

“Max?” you asked, your voice pitched slightly higher in surprise.

He cleared his throat, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I was wondering…” he started, shifting his weight but keeping his tone light, “if maybe, I could stay here and be boring with you?” 

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, though the words sounded stupid the moment they left his lips. He half-expected you to laugh, but instead, you blinked at him, your surprise melting into something softer.

“Uhm, yeah,” you said, stepping back to let him in. “Sure.”

Max stepped inside, and for the second time that night, he was struck by how inviting your apartment felt. The uneven warmth of the terracotta tiles beneath his feet, the mismatched chairs around the small dining table, and the array of plants lining the windowsill. It was nothing like he was used to, yet it felt like the picture-perfect definition of the word home.

Moving into the kitchen, his eyes landed on something on the counter—a tray of something, its surface dusted with cocoa powder.

“You made dessert?” he asked, tilting his head toward it.

“Yeah,” you said, shutting the door behind him, smoothing out your shirt with your hands. “I made tiramisu. Want some?”

Max didn’t hesitate. Moments later, he was seated on your sofa with a fork in hand, his first bite of the tiramisu silencing any lingering awkwardness. “Fuck me, this is like the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

You laughed, a soft, almost shy sound that Max couldn’t help but find adorable. You really couldn’t handle compliments well, and Max was going to use that to his advantage to make you wonderfully uncomfortable. “And you were going to have all this dessert for yourself instead of going out with us?” he asked, setting his fork down briefly to give you a look of mock betrayal.

“Well,” you said with a small shrug, sitting down beside him with your own plate of dessert. “I wasn’t really invited in the first place.”

Max frowned. “That’s not fair. They should’ve—”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s not my scene anyway.”

Max studied you for a moment, his fork hovering over the dish. You were the opposite of so many people that he knew. And so similar to himself that it was almost scary to him. 

Tucking up your legs under your body, you made yourself comfortable on the sofa before you continued talking. “I tend to stick to the walls in places like that anyway. Just observing conversations, trying but failing to lift them when they fall.” 

“Do you also feel like you’ve got a foot in your mouth whenever you open it?” he wondered honestly. 

“Exactly. Always putting my foot in my mouth,” you replied with a chuckle. 

“Sounds impressive to me,” he joked with a grin. “I’m not that agile.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You were the one to bring it up.” 

For a moment, the apartment settled into a quiet hum, the faint sounds of the outside world barely audible through the walls. Max leaned forward, setting his plate down on your coffee table. The TV was noticeably black in front of the two of you.

“So,” he asked, tilting his head slightly, “what is it tonight? A crime show or… what was the other thing?”

“Friends,” you replied, reading in his reaction. “You’ve never seen Friends?”

Max’s brows lifted. “Not really. Maybe bits and pieces, but I couldn’t tell you much about it.”

“Oh my god,” you said, your tone equal parts horror and humor as your eyes widened dramatically. “You have a lot to learn.”

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me everything I need to know.”

You smiled, a real one that softened your whole face. You picked up the remote, turning on the pilot episode. Max wasn’t really paying attention, but he liked how certain funny things made you audibly laugh. The more you watched and the more tiramisu you ate—the more the comfortable feeling spread like a fire through your living room, silently burning as he placed an arm around you and shared your blanket. 

This wasn’t where he’d thought he’d end up as he had entered your apartment the first time tonight, but now, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

౨ৎ [ main masterlist . taglist . other love letters ]

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send @freyathehuntress

[dcxdpdabbles]

I know you're done writing it -I KNOW- it doesn't need to be a scene or anything, but could you please just let us know if Danny ever said goodbye to Tim in adopted son?? Did he ever get closure like Dick did? I haven't stopped thinking of him 😭😭

Danny visited Tim in his dream the night before Tim released the information about Danny's death. He got closure but wasn't as understanding as Dick.

He doesn't forgive Officer Black, but understands where the anger comes from. He still has bursts of rage whenever he is reminded of how Danny was taken from him. He figures forcing the man to live with the guilt of killing his sister's rescuer and never letting him forget. He sends a reminder on Danny's death anniversary to Black's door with the words I have not forgotten what you have done. He forgives you but I never will.

Tim felt that Gotham took away the light the Infinite Realms had bestowed on them. So, he will focus on running the darkness in Gotham for the rest of his life to ensure it can no longer swallow up the lights.

Danny is very proud of him for ensuring everyone in the Justice System is treated fairly, and in a few short years, Tim will weed out all the corruption. It's how Steph meets him. She helped his Ghosts ensure her Dad faced the right amount of justice. Her drive and motivation impressed him, bringing her to a high level of clearance once she finished basic training with the newest street kids recruits.

She becomes his second hand after proving her abilities and belief in Tim's cause.

Tim also, after years of the Danny Crowne case, got all those involved in the disappeared children out of jail and jobs at Drake Co. They are just as powerful as Wayne Enterprise because they merged with Crowne since Danny left everything in his name to him and Tim bought the rest out.

Tim continues to train with mercenaries by paying them. He will later grab the attention of Ra, but the immortal will assume that Tim's lack of ambition outside of Gotham doesn't make him a person of interest. He is unaware of how weary Bruce is of Tim. No one outside of Gotham has Tim on their radar.

Tim has the means, the plans, and the abilities to take out the Justice League. He merely doesn't because they have never gotten in his way and it would have made Danny said if he did it without a good reason.

Tim is morally grey because Danny was morally grey. Yes, he rescued children and gave them safe homes and out of the streets, but Danny didn't do it legally. He possessed people in the Child Services to smuggle children out. He made deals with a few foster parents to look the other way and hid all of this from the law.

We know he wasn't hurting them, but others didn't, including Tim, for a long time. He just knew his brother made kids vanish. That is why he snoops and tries to figure out what Danny is doing.

I may write a time skip from Tim's pov cause this got a little too long.

[douwatahima]

real talk if i see any more posts listing queer shows that need to be saved and including good omens among them i'm gonna start blocking on sight i'm not fucking kidding

[insomniadreamzz]

I am sorry

Jinx x Fem!Reader angst

Jinx accidentally shooting Reader

All you could hear was a loud bang before feeling that stinging pain in your left shoulder, yelping as your right hand immediately hold your shoulder, gritting your teeth together at the pain.

Jinx once again lost control of herself, fighting against enforcers, seeing her sister become one of them, it was all too much for her and she kept shooting around herself like crazy only stopping as she heard your yelp, eyes widen as she saw you on the floor being hurt. Everyone else died or they made their way out of here before they could get killed by her gun. She just noticed only you and her being left as she came back to reality again, rushing over to you.

„Oh no! Who shot you?“ Of course she didn’t realise it was her who shot you, her gaze wandering to the wound on your shoulder, seeing blood dripping between your fingers. „J-Jinx…it’s okay I know you didn’t do it on purpose..“ You mentioned as you laid weakly in her arms as she cradled you closer to her. „N-No…no it…can’t be. I am so sorry!“ Jinx was about to panic again but that won’t help both of you. She cupped both of your cheeks, tears running down her own cheeks. „Please don’t die! Please don’t you leave me as well…p-please I need you! I am so sorry!“ The pain in her voice was audible, your heart aching with hearing her being so heartbroken but forming words were so hard for you at this moment, feeling dizzy from the blood loss.

„I am not gonna lose you as well…“ Jinx said, picking you up into her arms as she brought you to Singed. All of this is reminding her of when Silco saved her. She knew it won’t be that bad like when she needed Silco’s help, the difference was you weren’t dead but you passed out in her arms. If she would wait more, you might die but thanks to the shimmer in her veins, Jinx was fast.

„Singed! Please! Please help me.“ Jinx begged, a totally new sight to the man, she usually wasn’t this desperate for help so he already knew something bad happened, his gaze moving to your passed out body in her arms, the blood painting your bodies which was dripping out of your wound but you were still breathing. One good sign.

„Alright I won’t ask. Put her on my table, I will see what I can do.“ He mentioned and Jinx did as he said, letting him do his job as she had to force herself to trust him.

