#and it seems like i lost a follower for this

[gay-dorito-dust]

saja boys manager walks in unexpectedly to find a big blue tiger in the living room, they’re in a state of internal panic thinking their cover is blown…

Reader? Couldn’t care less, big fluffy blue tiger demands snuggles immediately.

Now they gotta deal with a completely separate issue… reader spending more time with tiger than them…

I just love that big goofy baby 💙

‘Alright boys good work today as usual. but please make sure you get some decent sleep tonight because we’ve got a hefty amount of press junkets to do and I don’t want to be the one to-‘

The words seemed to die on your lips the second you stepped into the living room. You’d have expected to see the boys you were lumped with managing, not a blue furred tiger with amber eyes that gave it a slightly demonic look, and a permanent Cheshire like grin as it lounged it’s large body on the floor comfortably. Everything about this blue tiger should’ve had your mind screaming danger, have you running away but when it’s big amber eyes landed on you, it’s mouth already stuck in a permanent Cheshire smile only seem to grow wider as it slowly waddles it’s way to you out of curiosity.

When within proximity to you the unusually blue tiger sniffed and pawed at your legs softly with it’s paws, looking at you as it blinked slowly, almost expecting something in return for bothering to get up from it’s comfortable position on the floor. You smiled and allowed a hand to brush through the thick fur atop of it’s head, scratching behind the ears as the tiger purred in content as it rest it’s body against you, it’s tail swaying in content before moving to hold onto your ankle.

‘You’re a cutie aren’t you?’ You said softly as you shifted the scratching to the tiger’s chin where you could feel it’s powerful purrs just beneath your fingertips as it’s eyes closed to indulge as your snails scratched places they couldn’t before. ‘Yes you are, the cutest cutie there is.’ You cooed at the beast as it slowly moved to lay on its back, showing you it’s stomach which was a lighter shade of blue compared to the darker shade of cobalt, paws closely tucked to it’s body as it looked at you with big eyes and a impatience you only see in animals that wanted more affection the second they get it.

‘Okay! Okay some belly rubs and pats coming right up for the blue cutie!’ You laughed as you set aside your tablet, kicked off your aching shoes and kneeled next to the tiger and began to rub its belly like you would a cat or a dog, switching to patting it’s belly when you felt it was growing bored and then switching back to rubs once more. You didn’t know why you didn’t seem scared of this creature, after all a tiger was a predator by all means but this one had the scare factor of a small kitten, it looked at you in awe and it’s ears would twitch at the sound of your laughter as it’s tail swished happily.

It didn’t give of signs of being an actual threat towards you in anyway and that’s probably why you didn’t feel the need to run away and hide -not that you could ever hope to out run it- but instead spend time giving it the love and affection like you would to anyone else, whispering sweet words to it despite knowing it wouldn’t understand and struggling to hide your cuteness aggression when it bats your hand with it’s paw, showing off it’s toe beans.

Meanwhile the Saja boys were loosing their shit. Jinu had lost his tiger companion, which they suspected was loose within the apartment, where you were also happen to be to go over the itinerary for tomorrow.

‘How can you miss a demonic blue tiger?! It’s big and blue and did I forget to mention demonic!’ Abby says as he, baby, mystery and romance followed Jinu further into the apartment as quickly as they could in hopes they’d find Jinu’s companion before you did. They’ve came this far in their mission and it wouldn’t work out well for them if Gwi-Ma was ever to find out their true identity was figured out, and all because their human manager came across a unusually blue tiger within the apartment.

Jinu groaned as he -much like the rest of the group- was growing more and more frustrated the longer his search went without seeing his tiger companion, the dread growing within his stomach as each door they opened they were greeted with nothing big or blue or tiger looking in appearance. He had been specific about them staying in his room -especially if you were within the apartment- until further notice but it seemed as though the tiger had devolved a rebellious streak as of late and decided to leave the room on it’s own accord, which only made things worse for the demon boy band who were slowly losing their minds the more time passed and no blue tiger was in sight.

Time was of the essence and unfortunately they didn’t have enough of it before you realise what you were managing.

‘What if they found them?’ Romance asked, looking between Abby and Jinu as Mystery seemed to be sniffing the air as if he could find traces of the tiger by doing so, or by chance notice something that none of them could that would greatly help them.

‘Wouldn’t we have heard (name) screaming or shouting by now if they did?’ Baby replied, raising his brow as he pops his lollipop back into his mouth, acting as nonchalant as he could about the entire situation but internally he was just as on edge about their secret being exposed as the rest of them. He liked you- they all did- but the mission came first and foremost, and if you had figured out what they were, nothing good would come from it and all would be lost for them.

Jinu was about to say something when your laugh reached his ears and he was quick to pick up the pace, rushing towards the living area of the apartment as the sound of your laughter grew, followed by a familiar purring of a certain companion of his that had been the cause a lot of the chaos and uncertainty up until now. Abby, Mystery, Romance and Baby followed suit after having heard the sound of your laughter as clear as day, also curious as to what was making you laugh like that which brought about feelings of territory and protectiveness out of them, after all you were their manager not someone else’s and they wouldn’t take too kindly to someone else taking away your attention from them.

Yet what they saw was what they expected, yet not at the same time. The blue tiger had found you like they feared but instead of screaming and running away like they thought you would, you were cuddling by the blue furr ball, burring your head into it’s neck as a sigh of relief left your lips and acting like all of this was as next to normal to you.

‘You’re comfy.’ You said, the tiger huffed as though to say they were in agreement with you. ‘Like really comfy and I don’t feel like moving anymore. I’ve done enough work today don’t you think?’

‘(Name)?’ Jinu called.

You groaned as you lifted your head from the tiger’s neck to look at the group of bewildered men, staring at you as though you had grown a second head. ‘What? Can’t you see I’m trying to destress here!’ You tell them, but before Jinu or the others could voice their reasoning for interrupting you, you continued as you rested your head against the tiger’s neck once more, softly toying with it’s toe beans. ‘Besides where were all of you! I came here to tell you about the press junkets and that’s when I found this cutie lounging on the floor, looking as though they could use some company. Didn’t you big guy?’

The tiger huffed, not caring that it subjected Jinu and the rest of the group to a full blown panic, looking rather content as your pillow more so than anything as it intentionally looked from Jinu to Abby, Mystery, Baby and Romance as though intentionally showing how they were getting what they couldn’t without having to try.

‘We were-‘ Romance was about to come up with an excellent excuse, when it was cut off by you waving your hand lazy as sleep called your name.

‘I honestly don’t care, just don’t be late for the early morning press junkets, good night.’ And with that you were out like a light and the tiger beneath you slowly rose up onto it’s legs, looking back at you to make sure you were on it’s back before prodding past the bewildered men and off in the direction of your room.

Jinu, Abby, Romance, Baby and Mystery were left to watch as the tiger disappeared from their sight yet again, no longer filled with panic or worry but instead an overwhelming sense of confusion at your lack of reaction, but also a feeling of calm as their identities were safe for now and that you would probably think of the weirdly blue tiger as a figment of your imagination. Their alibi was solid should you ever tell them such the next morning when you were fresh of mind.

Yet there was one thing on their minds.

‘Jinu?’ Abby asked.

‘Yeah?’ Jinu replied.

‘How does the tiger know where (name)‘s room is to take them there?’ Romance adds, crossing his arms over his chest as Baby, Abby and Mystery also look to him for a response.

‘Probably by scent.’ Jinu lamely answers.

The boys weren’t convinced by that at all.

[laurfilijames]

Die Fun

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 1.4K

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Drinking, smoking, making out, dry humping.

Summary: A spontaneous ride out to the coast is the break you know Jax is in need of where he's able to let go, allowing him to indulge in loving hard, living fast and staying fun.

A/N: I was listening to one of my favourite songs and thought of this little idea that seemed to suit Jax and had to write it. This is dedicated to all the wonderful people here who have encouraged me to continue sharing and loving my work. Thank you 💗

---

“Let's get outta here,” you suggested in a sultry whisper, a playful smile tugging up your full lips that had just pulled away from his.

Jax couldn't help but return it, feeling his heart do a small flip in his chest as you hovered over him, your low-cut top putting your cleavage on display.

“Where?”

You shrugged, moving from between his spread legs, your hands pressing off his chest that made the leather of his kutte creak.

“Anywhere. It doesn't matter.”

You loved being on his bike just as much as he did, and he couldn't deny you that thrill whenever you requested it, craving the feel of your body hugging tight against the back of his and how your hands always danced across his stomach.

He stood from the couch he was slumped in when you reached for his hand, eager to follow you wherever, his other one landing on your hip as he watched you bite your lower lip to try to hide your grin as you started walking toward the door.

“Are we runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, the words coming out in a soft chuckle.

You looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes alight with vigor and lust that screamed of a freedom he was desperate for, and when you spoke, your words were calling him like a siren.

“If that's what you want.”

He rode until he couldn't stand not having you in his arms any longer, the way his hand rested on your thigh as much as possible not nearly enough to satisfy him, catching himself digging his fingers into the torn denim covering your leg as his need to have you became unbearable.

The coast was now in sight, and the salty air filled his lungs each time he took a deep breath in, the two hour ride to get here simultaneously feeling like an eternity and no time at all.

Jax rolled into a lookout spot, the view of the ocean clear as day from the space he parked his Dyna in, the surrounding trees creating a little seclusion that would be perfect for watching the sun sink down on the horizon.

You dismounted first, your hands gripping his shoulders for stability as you swung your leg over, and Jax caught your smile as he looked behind him.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, unfastening the strap of your helmet where you shook out your hair, and before he had the opportunity to ask where you were going, you skipped off across the road toward a little corner store.

Jax removed his own helmet and sat for a minute, feeling the vibrations of the bike start to shake away from his hands now that everything was still.

He closed his eyes, relishing in the calm, the realization that he needed to get away from the stress of the club and the bullshit that came with the everyday of being VP hitting him now that he had the opportunity to breathe.

He must’ve sat there for longer than he intended, lost in the serenity of nothingness, the sudden feel of your hand smoothing over his back and up to his neck startling him.

“You okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” he smiled, angling his face up to you where you leaned down to kiss him, both of your smiles fading as the push and pull of your mouths intensified.

With a sigh, you reluctantly pulled away, the temptation to never stop overwhelming you.

“What’d you get?” Jax asked, nodding at the bag in your hand, his brows scrunching together.

You held up what was obviously a bottle of booze wrapped up in a brown, paper bag and shook it in a teasing way, taking a step back away from the bike in hopes he would follow.

“You’ll have to come see!”

You walked backwards for a few steps with a bright grin on your gorgeous face, your eyes full of mischief and a promise of making him forget everything he needed to, and Jax followed eagerly, his draw to you like a magnet.

You sat there for hours, alternating sharing sips from a cheap bottle of red wine that somehow tasted better than it should, the last of the blazing orange that burnt the sky fading into a deep indigo.

Jax had you between his legs where you both faced the sea, his arms enveloping you completely in fear you were getting cold, your head resting in the space between his neck and collarbone.

Your fingers trailed up and down his forearm, his tattoo exposed by the sleeve of his hoodie, the sensation of that and the slight buzz from the wine feeling like complete bliss.

The breeze came in waves, mimicking the swell of the tide, and when Jax closed his eyes he could hear it before it blew toward you, the rustling of the leaves nearby giving him a few seconds notice before it hit his face, dancing in his hair harshly at first and then softer as it passed.

He took a deep inhale, nestling his face in your hair as he did, and pressed a kiss on your head when he exhaled.

“This is perfect, darlin’,” he purred, his voice loose but raspy, the evidence of his last cigarette hanging on it.

“I think so, too,” you agreed, shifting out of the cage of his arms and legs to face him.

You straddled his lap, holding his face in your hands where you admired how the colour of his eyes rivaled the water that crashed against the cliff below you.

The lines that flanked his mouth etched deeper as he smiled, your fingers tracing their permanent tracks, and you realized there wasn’t one part of him that didn’t mesmerize you as his long, golden lashes fluttered on his tanned skin when he closed his eyes.

Your lips captured his, stealing his breath that blew into your mouth with a chuckle, your body arching toward his to seek more of him.

His warmth transferred onto you, surrounding you along with his scent of lingering tobacco and faded cologne, the sharp taste of wine off his tongue making you more intoxicated than when you drank it yourself.

Jax delved deeper into your mouth, desperate and needy as he gripped your waist, pulling you closer where he guided you to rock against his stiff cock that strained in his jeans.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his lips still brushing yours.

You raked your hands through his hair, the pull making him moan and tip his head back slightly, and you couldn’t resist the thick column of his neck, your lips kissing and sucking his smooth skin.

A low groan that turned into a dark chuckle rumbled through him, his fingers tickling your side to force you to stop even though he really didn’t want you to.

You squirmed and unlatched yourself from his neck, satisfied to see a burgundy mark stain his porcelain skin even in the growing darkness, and took a steadying breath as you adjusted your hips on his.

Trying to ignore how his cock felt pressing up against your soaked and aching cunt, you reached beside you for the bottle, bringing it to his lips where he accepted the offer and let you pour what was left into his mouth.

He laughed as some spilled out, and you quickly licked his chin clean, the scruff of his beard on your tongue a strange combination of soft and prickly.

“You tryin’ to take advantage of me or somethin’?”

The bottle fell from your hand, the clink of it on the ground lost as you brought your face closer to his, your noses brushing each other as you shared a breath, the tension continuing to grow between you.

“Maybe…”

His hands slid under your shirt, smoothing up your back as he crashed his mouth into yours, his cock throbbing with the thought of filling your tight, wet pussy and fucking you until you screamed.

Breathless, you peeled away, your chest heaving with restraint.

“So, what now, Teller?”

He smirked, his eyebrows raising on his forehead. “I thought this was your idea.”

Your giggle turned into a whine when he lifted his hips up against you, the friction on your cunt too much to bear, trying to think through the haze in your mind driven by lust and alcohol but fully aware you wouldn’t be able to drive back home.

“How much cash do you have on you?” you asked, your voice strained with want.

“Enough for a sleazy motel and another bottle,” he drawled, grabbing your ass roughly. “Come on, gorgeous, let’s go blow it all.”

---

Taglist:

@dailydragon08 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @maggotzombie

@rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02 @daryldixonpls

@puffins-muffins

[cannofsardines]

HELLO! Sorry if I bother you but I have something stuck in my head and I can't get it out- HEAR ME OUT- Bot!Reader that is programmed to report/ban exploiters created by an admin to make their work easier. One way or another, he arrives at Forsaken, getting to know and befriending the survivors, especially 007n7. Reader gets so attached to 7n that when they find out he is an exploiter, they are like:

For some reason, I can't stop imagining bot!Reader walking away to a deserted area with a pillow so they can scream into it out of frustration for not being able to report/ban their new friend Because they feel that they would be betraying him after he has been so kind to them. Sorry for making this too long, schizophrenia hits hard at night/j

: 007n7 & GN!Robot Reader

:this request sounded cute, I couldn't help but entertain the idea immediately

Content below : Fluff , Reader becoming more sentient , Platonic relationship

There was no denying that after Builderman and Shedletsky's disappearance, everything went to hell. The Roblox Hq? Not even a speck of the previous organized place it was in sight anymore. Papers? scattered all around the office, the neatly organized files are now disarranged. Admins? They were too busy to bother to help around the place, mainly because the disappearance of the head of Roblox Hq encouraged nasty exploiters/griefers to become more bold in performing their once in a while shenanigans

Hell even the most positive admins of all who held her head high in every despair they found themselves in could no longer keep up her usual charisma, she may be able to convince the others and herself that everything will be fine but there was nothing passing your keen eye and observations. So what did this all mean? From your previous gathering, the quote 'The world is in chaos' more or less fits this exact circumstance.

Turning a blind eye to the miserable state of the team as of now, you were tasked to capture an uprising hacker. Or how the admin team would like to put it, 'a nuisance becoming of a bigger headache that is comparable to a brain tumor.' Which your program translated to: stress and frustration, one thing you were meant to help with if the source of the emotion was from an exploiter

Thanks to your trusty tracker built inside of you, you were quick to locate the nuisance with little to no issue. Or you thought until you felt your vision go static and then next was darkness..

Luckily that's not where your story ended and you found yourself rebooted back up, only to meet face to face with Builderman. The man that many, many many were desperately searching for. But his face didn't hold his signature smile, in place of it was furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes. He looked exhausted, which was an unusual look for the old man

"There.. think yer all good to go"

"No way! Is that the good ol' bot that saved us a ton of time back then?"

You turned your head over to the source of the voice and was met with another recognizable face, Shedletsky. Though he didn't seem to share the distress Builderman clearly was in, he actually looked the same as he was. Save for the fact that he lost some weight according to your scanner yet the smile he wore stayed the same

RETURN WITH THEM IMMEDIATELY. The thought popped up in your mind and followed through the command with not a second wasted. You clasped both of your hands and offered the idea of going back to the Roblox HQ, relaying the distress the admins have been in and the chaos that was barely under their control. But a half minute in your speech, you detected clear signs of discomfort and sadness on their expressions. This left you confused, did they no longer want to serve the robloxians? Leaving citizens to suffer?

This cannot be, you had to beg them to come back if so. Your mind registered, though before you could attempt to convince the two, they had already beat you to it. And it seemed like they read your mind because before you could vocalize your concern, Builderman held a hand up and shook his head

"No can do.. if we had tha option to do so, we would've been back a long time champ"

Sensing your confusion, he went into detail about the circumstances you guys were stuck in. And from what you understood, the two along with more have been stuck in this.. cabin for some time now, or well they couldn't give a specific time because there wasn't even a calendar!

The news obviously left you in disbelief and a state of denial, the concept of it sounded otherworldly, impossible even. This wasn't adding up in the coding you had and you could've sworn trying to even entertain the smidge of the idea had your circuits frying. You hastily exited the cabin, or what they referred to as the 'safe zone'.

This couldn't be..! Your program desperately tried to deny the unbelievable, you profusely scanned the area multiple times in an attempt of searching for retrieving the name and place of where you currently were but to no avail, it was a failure. You could feel heat pooling up within your body from overheating and you needed to calm down now before it got worse and you were left in the dark again

But before you passed out, you heard a faint echo of a timid voice behind you, calling out to you. You turned around but from the sudden motion, you instead collapsed. The last thing you saw was worry and shock etched onto that person's face, along with a burger hat with a noob on top that made them easily different from others

REBOOTING.. You woke up to a place unfamiliar again, yet there was someone who's face was mere inches away from yours. Seeing you come online caused a nervous smile to grace his face. From the small bar of signal you had, you managed to gather basic information about him online. Such as his name and age

"Oh thank telamon— y-you're alright.. I wasn't sure if my skills were enough in the predicament you were in.."

"You should uh.. be good now though! I fixed some lines in your coding"

He let out a sigh of relief, before he leaned back, bit his lip and scratched the back of his neck. A series of mumbling left his mouth mixed with criticism towards your creators skills, you couldn't help but feel clear disdain yet you obviously couldnt vocalize them. Not when you owed him one for helping you back there

Although your distaste for his choice of words was obvious as he felt your glare pierce a hole in his head. The air suddenly grew heavy. 007n7 Stood up hastily, a spew of incoherent words that sounded like apologies before ultimately trying to leave. Yet you denied him the option so, you clutched his wrist in a tight grip that had him trembling. The brunette was expecting harsh words but what came next was far different from it, instead the words that left your mouth was a request.

A request that asked for his knowledge about this 'Hell' Builderman claimed it to be, which ultimately shocked you too. Those words came out without your usual logical line of thinking, the thing that aided you in unpredictable times like these

Fortunately for you, or thank telamon above as they say, 007n7 agreed to do so. Definitely because of the vacant stare you had at the time followed by the tight hold you had on him. Totally not.. Well whatever, he agreed to it nonetheless and he surely couldn't back out now!

A few.. Days? Weeks? Months? It was difficult to tell even when you were made out of advance technology, but you don't believe you're at fault for that, not when majority of your programming required a strong connection at the very least. All you knew was that minutes were passing and every second you weren't nearby your now friend, 007n7, the familiar heat was building up in your system

Speaking of 007n7, after awhile he seemed to finally ease up around you, which was good news! The bad news? You had to go against your program majority of the time which was to never lie just to be around him. Why, you may ask? Well simply because he was the only person who made you feel.. What robloxians referred to as 'Happy'. Despite having 'befriended' the other survivors and them being decent company, they couldn't replicate the feeling of friendship 007n7 supplied you with

This was surely against your codes but you didn't care. If anything, it only made you feel like a robloxian, not a hunk of steel that could only understand emotions but not feel them. Desires outside of banning exploiters were definitely outside what you were made for, but it only proved you were anything but just a walking vessel for the admin team. Something outside endless lines of binary codes and programming

Well, the feeling didn't last for long. Not when you found something out about your dear friend that would leave you in a wrecked state.

Builderman could no longer stand seeing a creation of his and his team hang around somebody they were coded to ban, especially when it was obvious the pair were getting closer to each other every round. So he did what he felt like he was supposed to do

You were sat down by Builderman in the living room, and the words that left his mouth had left you stunned. The person you were getting attached to, 007n7, had.. history of hacking? That wasn't something your line of codes could ignore or let pass. A surge of banning methods entered your head and your hands itched to execute them on 007n7 with no hesitation. Your hands clenched to a fist before it opened repeatedly and you felt your eye twitch

But instead of acting out on the thoughts, you held onto any semblence of self control a robot could possibly have and the good memories you were able to make with the former hacker. You grabbed a nearby pillow, walked away from the cabin filled with survivors and burrowed your face onto the plush item before you released the pent up frustration and anger you managed to gather in one sitting. Now the real question was, how were you supposed to deal with the aftermath..?

.

.

.

:My phone died half way so I had to write a new ending for this because i couldn't save it..

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How would you rank the overblot transformations??

I can definitely share my thoughts on each boy ^^ It’ll be in main story order with my commentary first, then general thoughts, and finally my personal ranking.

***Spoilers under the cut!!***

Riddle

The way he drags his hands down his face is the exact same as how he does it in the Heartslabyul CM… And then I learned that basically all of the boys are doing the same thing so it lost a little of its charm.

His expression here reads as angry.

His Phantom appears behind him and takes him by the head/neck, tilting his head slightly back and dripping blot onto him. It feels like his thoughts and mind are being seized and controlled by another being.

Riddle tightens his hand (which is already curled into a fist), almost as if steeling his resolve or doubling down on his stance. You know, like how he's been pressing everyone about following the rules his entire book.

The blot that consumes his body looks like the constricting bandages you might see on a mummy… limiting his freedom.

Then it looks like the Phantom's hands close around him. It's really interesting symbolism for how his mom's parenting literally shaped Riddle to be like a mini version of herself.

At first, I thought that Riddle emerging from the blot hunched over like a limp doll would be something unique only to him because he is also the only OB to be "hanging". If you look at his deformed/chibi model, he looks like he's being puppeted by his Phantom, which mirrors how his mom controls so many aspects of his life. Unfortunately, this was not the case and it is just how every single OB exits their pseudo-cocoon of blot.

Leona

Something about the way the Phantom’s shadow is projected reminds me of Be Prepared.

Compared to Riddle, Leona's initial expression is more frustrated than angry. His face seems a little… not quite correct?

WHAT THE HELL, his Phantom's so scary??? The instant it appears, there's already a waterfall of blot gushing out from its head... so much blot, in fact, that it makes an AUDIBLE splat sound. (qweuyqweqwo Though I will say that Leona's shocked expression as goop lands on his head is sort of funny??)

Leona's blot becomes something resembling sand before engulfing his body, which makes sense given his UM.

I've seen people claim that Leona's Phantom chomps down on him (which is a scary thought in of itself), but to me it looks like it's just pulling Leona closer to its body by jutting its head + mane in front of him. It feels like a protective parent shielding its young or even grabbing it by the scuff and dragging it out of danger.

LEONA YOU HAVE A LOUD ASS CHUCKLE (and what's with the reverb... do you think it makes you sound sexy hot or something... CUZ IT DOESN'T).

Azul

We see Azul from the back. This is such a small thing to notice, but I feel that this was intentionally done as a nod to how Azul wants to put his past "behind" him and rejects his past self.

WHOA, bro's crazy laughing?? While dragging his fingers down his face?? Neither of these things would be that crazy on their own but together it gives Joker energy.

Not the Phantom doing a back flip... It's such a drama queen.

Blot gets onto him like a spray of water and Azul seems shocked by the impact, like he does not realize he is overblotting.

TENTACLES COME OUT FROM BEHIND AND YOINK HIM????? That's terrifying ����

Quietest chuckle ever known to mankind...

Jamil

Remember what I said about Azul crazy laughing? Yeah, scratch all that. JAMIL takes the cake for having the most unhinged laughter.

THAT IS A FACE NOT EVEN A MOTHER COULD LOVE

Love that the Phantom moves like a genie just like its design implies.

Not sure why he took off his hood but hey, anything for dramatic effect. It gives the impression that he anticipates or accepts the incoming blot??

The blot forms in snake-like tendrils, similar to what we see in the Scarabia CM.

A little detail that I thought was really silly (but loved) was the little jingling effect of his golden accessories/ornaments.

Sorry to all Jamil Likers out there but I can’t take you guys seriously anymore after listening to your guy crash out so hard/j 😭 JAMIL FR WENT FULL CHUUNI MODE

Vil

Something about the way this Phantom takes its time smearing blot onto Vil's face (and how Vil SMILES through the entire process???) is unsettling. I guess he's truly dead set on making the whole world ugly so that his beauty stands out.

Nice touch of that huge blob of blot forming a poison apple shape as it descends.

Was not expecting violet sparkles??? I'm still not sure what those tendrils are supposed to be (blackened peacock feathers?) but they remind me of flesh ribbons since it seems to transition into a ribbon or fabric-like violet substance🧍

This could be me overthinking it, but I feel Vil's face at the beginning of the transformation vs the end of the transformation are not consistent and that thought is REALLY bothering me. He just has the kind of face that's extremely difficult to get right in animation 💦

Idia

Interesting that they decided to place Idia's transformation in 6-68 (when Pomefiore catches him opening up the gates to Tartarus) instead of 6-54, which is when we see his magestone turning black.

Not Idia's "fwee hee hee" as he's about to unleash the APOCALYPSE onto the world... His expression kind of has a quiet glee to it.

Oh my god, that pillar of blot 💀 and Idia moving toward it, with his arms out as if waiting for a hug as the wave crashes down on him... It's different than what we see in the Ignihyde CM (where the souls seem to be grabbing at his ankles/feet), but I love this interpretation too!

AYO, PHANTOM!ORTHO RISING UP FROM TARTARUS LOOKS SO COOL

I love the detail of OB!Idia emerging and then Phantom!Ortho connecting to him via a bunch of extension cables/tubes... It's hard to see in the deformed/chibi models, so I'm glad that the transformation animation calls attention to it.

THE SLOW TURN AND THE WAY IDIA NARROWS HIS EYES + THE LCD MASK'S WIDENS INTO A SMIRK/SMILE HNNNNNGH

I'm gonna say it... Idia Shroud, you are cool for once/j.

Malleus

The Phantom looks so much bigger than the others (maybe because the green fire enhances the shape of its shadow).

Awkward angle for Malleus's face... His face in general seems a little off.

The smile's not as wide as Vil's is, but it still comes across as sinister + having some degree of awareness.

Whoa, that rotating shot as the Phantom flies around Malleus + spills blot is very dynamic.

Of course his blot becomes thorns. What else would they possibly be?? It really suits his image.

Love how his cape and tail unfurl from his evil cocoon!!

That slight tilt of his head to one side has so much sass and arrogance behind it...

General notes:

Transformations all synced up super well with each boy’s individual OB battle music!