A little time passed, Singed walked over to Jinx who was waiting for you just in another room, not wanting to see what he was doing to you so she won’t fuck up things anymore, his footsteps getting her back to reality. „She is fine. You’re lucky the bullet didn’t hit her heart. I think she will just need time to rest, the bullet is out and her wound wrapped.“ He explained, Jinx couldn’t help but cry, nails digging into her own thighs. „Fuck!…it’s all my fault she ended up hurt like this. Again I am the one who fucks up and loses important people to me!“ She yelled before rushing towards you, you were laying down, your breathing calm and you looked peaceful but Jinx’s heart was broken.

She mumbled something to the voices in her head, having an argument with them while she stayed close by your side, her hand holding yours. A little groan escaped your lips as you slowly came back to reality again, opening your eyes to see Jinx being a total mess beside you, eyes red from crying, her makeup all smudged.

„You’re alive…“ She muttered before hugging you tightly as she broke down on you. „I am so sorry!“ Jinx apologized again, you knew she truly was, gently caressing her back to try to comfort her. „Hey…it’s okay.“ You said, still a little weak, making her look up at you, seeing her cry made you feel so sad. „Jinx…it really-…“ You started but she cut you off. „No! It’s not okay. I almost killed you. Everyone near me dies! I don’t want you to die…you deserve someone better than me…I am just a ticking bomb, if you keep staying with me…I am scared you will die.“ Her whole body was shaking, you couldn’t believe what she just said. You knew a life with her is dangerous but you also didn’t want to live without her. But before you could say anything, Jinx ran away, leaving you there, making your own eyes tear up. This can’t be the end.

A few days later you recovered and Singed gave you permission to leave. Your shoulder was still stinging but that didn’t stop you from going back to Jinx’s hideout. You hoped she was there, hoping she didn’t do anything to herself, knowing her mental health was fucked.

When you arrived there, you saw a mess all around the place, she really must have freaked out the past days. You cursed under your breath, worrying even more now about her health and then you found her. She passed out on her halfway destroyed couch, her knuckles red, bleeding a little, showing you she might have punched something so hard to hurt herself. You frowned as you carefully sat down beside her, a hand slowly approaching her as you wanted to caress her and showing her you are here. „Hey…wake up I am here…“ You whisper and she woke up with a little groan, eyes widening when she saw you. „What are you doing here?? Are you real or am I seeing things again???“

You shook your head, cupping her with tears stained cheeks gently. „It is me. You think I would let you go? I must be stupid to let you go. You are everything to me. Accidents happen, I am not mad at you, nor do I want to leave you. I love you too much for that.“ You explained, making her feel all emotional again as tears ran down her cheeks, her lip quivering „H-How can you still love me…I-I did this…“ Jinx said with a shaky voice, her shaky hand moving to gently touch the bandage that covered your wound.

„Because I do. Love is stronger than anything else you know? We can get through this together. I won’t ever give up on you Jinx.“ You managed to say without breaking out into tears but Jinx did as she just got closer and kissed you, making you kiss her back.

The kiss lasted for a while before you both pulled back to breathe, you wiping her tears from her cheeks with a warm smile and finally Jinx smiled as well. „I love you so much too…you’re my dream girl and I promise you to never hurt you again…“ She said before both of you ended up kissing each other passionately.

[moonylvs]

✧.* Someone Older

Summary: Being Sevika's girlfriend is already something controversial, to say that all eyes are on you is an understatement, but being much younger than Sevika, gives much more to talk about, Sevika didn't believe that someone could make her so soft, that was until you came along.

This is a little story of how your relationship started and what sevika is like as a girlfriend ;)

This was a Request from an Anon! I hope you like it xoxo

Pairing: Sevika x fem!reader

Words: 4.5k!

ⓘ Warnings: Legal age gap (Reader is of the legal age, she's in her 20s) Men being jerks (insinuations), mentions of alcohol, sevika is a big softie (Because I want to and I can), no proofread, I think that's it, lmk if I forgot anything.

Your history with Sevika was a bit chaotic to say the least, you worked at the last drop as a waitress from time to time, it wasn't the best place but there weren't many job opportunities in Zaun, this was the best you could find, for now.

The first time you saw Sevika was in your first week of work, the woman was in a corner of the bar, playing cards with other local men, with a glass of what looked like whiskey in her hand.

That day you didn't think much of it, you had a dozen tables to serve and on top of that you had to dodge the flirtations of some men who didn't seem to understand your very direct hints that you simply weren't interested in them.

You had to adapt quickly to the job, there were many things to do and few people working and helping you, despite this, you managed to adapt quickly, you were good at serving customers and you were fast, which were very useful qualities in that place.

For the first time after a month you had to attend to the table where Sevika was with other people, in one of her usual card games, although you didn't want to admit it, Sevika's presence was intimidating, but in that job you couldn't be scared or turn back.

“Can I offer you something? Any drinks or food?” You asked politely, holding up a small notepad, awaiting her orders.

“Oh yeah, I have a few things in mind that you could offer me” Said one of the men at the table, looking you over from head to toe with a smirk.

Sevika instantly tensed at the man's words, her jaw tensing just enough to stop herself from saying anything.

“Do you have a name?” The same man asked, not taking his eyes off you.

“I'll just ask one more time, can I offer you something to drink or eat?” you said again, speaking slowly as if you were dealing with children, trying to keep your tone polite, you knew that insults would only cause them to make a complaint and you couldn't afford a pay cut.

The other men at the table seemed to notice your frustration and simply told you their order, some with a more rude and condescending tone.

“A whiskey, please” Sevika said without looking up from her cards, but her tone was kinder than the rest of the people at the table.

You nodded slightly, grateful that someone at the table knew how to say please.

Minutes later you returned with the drinks, leaving them on the table with a friendly smile, though at this point, you were more than exhausted.

“Thank you” Sevika murmured as you handed her the glass of whiskey, still totally focused on her card game, for a moment your gaze rested on her hands, specifically the one holding her cards, you couldn't help a smile to appear on your face, she was going to win.

A few seconds later you proved it, when while you were serving some drinks at the table in front of her, you heard the complaints of the men at the moment that Sevika lowered her cards, all upset because the woman had won, again.

You spent the rest of the night serving drinks for Sevika's table, to your surprise, the man who had made a pass at you didn't say a word again, which was strange, they didn't usually give up so easily, but anyway, you were grateful you didn't have to listen to him.

Little by little people started to leave and the place began to empty, people went with you to pay their tabs at the bar and left, you were finally starting to relax, soon the night would be over and you could take a well-deserved rest.

“Here” Sevika said as she approached the bar, extending the money to you, but you instantly frowned, noticing that it was more than she owed on her tab and it was too much to be a tip.

Sevika seemed to notice your confusion and spoke “It's because of Finn, he's a jerk sometimes, I'm sorry”.

You frowned even more, until you remembered the guy sevika was sitting with, the man who had made a pass at you, you immediately shook your head, making a move to return the money to sevika.

“No, no, you don't have to apologize or give me extra” You said kindly, Sevika was not to blame for that man being a jerk and you couldn't charge extra to every idiot no matter how much you wanted to.

“Take it as a tip” Sevika said seriously, gently pushing your hand with the money and walked out of the place, leaving you with the money in your hands.

You stood still, it wasn't normal for someone to give you that kind of tip, but immediately a smile spread on your face, that money would be very useful, you wouldn't have to worry about that month's rent anymore.

To your surprise, sevika kept showing up at the bar practically every week, and every time she went she left you the same generous amount of tip, it was more than anyone else would give you, plus she was always nicer than the rest of the customers, sometimes even engaging you in small conversations, which you started most of the time, but sevika was more than happy to follow, your conversations were not long or personal, just small chats about her card games or about trivial zaun topics.

Even though sevika's little appearances made your nights a little better, you still had annoying customers who would take every opportunity to try to flirt with you or act like idiots.

This did nothing but wear you out, you had enough with having to attend to a dozen tables to still have to deal with idiots who wanted to sleep with you.