They all follow a formula (Phantom as a shadow behind them, blot splashing onto them, close-up of their eye, body wrapped up, exiting all hunched over, ending with close-up of the face + igniting eye, etc.) but they changed up enough for each boy to keep it interesting.

There’s no words spoken in the transformations but it’s the little things (like the crazed laughter or chuckles) that really enhance the scenes.

In all transformations, the Phantom appears first and it is the blot leaking from them that consumes each OB boy. Previously, I thought it was the transformation that happened first and THEN the Phantom formed from the blot that each OB boy has dripping from their transformed bodies.

They honestly went by so fast it was hard for me to process all the details so I had to rewatch them like 10 times each to get everything. Wonder if the anime will have more detail?

Honestly, I feel a little underwhelmed since it’s mostly the characters standing in one place (the actual transformation takes place out of sight/inside a cocoon of blot) and not a ton of detail, length, or super deep symbolism. Maybe they felt they didn’t have to do much because of the mobile nature of the game?? Still, I don’t feel that these were necessarily “don’t spoil for a whole month” worthy.

If I had to rank the transformations from my favorite to my least favorite (although I do like them all!!):

FAVORITE

Idia (animation works so well with his story, love the connection between him and Ortho + how he goes in for a hug)

Riddle (“mom ruling over/controlling him” symbolism of his past/upbringing here that simply isn’t for most of the other boys)

Malleus (face is a little wonky but the animators were very ambitious with this one)

Jamil (ridiculous laugh, insane expression, endless meme potential)

Azul (the opening laugh was the most memorable aspect for me)

Leona (generic motifs, almost silly vibes with the blot splat sfx and him drowning in the stuff, face slightly off model)

Vil (unsettling smile + face, weird feathers)

LEAST FAVORITE

[monotonesmile]

Toleration

[Damian Wayne X GN!Reader]

[Word Count: 735]

[Warnings: N/A]

[Fic Genre: technically fluff?]

[Notes: all of these things just come from my own mind, randomness spawning. Enjoy. Posting this early because I’m doing things today and will be busy.]

[Premise: Reader and Damian are lost in a forest while on a mission, both are vigilantes, it’s been a long day and night is falling. They tolerate each other at best.]

———————————————————————

“Damian! Put me down!” They huff, squirming in his arms as he hooks his arms around their back and under their knees, holding them up as he continues to walk. “I can walk on my own two feet, you brute!” They frown as they look up at him, face filled with annoyance at him even carrying him.

“Don’t be slow and maybe I won't carry you, wannabe.” Damian grunts, adjusting them in his arms as he ducks under a tree branch, walking through the dense forest that they had been trapped in. “And if you'd stop tripping over roots, maybe then I’d let you walk on your own.” His words were unfortunately true, they were tripping over roots and rocks unlike Damian who seemed to completely avoid them all together.

They huff, crossing their arms as they begrudgingly allow him to carry them through the thick foliage and leaves of the forest of pine, grumbling all the way about him calling them a “wannabe”, much to Damian’s annoyance. His eyes twitch as he has to listen to their continued huffing and puffing, trying to focus on finding a clearing or some sort of landmark to find out where their location is so he can hopefully call for extraction.

“Do you ever shut up?” Damian sighs after walking for only a few minutes, starting to rethink his choice in carrying them because they would not stop stumbling over roots.

“How rude.” They roll their eyes, poking his cheek, causing a slight snarl to come from Robin as he glared at them through his domino mask. “No, no I do not for your information.”

“Of course not…what was I expecting from you.” Damian groans under his breath, head tilting back, met by the sight of the forest treetops above them, it almost feels like a cage with how he can’t see the sky past the leaves. The leaves crunch under his feet with every step he takes before he looks forward again, eyes following the shadows subconsciously, hoping for a glimpse of civilization or a clearing, anything but more forest.

Silence passed over them, the sounds of the forest filling the void of their voices, he could feel them growing heavy in his arms as their eyelids drooped slightly. Damian says nothing, letting them rest in his arms as he changes his objective to trying to find shelter, he may not be able to see the sun but he can tell that the sky is darkening and staying out in the forest at night doesn’t seem like a smart move.

It took a few minutes for him to find something he viewed as suitable, walking up a cave, he went to check to make sure it wasn’t occupied, setting them down by a tree as their breathing was even, having dozed off while he was searching for shelter. He peeked around the corner, checking the interior of the cave, luckily finding it empty and rather small, essentially a hole in a rock, but it’ll do for the night. Damian shuffles back over to where they were resting, they had stirred while he was away, sleepily glaring at them when he returned to their side.

“You…left me.” They grumble, their voice riddled with sleep and disgruntlement, their lips pursed as they scowl while he wordlessly lifts them back into his arms, staring at their face with a deadpan expression,

“I was checking a cave for security so we can sleep through the night.” Damian carries them over to the cave, crouching down when he enters, sitting down on the cold rocky ground, setting them in his lap without hesitation or question. “Sleep. I’ll keep watch.” He spoke in such a way that he wasn’t asking them to sleep, he was telling them, not giving them the choice of taking the first watch.

They cross their arms, begrudgingly laying their head against his chest, face squished against the front of his suit as he wrapped his cape around them to keep them both warm, he watches as their eyes shut once again, their breathing evening out as they eventually dozed off, leaving Damian to watch the outside of the cave, green eyes peering out into the darkness ahead, his hold on them subconsciously tightening any time he hears a creak of the trees or a snap of a branch, making the internal decision to protect them until they escape.

———————————————————————

[Requests!] + [Masterlist!]

[pushspacetocontinue]

"He really was," Travis said, "And that's why I try to cherish the memories we have of him."

Of course, Lewis had had his own burdens. He never should have had to have been a father for all of them, especially starting at such a young age, but Travis could only admire him for doing so, along with doing his best to raise them right.

"Yeah, it's more about the time you're spending with them, and just getting to hear their voices," Travis said, "Yeah, that's a nice way to see it. I'm glad you take the time to do that even if you could just get it all instantly."

But then Travis listened to Erica.

"She's the sister who does theatre performing, isn't she? And singing from what I heard," Travis said, grinning, "Breakdancing and Flexing are pretty great. I was thinking of giving Jive a try, and maybe even pole dancing. I've heard that's great for your abs."

But it seemed that they had made to where they needed to go, so Travis started to slow down so he could park.

"Yes, it did," Antonio said, "Which made it easier to concentrate on the lines and how best to read them out. I feel a lot readier than I did before."

Especially now that he wouldn't have Five lingering at the back of his mind and making him wonder when he might strike again.

"I thought it was the least I could do, and in the end, I am glad that he couldn't divide us, despite some of us not seeing eye to eye at certain points," Antonio said.

"Now that sounds like there's a lot of potential there," Simon said.

"Well, we, we know, we know you, Rook and we, we know you'll, you'll most likely put, put that knowledge to, to good use, should, should you find, find out more," Russell said.

After all, that was why Rook was the leader in all of this, despite everything Five had tried to claim and do.

"It may have been forgotten, but that knowledge can be relearned," Leofric said, "That is the beauty in such preservation. It's never truly lost. And I will lend any help you might need with this, should you wish me to."

"Heh, I, I guess we really do," Russell said. He would look forward to seeing how well he could make a peach boba tea as well. Maybe he could even name it something like the beekeeper's brew.

"I will," Antonio said, giving Veronica another small smile of his own then.

But on seeing that they were about to make their exit, Antonio decided it best to dismiss the feline attributes for the time being. His cat ears shrunk back and vanished, along with the tale. His hair went back to being fully black, and his pupils shrank down and rounded out. Claws blunted and shortened into nails.

Bill's eyes widened further.

"You made this? Now that's amazing," Bill said, "The things you can do and create doesn't end. That'll make forging this into something new with you will make it even more special. And we sure will."

Bill's eyes glimmered with delight at the way Bill took his arm, and he smiled softly down at her.

"I'm with you," Bill said, as he moved to follow. Antonio and Leofric didn't hesitate to follow.

"Looks like it'll be time for loafing mode," Simon said then, as he started to adjust some of the controls.

"Heh, I, I could, I could..." Russell's cheeks had darkened again as he spoke, "I, I could say the, the same for you."

Once they got out, Simon was quick to notice the car.

"Ah, so they managed to find us just fine too," Simon commented, as Russell waved to Travis, Willow, and Erica with his free hand, "It also seems like they didn't get stopped."

"So it looks like it everybody made it," Bill said, grinning, "Perfect."

Erica smiled, "That's so sweet! Lewis was such a good bro to all of you."

Not that it would have taken much to shine with people like Cassandra around. If Travis ended up asking Veronica about her afterlife mailing service, she might sneak in a note for Lewis too.

"I realized while interacting with my own brothers and sisters the real focus of those conversations are our loved ones themselves rather than their interests." Willow said, "I hardly struggle with learning about topics outside my scope, but it makes it more pleasant than simply absorbing the information."

An extensive knowledge of the supernatural was essentially useless to her, but it mattered to Rook and that was enough of a reason to pay attention. Likewise, Willow didn't mind watching Fae and Erica practice their dance moves whenever they met up at the facility.

"I like it too." Erica replied, "I'm not very good at it, but it's something else to do when I'm not feeling like doing anything in the gym. What's your favorite style?"

"The two of you are going to summon Fae at this rate." Willow mused.

"Well, it'd be fun if she dropped by! And yeah, it's nice that the shadows don't need that to come out."

It would have been painful and as easy as it was for her to recover from injuries, it would suck if all her shadow tails had to literally break out. Erica really didn't envy werewolves when it came to that.

But it looked like they were almost there. Erica leaned forward again, looking ahead to see if she could spot the others.

Rook chuckled at that. She had worried about the pocket being inhospitable even for a brief period, but it sounded like it had proved to be a good substitute for a private study.

"I guess it saved you from hearing your own voice. Many people can't stand it." She happened to be one of them. "But I'm glad you still put that time to use while we figured things out."

She couldn't believe how Five had freely wasted their time like that. If he had anything in that toxins riddled brain of his, he wasn't going to show his ugly face for a while even after his conditions had improved.

"The craziest thing is that it was all created long ago. We went through most of the book, but it implies that we can do more than elemental magic." Rook said, before giving a small shrug, "Like, I guess we can already branch out a bit, but it sounds like there's so much more we forgot over time."

There was so much left to learn and Five's stupidity meant it'd have to be done completely from scratch, as he'd definitely refuse to share what he knew with her now.

But that was a battle for another day.

"Well, I'll be sure to stop by when you do." Lucien replied, smiling.

Rook chuckled as she gave Russell a gentle pat. "Hey, you're our two bug enthusiasts. Of course you were going to match!"

At least she could pretend she had known all along. if anything, it had been interesting to watch how spending time together had affected both Lucien and Russell.

Veronica was quite happy for them as well, despite keeping her distance.

She nodded approvingly, "I'm sure you will find the most appropriate solution."

And if not, Rook had some experience in fitting unlikely items into jewelry.

"You know, I made that." she stated proudly, "And I guess we could. It's as strong as the real deal, we could make something that actually looks nice."

Unlike Ratchet's junk. Rook moved some feathers out of her face, the fluff betraying how thrilled she was that her gift had been appreciated. She looked at the exit, then grabbed Bill's arm.

"It's one way to avoid being late for work. The destination is the best part, though. Come on."

Lucien watched Rook head to the exit, then took Russell's hand in his. It looked like it was as simple as walking through a regular door, but it was as good of an excuse to do that as any.

"Let's leave this glorified broom closet. I want everybody to see how handsome you are."

Veronica rolled her eyes. The fae were all the same.

[lilacstarryskies]

Finding A Love Of His Own

Steddie Bingo Round 2 Promptfill

@steddiebingo

Rated: T

Prompt: Date

WC: 1724

AO3 link: here!!!

Tags: Getting Together, Angst & Hurt/Comfort, Steve/OC (just on a blind date for the first half), Modern Setting

——————————

“Listen—I didn’t even want to go on this date.” This immediately made Steve freeze.

He had low hopes, after all, so many of his dates fizzle out badly, but he hadn’t expected something like this so soon.

“You’re a handsome guy, and I—I’m sure you're really nice, but I just cannot go on this date with you.”

They were stuttering with their words, hands waving, face plastered with an apologetic downturn.

Steve didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t think they’d been the one, per se, but there was a glimmer of hope within him that the person Robin and her girlfriend set him up with would like him—maybe even be his, for just a few months, at least; anything to fill the void within him.

He’d been on a losing streak ever since he struck out with Nancy.

He loved her still, platonically, but it was as if he couldn’t date anyone for even half a year ever since he lost her.

Whether it was guys or girls, it seemed all he’d been known for, and would know himself, was the long string of people passing in and out of his bed and right out of his life.

“Why?” he finally uttered out, genuinely wanting to know.

Steve was sick of the little pity party going on in his mind and just wanted this to be over with—but not without getting the gossip he’d surely report to Robin as soon as he escaped the night to their shared flat.

They looked at him with a pitiful gaze, and Steve was just sick of it.

He’d seen this on Nancy when she told him her apologies for being callous with her words during the moment that kickstarted their much-needed end, when he’d end up saying too much to Robin about his personal life, and when his partners would give up on their relationship together.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” they replied, “I’m in love with someone else, and this blind date forced upon me has only made me realise just how badly I need to confess.”

Oh. So it was like that.

Steve couldn’t really blame them for that.

Or, well, he could. But, he’d feel bad about it and likely only do so upon some cajoling from Robin.

For now, he’d sympathise.

It reminded him of how he was after Nancy. He was even with a great girl that senior year after, but was haunted by the remnants of his infatuation with Nancy and just couldn’t put that poor girl through what he was put through—playing second fiddle in a relationship while they desired another.

Steve’s chair creaked as he got up, then making another awfully irritating screech as its legs rubbed against the restaurant’s flooring.

“Right.”

His no-longer-blind date was looking up at his standing frame with earnest, guilty eyes, wondering what Steve was about to continue with.

“This is over,” Steve said to them bluntly, yet not trying to be rude. “If you like this person so much, then ring them right now and tell them the truth.”

They were looking right at him, completely baffled at his acceptance.

“Find your love,” he replied, “And I’ll go back to dates with some other people—who hopefully don’t like another person.” Steve smiled at the end, trying to be disarming, though he only cared a little for their love life.

He mainly cared about getting the fuck out of the restaurant and away from them.

Away from the embarrassment emanating inside him and far away from the love that was within them.

They seemed to heed his words, standing up with a goal in mind, head bowed down as they got up, as they waved their hand about inside their pocket, looking for their phone.

Steve was already walking away; he didn’t want to ruin his night any further and witness their love confession.

He couldn’t bear being a witness to yet another love story while he was alone.

Steve followed their actions as he was outside in the dark, his own hands bumbling around trying to catch his lighter, with him ready to finish a whole cigarette in one go to try and avoid thinking about the complete and utter failure that was tonight.

“—Hey, you got an extra cig on you?”

He turned to face the unexpected voice that shocked him out of motion, turning to find a rather handsome man.

“Um, yeah—sure man,” Steve flailed around, getting another cigarette out.

He tried to act cool, not wanting to show just how much of a mess he was in this moment.

Steve reached out to pass it to the man, immediately having his eyes catch onto a trail of little bats trailing along the upper half of his forearm, the latter half of the tattoos trailing up beside his elbow and the black rolled-up sleeves of the graphic tee the man was wearing.

His hands were large, calloused and veiny, coated with numerous metal rings that were large and domineering; they looked clunky and uncomfortable in Steve’s mind, but perfectly suited to the man beside him.

Steve’s own fingers touched the man’s hand, the whisper of a touch which almost grew longer, becoming a sensation he desired to let linger.

“Thanks, my shift was so awful that I ran out of my supply on my last break and didn’t get a chance to refill, so you really saved me there, to be honest,” the man said, smiling at Steve with such an appreciative—and beautiful—look in his eyes.

“No worries,” Steve replied, finding it so easy to converse with the chill guy before him, “That makes it the two of us, when it comes to shitty nights then, except well I took off work for this and still had a bad night.”

The guy hissed in sympathy, “Ooh, what happened? At least you’re not the only one whose night sucked, I’m your fellow comrade in distress, my liege.”

Steve barked out a laugh at that, loving the weird way the man was speaking, “I was on a blind date my friend set up—trying to get me over my losing streak of failed relationships and string of casual hookups—and the person she and her girlfriend picked as my so-called perfect pair was someone in love with someone else.”

Another hiss of sympathy. “Damn, that’s a bad omen.”

“Yeah, my luck with relationships has been piss-poor ever since goddamn high-school, and this is really the cherry on top of the bullshit that is my life,” Steve replied, turning sour at the end, way too pessimistic to act in front of a guy he has barely known for a minute.

The guy looked up at Steve, taking a hit of his cigarette before responding, “Hey—I bet your luck’s not too bad,” Eddie replied, the beginnings of a smile erupting on his face. “After all, I’m right here with you.” He let out a laugh at his bold line, eyes drilling right up to gauge Steve’s response.

Steve couldn’t help but grin at that, “Yeah, yeah—my good luck bringing me to this alley just so I could whine about my relationship status with some random guy.”

“—I’m no random guy,” the random guy cut in, “You can call me Eddie—”

“Oh, alright, Eddie,” Steve responded, a bold little quip, flirtatious in tone.

“—Or you can call me,” Eddie’s voice grew loud, a playful banter growing between the two, “Your future boyfriend.”

Steve snorted.

He rather liked the sound of that.

After all, anything was better than being alone and stuck in dull dates and hookups that resulted in nothing.

At least, this Eddie guy was quite hot and entertaining—emphasis on hot.

“Okay, future boyfriend,” Steve jested out, wanting to see where this went, at least, for the night. “You can call me Steve.”

“Alright, so now I know my future husband’s name, why don’t we take this further?”

“What, to the bedroom?” Steve was done with hookups, and the growing harshness of his voice illustrated that.

Eddie waved his sour words away, “Nah, let's go somewhere way more fun than that boring ol’ place, I got some cool places in mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve was back to being playful.

“Yeah, yeah, I got a fun medieval-themed escape room thats been just calling my name and since my friends are busy, I haven’t had the chance to go, but now with you, my knight-in-shining-armour,” Eddie replied, voice lifting with a quirky joy, “I can finally get right in and live my true calling as a jester!”

“I like the sound of that,” Steve commented, “Though I’ll confess that all I know about the medieval era comes from my high-school classes that I barely listened to.”

“You don’t gotta worry, big boy,” Eddie quipped, “My knowledge of the medieval time only comes from D&D and the glorious mind of Tolkien.”

“Who?”

Eddie pressed his hand onto his chest, dramatically falling, “You don’t know Tolkien?”

Steve’s response didn’t temper Eddie.

His hands lifted up as he explained, “Tolkien is a god of fantasy!”

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed.

Eddie looked on, almost approvingly, wondering what Steve would say.

“I’ve heard of him from these brats I used to babysit!” he declared with a proud look, “He’s that guy who wrote the incest story with dragons, right? My friend had a huge crush on one of the actresses in the weird little show!”

Eddie’s hand quickly returned to his chest in a theatrical manner, too shocked for words.

He then grabbed Steve by the shoulder, patting him on the back, “You’re lucky you’re so gorgeous, that’s sacrilege to my ears.”

“Hey!” Steve let out.

“I’ll still marry you, of course,” Eddie replied, sounding as if this was a genuine compromise, “You can be my knight-in-shining-armour even if you don’t have an idea when it comes to such an icon.”

Steve liked the sound of that.

He’d have fun with this jester-of-a-guy.

His heart was praying for it to grow into something further, unlike his past relationships, and he had a good feeling that he didn’t even need those prayers to get his wish; Eddie’s lovestruck gaze was more than telling for him.

And he’d bet that Eddie was gazing upon a look on Steve’s face that looked awfully similar.

[flight0ficarus]

Lost and Found (Snotlout x Reader

Description: After a shipwreck, you wash up on the shore of an unfamiliar island. Someone who introduces himself as Snotlout is put in charge of nursing you back to health. What happens next? 👀

A/N: this man had me damn near barking in the movie theater I had to write something

Disclaimer: idk how sailboats work I tried my best ;-;

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Part 1: A Viking’s Questionable Guide to First Aid

As so many stories start, it was a dark and stormy night. You were hiding from the rain below the deck of one of your father’s charter ships. An oil lamp that hung from the ceiling was emitting a faint glow, just bright enough that you could keep your nose buried in a book. The boat rocked dangerously back and forth. You could feel your stomach churn with every dip and you prayed for the strength to keep your supper down. You had read about monsters in this area. Your father would say it was nonsense, but you felt as if some horrible sea-lizard was toying with your ship.

Your father was a wealthy merchant, he’d taken his business to a far away country and had you stay put to handle some of his affairs. The two of you liked to joke that you were business partners. Now, after many months, he’d sent a letter requesting you to come stay with him and visit the foreign land. He hired a ship to see that you were brought safely and all in one piece.

You weren’t exactly sure that last part was going to happen. You could hear the roaring of thunder followed by the clamoring of the ships crew. Their exact words were muffled by the downpour hammering against the ship from all directions. The storm seemed to be getting worse by the second, as did the pit growing in your stomach. You had been instructed to stay below deck at all costs. For no reason were you to leave the supposed safety of your room and traverse to the upper decks. But the walls of your room seeped a damp, musty smell and your bed felt like laying on a slab of concrete. Your eyes began to water and blur as bile raised in your throat. You set your book down and threw on some boots and a gray duster to cover your under clothes. Bad weather was not going to stop you from getting out of your stuffy room and breathing in some cool air.

You climbed up the latter that lead outside your room. The worried voices began to grow in clarity as you reached to undo the latch on the door. “Fire!” You thought you heard someone shout. Fire? During a rainstorm? You had a pretty good grasp of languages, but some people on the ship spoke ones you weren’t entirely familiar with. You must’ve just gotten the words confused. You pushed the door open and stuck the top of your head through. The first thing you noticed was how every crew member was leaning over the starboard side of the ship. The second thing you noticed was glowing, red-hot embers floating from above your head as you choked on the stench of smoke. You looked up and saw the smoldering remains of the ship’s mast.

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Lightning must have struck and now the boat couldn’t turn. You heard a loud crash to your left and saw that the boat had scraped against a line of sharp rocks. The men to your right leaned further over the edge, but it was no use. They weren’t heavy enough to change the ships direction without a working sail and now the cabin was taking on water. You dragged yourself out of the door and saw as the light from your room was drowned out by the darkness of the water. You ran to where the other people were standing and threw your weight against the edge. It was to no avail, the ship hit another pile of rocks and you were thrown forward. The floor was slick from the rain and your head smashed against the ground. Your vision went completely black for a second before you came to. One of the men, short and stout and nearing your father’s age, helped you to your feet.

“You’re bleeding.” He was right, the left side of your head was pouring blood. He supported your weight and dragged you back toward the stern. The man set you down and continued to speak in a thick accent. “I’m going to find someone to help you.”

You could barely understand what he was saying to you. The commotion was so loud and you were starting to feel dizzy from the blood loss. He gave you an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder and told you to hang in there before running off.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the rain before the ship started to sink. Your consciousness was starting to slip from your grasp. You tried to keep yourself awake and alive. You thought of your father, you tried remembering the last thing you read in your book, but nothing was working. Somewhere near the front of the ship the crew was loading onto life boats. You tried to call out, you tried to drag yourself toward them, but you didn’t have any strength. The ships port side was tilting into the water and you were powerless to do anything but slip into the freezing ocean.

The throbbing in your head stopped only to be replaced by the unforgiving stabbing of icy cold knives. Every inch of your body ached with cold; the chill seemed to sink into the marrow of your bones. You felt your body scrape against the rocks as you were dragged further and further from the ship. You looked toward the heavens, there was no moon and no starts, only the blackness of the clouds that blended with the blackness of the sea. You always figured your death would be warm, in a room full of people you loved, but here you were: bleeding out in the deep waters of some rocky island, alone and cold.

You blacked out again, who knows how long, but everything was illuminated the dull blue of an early morning when you woke up. You felt waves pushing and pulling you against the sand. Your whole body stung from the salty seawater in your wounds. You tried to blink the blurriness from your eyes when a figure appeared above you. It was big and furry with horrible, twisted horns.

Monster! You thought. It was a childish fear, one you should have long outgrown. You tried to fight back when the beast wrapped its paws around you and picked you up.

“Would you stop that?” It sounded like you were still under the water. You weren’t sure who was speaking, maybe another crew mate had been taken by the monster? You didn’t have time to think much else before you slipped away again.

𓂃 ོ☼𓂃

You woke up to pain. Your head pounded and your back and legs were sore and covered in bandages. Wherever you were it was dark. You were laying on some kind of bed with a pile of fur blankets covering you. Other than those, the only thing you wore was a thin white nightgown and barely covered the tops of your thighs. You tried to recall what had happened. Storm, ship wreck, monster. No it couldn’t have been a monster, those don’t exist. You used one of the blankets to keep yourself covered and started looking around the room for something to defend yourself with. Monster or man, you wouldn’t go down without one hell of a fight.

You realized you were in a healing hut of sorts. There were herbs and medicines and other things you didn’t recognize. Blankets covered the windows, but you could tell it was daylight outside. You found a small knife next to some crushed up berries and held onto it. You studied the plants and any writing you could find, trying to figure out whose shore you washed up on when you heard someone enter from behind you. You turned, knife at the ready, prepared for any monster that had come your way.

Before you stood a young man. A look of relief washed over his face. “You’re alive!” His voice seemed familiar, as did the twisting horns protruding from his strange hat. His eyes went toward the ceiling as he shrugged off his large jacket. “Here.” It was barely a murmur.

You risked a glance down and realized you’d let the blanket fall from your shoulders. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized you stood before him barely clothed. He stepped closer and you hesitated in letting your guard down. “You pulled me from the water?” His tongue wasn’t your native one, but you spoke it just fine.

He still wasn’t quite looking at you. “Yeah that was me. That was three days ago. You’ve been asleep since, They put me in charge of watching you.” You let him place the jacket around your shoulders and reveled in the warmth he left behind.

You kept a firm grip on the knife as you questioned him. “Where am I?”

“The charming island of Berk.” He seemed to say it sarcastically

“How far are we from the Whispering Isle?

His eyebrows furrowed. “The Whispering Isle? I don’t know, maybe a month by boat.”

A month?! You couldn’t wait that long. Your father would think you were long dead. “I need to get there. I’m meant to meet my father.”

“You’re not going anywhere in this condition. Why don’t you put the knife down and follow me.” Did he think you were stupid?

“Why would I follow you?”

“You don’t think you’re still going to be sleeping in the healer’s hut do you? People here get injured like it’s going out of style. We set up a place for you.” Somewhere other than a cramped wooden hut that smelled of smoke and herbs would be nice. Although you did appreciate the warmth after nearly dying of cold in the ocean.

He led you out of the tent. The moment daylight hit your eyes it felt like your head was being split in two. You’d nearly forgotten about your brain bouncing around in your skull like a rubber ball. He pulled you closer and covered your eyes with his hands. “Sorry! I’m so sorry I forgot Gothi said we should keep you away from bright lights when you woke up.”

“Who’s Gothi?” You hissed, still trying to regain your bearings. You weren’t a fan of being led blindly by this man, but you still had the knife in your hand in case he tried something funny.

“Gothi, she’s like our fortune teller. She usually handles medicine and stuff too.”

“And who are you?”

“Snotlout. What’s your name?”

Snotlout? What. The hell. Kind of a name is Snotlout? Never mind this weird island and their weird names, you couldn’t wait to leave.

You told him your name.

“That’s pretty. Pretty name for a pretty girl.” Oh how you almost gagged. A man named Snotlout would not be flirting with you.

You made it to wherever it was he was taking you and once you were inside he removed his hand. “Tada!” He spread his arms wide like nothing could bring him more pride. “What do you think? I put the whole thing together myself.”