So here you were today, the bar was almost completely empty and your shift was over, you were sitting at one of the tables in the back trying to convince yourself not to quit, you were exhausted and had no energy at all, you had no family or close friends, so you had no one to complain to about your problems, it ended up with you holding it all in until you felt you couldn't take it anymore.

“Are you all right?”

A voice brought you out of your thoughts, trying not to sigh you looked up and nodded slightly, it was sevika who spoke, after her constant visits you now recognized her instantly

“Do you need anything? We'll be closing in about 15 minutes” You said kindly despite how tired you were.

Sevika shook her head instantly, she had been about to leave until she saw you at that table alone and totally exhausted.

“Are you really okay? You look…exhausted” Sevika said, her voice softer than usual, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

“Yeah…it was just a long day” You said softly, your voice showing how exhausted you were, sevika noticed instantly that it wasn't just physical exhaustion, but mental.

Even though you didn't notice it, sevika always kept an eye on you when she went to the bar, it was like something about you magically attracted her, it was probably all the energy you usually had, you usually looked cheerful and lively, the complete opposite of this moment, plus she had seen you deal with dozens of idiot men, you always found a way to ignore them or make them look foolish when they tried to pick you up, but even though you made it look easy, sevika knew it wasn't, she knew it was exhausting.

“Yeah, it must be exhausting to deal with these idiots and still keep that pretty smile of yours” Sevika murmured nonchalantly, sitting on the chair in front of you, you didn't know why but something stirred in you, that compliment wasn't like the ones you heard everyday, her words sounded sincere.

“You have no idea” You replied in a sigh, remembering how exhausting your night had been, it always surprised you how jerks some customers could be, every night was hard, it was Zaun at the end of the day, but that night it felt worse, you didn't know why.

“And why are you still here?” sevika asked, although the question sounded rather stupid to you, you knew she was asking out of genuine curiosity. “You're young to be in a place like this.”

You sighed slightly, somewhat frustrated, you knew you were young, that there were probably more opportunities for you, but being in Zaun things weren't easy, though you didn't want to spend your whole life in a crappy bar either.

“I…I have nowhere else to go…this is the best job I could find” You said simply, without giving more details, your voice sounded resigned, because you were, you had to settle for this.

Sevika nodded slightly, she knew that maybe her question had been a bit stupid , it was obvious that in Zaun you had to make do with what there was, she knew why you worked there, you needed to put food in your mouth and survive, everyone did what they had to do to survive, she knew that better than anyone.

“And what about your family? Or friends?” Sevika asked, her voice softer than usual, she didn't want to believe you had no one by your side to support you.

“I've been on my own for a while now…It's hard to make friends when I spend all my time in this damn place” You explained quietly, your voice echoing with bitterness, you didn't want to say you hated your job, but it definitely wasn't the place you expected to be in your 20s, this definitely wasn't the life you expected to have in your 20s.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't be complaining, my job must sound ridiculous compared to yours” You said after a few seconds in silence, you felt dramatic for complaining about your job to someone like sevika, everyone knew that sevika was practically in charge of keeping the undercity people at line.

Sevika couldn't contain the small smile on her face at gracie's last words, it wasn't a mocking smile, but rather a tender one, a girl gracie's age, a bar waitress, complaining about her job to a woman like sevika, who had seen the cruelty of the city face to face, was a somewhat amusing situation.

“You work all damn day and deal with a bunch of idiots, you can complain all you want” Sevika said casually, although her voice sounded sincere, it sounded understanding, which was the opposite of what you would expect from a woman like her.

Something in you stirred at her words, you used to tell yourself that you couldn't complain, that you were living a good life compared to others, that your life wasn't that bad, even others had told you that, but here was sevika, the toughest woman you had ever seen, the one who definitely had it worse than you, telling you that you could complain all you wanted.

“You don't have to act like you don't care all the time, you have the right to complain about your life when it feels like shit.” Sevika said quietly, without looking at you, instead she stood up, she herself didn't know why she was being so soft on you, there was something about you, something that made it impossible for her to act rude to you.

“Shall I walk you home?” sevika asked after a few moments, your legs practically moved by instinct, standing up and starting to walk beside her towards the exit of the bar, which at this point was empty and closing.

That was the first of a dozen times that sevika walked you home, that day for the first time you could complain to someone about how shitty your life was, sevika wasn't very good at comforting you, but she listened attentively and gave you advice from time to time.

Sevika spent the next few weeks walking you home, she didn't even ask anymore, she just waited until your shift was over and walked you home, most of the time she tried to get you to talk, although she didn't talk too much, she just asked you how your day was and let you talk all the way, telling her absolutely everything, she quickly found out that you enjoyed talking a lot and although she wouldn't admit it, she enjoyed listening to you talk.

Sevika hesitated too much to ask you out, when I say too much is too much, she spent a week thinking whether to do it or not, she liked you, she had accepted it after a while, but something in her still doubted that you liked her.

Sevika did not have low self-esteem, not at all, but something about you made her doubt, you were much younger than her and your personalities were very different, Sevika did not believe that you could fall in love with someone like her, a rough and closed woman, much older than you.

Even so sevika started to change a bit with you, doing little acts as if to test the waters, trying to see if you would respond the same way.

But of course, sevika wasn't very subtle with her actions, this woman doesn't know how to be subtle, yet you pretended not to notice anything and let her buy you drinks, bring you food, give you her jacket and so on.

Still you couldn't help but laugh when you noticed that sevika really thought she was being subtle, you thought it was cute, but you didn't say anything, you didn't have the heart to say it.

When Sevika finally got up the courage to ask you out on a real date she was surprised when you accepted right away, for the first time you left her speechless.

“Really?” Sevika asked incredulously, as if she didn't really believe you would have accepted so easily.

You nodded instantly, giving sevika a small smile, that smile that made her so weak.

On your first date Sevika showed up with a small bouquet of flowers, that bouquet had cost her a full salary, flowers were expensive in Zaun, but Sevika didn't care, she once heard you say you loved flowers and she promised to give you one.

During that first date, sevika could say for the first time, that she had a wonderful time, she had never been someone for the cheesy stuff, at her age she felt ridiculous doing it, but you were the opposite, your smile was contagious and made her feel like a teenager in love even if she didn't show it.

Listening to you talking about your life and your dreams made sevika realize that you were the one, something in her still felt insecure, not because of you, but because of herself, you seemed so cheerful and full of life, she was afraid that by her side you would lose that spark, that her temper would make you fade, sevika never expected that it would be the other way around, that you would make her become brighter and cheerful, that you would make her feel alive after so many years.

So after their first date, that wednesday that sevika remembered perfectly, in that cafeteria that seemed like a dream, sevika felt something new grow in her, for the first time in years, she felt in love.

₊˚⊹ᰔ Headcanons

⟡ Sevika asked you to be her girlfriend in private after the third date, she was tired of waiting and didn't want to spend one more second without being able to introduce you as her girlfriend, that same day was your first kiss and Sevika swore she had tasted heaven, your lips were soft and sweet on hers, it was heaven itself.

⟡ Even as girlfriends, sevika kept visiting the last drop and taking you home after your shift was over, the only difference is that now you didn't go straight home, instead you would visit a restaurant or end up at sevika's apartment ;)

⟡ Sevika never cared what you wore, she would never tell you to change, but she definitely liked you to show her what you were going to wear before you went out so she could wear something that “matched” according to her, plus she always enjoyed you modeling the clothes she gave you. She didn't care if you wore short skirts or the most baggy clothes in the world, she would still see you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world, and you didn't even have to worry about any man trying to flirt with you, one look from sevika and they would walk away instantly.

⟡ You became sevika's official waitress, no one else could serve her in the bar except you, it was an unwritten rule that all the waiters respected, sevika loved to have you around and steal a kiss or two when you brought her drinks.

⟡ This poor woman can barely keep up with you, you are aware that you are somewhat hyperactive, but sometimes you forget that sevika is in her thirties and is exhausted by her lifestyle, yet she never shows it, if you want to spend the whole day walking the streets and going from store to store she will go with you, if you want to go to the club and spend hours dancing, sevika has no problem, although she will probably spend most of the night sitting and watching you dance with a smile on her face.