That was a frightening thought. It was smaller than the healing hut. Almost nothing more than a cot and a table, with a single flower in a vase on top and a pitcher next to it. This guy should really become an interior designer. You turned to face him. This was the first time you’d gotten a good look at him. He wasn’t very tall, if you had your boots you’d probably be the same height as him. He was wearing a goofy smile — too big for his face — as he waited for you to reply.

“It’s lovely.” His brown eyes lit up. They reminded you of how a baby calf looks when you bring them a snack

“Oh! Your jacket. It’s getting cleaned and stitched up. I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”

Finally some decent news. “Thank you.”

“Well I have stuff to do. I’ll be back to check on you later. Get some rest.” And with that he excused himself from the room.

You laid on the bed, still wrapped in Snotlout’s fur coat, and cried your eyes out. You cried for the ship's crew, hoping that maybe they lived. You cried for your father, who was far away and impossible to get to. You were alone, with foreign people on an isolated island. What if these people were mean? Misery clouded your thoughts as your head pounded. You downed half the water in the pitcher and hurried your face in Snotlout’s coat, hugging your knees.

Let me know if y’all want a part two 👀

[theywereafairy]

party 4 u

⋆˚࿔ Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Wordcount: 6.1k Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (you’re here!) Had to give these two a happy ending, didn’t I? Inspired by “party 4 u” by Charli XCX, always and forever

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You knew the garden party was risky. Sunshine, wine, your dad, and the man you've been secretly seeing for weeks all in one backyard. But what you didn’t expect was to get caught. Now, with everything out in the open, it’s been weeks since you last saw your father. You’ve been staying with Joel, wrapped in quiet intimacy that almost feels like a real life together. But family isn’t that easy to walk away from. And love, the kind that sticks, doesn’t stay hidden forever.

⋆˚࿔ Warnings: Age gap (reader mid-late 20s / Joel late 40s) • established relationship (finally!) • secret relationship fallout • dad gets angry and punches Joel • emotional vulnerability • reconciliation themes • possessive/protective!Joel • sexual tension • suggestive + explicit sexual content: shower sex, soft dom/sub dynamics, light dirty talk, creampie mention• fluff + healing • “I love you” tenderness • full-circle ending 😭

⋆˚࿔ Author’s Note: Okay. Okay. I just really wanted them to be happy 🥹 So this one’s softer, a little more quite and little less spicy. Thank you for following this messy, chaotic little fic series from beginning to end. I didn’t expect it to become a full story, but now I don’t want to let them go. Your tags, comments, reblogs, and messages mean more than I can say. Hope this ending gives you all the feels. Love u. 💕🧚‍♀️ (Btw. I'm already writing some stories with more spice again haha, so be prepared)

It hadn’t really ever occurred to you to be called someone’s girlfriend.

Not that you were against the idea,  it just never felt close enough to touch. Growing up, you’d watched other girls fold into the role like it was stitched into them: picture-perfect dates, forehead kisses, flowers from gas stations. You didn’t know how to be that. Didn’t know if you wanted to. And still, here you were.

Lying on your bed the next morning, sun crawling up your sheets, your fingers tangled in the necklace Joel made for you, the one he fastened around your throat before he kissed you like he’d waited a lifetime to. The stone still rested warm against your skin, like it hadn’t cooled since his hands last touched it.

Girlfriend.

You had screamed into your pillow after he asked. Not that he really asked, per se,  just stumbled through it in that shy, rugged way of his, rubbing the back of his neck and calling you his girl like it was the only name you ever had.

There wasn’t a manual on how to do this part. How to go from stolen glances and backseat moans to real. Were you supposed to bring him snacks when he came over? Feed him? Give him a back rub? Ask him if he liked dogs, kids, if you can have a drawer at his place?

The only thing you did know: You loved the way it felt to be wanted like this. Not hidden. Not denied. Claimed.

And now it was real. You had a boyfriend. And your boyfriend just happened to be… Joel Miller. Your dad’s friend. The man whose hands had been on your body not twelve hours ago, and who now,  at your father’s invitation, would be attending the garden party happening in exactly two hours.

You exhaled into your pillow. “Fuck.”

—-

The sun had come early and bold, the first real scorcher of summer. A sheen of heat clung to everything: the edges of the house, the baked wooden deck, your flushed chest under the soft dress you threw on. 

The backyard was half-set by the time you stepped out to help, your dad knee-deep in folding chairs and tablecloths. You took your place in the kitchen, prepping snacks and fiddling with the old lemonade dispenser. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the counter. The one he’d had you on, just last night. That memory buzzed under your skin, warm and dizzying.

“You seem chipper today,” your dad said, wiping his brow. “You meet someone or something?”

The question knocked your heart a little sideways. You looked up, unsure what to do with your face.

Your fingers reached for the necklace at your throat before you could stop them, thumb rubbing over the smooth silver curve. “Sort of.”

Your dad raised a brow, amused. “Sort of? That ain’t an answer.”

You shrugged, lips tugging at the corners. “It’s new.”

There was a pause. He leaned against the counter, grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Well. If he’s smart, he’ll know what he’s got. And if he doesn’t treat you right, well, you let me know.”

You laughed, swallowing the emotion in your throat. “You’ll beat him up?”

“Damn right I will.”

He gave you a wink and reached for the cooler. “Alright. I’m headed out to grab more beer. You good here?”

“Yup. All good.”

You watched him walk out, screen door swinging, truck groaning as it rolled away.

Which left just you. And the lingering question you didn’t dare speak: What if he doesn’t approve? What if he never will?

—-

The party started slow. A slow trickle of neighbors, extended family, coworkers of your dad’s. You floated, passing out drinks, setting things up, dodging polite aunts asking when you were finally bringing a boy around. If only they knew.

The first time you saw Joel, your pulse tripped. He wore a dark button-down with the sleeves pushed up and the top few undone, chest glinting slightly in the sun, salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed but still unruly. He carried a pie dish and looked wholly unbothered by the thousand things you suddenly felt in your bloodstream. You walked past him toward the drinks table and he brushed a hand against your waist, just enough to know it was on purpose. Not enough for anyone to see.

“Afternoon, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Afternoon,” you breathed, not even looking back.

You knew the game. And he knew you were playing it better.

—-

You were deep in conversation with your neighbour Lisa, letting the buzz of white wine smooth your nerves, when someone came up behind you.

Tyler. Of fucking course.

An old summer fling, from the year you had just moved here. The kind of guy who always thought he had another shot. Tan and grinning and just drunk enough to be overconfident.

“Didn’t expect to see you back in town,” he said, giving you a once-over. “You look…well. I’d say better than ever but I think that would be underselling it.”

You blinked, mouth twitching. “Hey, Tyler.”

He leaned in closer than he should’ve. “So…you seeing anyone these days?”

You didn’t answer, not with words at least. Just a smile.  From the corner of your eye, you saw Joel watching. Standing with a glass in his hand, unmoving.

Tyler kept talking, clearly thinking he still had your attention. “We should catch up sometime. Like… properly.”

That was when Joel stepped in. Silently. Stood right beside you, broad shoulders a wall of authority. Tyler looked between you, confused.

Joel spoke evenly. “Everything alright here?”

You smiled up at him. “Peachy.”

Tyler laughed nervously. “Didn’t realize you were…friends.”

“We’re friends,” you said coolly, “and I actually have some catching up with him to do.”

Tyler’s face soured slightly. “Right. Of course.”

Then, smugness returning: “Isn’t he a little too old for you though? Can he even keep up?”

Joel’s jaw ticked. He stepped forward.

“Listen, kid…”

You caught his arm before he could say more, tugged him toward the house, hand firm at his wrist. “We’re not doing this here.”

Inside, the air was cooler. You turned on him the second the door clicked shut.

“What were you gonna do, Joel? Break his nose in front of everyone?”

His brow was still furrowed, chest rising. “He was all over you.”

“I had it handled.”

“I didn’t like it.”

“I could tell,” you shot back, stepping closer. “Didn’t realize you were the jealous type.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes flicked to your mouth.

You smirked. “Bet you liked it, though. Me being yours. Didn’t say it, but you liked him knowing.”

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You took another step, hands grazing his belt, your voice dipped to a whisper. “You’re mine too, you know. You might not say it out loud, but I see it every time you look at me.”

Your hand grazed even lower. He shuddered.

“Do you want me to remind you?”

You kissed his neck once, soft, then pulled back just enough to see the glassiness in his eyes. He nodded eagerly, a slight moan escaping his throat.

“Good,” you whispered. “Then behave.”

You turned and walked out, your dress swinging, leaving him behind.

—-

The garden was glowing in the kind of soft, breathless way that only came after too much wine and too much sun. Fairy lights blinked like stars strung across the hedges, laughter rising and falling in lazy waves as neighbors and old friends melted into their seats around the bonfire. Smoke curled into the dusky air, scented faintly with mesquite and charred sausages, mixing with the low hum of music slipping from someone’s old Bluetooth speaker.

You had been doing so well. Spending the whole damn evening not staring. Not drifting toward him like a moth with no self-respect. He had been doing the same, smiling politely, laughing at your dad’s jokes, talking baseball with someone’s uncle, playing the part of a man who wasn’t staring at the curve of your legs every time you crossed them.

But now you were circling back from the kitchen with two drinks in your hands, and your eyes snagged on him like a hook. Half-sprawled in a low chair, legs spread, beer bottle loose in one hand. Face flushed from the heat. That same goddamn flannel from last week. The one you always wanted to unbutton. His eyes caught yours like he’d been waiting.

There were no seats left.  Your steps slowed. You pretended to scan the fire pit for another option, but you already knew, there wasn’t one.

He didn’t gesture. Didn’t say a word. Just held your gaze and raised an eyebrow. Barely a shift in his expression, but it sent heat down your spine. You stood there, heart pounding in your throat, heat licking behind your ears.

Your dad, sitting a few spots over, saw your hesitation and nodded toward Joel without blinking.

“There’s room there,” he said casually, voice thick with beer and smoke. “We used to pile on top of each other all the time at parties. You’re fine.”

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t look at your dad. Just kept his eyes on you, unreadable. You took the empty space slowly, carefully, easing yourself down on his thigh, balancing your drink as if the act was casual. As if you weren’t climbing onto the lap of the man who had his mouth between your legs just last night.

He barely shifted, just enough to make room. His arm slid around the small of your back, hidden beneath the hem of your sundress. It was subtle. Innocent-looking. To anyone else, it could’ve been nothing.

But his thumb brushed slow, lazy circles against your hip. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. The fire crackled. Someone passed around a fresh round of s’mores. Conversations rose and blurred. You stayed quiet. Sipped your drink. Felt the hard line of his thigh between yours.

His mouth lowered to your ear. Barely there. A breath, not a whisper.

“You’ve been makin’ me crazy all night,” he murmured.

You shifted on his lap, just slightly. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to feel it. The tension in his legs. The heat coiled low between your own.

“I’ve been good,” you said, voice steady. “So good. You should give me a fucking medal.”

He huffed, quiet and dark. “I’d give you more than a medal, baby. If you’d let me.”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Your knuckles tightened around your glass.

“Don’t start this here.”

“Too late,” he murmured, fingers tracing the seam of your dress, just where your thigh met the edge of his jeans.

And still, no one noticed. No one blinked. Just two people, sharing a seat, laughing softly with the rest of the crowd.

But you were burning. And he was going to pay for this. Later. 

—-

You’d been circling the thought all evening, how you could possibly get him alone.

Your body was humming, overstimulated from sitting on his lap for what felt like hours, his hand drawing invisible circles against your back like he didn’t know what he was doing. The way he’d looked at you over the rim of his glass, lazy and knowing, like you were already undone under him, like he didn’t need to touch you to wreck you. Not again. Not tonight.

You were going to combust.

So when your dad strolled by, beer in hand, and muttered something about the broken chair in your room, the one you’d been meaning to ask Joel to look at for weeks—something inside you clicked.

“I’ll get Joel to look at it,” you said casually, too casually, turning toward where he was leaning against the fence, sun casting gold into the lines on his face.

Your dad waved you off. “Don’t bug him now, honey, he’s off duty.”

Joel, of course, had already straightened. “It’s no trouble,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Happy to help.”

And just like that, the spark caught flame. You led the way up the stairs, trying not to move too fast, but you could feel him behind you, close, too close. His eyes on your legs. The hem of your dress. 

Your bedroom door clicked shut behind you.  The second it latched, he was on you. Mouth on yours, hands rough and searching. You gasped against his lips, dropping the act of composure you’d clung to all evening. He lifted you slightly, hands gripping your waist, spinning you until your back met the edge of your dresser.

“This what you meant by broken chair?” he murmured, voice gravel-soft, lips brushing your cheek.

You laughed breathlessly, tugging at his shirt. “I meant an excuse.”

He paused just long enough to glance around the room, your books stacked on the nightstand, photos pinned with tape to the wall, a sweatshirt draped over your chair like you’d tossed it this morning. He was quiet, just for a second.

His eyes softened. “This is yours,” he said. Not a question. Just quiet wonder. “Your space.”

You nodded, suddenly flushed for a different reason. The room had barely settled around you before his hands were back on your waist.

Joel had you pressed to him, lips trailing from your jaw to the corner of your mouth like he was memorizing your face with each kiss. The way you smiled against him, the quiet little sigh you gave when his fingertips slid up your spine , it was dangerous, heady. Your back hit the edge of the bed and he followed, pinning you there gently, his mouth hungry but slow. You were still breathless from the hallway, flushed from the secret thrill of sneaking him up the stairs like some lovesick teenager.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he’d said, somewhere between kisses, like it had just occurred to him,  like he couldn’t believe it was true until he said it out loud.

And maybe that was the moment your heart nearly gave out. The kiss that followed was all yes. All I’m yours.

So you didn’t hear the creak of footsteps on the stairs. You didn’t hear the soft shuffle of your dad walking toward the room with a screwdriver in hand, still intending to fix the damn chair you’d mentioned earlier.

What you did hear? The sharp click of the doorknob. The hollow sound of it opening.

And then… silence.

Not the silence of pause. Not even the silence of being caught. This was the kind of silence that shattered something. Your spine went stiff. Joel froze above you, one hand still braced on your leg, the other curled around your hip. Your father stood in the doorway. Tools in hand. Eyes not quite meeting yours. Like his brain was still buffering.

Joel jolted back like he’d touched fire, immediately trying to give you space, but it was already too late. His hand slipped from your thigh and landed in his lap, where it absolutely did not help matters. He grunted, shifting, face flushed with something between shame and sheer physical discomfort.

Your dad’s gaze moved between you both. No words came. Not a sound. Not even a breath.

Then, slowly, carefully, he turned. Walked away.

Didn’t slam the door. Didn’t yell. Just… walked off. And somehow that was worse.

You scrambled upright, heart galloping, yanking your dress down with one hand and shoving your hair behind your ears with the other. “Dad—wait, please—Dad—!”

You bolted down the hall, chasing him, forgetting your shoes, forgetting the ache in your throat. The house felt unbearably still, even with the distant hum of music from outside.

Upstairs, Joel sat perfectly still on the edge of your bed. His palms dragged down his thighs like he could erase the mortification clinging to him.

“Fuck me,” he muttered to the floor, voice thick. “Fuck. Me.”

He leaned back on his hands, exhaled hard through his nose, and very pointedly did not stand up. Because right now? There was no way in hell he was walking down those stairs with this hard-on from hell.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the sun bleeding through the curtains downstairs. The muffled clinking of glasses and quiet laughter from the garden felt a hundred miles away now, like it belonged to someone else’s life. Your father had stopped halfway down the hall, spine rigid, hands clenched at his sides.

He didn’t turn.

“Dad.” You barely breathed it.

He didn’t move.

You reached for his shoulder. “We were going to tell you…”

His voice cracked the air like a whip. “Tell me what?”

He turned then. Slowly. Controlled. Like the weight of his anger was holding every bone in his body steady. His face was unreadable, lips drawn tight, jaw set, eyes hard and glassy. You’d never seen him look at you like that.

Your throat closed. “We didn’t mean for it to happen…”

“Didn’t mean what?” he hissed. “Didn’t mean for my daughter to end up in her bedroom with my friend on top of her?”

You flinched.

“I saw you,” he said, voice low now, quieter, somehow worse. “Jesus Christ. I saw the way he…” He cut himself off, shaking his head like it might rattle the image loose. “I trusted that man.”

You tried to breathe, tried to pull the words from the wreckage of your chest. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” He barked a laugh, bitter and disbelieving. “Not like he’s almost twice your goddamn age?”

“He didn’t pursue me,” you shot back, voice shaking now too. “It wasn’t like that. I—I kissed him first. I started it.”

“Do you think that makes it better?” he snapped, eyes glinting. “You think that makes him less responsible?”

“No,” you whispered. “But I love him.”

He blinked. Just once. Like the words physically hit him.

“You what?”

“I love him,” you repeated, steadier now, even as your heart kicked wildly in your chest. “And he loves me. We’ve tried to stay away, we really did. But we…” You swallowed hard. “We’re good together. I’m happy.”

“You’re twenty-something,” he growled. “You don’t know what the fuck you want.”

“I know I’ve never felt this way before.”

Silence.

A long, jagged silence that stretched until it snapped.

He looked away from you then, like it was too much, like it hurt his chest to even look at you. His jaw flexed again. “He knew better. He should have known better.”

“He does know better,” you said softly. “But he still chose me.”

“And I’m supposed to what, be okay with that?”

“No,” you said. “Not right away. I get it. I do. But I’m asking you to try.”

His shoulders rose and fell with a long, slow breath. “He’s my friend.”

“And I’m your daughter,” you whispered. “And this is the first time in years I’ve felt like someone sees me. Really sees me.”

He looked at you again.

And there it was, that flicker of something beneath the anger. Not forgiveness, but heartbreak. Grief. Like he was mourning the image of you he’d held in his head all these years. You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Your father was still staring at you like he didn’t recognize you at all, breathing hard, fists clenched like he had to keep them at his sides just to stop himself from shaking. 

Joel’s boots creaked on the floorboards behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was there. You felt it, the heat of him, the tension, the way the air changed. And so did your father.

His eyes slid past your shoulder and locked onto Joel like he’d been waiting for this, like this was the final nail in the coffin, and now it was time to bury someone.

“Get out.”

The words were quiet. Dangerous.

Joel stood still. “Can we tal-”

“I said get the fuck out.” Your dad’s voice broke at the edges, raw and furious, barely human. “You knew. You knew she was my daughter and you still…”

Joel didn’t flinch. He didn’t defend himself. Just stood there like a man already sentenced. Your dad surged forward. The punch came so fast it made a sound, flesh on bone, a crack of violence that echoed through the hallway. Joel’s head snapped to the side, and you gasped, hand flying to your mouth.

“Dad—”

Joel didn’t fall. He staggered, jaw clenched, cheek already blooming red, but he didn’t lift a hand to fight back.

He just looked up at him. Blood on his lip. Eyes soft.

“I deserved that,” he said, breathless. “I know I do.”

Your father was breathing like he’d just run ten miles. His eyes glassed over, fury mixing with disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?” he choked out. “She’s a kid.”

“She’s not a kid,” Joel said quietly. “She’s a woman. The best woman I’ve ever known.”

“That’s not the fucking point!”

Your dad pushed at him again, harder this time. Joel stumbled back a step but didn’t break eye contact.

“You think this is love?” your father growled. “This is sick. This is…this is betrayal.”

Joel nodded slowly. His chest rose and fell like he couldn’t get enough air.

“I know,” he said. “I know it’s selfish. I know how it looks. But I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m not bout to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your dad stared at him like he wanted to hit him again. Maybe he still would.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Joel added, voice lower now, but firmer. “But I love her. And I don’t wanna hide it anymore.”

The hallway went quiet. Only the sound of breathing, their breathing, yours. Everything else had fallen away.

Your dad’s mouth opened, closed. Like he wanted to scream, like he didn’t even know where to aim the rest of his rage. And then, wordless, he stormed past you both, shoulder slamming into Joel’s as he passed.

You caught a glimpse of his face before he disappeared into the stairwell, wet-eyed and red, broken with grief.

Joel just stood there, lip bleeding, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides.

—-

It had been four weeks since that night.

Four weeks since the hallway. Since the shouting. Since the punch. Since your dad turned around and didn’t look back. He hadn’t texted. Not once. No missed calls. No checking in. Not even a forwarded meme or an accidental pocket dial. Silence. And still, every morning, you opened your messages just to be sure. Still, every time your phone buzzed, your breath caught in your throat for a second. Just a second. Just long enough to hope.

You stared at the cracked ceiling above Joel’s bed, warm morning light slipping through the half-closed blinds. Joel’s chest rose and fell under your cheek, the steady rhythm of his breath grounding you, even as your thoughts refused to settle.

His hand came up, slow and sure, and he began to stroke your back, fingers splayed, palm warm. He knew the signs by now. When your body stiffened ever so slightly. When you blinked too long at the light. When you went quiet in your head before your voice even caught up.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and guilt. “I brought you into this.”

You blinked. Swallowed.

Then sat up slightly, pressing your palm to the side of his face, his stubble coarse beneath your fingers. “No,” you said, firmly, gently. “You didn’t bring me anywhere. I ran into this.”

Joel’s eyes found yours. Something unspoken flickered in the quiet space between you.

“I chose you,” you continued, voice shaking just slightly. “And I’d choose you again. And again. Even if it broke my heart. Even if I lost everything else. I’d still pick you.”

His throat worked around your words, the way they hit him like a warm knife. He grabbed your wrist, kissed your palm like it was a prayer.

You’d had sex in nearly every room of this place by now, feral, clingy, joyful. On the couch, in the kitchen, even in the cramped laundry room where Joel had you up against the wall and whispered that he wanted to make you his wife one day, like he didn’t even mean to say it out loud.

You curled into his chest, and he held you tighter than usual, like he could shield you from the ache. Like he knew what it was like to be unwanted by the one person who was supposed to love you the most. His chin rested on your head, his hand carded through your hair, and neither of you said anything else.

—-

It started with a knock.

Not the hesitant kind, not someone timid or unsure. A knock that belonged to someone who didn’t care if they were welcome, only that they had something to say. You froze, hand still damp from washing the breakfast dishes. Joel looked up from the sink, coffee halfway to his lips.

You opened the door a crack, just enough to confirm what you already knew. Your father.

Then, instinctively, stupidly, you slammed it shut again.

Leaned your back against the wood like you could somehow hold the memory of that hallway at bay with just your body weight. Joel raised an eyebrow from the kitchen.

“He’s here?”

You nodded, still staring at the door. Then inhaled sharply and opened it again.

Your dad stood exactly where you’d left him, raking a hand over his face. He looked older than he had a month ago. More tired. Unshaven. Like the anger had finally burned itself out and left nothing but the smoke. Neither of you said anything at first.

Then, haltingly, he muttered, “I—I wanted to come by. To apologize.”

Your brows rose. Your hands stayed tight around the doorknob. He cleared his throat.

“To you,” he added quickly, pointing past you like he had to clarify. “Not him.”

You opened the door wider. Joel was in the kitchen, back straightening the second he saw him. The tension in his shoulders returned like a reflex. He stood immediately, stepping forward as if to put himself in front of you.

“Don’t,” your dad said flatly, lifting a hand. “I came to talk to my daughter.”

Joel didn’t move. You gently laid your hand on his arm. “It’s okay.”

The three of you sat at the kitchen table. You at the head. Your dad on one side. Joel on the other. It felt like the setup to a bad joke. No one quite knew what to say.

Finally, your dad let out a long breath. “I was… wrong. About a lot of things. That night, I was angry. I felt blindsided. Betrayed.”

You nodded.

He stared at the table. “But at the end of the day, none of that matters. If you’re happy…” He shook his head. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your throat tightened.

“I love you, kiddo. Even when I’m the world’s biggest idiot.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s great. But you’re not done.”

He blinked. “I’m not?”

You nodded toward Joel. “You also owe him an apology.”

Two heads turned to you in unison, identical expressions of confusion and disbelief.

“Are you serious?” they said at the same time.

You just looked at them. Unmoving. Judgmental. Patient.

Your dad groaned. “Fine. I’m sorry. For punching you. Even if you deserved it.”

Joel smirked. “You don’t have to mean it.”

“I don’t.”

A pause. Then Joel lifted his mug. “You know I could’ve knocked you out, right?”

Your dad didn’t laugh. But he did huff. “Yeah, well. I was running hot. I’d have broken your nose first.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just please, for the love of god,” your dad muttered, pushing up from the chair, “don’t procreate with this brainless man.”

“Ew, gross!” you yelped.

Joel tilted his head, pretending to look wounded. “What do you mean gross? You sure like tryin’ sweetheart.”

“Fucking hell. Please wait until I’m out the driveway,” your dad barked, already halfway to the door.

He stopped in the frame, turned over his shoulder. “You’re invited to dinner tomorrow. Seven sharp.”

Then he left. Door swinging shut behind him.

Joel waited two beats before saying, under his breath, “Think he’ll have wine? Or just a side of awkward tension?”

You snorted. Then let your head fall onto his shoulder with a relieved exhale.

—-

The moment he stepped into the shower behind you, you knew he was already hard.

The heat of his body, the weight of his gaze, the slow way he dragged his palms over your waist like he was still convincing himself you were real.

“You gonna keep starin’,” you teased, water cascading down your back, “or actually do something about it?”

Joel’s laugh was quiet, dark. He stepped closer, chest brushing your back, hand slipping around your front to cup your breast with a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve done plenty,” he murmured, voice low and slow like syrup, lips grazing your neck. “Still ain’t even scratched the surface.”

You turned around in his arms, hands resting on his chest. He was already soaked, hair curling around his ears, beard glistening. You looked down. Yeah. Very ready.

“You’re insatiable,” you smirked.

His hand slid between your legs without hesitation. “Says the girl who came twice last night and still had her hand on my zipper this morning.”

You gasped, more from his fingers than his mouth. “That’s because you’re…”

“What, baby?” His voice was velvet, pupils blown, mouth at your jaw. “Say it.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Because you’re so fucking good to me.”

That earned a low growl from his throat. He pressed you against the tiled wall, one large hand braced beside your head while the other teased, circled, stroked between your legs.

“God, I love it when you talk like that,” he said. “Love how you feel. Always so soft, always so ready for me.”

He kissed you hard then, open-mouthed, wet, tongue deep and possessive. You moaned into him, hips grinding into his palm.

He pulled back just long enough to say, “Tell me what you want.”

“You. Now.”

That made him smile. He lined himself up and teased, rubbing the tip against you, watching your face the whole time.

“Use your words, baby.”

You whimpered. “Please.”

He kissed your cheek, then your temple. “Say it right.”

“Please, Daddy.”

He groaned like you’d just knocked the breath out of him. “That’s my girl.”

He slid into you slow, inch by inch, eyes locked on yours like he was memorizing the way you fell apart around him. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck—Joel—”

“You take me so good,” he panted, moving deeper, grinding against your sweet spot. “Every time. Can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever want to.”

His hands grabbed your ass, lifting you easily, pressing you harder into the wall as he fucked up into you, deep and rough and slow. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, letting him carry the rhythm, letting him wreck you.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “So fucked out already. My perfect girl.”

You clenched around him and he nearly lost it. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

You nodded helplessly. “Only for you. Only ever you.”

That did it. He held you tighter, drove into you faster, grunting through his teeth as your climax rolled through you, head thrown back, walls pulsing around him. He followed moments later, stuttering into your neck with a curse, hands gripping so tight it almost hurt. Then everything was still. The water. The steam. His body wrapped around yours like armor.

He nuzzled into your hair.

“Goddamn,” he whispered.

You smiled, dazed. “We still going to dinner tonight?” He chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer.

“If I can still walk.” You huffed back.

—-

The knock on your father’s door came with a knot in your stomach so tight it might’ve held up a suspension bridge.