⟡ Sevika is the most touchy person in the world, this woman has to have her hands all over you all the time, at first she was ashamed to even take your hand, but when you took the initiative, sevika didn't let go anymore. Although going with your hands intertwined is not her preferred form of affection, she prefers to have her hands on your waist, or hug you from behind while you talk to someone or put her hand on your shoulders while she talks to someone, if you go down the street you always hug her arm while walking.

⟡ If there is something that sevika loves about you is your personality, she has never considered herself someone very cheerful or charismatic, so having you by her side was like a gift for her, she loves to listen to you talk and laugh, she would probably never get tired, many times she doesn't understand what you are talking about, because she is used to the old school, but even so she would never shut you up, you want to tell her about a new gossip between singers? Sure, tell her all about it, she has no fucking idea who they are but it sounds interesting, you want to go to a concert? sure, she pays for the tickets, she has no idea who the singer is but it's fun to watch you get excited.

⟡ This woman finds out everything so late, one day she can come and tell you the “newest gossip” and in reality you already knew it two weeks ago, you would still take care of telling her everything and since that day sevkia always asks you to tell her everything you know, although she would never admit that she is a gossip.

⟡ This woman wears reading glasses and you can't tell me otherwise, she hates wearing them but she has to and she doesn't like you mentioning it, the first time you saw her with them she felt insecure but when you told her she looked good she relaxed a little, she still doesn't wear them often even though she knows it will hurt her in the future.

⟡ Her way of showing love is acts of service, always, when you started to form your relationship she wanted you to live with her and quit your job, when you refused saying that you didn't want to be a bother, she didn't insist anymore, but she started to help you pay for your things and your rent, even though sevika didn't feel completely sure about you continuing to work in that bar, she understood that you wanted to continue being independent, so she didn't force you to do anything, but she made sure to keep you safe in your job and to help you with expenses that she knew were bothering you, saying that “It was nothing” and that she was only doing it out of good heart,

⟡ She makes dad jokes, the worst jokes in the world, the kind that make you laugh at how bad they are, for her they are the best jokes in the world and no one can tell her otherwise.

⟡ After a few months of dating she offered you to move in with her, it wasn't surprising, you spent too much time in her apartment so why not, even so sevika promised to pay the rent of your old apartment, she knew you had lived there for a long time and you wouldn't want to get rid of it, besides it was nice and you could still visit it from time to time.

⟡ Sevika takes off her prosthetic arm when she gets home, the moment she is at the door and she knows that you are there, safe and sound, she takes it off, even though she knows how to control it perfectly, she doesn't want to risk hurting you by accident, she never loved her prosthetic arm, but not using it is something that makes her feel vunerable not being able to use both arms correctly, but only with you she can stop caring about that vunerability, she doesn't need to be rude and rough with you, she knows that you would never use this vunerability against her.

⟡ She would NEVER let you touch shimmer, that it doesn't even cross your mind, she wouldn't give you a lecture but simply tell you “It's not up for discussion” and make sure you don't do anything stupid, she's not willing to watch you kill yourself little by little over this, if you ever questioned her she would tell you that you are too young to think about ruining your life in such a way.

⟡ This woman can cook, you can't say she can't, even if she won't admit it, she loves to cook, she loves to wake you up with breakfast ready on the table, she would love to prepare your favorite meal every time you ask her to.

⟡ Sevika gets up damn early, at 5 in the morning she would already be exercising and then having breakfast, more than once she has teased you saying that she doesn't understand how you can get up so late, if at your age she had much more energy.

⟡ Sevika Loves to use the phrase “ When I was your age” as if that was a century ago, she knows she's not that old, but according to her, things have changed a lot since she was young.

⟡ She likes to tell you stories of her childhood and teenage years, she never really likes to talk about this part of her life but she likes to do it with you, especially when you are going through a bad time and she wants to show you that things get better “I also thought it was the end of the world when I was your age, but look at me here, you showed up and everything got better.”

⟡ She loves to call you by nicknames, she would never call you by your name unless she is mad, she likes to introduce you as “ Her woman” or “Her lady”, she likes to call you all kinds of nicknames, “Doll”, “Dear”, “angel” or her favorite “Sunshine”.

⟡ She also loves it when you call her by nicknames, such as “Baby”, “Babe”, “Vika” or whatever you want to call her, she doesn't mind, you can even call her that in front of her friends and she wouldn't give a fuck, she just threatens them with a look and they know not to say a word, although some don't even care and laugh their asses off to hear you call a woman like sevika “Baby”.

⟡ Despite sevika's tough personality and looks, she becomes the biggest softie for you, this woman has no power to deny you anything, just bat your eyelashes and give her that pretty smile and she will give you whatever you want, there is nothing she won't do for you and to keep that smile on your face.

⟡ This woman buys absolutely everything you see or say, literally everything, if you go shopping with her you will probably come back with double what you originally needed, did you stare at some cookies in the supermarket? the next second sevika buys them, did you say two days ago you were craving a fruit? Next time you open the fridge there's a whole box.

⟡ Her favorite thing is your smile and your laugh, she loves to see you get excited about the silliest things and loves to see you laugh at any stupidity, many times she finds herself smiling at you without even noticing it.

⟡ There are days when she is not in the mood for anything, but she would never show it to you directly, she would keep hugging you and acting as usual, but the moment you notice it, everything changes, just a few words from you and you have her cuddled next to you, enjoying the caresses you give on her hair, she is not very good at talking about her feelings, so she would only explain very briefly what she feels and let you comfort her, at the end she would always say “What did I do to deserve you?”

⟡ This woman loves to take care of you on your bad days, she notices instantly that something is wrong, because according to her, “She can see it in your eyes”, so the moment she notices it she already cancels all her activities for you, she will cuddle with you as long as you want, she won't let you stay in bed for too long either, she will let you rest for a while and make you your favorite breakfast to cheer you up, then she will take you for a walk and tell you stories to cheer you up, when she feels you are very sad, she takes you to the cafeteria where you went on your first date, saying that that place is where she met the love of her life, that always brings a smile to your face.

© 2025 Moonylvs

Please do not copy any of my writing or feed it to the ai-monster!

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

angsty shadow x mobian!Reader idea!

Loved the magical girl obsessed reader x shadow fanfic you did! It’s so wholesome I was wondering if you could do a fanfic where the reader is feeling insecure, wondering if shadow loves them or if they’re good enough for shadow but instead of talking about it they self destruct until the mental health is down to the pits and shadow notices and try’s to help them but reader is a bit stubborn so he has to scold them a bit

“Unnecessary Worry”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Mobian Reader

Requested: Yes (by @shadowchan009 , hello again!)

Description: With Shadow always busy, you start to wonder if he actually loves you.

Notes: Good to see a repeat requester, and I’m glad I did your other request well! Let’s hope I can do this one just as great!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Shadow had been busy all. Month.

And you were tired of it.

You two rarely had time to talk, or hang out, or even be affectionate with each other.

And you were starting to believe it was your fault.

Were you not doing enough? Did he not like you anymore? Did he find you annoying?

You tried to tell yourself it was nothing, that nothing was wrong, but your mind kept telling you otherwise.

So you broke.

Shadow started to notice your change in behavior almost immediately.

Instead of you greeting him in the morning in the kitchen (you two hadn’t started sharing a bed just yet), you were nowhere to be found.

Shadow shrugged a little, figuring your alarm didn’t go off or something. It was fine, you deserved some extra sleep from time to time.

So he made breakfast, following yours and his’ schedule of making it, preparing a plate for you and himself, waiting patiently for you to come downstairs.

But you didn’t.

After about five minutes, he grumbled, worry starting to pool in the back of his mind.

He grabbed the plate he made for you and went over to your bedroom, knocking on your door.

“[Name]? Are you up?” he asks.

He hears shifting from inside the room, but the door doesn’t open.

“[Name], your food is going to get cold. Open up,” he states.

Still no answer.

Grumbling, Shadow opens the door, only to reveal a blanket mound on top of the bed.

How strange…You only did that when you were upset.

“[Name]? Is everything okay?” he asks, coming closer to your blanket mound.

He sets the plate down on your bedside dresser and takes a seat on the bed.

“[Name]?” he questions.

“Are you mad at me…?” he hears your trembling voice ask.

“Why would I be mad at you??” he asks.

It’s then that he hears your sobs coming from under the blanket, and it kills him to hear you so sad.

“W-We never talk or hang out anymore, a-and you’re always busy with your job-” you start.

“[Name],” Shadow begins, only for you to keep going.

“-and every time I try to talk to you you’re busy-”

“[Name]-”

“-a-and I’m sorry if I did something wrong-”

Shadow cuts you off by pulling the blanket up and putting his arms around your neck, engulfing you in a tight hug as he buries his head into your neck.

“You’re not the one at fault here, sunshine,” Shadow tells you. “I just wish you would have told me sooner.”

You let out another sob and return the hug just as tightly, crying into his neck, and he lets you, just wanting to make sure you were okay.

After a while, your breath evens out and the tears stop flowing, so Shadow releases you from the hug, although he keeps his hand on your shoulders.

“I…I really am sorry, Shadow,” you tell him. “For thinking like that.”

“Again, it’s not your fault,” he tells you. “I’ll start asking for more time off. But tell me next time, okay?”

You let out a giggle, Shadow kissing your tear-stained muzzle.

And you couldn’t be happier.

[megumimania]

A silly ask and I'm kinda surprised no one has done this yet and I like your writing so I'm sending it to you but basically fem reader and toji on an episode on maury :3

WHO’S YOUR DADDY? — toji fushiguro

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n: the way this has sat in the drafts for well over a year, loved writing this btw, thanks anon!

it’s no secret that toji has his doubts about whether megumi is his.

but you’re officially over going back and forth with him. especially when he still owes you child support that he refuses to pay until you show him valid proof that megumi is his son.

and what better way to give him that confirmation that he desires than on the messiest show on daytime television, in front of a live studio audience.

“for those who have joined us after the break, today we are joined by y/n, who claims that her ex boyfriend toji is pretending to act like he isn’t the father to their two year old son megumi so he doesn’t have to pay child support.”

the camera pans to you and toji sat a few feet away from each other. you can tell that he thinks this whole thing is a joke from the way he’s slouching in the chair and the constant sarcastic replies he gives maury each time he’s asked a simple question.

“maury how do i know she’s not tryna hustle me outta my hard earned money, huh?” he asks, seemingly thinking that he’s caught you in a tight spot. “besides have you seen the kid? his hair is spiky as fuck, nobody in my family has that hair type.”

the laugh that threatens to leave your lips is almost sickening, using hair as reason to not claim his child was absurd.

it was almost as wild as trying to accuse you of being a good-for-nothing money hungry vulture. which was rich coming from him. considering that your job was practically funding his lifestyle, aside from the large dose of cash he received from his 'work trips’ that cropped up once in a while.

the cash did nothing for you as he spent it as fast as he received it. rather than putting it towards megumi’s trust fund or college fund, he squandered it all on drinking and gambling, especially when it came to the races.

it turns out his charming looks and smiles do not work on the biggest gamble of all time: betting on damn race horses.

but in the rare instance he had some had some heart he contributed towards the bills and groceries. yet that still wasn’t enough.

“when was the last time you paid for megumi’s diapers or his formula or anything related to the apartment, hm?”

you retort, revelling at how all the fight and bravado he once held was slowly seeping out of him, as if he had all of his blood sucked out of him. the host looks expectantly at toji, awaiting a response.

the audience sets off in a chorus of ‘boos’ before toji even has a chance to respond to clear his name. he feels ambushed, the humiliation of admitting to be a terrible father on television creeping up on him.

but what did he expect? he always pushed too hard and now he’s paying the price as you unsurprisingly pushed back even harder.

and of course in the sea of 'boos', there’s a few cheers in the crowd from people who are more interested in getting into his pants instead of the main reason to why you were here in the first place.

“oh and maury if you think i’m lying, i’ve got invoices, bank statements and receipts spanning the last three months.” you add “i can tell you for a fact that this man doesn’t spend a dime on anything—he might as well put on a diaper and sleep in our son's crib.”

"and so what?" toji shrugs, ever so nonchalant. to the degree it pisses you off, he could at least try to act like he cares in front of the camera and the audience.

“i still make it up to you though, don’t i?” he replies, a teasing edge to his tone that has implications that you don’t want to unpack on national television, which was ironic since your business was already out there anyway.

the look on your face is almost murderous, and luckily maury manages to pick up on before this turns into a bloodbath. he quickly perks up as he holds up the manilla envelope that was going to make or break your day.

“In here we have the results of the paternity test, come back after the break!” he says clasping his hand together as you head to the commercial break. immediately you head backstage, grabbing megumi from the staff member who seemed smitten with him.

he latched onto you as you doted on him, before he waddled off to play with his firetrucks that you brought with you in your bag. “he’s getting so big.” a familiar voice says and you turn to see him in the doorway.

“megumi look! daddy’s come back with his tail between his legs because he knows he’s about to be publicly embarrassed on tv!” you say in a mocking voice, pointing out to where toji is standing and he toddles over, smacking his arm as he adorably glowers at his dad.

“bad daddy!” he says and you stop him before he gets out of control and starts to barrel toji with his kicking and slapping. you pull megumi onto your lap trying to calm him down whilst biting back a laugh.

“we don’t hit megumi, unless people deserve it like your daddy.” you tell him softly but you doubt he’s retained any of what you said anyway.

megumi is nestled into your lap, his focus back onto the firetruck that he’s playing with. for his age the kid is incredibly perceptive to the point where it spooks you out.

and if toji feels more like an idiot now, he doesn’t say so.

—

“and we’re back! for those who have just joined us, y/n claims that her ex boyfriend is denying that he’s the father of their child to avoid child support payments.”

the clips of the past half hour play back as you sit down, the manilla envelope in your eye level making your heart race slightly. deep down you knew that he was the father so why was the anticipation making you doubt that?

the crowds cheering and whooping comes to a close once maury grabs hold of the manilla envelope, he opens it, dragging out the grand reveal for dramatic purposes as the suspense builds in the room.

“when it comes to two year old megumi fushiguro, toji… you are the father!” he announces setting off the crowd in a series of cheers. you look over at toji and notice the red flush that covers his neck and ears, a sure tell sign of embarrassment and guilt.

“all i gotta say is that i fucking told you so, hell i didn’t even have to say anything you should’ve known!” you said to him, as he did nothing but take the well deserved lecture from you.

toji felt really fucking stupid, like really stupid but he didn’t want to add to your tirade already, he already wanted to melt of pure embarrassment under the hot studio lights. he really underestimated the lengths you’d go to prove him wrong.

“it’s time to start scrimping and saving, old man. food, clothes and diapers aint cheap. I’m sure your poor race horses will understand right?” you said teasingly, biting back a laugh as you clapped his shoulder.

toji let out an annoyed huff as the sound of your laughter ricocheted in his head, the high from your victory lap still present. he couldn’t be more of a fool if he tried. “haha very funny.” he said drily, despite his head burning, now he owed you and shiu money over his stupid antics.

he knew that as long as the internet and tv were still around, he was never going to live this day down, knowing you’d use this moment to embarrass him and deservedly so.

“i’ve been your host, maury! come back tomorrow where we have suguru and satoru. two former best friends and alleged lovers with satoru claiming that suguru’s affair with the kfc worker ruined their relationship!”

[theautumnriverleaves]

Just want to preface that I'm adding to this because I have the knowledge, not because I'm trying to like make the military sound good or whatever.

AMU isn't affiliated with the US military beyond having, according to their website, like 90% of their student body made up of veterans/active duty/military families. They're an online university, so they don't even have an ROTC (trains people to become officers, basically) program. They are certainly not a military academy, which are divided by branch.