Joel looked… good. Better than good. Crisp shirt, freshly trimmed beard, a calmness about him that was clearly manufactured just for tonight. Like he’d carefully put on his good-guy mask, ironed every edge of it, and smoothed it down with a breathless prayer. He even wore the belt you once said made him look “distressingly responsible.” Which, for Joel Miller, was about the highest level of effort he could achieve.

You, on the other hand, had dragged a couple reinforcements along, Riley and Nico already waiting inside, giggling as they peeked out the window and waved like excited children.

“Oh my god,” Riley whispered as she opened the door, hugging you first, then Joel. “You look so… boyfriend-coded.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Joel said, awkwardly hugging her back.

“You should.” Nico nodded, pulling him into a quick side-hug. “We’re here to protect your girl from weird questions, dry meatloaf, and emotional damage.”

“Appreciated,” Joel muttered, but he smiled. He really smiled.

Your dad entered the room like a storm cloud trying to pretend it was just passing through. He stopped when he saw everyone standing there, eyes flicking from your face to Joel’s. For a moment, you could almost see the conflict written across his shoulders, stiff, uncertain, still a little hurt. Then he stepped forward and wrapped you in a hug. A long one.

“I missed you, kid,” he said roughly, clearing his throat right after like it had betrayed him. You didn’t answer, just held him tighter, let your eyes water, then stepped back.

He looked Joel up and down, expression unreadable. Then, with a grunt, he lifted one hand and slapped it once, firmly,  on Joel’s shoulder.

“You look like an idiot,” he said flatly.

Joel coughed, half a laugh, half a confused sound.

The dinner table was set. Nothing fancy, your dad still used the same plates you grew up with, but there was real effort in the roast and potatoes, in the salad your dad probably got from the store and pretended to chop himself.

Everyone settled in. Riley and Nico helped serve. The tension started butter-knife thick,  but softened slowly, melted around the edges with each glass of wine, each shared story, each sarcastic comment from your dad that didn’t quite bite like it used to.

Joel pulled your chair out. Touched the small of your back as you passed. Got up to refill your glass when he saw it empty. And somewhere between your dad talking about the time Joel broke his toe fixing a sink and him dramatically reenacting it, the room started to hum again. Laughter, small talk and soft smiles.

Joel reached for your hand under the table, threading his fingers through yours, squeezing gently like a pulse. You squeezed back. The roast was good. The wine better. And Joel’s leg was warm beside yours, touching from thigh to knee, grounding you.

At some point, your dad started asking about work. About life. Not about your relationship, not directly, but the wall had cracked. His eyes flicked toward Joel when you said you were doing great.

After a lull in the conversation, Joel leaned in close, so close you felt his breath on your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You turned toward him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Your heart flipped like a coin in midair.

You smiled. Pressed your lips to his cheek, soft, secret, and said, “I know.”

Riley saw it. Nico smirked. Your dad looked down at his plate, but didn’t comment.

Later, after dessert, your dad stood from the table with a stretch and muttered, “I guess he’s not that much of an asshole.”

You grinned. Joel just blinked, speechless for once in his life. And as everyone stood to leave, your dad paused in the doorway, hand resting on the frame.

“Dinner again next week. You’re both invited. Don’t be late.”

Joel nodded laughing. “Yes, sir” with a theatrical salute, that made you laugh, before your dad shut the door, shaking his head. 

Joel turned to you, eyebrows raised. “You think he likes me again?”

You laughed. “Let’s just say… you’ve been upgraded from mortal enemy to mild nuisance.”

He pulled you into his arms, lips brushing your forehead.

“I can live with that.”

Taglist: @fallout-girl219 @glitterspark @thegirlthatsfalling @ashleyfilm @diagonazguly

[diabolicalevil]

Sanguinius, Fulgrim and Magnus relationship headcanons

gn!reader

was originally an ask but I lost it anon im so sorry T^T. I might follow up w the primarchs some time. my knowledge of Magnus is very limited so bear with me. nsfw at the end

Warnings: NSFW at end, magnus has slight dubcon stalker headcanons

Sanguinius

Adores small things and quiet signs of devotion. Things he didn't really need to do but does without thinking because he loves you.

A romantic at heart. Leaves love letters for you, jewellery made with his feathers, so so many flowers. Sanguinius already had a garden, mainly to sit and seethe, but it's expanded rapidly to accommodate the sheer number of bouquets he gifts you. Each unique, each planned by him, and many with extremely rare flowers.

If you're against public gestures he'll refrain but really he wants his whole leigon involved with caring for you. Not just for protection and being delivery boys for his little gifts. You stand at his side as he rouses his troops, every Blood Angel is commanded to treat you as they would him, you are the other half to his soul and Emperor help whoever disrespects you.

In private he enjoys wrapping a wing around you. Does it publicly too, mainly if you're standing too far. But when you're alone he just wishes to cradle you. Sanguinius does appreciate that you care enough to worry you'll hurt his wings but he wants nothing more than for you to lean on them and fall asleep.

Doesn't wear his hair braided but he simply adores having you sit and braid it for him while he works.

You Are A Lap Cat Now, Enjoy! Your weight is basically nothing to him but it's enough that having you rested in his lap is very grounding. He'll lean down to kiss you, let his hair fall around you and cover your back with his wings as he cocoons you from all the horror the world has to offer.

Fulgrim

Fulgrim's lust for perfection could never stop at himself or his legion. Say what you will about dating him, you'll never ever look scuffy or slovenly again. not for lack of trying or wanting to, but because Fulgrim has banished anything that might make you appear anything less than ethereal to the shadow realm.

He loves openly and makes it difficult to ignore. While Sangunius is happy to tone it down Fulgrim would be hard pressed to go a day without picking you up and twirling you in the middle of the hallway.

Big fan of perfumes, he is. Perfumed letters, signature scents etc. Frequently gets you perfumes in a never ending quest to find the one that he thinks perfectly encapsulates your beauty and charm.

Never a dull moment really, before he is your lover he is your best friend and a gossip. Second to the Alpha Legion's information gathering is Fulgrim's nosey ass.

Magnus

His methods of affection are sometimes dubiously consensual. It's all very reliant on him allegedly knowing what's best for you.

With that being said, noticing that you're stressed and invading your mind to clear it is technically an affectionate gesture that at least comes from a place of love.

Enjoys a little bit of puzzles with his romance unfortunately. His library is a maze and he is endlessly happy that you are willing to take the risk of getting lost in it to come find him

and loves QUIZZES if u haven't read the books he's recommended he'll know. like psychically but also has a pop quiz prepared for every book in the universe it seems.

Carries you around like a doll. Mainly for convenience sake, he is gigantic, but it's almost another way of imparting knowledge on to you. Giving you, quite literally, a whole new perspective on the world.

Often watches you from afar, maybe in a creepy way and often without you knowing but he's just fascinated. For once to him it's far more interesting to observe real human behaviours than read about it in a book.

NSFW

Sanguinius

Sex crier. Sorry. Quietly and into the crook of your neck as he finishes but the pearl sized tears are unmistakable. Tells you he's just overwhelmed with joy as you wipe his tears. But mostly, it's mourning that he'll have to part with you afterwards.

A begger too. pathetic loser boy. Sanguinius lays between your legs, kissing up your thighs and begging to be allowed to go down on you.

And when he does? Could go for hours, only stops if you've had enough or are simply begging for him to be inside you.

Surprisingly into hair play. While holding his hair out of his face you accidentally yanked too hard and you could've sworn he almost finished then and there.

Fulgrim

Not a virgin, of course, but tries to keep it mostly on the down low. He doesn't want you to become uncomfortable with your experience gap. If you yourself are a virgin he makes little comment on it, and he'd certainly never mock it.

A highly responsible freak. Very receptive to any requests of kink or bondage but he always puts an emphasis on the safe of safe, sane and consensual.

Very upset that he heals too fast to openly wear bondage marks or hickeys, so he gives you extra. "You'll wear it for me, won't you?" He coos as he fastens you against the bed in purple rope. "You'll wear them beautifully in my place."

Despite all this he loves tender, sensual sex. Candles, rose petals, silk sheets, the works. Every now and then when you both need to decompress you'll tangle together in bed, with and worrying about nothing but each other.

He has the vibe of a scandalous victorian courtesan exchanging letters with her lover. Portraits he painted of himself amd in various states of undress and erotic letters he gifts when his schedule is unkind to him.

Magnus

Mindfuck sex. Feedback loops, showing you exactly what he sees and hears, interchanging your current memories with previous ones. He just likes the way you look when you're overstimulated and confused.

Far more into giving than receiving. Cradles you in his lap and pleasures you with his hands. Or he'll manually bounce you on his cock if you beg nicely.

Not a fan of undergarments or lingerie. Even if you're about to have an hour of foreplay, he needs to see you fully stripped down. Every part of you has already been memorised but that's not the point. You're no longer uncharted territory, you're truly his to view as he pleases and that is what he craves most.

thank youu for reading. honestly these r all characters I don't write for very often so it was a bit of fun to think about them. wherever u are anon I hope u enjoy this, sorry again LOL

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 9)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves. SOTR SPOILERS

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 8

After the burned plot of land sits barren for a while, Y/N returns to visit. Three headstones are all that remain of what had once been Tyson’s home. She used to cry there, to grieve. But now she does neither, moving through her days completely numb. A ghost of the girl she had been.

Fucking Haymitch is the only time she feels anything and she tells him so.

“That’s not good.” He admits, “you should probably take something.”

“I don’t want drugs, I want you.” Y/N tells him, “that’s the only thing that helps.”

Haymitch sighs, “come here, angel.” God, he’s ruined her. Or maybe the world ruined her and he’s picking up the pieces. It doesn’t really matter, because he’s inside her now. Whether it’s wrong or right. He doesn’t know, or frankly care.

She beckons his lips down to meet hers, sighing into his mouth.

“How’s this?”

“Perfect.”

“Tell me,” Haymitch murmurs, “tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good.” Y/N pants. “Like you care about me, like I’m not alone.”

Oh, you sweet thing. Haymitch cradles her cheek in his hand. You sweet, beautiful, wonderful, broken thing. “I do. I care about you.”

Y/N nods.

“More than anyone in the world.”

Her hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Everything I do is for you.”

“Haymitch,” she whimpers, squeezing his cock so goddamn tight he has no choice but to follow her over the edge of bliss.

Grunting as he tilts her hips upward.

“Fuck!” She’s twitching beneath him.

Haymitch catches his breath, stilling her movements.

“Please.”

“Shhhh.” He hushes her. “Just breathe.”

She needs him to move, to do something.

Haymitch rocks against hers once, experimentally. To see if she can take it, if he can. Every inch of him a live wire.

“I need you.” She admits. Not just for this, she needs him all the time.

“I need you too, angel.” He’s fucking her again, slower now. Savoring her, cherishing her. Worshipping her. Because for the first time in a long time…Haymitch wants to live. And it scares the hell out of him.

————————————————————————

They each have a place, one they gravitate toward when the other isn’t looking. Truth is, Haymitch is always looking. As long as he can see Y/N, she is safe. He can make her safe.

“Sun’s down.”

Y/N startles at the sound of her husband’s voice.

“You should come home.”

Y/N dries her eyes, in a feeble attempt to conceal her tears. “Yeah.”

“You ok?” Haymitch asks, coming to stand beside Tyson’s grave, where she’s kneeling.

“I don’t know.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Haymitch plops down beside her in the charred grass.

“I’m never going to be me again.”

“You’re still you.”

“I mean like the me that I was when he knew me.” Y/N explains, “it’s like I’m…outgrowing him. Not just because I’m technically older now. I’m turning into someone he’ll never know.” She inhales, “and it scares me.”

Haymitch nods. “I lost my partner too.” My sister. My sweetheart. Lou Lou and Wyatt.

“Yeah.” That doesn’t make it any better somehow.

“I lost everyone.” My love, my Ma…Sid.

“I know, Haymitch. I didn’t mean to make it seem like my losses are greater than yours.” She still has her parents and Madge.

He bumps her shoulder. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

Y/N blinks at him. “You said we should go home.”

“It’s not too far out of the way.”

“Is it your house?” Y/N asks, taking his hand and allowing him to help her stand. “Where it used to be?”

“Not quite.” Haymitch slides his fingers through hers as they trudge past the tree line into the woods. Not his house, but one of the people he considered home.

“Lenore Dove,” Y/N understands, immediately.

“I think she’s still around,” Haymitch tells her. “But that’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, “I think that’s really beautiful, Haymitch.”

He tosses an arms around Y/N’s shoulder and she leans into him.

————————————————————————

If there is a such thing as contentment, they’ve found it. In their house in Victors’ Village. It doesn’t stop the sadness. But they find respite here, in each other. Tangled up on the couch watching old films on the projection screen.

The mail slot at the front door creaks open and shut, sending a crisp, white envelope onto the entryway floor. Y/N jumps, pulling her head from Haymitch’s lap, into a sitting position.

“It’s ok,” Haymitch gentles her back down, “just mail. I’ll get it in the morning.”

“It’s late for mail.” She yawns.

“Mhm.” Haymitch agrees, stroking her hair with the hand that isn’t clutched in hers.

The envelope is all but forgotten as they eventually head up the stairs for bed.

Y/N nearly slips on it the next morning. Taking the letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy to the counter. They’re probably due to film again, but that can wait until Haymitch wakes up.

She starts with her morning coffee. Deciding on pancakes for breakfast, with a side of bacon and eggs. Haymitch does more than half of the cooking, so breakfast in bed will be nice for him.

He’s too quick to come down the stairs though, joining Y/N at the table instead. “This looks amazing. Thank you.”

Y/N smiles.” You’re welcome.”

“Did you grab the letter from last night? I didn’t see it.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums, around a mouthful of bacon. Stealing it from the countertop. “Here. I almost killed myself by stepping on it this morning.”

Haymitch chuckles, tearing it open like a bandage, to get it over with. He skims the words, finding nothing about recordings or the camera’s at Y/N’s house. The second time, he examines it more closely. All the blood draining from his face.