As for the program OP mentioned in a reblog, the US military does take Canadians. I think where some confusion came in is that (as far as I've ever heard of or could find) it isn't an exclusive US and Canada agreement. The us military will take people from many countries. However, you have to already be a permanent resident in order to join. There used to be one to let foreign students join, but afaik that program has been put on hold. Non-citizens have strict limits on the jobs they can do and how they do them. What that means is that a lot of the jobs they do are things that mirror the civilian world, like Cook, Medical fields, HVAC, electrician. People do it because one could theoretically get citizenship faster if they join. I grew up military, and didn't see that come to fruition nearly as much as people thought that it would tho. I can't remember ever seeing it get someone citizenship faster, actually, and it doesn't get someone into the US. If a recruiter tells you differently, they're probably lying. Also, the military will still traumatize you by attempting to break and brainwash you in those jobs. Don't join.

I've been getting recruitment ads recently helpfully explaining that Canadian citizens are allowed to enlist in the US military under certain circumstances, and all I can think is they must be getting real desperate if they feel the need to actively pursue that avenue.

[womenwoso]

Thank you so much for the kind words on my last fic. It's really appreciated. Thank you to @helen-with-an-a for being amazing and proofreading. Hope you enjoy and requests are open. Please send in ideas.

Hard questions

Mapí León was perched on the edge of the sofa, her eyes showing her exhaustion after a long day of practice. Fresh from a shower, her damp hair was wrapped in a towel when Clara burst into the room, her little face beaming with excitement.

“Mamí!” Clara exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “I saw a picture of you in your Spain jersey at school today! You looked so happy, like me when I play football with you and all my tias. When do I get to play with them again? Why don’t you play for Spain anymore, do you not love Spain?

Mapí paused, Clara was in the stage of asking questions constantly, but this question hung in the air like a heavy cloud. She had anticipated this moment. Clara was getting old enough to ask tough questions—ones that carried a lot of history, choices, and feelings that Mapí had kept to herself but she hadn’t expected this question just yet.

For a brief moment, Mapí was silent, just gazing at her daughter, who was looking back at her with wide, innocent eyes, eager for a response.

“Clara, honey,” Mapí began gently, pulling her onto her lap, “It’s not that I don’t love playing for Spain anymore. I’ve always loved it. I still do.”

Clara tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “Then why don’t you play with my tias? You’re the best player! Tia Ale plays for Spain, so does Aita, Patri, Jana and Irene. All the girls play for a country there's a lot of countries more than just Spain. It's so cool. ”

Mapí let out a soft laugh, gently pushing a lock of hair away from Clara’s forehead. “You know, being the best doesn’t always cut it. Football is more than just skills—it’s about the teammates, the environment, and how you feel … on the inside.”

Clara looked puzzled, her little brain trying to process the information. “But … but you’re amazing, Mamí! You helped Spain win! Why wouldn’t they want you anymore?”

Mapí felt a weight in her chest. She had kept the real reasons for stepping back from the national team to herself, not wanting to overwhelm Clara with the complicated details. But now, her daughter deserved honesty, even if it was tough to share.

“Sometimes, Clara,” Mapí said, her voice thick with feeling, “sometimes the people in charge don’t treat you the way you should be treated. They don’t do their jobs properly and might end up hurting people. They might not recognise your worth. And when you feel that way for too long, it gets hard to keep going. When something like that happens, iIt hurts. And when something hurts, you have to think about what’s best for you.”

Clara paused, clearly processing everything. Mapí could see the little gears working in her brain. “So... you left … because they were … mean? … to you?”

Mapí gazed into her daughter’s eyes, so similar to her own, feeling a pang in her heart. “Sí carino, something like that. But it’s not just about being nice. It’s about feeling valued and … and being respected. Football is all about teamwork, but it is also based on trust and support. When those things are missing, it gets really tough to keep playing.”

Clara seemed to ponder this for a while, a little crinkle forming in her brow. Finally, she asked, “Are you going to go back?”

Mapí offered a gentle smile, a blend of sadness and hope shining in her eyes. “I’m not sure, nena. Sometimes, people need a little time to heal before they can return to something and sometimes you have to step away so the changes that need to be made can happen. Right now, I’m focusing on Barça and making sure I’m in a good place, where I can be the best version of myself …  the best Mamí I can be for you. I can’t promise I’ll ever play for Spain again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love the game or my country. I do. Always.”

Clara looked up at her mom, her tiny hands resting on Mapí’s arm. “I want you to play for Spain again. I want to see you in the jersey.”

Mapí’s heart warmed, her daughter’s words reminding her of the love that kept her going every day. “Maybe one day, pequeña. Maybe one day.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the heaviness of their talk hanging in the air. Mapi realised that Clara didn’t grasp everything completely, but she could see the love and hope shining in her daughter’s eyes. And honestly, that was enough for now.

With a gentle kiss on Clara’s forehead, Mapí pulled her in for a tight hug. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my biggest supporter. That’s what really counts.”

Clara beamed, resting her head on her mom’s shoulder. “I’ll always cheer for you, Mamí. Forever.”

[sulumuns-dootah]

hear me out(possible fic idea but also just something I need to get off my mind…) female reader on their period with the sorest breasts know to man, but thankfully we have big handed demon to the rescue for a nice lil massage 🙂‍↕️(Beleth and Mammon were the first two that came to mind, same with Morax, his hands looked HUGE in that Lucifer card.)

WHB demons w/ fem!reader who has sore breasts

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Decided to add some more boys and put it into HC format bc i rarely get to do those for the nobles ^^

Characters: Amy, Mammon, Glaysalabolas, Beleth, Ronove, Morax, Marbas

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Amy, being the good boy he is, will gladly do anything for you to make you feel better

Just give him the word and he'll be eagerly all over your chest

Silently hopes that you also get cramps bc it's a known fact that orgasms help relieve those

The thought of you forcing him to eat you out is enough to make his horn-fluid start dripping from the tips of his horns

Maybe if the massage doesn't help, he could try sucking on your tits instead?

       ༺☆༻

Mammon on the other hand...

No funny or alterior motives here

You ask for a massage and he hapily delivers

But if you also need a massage somewhere else, make sure to let him know ;)

Henestly, he's the top pick to go to

His hands are perfect for this

He's a gentle giant through and through which translates amazingly into his touches

       ༺☆༻

When you ask Glasya to massage your breasts, he'll have to think about it, btu say yes in the end

But under one condition:

You lay as still as possible... or he can give you his special kiss (H-scene reference)

But knowing him, there's no guarantee he'll keep his word

Though, I do feel like once he's done with you, your painful boobs will be the last of your concern

       ༺☆༻

Ooh just sitting in Beleth's lap while his free hand takes turns on each of your tits while the other one is busy with bringing the cigarette to his lips

And if you're smoker too, occasionally he'll let you take a drag too while you're bouncing on his lap

What? Don't look at him like that! You really thought he'd do it for free?

       ༺☆༻

Asking Ronove is potentially even more riskier than asking Glasyalabolas, but(!) this man definitelly knows what he's doing with his hands

And there's something about seeing the hands that usually rip angels apart making you feel good instead

I can imagine him whispering sweet praises or filthy remarks as he does so

       ༺☆༻

Morax is actually a little bit shy when you ask him, but he's obviously down for the job

Making others feel better is his main job description afterall

He'll even offer to take on your pain so you don't suffer that much

I think Morax is the only demon to actually make the pain fully go away

       ༺☆༻

Somewhere between Ronove and Morax

The risk of asking Marbas is great, given his constant urges, but the payout is even greater

He may not get rid of the pain fully, but instead he'll turn it into a pleasurable pain

And yes, it is really ahard for him to restrain himself from just turning you into his fleshlight

Especially when you start letting out the sweetest moans of relief

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Ooh so i was watching "Sawdes" And i thought what if desi reader and Lando watch that movie together and she explains all the small details to him, like the caste system and how rigid it was, and how it actually was in the villages and Lando's like very curious to know about India.

swades ⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

ᡣ𐭩 ln x desi!reader ✬

ᡣ𐭩 fluff ✬

masterlist ☾☼

lando was sprawled out on the couch, legs stretched comfortably over the ottoman, a bowl of popcorn precariously balanced on his lap. the tv flickered with the opening credits of "swades," the soothing hum of the background score filling the cozy living room.

"so, what's this one about again?" lando asked, glancing at you with genuine curiosity.

you settle next to him, tucking your feet in under you. "it's a movie about this indian guy who works for nasa and then goes back to his roots and finds a need to give back to his community."

lando inclines his head. "sounds deep."

you smiled. "it is, but it's also very beautiful and so real."

as the movie started, you noticed lando's brows furrow slightly during the scenes that showed mohan—the protagonist—returning to his village. the dusty roads, the humble huts, and the villagers carrying out their daily routines seemed to intrigue him.

"wait, why's he sitting on the ground?" lando asked during a pivotal scene where a villager refused to sit on the same level as mohan.

you stopped the movie and turned to face him. "that's actually a huge part of india's history—the caste system. it's a strict social hierarchy that has been around for thousands of years. people were divided into different groups based on their jobs, and it determined where they could live, what they could do, and even who they could talk to."

lando's eyes widened. "seriously? that's awful. is it still like that now?"

"not officially," you said, picking at a stray thread on your sweater. "the indian government banned caste discrimination years ago, but in rural areas… it's complicated. traditions and mindsets don't change overnight."

he nodded slowly, digesting your words. "so that's why the guy didn't sit on the bench. he's… lower caste?"

"exactly," you said. "he probably grows up thinking he's not good enough for someone like mohan, who's educated and from the city. it's just sad."

lando sat back, scratching his head. "man, we brits really left a mess behind, huh?"

you snorted, unable to hold in the laugh that had begun to rise. "a bit of an understatement there, lando."

he grinned sheepishly. "alright, alright, point taken. i’ll add it to the list of things i’m apologizing for. right under the tea tax."

the movie continued, and you found yourself explaining more details to lando—how arranged marriages worked in rural India, why electricity and running water were still luxuries in many villages, and the deep cultural significance of festivals like dussehra. lando hung onto every word, his questions reflecting genuine interest.

"it's crazy to think about," he said during intermission. "like, i took so much stuff for granted-growing up—clean water, electricity, just even … being treated as an equal. and then this guy's coming to alter the way an entire village lives its life. inspiring,"

you smiled at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. "that's why i love this movie. it's not just a story; it's a reminder of where we come from and how much work there's still left to do."

"also a reminder that my ancestors were the worst," lando added, giving you a mock-serious look. "you're never letting me live this down, are you?"

"nope," you said, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth. "you're stuck with me and my history lessons."

By the time the credits rolled, lando was wiping at his eyes, laughing sheepishly when you caught him. "alright, i'll admit… that hit harder than i expected."

you chuckled, leaning into his side. "told you it's a masterpiece."

he looked down at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "you'll take me there one day, right? to india? i want to see it for myself."

your heart swelled at his sincerity. "absolutely. but only if you're ready for a sensory overload-the crowds, the colours, the chaos."

lando grinned. "bring it on. as long as i've got you to explain everything."

you smiled, reaching for his hand. "always."

you then realized just how lucky you were-to share a piece of your world with someone who cared enough to listen, to learn, and to embrace it wholeheartedly.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

i tried to add a little humour in this, but like, the movie itself is really serious, so i kept the fic a little serious too. i hope you like it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1

[the-fab-fox]

Okay so I get your concern where Leona is at but the thing is, while they get birthdays, their ages and the year they started is still the same and I think people tend to forget that. He would be 19 since he got held back a year and has the possibility of repeating another year again if he fails this year. Vil would be 18 and jamil 17. Also in terms of an age gap with that difference and Leona being 19.

Even though he is *technically* at an adult age, he's not actually an adult. Not in the terms of things that could put him as power imbalance. Technically not even money is a concern because Vil is also loaded. Possibly even richer than Leona dye to the fact Leona is a second born prince. Not saying this is for certain but yes.

Lastly while Jamil is 17 and also essentially a paid servant, he does get really nice things, he is absolutely paid well, and he has a lot of sway when it comes to his job. That's not to say that his hatred of the life he was forced into is wrong simply because he's paid well. But the point is he does have access to money and is paid handsomely (even if Kalim's parents were stingy, but I do not get that feeling from Kalim's personality, but even if they were, Kalim would absolutely not allow Jamil to be paid peanuts. But ye. So while he's not nearly as close, money isn't something that can really be used to control him by either of the other two.

Back to Leona because ADHD makes me handle convos in a non-linear way. So back to how he couldn't really be a power imbalance nor is his life lived an adults life. Leona had not yet lived as an independent adult. Everything he needs and wants is paid for. But even with that, he still skips class, has given up on life but in a "why bother" kind of way, literally all of his snarking is immature at best, bullying at worst. But then from his life experience he sometimes has some good advice when he chooses to give it. And he can actually be just as intelligent as those when he chooses to use his brain. But because he's not currently making much effort to change due to lack of motivation, he's still the same guy he was the year before. He has not aged mentally or had the adult experience yet to pull him from that 'teenage mindset'.

So with all of these factors, to me they just make a lot of sense in terms of personality, ability, status and the plots you can play with that, and where they are in their lives currently.

If any of this makes the least bit of sense. And I'm not trying to convince you. Just hoping to show you that it's not actually the gross ship some people due to purity culture always misconstrue.

hey guess my twst ships 🤗

i'm sane

also don't look at the tags it's CHEATING 👹 /J

[satosuguwifee]

Under His Dominion — Sukuna Ryomen x F!reader

wc: 2487

Contents: Modern!au

Credits for the beautiful fanart: innaillus

Tokyo, Japan

Y/n was returning from yet another tiring day at work, her head pounding thanks to the shouting she received from her boss who didn't seem to recognize any of her efforts in any project or solutions she presented that could improve the company.

“I don't think this life is for me,” her voice is calm and thoughtful, but clearly carrying a weary tone with it. “Unfortunately I can't quit this job, after all, how would I pay my bills?”

A snort escapes her lips as her hand clutches the umbrella over her figure, as her boss's request to work overtime has caused her to miss the bus she uses to get to and from work. Soon, an echoing gunshot could be heard, and a chill ran through her stomach as the sound seemed very close.

'Just what I need…'

The woman thought as she walked faster along the wet sidewalk, which seemed to increase her panic, until she managed to turn around just in time in an alleyway when a flash was seen in the distance and the sound made her recognize that it had been another gunshot. You hid behind a dumpster, closing your umbrella and reducing any noise you made as the sound of gunfire and car tires dragging on the street grew louder.

Prayers came from her trembling lips, pleas not to be found came out shakily until the noises became more distant and disappeared into the city beyond.

Y/n waited a few minutes to be sure before emerging from her hiding place, relief etched on her face for mere seconds before her eyes caught sight of a tall figure at the end of the alley, staring at her menacingly and silently. In the dim light of the streetlamp, she could see wounds on his strong, tattooed arms where his blood dripped and fell to the wet ground.

“A brat like you shouldn't be in such a dangerous place.” he says, his voice hoarse and deep as he watches her with his one eye, blood-red glaring at her figure.

“Well, I didn't want to be…, but today the stars aren't in my favor. And apparently not in yours either.” She said, still watching him guardedly, but feeling an urge to help this stranger. Maybe she was crazy for good… “Let me help you.”

“You'd better not come any closer,” he says, still in a threatening pose as he glares at her. “I'm not the kind of guy you'd want to get close to.”

“I insist, I'd feel bad if by any chance your body was shown on the TV news.” she says stubbornly, taking steps towards him before crouching down in front of him and rummaging through her handbag for some gauze or bandages that she always carries in emergencies.

Y/n soon found a piece of gauze, using it to clean the wounds on his left arm and taking the opportunity to notice the tribal tattoo present, wondering if there was any meaning behind it or if he had just done it because he thought it was pretty. Her hands quickly wrapped a new piece of gauze around his bicep and then covered it with the adhesive plaster, smiling at her work.

Then she lifted up his shirt, her eyes widening as she saw the wound which, from the shape, she could deduce had been caused by a gunshot. Her mind connected the facts, perhaps he had been hit by a stray bullet in the midst of the previous battle between gangs that always took place there.

“Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about this one,” Y/n says, but at least she puts another piece of gauze over it so that the rainwater stops falling on the wound and reduces the chances of contamination. “You'd better get to the hospital before it gets any worse.”

Unbeknownst to her, the eye of the man she is caring for is on her figure, silently studying her. He thought about how naïve or even idiotic this creature seemed to be standing there, without even having a clue who he was. Do you do that with all the strangers you meet? He seemed puzzled by this.

He smoothed his own pink hair with his free hand, pushing back the strands that had stuck to his wet face while he had a small smirk on his lips. The man certainly hadn't expected such an encounter, but there was no way he was going to complain about being treated by this mysterious woman.

After that day, Y/n never even saw a trace of the pink-haired, ruby-eyed man, preferring to believe that he arrived safely at his house, the next morning even watching the newspaper to make sure he had a chance of being alive.

'At least I did my bit to try and help him.'

She thought as she grabbed herself a coffee, taking a sip of the hot, bitter liquid that would give her strength for the rest of the day she would have to face. Soon she was running around the company, carrying documents and more documents that needed her boss's signatures or to accompany him to his meetings as his secretary.

And it was in one of these meetings that Y/n got the biggest surprise of her monotonous day: the same guy she had helped a few days ago was there, sitting in the 'big boss' chair and looking at both her and her boss.

“I didn't expect you to show up here, Mr. Sukuna.” her boss says in surprise, then clears his throat and looks nervous for some reason. Well, he is very intimidating, both because he's tall, muscular and because he's wearing an eye patch to cover one of his eyes, which I'm sure he no longer has, given the large scar.

“I've just come back from my trip, you don't need to take over my position now that I'm no longer away.” His eyes move towards the secretary, analyzing her meticulously before a small smile forms at the corner of his lips. “You weren't here when I was away.”

“I've been working here for a few months, my name is Y/n L/n.” Well, obviously they hadn't even bumped into each other in that huge company, if they had, she would have recognized him immediately the night before.

Sukuna nodded at her, with the same smile and without looking away from her before turning his gaze to her boss and signaling him to leave, which was immediately obeyed.

“So you're one of my company's employees? I must say that's quite a pleasant surprise, Miss L/n.” He then leaned back in his leather chair, drumming his fingers against the wood of the table. “Since you're the one who accompanied my replacement, could you update me on the new data collected from the partner companies, hm?”

Y/n feels his cheeks flush at the menacing sweetness in her voice, but he quickly remembers that he's in his work environment and nods before walking over to him with the tablet held in his arms.

“With pleasure, Mr. Sukuna.”

At the end of her shift, Y/n was packing up her briefcase to finally go home while chatting with some of her coworkers when they all stopped talking when the 'big boss' stepped out of the elevator, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants and his gaze scanning the surroundings as if he were inspecting the place.

Then he stopped as soon as he saw her, walking towards her as if he were some kind of God before stopping in front of her, making it painfully obvious the huge difference in size between the two of them.

“Miss L/n, I'd like you to come with me for a moment.”

Soon all eyes were on both of them, and at that moment she could feel her whole body sweating with nervousness. Had she given him some wrong information? Had her superior made up lies about her to ruin her reputation? These were the questions running through her head as she followed him into the elevator, feeling the tension in that tiny cubicle and gently adjusting the collar of her white dress shirt.

Then, finally, they reached the building's parking lot, and she stopped in her tracks when he also stopped in front of a luxury car, pulling a cigar out of the inside pocket of his suit before lighting it and staring at her in tortured silence.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Y/n asked robotically, holding the strap of his briefcase in front of her stomach, resembling the pose of a stewardess and drawing a deep laugh from the older man.

“There's no need for such formality when it's just the two of us.” He pauses to take another drag and then blows out the smoke. “I want to thank you for yesterday, so please come to dinner with me.”

It was more of a demand than a request, and the woman swallowed as she hesitated for a few seconds whether or not to accept. Then she nods as she sees his intense gaze, which makes him nod in the direction of the car, making his message clear. Y/n then goes to the back of the car and waits for her boss's boss to get in. She just hopes it's not such a fancy place.

She definitely had to bite her tongue thoughtfully, because my God, the place they were in reeked of money! Okay, she's exaggerating a bit, but she'd never set foot in there with her retirement money! She even felt sorry for eating the food on her plate, it was all so luxurious.

“You can eat as much as you like, Miss L/n.” He demands, taking a sip of the wine in his glass and she quickly nods before cutting off a small portion to eat.

“W-wow, this is delicious.” She says impressed, quickly wiping her mouth with her napkin before placing it on the table as if she was afraid it would break. Well, she was practically all tense, as if any touch of hers could break everything from there. “But nothing beats the hot dog on the corner, that's for sure.” She whispered to herself before eating another piece, looking up at the 'big boss' who was watching her.

“Really? Well, why don't you show it to me sometime, hm?”

“Oh, I don't know if street food would appeal to your refined palate.”

“I'm always open to new options, Miss Y/n.” Sukuna cut her off with a smile before taking another sip of the red liquid as if putting an end to the discussion.

They then sat in a pleasant silence, with Y/n enjoying the food of royalty and Sukuna watching her in silence, discreetly admiring her small features, such as her inviting pink hair, eyes and lips, making him smile and take another sip of the drink in his hand.

After a pleasant hour, Sukuna guided his guest through the chic hall with his hand on her waist, feeling the soft, natural curve of her body against his slightly rough palm. He soon went to the reception desk and, instead of paying the bill, just showed his ID to the woman who quickly stiffened when she read the name on the document.

“Thank you for your visit Sir, have a good night.”

Y/n was confused by this, but didn't even have time to digest the information when she felt his hand firmly squeeze her waist as he led her into the parking lot, making her shiver.

And as quick as a wink, they were on the streets of Tokyo after she gave him her address. After all, she wouldn't deny him a ride because it was already very late and dangerous for her to catch a bus… She also had a love of life! Her eyes were fixed on the view, staring dreamily at the buildings and imagining herself in them, sipping a glass of champagne, wearing a black silk robe and being hugged by a hot husband behind her, which made her giggle to herself without realizing it.

However, she was snapped out of her fantasies when she felt a brush against her knee and realized it was Sukuna's hand as he shifted gears when he stopped at a red light.

“I run that restaurant.” he says, turning to her and seeing her confused look. ”I don't owe you any satisfaction, but you seemed intrigued at that moment by the waitress.”

'She was so easy to read?'

Y/n nods and clears her throat while trying to ignore the slight warmth his hand caused against her skin without even touching it. It was something electrifying, something inexplicable. But she didn't even have time to think about it because he soon put his hand back on the wheel when the traffic light turned green.

“Thank you for dinner and the ride, sir.” The woman thanked him as soon as he stopped the car in front of her house, smiling at him and then unbuckling herself. “See you tomorrow at work.”

As she was about to open the door, she shivered as she felt his hand on her shoulder, holding her for a moment. Just as she turned her face over her shoulder towards him, his thumb brushed gently against the apple of her cheek, holding it in place.

“I didn't do it for you to thank me, brat.”

He purrs softly, bringing his face a little closer to hers and gently brushing the tip of his nose against the other cheek, feeling something in himself with the faint sweet smell of her, how it was soft and suited her. Sukuna let out another low, deep laugh as he felt her body stiffen at his touch, at his power over her.

“Mr. Sukuna, I don't want to mix things up.” Suddenly she pulled away just as he was about to kiss those plump lips he'd been staring at all through dinner. “You're my superior, please. I'm sorry if you took this dinner as an opportunity, but it wasn't. Excuse me, please.”

Y/n then turned and opened the door, allowing Sukuna to smell her hair one last time before she practically ran out of her apartment. He stared unblinkingly at the route she had just taken, snorting softly and feeling his cock already semi-hard from the fantasies he had had about them in his car.

However, seeing that she wasn't a woman who opened her legs to just anyone, not even him, made him respect her a little before he made his way to his mansion, and he couldn't get her out of his mind.

Continue?