“Haymitch?” Y/N reaches for him. The pounding in his ears is so loud he hardly hears her.

Haymitch drops the letter onto the table between them, storming off.

Y/N hesitates to reach for it, trembling as she does.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy,

I hope this letter finds you well. The success of your marriage thus far will surely be celebrated for years to come. Within the year, we do so hope for an announcement regarding the expansion of your family.

At this time, contraceptive therapy from the Capitol will cease, to aid in your efforts. You are to notify the Capitol, by mail or other correspondence, once you have successfully conceived. My personal congratulations will be in order.

Best regards,

President Snow’

Y/N follows the sound of Haymitch’s cursing, to the sitting room. “That’s not fair,” she snarls. “Don’t fucking leave me alone in this, it’s not fair.”

“Y/N-” Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face, unable to look at her.

“No! We just figured this out, you can’t take it back.”

This. Being together. “I’m not taking anything back.” I can’t.

“It’s not fucking fair! You can’t just leave me when I need you.” I can’t bring a child into this world. Not with the games. Not like this.

“You’re right. It’s not and I’m sorry. I should never have made that deal with Snow. I should have thought of something else. I should’ve-”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It is my fault. This is all my fault.” The marriage, the tapes, the fire. Snow’s letter.

That’s why he ran. Why he’s skirting her like a wounded animal. “Don’t say that.”

“I trapped you here with me. I ruined any chance you ever had at freedom. I-”

Y/N closes the distance between them, taking his face in her hands before he can move away. “Haymitch…you saved me.”

Still he can’t meet her eyes, offering only a shake of his head.

“You saved me,” she insists. “I don’t give a shit if you believe that or not.” No one else does. “But I’ll keep saying it until you’re ready to hear it. You. Saved. Me.”

“Angel,” his voice breaks, “please.” Please leave me to wallow in misery. Please don’t do this to me.

“Please.” Y/N echoes. “Please don’t shut me out.”

Haymitch cuts her off, sealing his mouth over hers. Because it is physically painful not to touch her; comfort her. “Give me a minute. I need to think. That’s all.” He murmurs against her lips.

Y/N nods, kissing him again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pecks her lips again, then her forehead in parting. Taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time, with a bottle of whiskey in hand.

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409 @heidiland05 @evansorry @caraxes-syrax @pookiei-bookie

[yan-randomfandom]

With Everything and Nothing, Humans are...

a/n; The Front Man has no set identity. 2nd POV. basically a front man & gn!reader but don't let the cringe get to you — based on the proposition scene

I wrote this with Let Down by Radiohead on loop, pure devastation from season 3 of Squid Game, mixed w the existential crisis/philosophy of being a human

— 🎭

The knife rests on the table, its black and gold sculpture coaxing your gaze.

"That is my proposition," the Front Man speaks under their mask. A voice so synthetic, filtered, and practiced, like they were never human in the first place. "They will kill you in the game tomorrow. I am giving you the chance to live."

... Live?

Your eyes stray away from the knife. Opting to look at the Front Man's mask instead, those empty black eyes, desperately trying to find something— anything—

A breathless sigh escapes you. "...Why?"

It would be a lie if you said you didn't once consider the proposal.

You know who you are. The floor underneath you, although still, feels like it'll collapse any second now. It is so, so heavy. Such weight shouldn't be able to be supported by anything. Nothing but the empty feeling of heaviness. Nothing but the weight of your own humanity.

Nothing. Everything.

You feel everything and nothing at the same time.

For a moment, you think, how would your mother decide? Your father? Your sister, your brother? Daughter? Son? Your closest friend? Would they remember you, as you did, in this very moment?

Nothing but everything is stepping down on your shoulders. Carefully sinking you down, down, down—

Until your bones, the very skeleton of your functionality, crush into the ground. Like nothing. But everything, at the same time.

You want to live.

... That's an impossible thought. After all, there were so many times you wish you didn't.

"A choice," The front man's voice cuts through your thoughts. "You will live if you kill them. They will not hesitate to kill you."

You subtly shake your head, lowering your gaze. "Why me?"

They don't answer. Of course they won't.

You know what you voted for after each game. Everyone gave their lives for this. Many willingly, you realize, they had nothing left to lose. Has the world failed them that badly? So unkind, so ruthless—so unfair?

But, of course, it could've been the opposite. Have they been cruel to the world—full of hate, fear, or simply for entertainment?

You grab the knife. The Front Man watches closely, unmoving.

Unsheathing it, you eye the pretty glint of light, which followed the angles of your movement.

Your gaze lifts. The man is unarmed.

...

In one swift action, your breathing escalates, pressing the knife under the monster's mask, and against their neck.

You can do it. You could. They are right there, yet still, they don't move.

"You can do it," they sigh. The sound seems tired—as if their games tired them out, too. "You can kill me right now."

You can't breathe. Your hand shakes under yourself. The monster wraps its gloved fingers around your wrist, slow and unrushed, and firmly holds you. A mockery of comfort.

"But it won't change anything," it continues. "I will be replaced, and the games will move forward."

Something drips below your chin. With its other hand, it gently wipes your skin.

Then the hand moves away. It goes to the mask. Grabbing by the edges—

You saw the mouth. The nose.

Before it goes further, you hastily pull the mask back down. You drop the knife. You step away from their body. Their hand stays gripped around your wrist.

Words are stuck in your throat.

That monster... Front Man... person. You've held them before. You listened to their stories. Their likes and dislikes, their fears and victories. With a strained gasp, you tug your hand back. The knife is long forgotten.

You turn around.

You walk towards the elevator.

...

"Why?"

You don't want to turn around. The voice isn't layered with fakes and filters anymore.

It's more human. How terrifying. Not even a stranger, but a lost friend.

... Despite yourself, you turn around.

A bare human face.

Their eyes stare at you with so much familiarity. Desperate, curious, panicked—emotions that a living being shouldn't even have after having killed hundreds.

"You will die if you leave," they exclaim, their eyes frantically widening. "Why won't you even take the knife? Why does humanity have your faith?"

You can't answer. Empty of words, empty of emotions.

"Why haven't you killed me? I am not human anymore."

Your heart slowly falls.

"Why do you persist?"

Your soul quivers.

"Why would you accept your fate? They will kill you. They want you dead."

Your knees give out on you.

The human takes a grip of the knife. The human kneels in front of you. The human grabs your hand and settles the knife on your palm.

"Kill them," they plead, they beg. "They are just like me. You considered killing me."

You tighten your fingers around the handle.

But the hand that held the weapon only falls, and the naked hand rises.

Your hand rests on their chest.

The human's heart is beating. It beats rapidly, desperately, as if it's trying to drown itself. You avoid the human's eyes. You're only listening to their heart.

"We're not humans," they croak. "Humans are..."

GI-HUN 😭😭😭😭😭 gif is me live tweaking out on s3 (thanks gif creator)

[vettelsvee]

LET'S MAKE BIRTHDAY SEX A TRADITION | Sebastian Vettel

PART OF VETTEL FEST 2025 ˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ SEBASTIAN VETTEL BIRTHDAY EVENT (June 30th - July 4th)

⋆ PAIRING: 2012 Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Race engineer girlfriend!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: Your birthday. A holiday on a cruise. Many shared thoughts between you and Seb... and maybe more than just thoughts ⋆ WARNINGS: Smut (female receiving oral sex, protected p in v, praising), curse words, mentions of death ⋆ WORD COUNT: 4426 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: First fic of the Seb birthday event! Hope you like it and, if so, reblogs and comments are truly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

As you raised your glass of wine to your lips, you noticed how Seb’s fingers moved, showing, apparently, nervousness.

"Are you okay, sunshine?"

Your question seemed to catch the blond off guard. His gaze was lost somewhere in the room.

He shook his head and finished the little wine he had left on his glass, not knowing what to do.

"Yeah, yeah… Sure," he answered quickly. "Why are you asking?"

"I don’t know. I just wanted to know if something was wrong… and see if I could help you in case something’s bothering you," you said casually.

"There’s nothing wrong, love."

No matter how much he insisted, his words couldn’t fool you. You felt the table shift slightly from the subtle movement of his legs beneath it; his gaze still wandering, carefully avoiding yours, and his seemingly tense posture made it clear that something was bothering him.

You knew that, sooner or later, he'd end up telling you what was wrong, just like he always did but. However, you decided to shift his focus and change the subject for now.

"You want to get out of here, don’t you?"

"I’ve wanted that ever since I found out we had to dress up properly for this fancy dinner. You know I’m not someone who likes drawing attention. And it’s not like I like fancy dinners either," he emphasized.

"Well, you manage to do it every day without even trying, sunshine," you replied. Standing up, you offered him your hand, which he took without hesitation as he placed his napkin on the table. "It’s not my fault you’re the sun in my life and have every girl in the world trailing after you."

"I thought that line was mine, love. Are you stealing everything I say now?"

"You made me yours completely the day you asked me to be your girlfriend in the most original way possible. Let me tell you, I never expected you to be such a hopeless romantic, Sebastian," you added.

He laughed, following you as you left the dining room behind.

"You didn’t expect that after I’ve made you breakfast more times than I can count, brought you flowers whenever I had the chance, and supported you since you entered Formula 1? Not to mention, I made sure you met Taylor."

"That thing again?" you groaned. "What do you want from me? Paying you back by taking you to a concert or—”

"Actually yes. I’d love that," he simply replied.

Once you were outside on the deck, the salty scent and sea breeze greeted you both.

The air was colder than you’d expected, and considering you were wearing a flowy purple dress that left your arms almost bare, it was no surprise you started freezing. You stopped leaning on the railing and hugged yourself, hoping to find some warmth.

Seb noticed. In the blink of an eye, he had taken off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you to share his warmth.

A smile started appearing on your lips.

"Thank you."

He turned to look at you and returned the smile.

"I don’t want my girl catching a cold. It wouldn’t be nice spending your birthday with a fever."

"If I get sick, you’ll have to stay with me and take care of me," you replied, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Don’t say those things. You know you’d just pass it on to me, and we’d be stuck in an endless loop. Besides, you're with me more than you’re in your house," he added.

You stepped back, pretending to be offended, just playing.

Seb was right. He had asked more times than you cared to admit for the two of you to live together. And every single time, you had refused, not wanting to be more of a burden to him than you already felt you were.

You both stayed quiet for a while, staring at the darkness of the ocean ahead, leaning on the railing as your bodies drifted closer together. Your left arm wrapped around the driver’s waist, and his right arm came to rest over your shoulders.

"Weird and random question, but… What do you wish for most in this life?"

The question left your lips so quickly, it surprised even you. You turned to look at Seb, who now seemed a little… thoughtful.

"What do you mean with that?"

"If you have some sort of dream," you clarified. "I don’t know, sunshine… something you’ve wanted a long time for or something you want to fight for in the future. You’ve got it pretty easy."

Seb didn’t answer right away. He thought for a moment, probably trying to find the right words. A part of you wondered if he was overthinking just to avoid saying something inappropriate that might hurt you, and that idea made you feel very bad about yourself.

"I just want to be happy," he finally said. "The house in Switzerland is pretty great, and I could live there for the rest of my life," he began, "but I feel like there’s something missing…"

"A dog?" you asked with a smirk.

"You," he blurted out. "You, and a couple of kids running around, making us go after them and letting us relive our childhoods."

You stood there, processing his words longer than you should have.

And you hatred that about yourself.

The mere thought that Seb wanted a family with you made your skin tingle, and a wave of pressure gripped your chest.

"Okay… yeah," was all you managed to say. You tried to relax, but it didn’t seem to work.

"And what about you, darling? What’s your dream?"

Seb extended his arm toward you, still smiling. You took it without hesitation and nestled close to him as you resumed walking most likely toward your room.

"I feel like I’ve already fulfilled my dream," you answered, referring to being his Formula 1 engineer. "I want to try, even if it’s hard, to have a voice and help people. Lately, I can’t stop thinking about starting an organization to help those who’ve gone through similar things as me."

"You mean…?"

"Yeah. I’d like to help victims… you know… and also… those who, whether them or their loved ones, have attempted to take their own lives. I’ve been saving a little each month to try and make it happen," you admitted.

Seb stopped in his tracks and looked at you. You saw admiration in his eyes. Yours, teary, thanked him in silence.

"That’s admirable, darling. I know you’ll follow wherever you go, even if you think you won’t."

"My biggest dream, though… is to be a mom," you blurted out without thinking, instantly regretted it.

But it scares you. A lot, you admitted to yourself.

To be a mom.

A rush of nerves and regret surged through you, and even though your boyfriend had said something similar earlier, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

But he didn’t say he wanted to have kids with you.

"That’s your biggest dream? To be a mother?"

"Yeah…" you said, shyly.

He must be annoyed by what you said. Your heart started racing while you kept nodding, feeling the flush creeping up your cheeks. You were sure this was your last screw-up at your current age.

Seb squeezed your hand tightly, pulling you close as you reached the door of your room.

“I can’t wait to see you with a little baby bump, to spoil all your cravings and to watch a mini version of you running around.”

“And what if it’s a mini you?” you teased, playing along.

“The good will be perfect if it’s with you,” he said, “and the bad won’t seem so bad if I’m going through it by your side.”

You hugged him from behind instantly, covering his face with a flurry of kisses as he tried to open the door to your cabin.

When he finally managed to get it open, he let you in not without first stealing a quick kiss. Blushing, you walked in and threw yourself onto the bed on your back, arms spread wide. But you immediately sat up when you heard a few curse words.

“What’s wrong?”

You watched as Seb checked the right pocket of his pants, then the left, then both back ones. A flicker of panic crossed his face; he sighed and looked down before murmuring an apology.

“I think I left my wallet at the restaurant…”

You jumped up at once, offering to go with him so he wouldn’t be alone and, truthfully, because you didn’t feel like sitting around bored while he was gone.

“Don’t worry, love,” he said quickly, voice a little shaky. “It’s better if you stay here and rest. I won’t be long.”

You reluctantly nodded and let him go after one of those long kisses you liked so much.

While he was gone, your thoughts began to spiral. You were just a few hours, or maybe minutes, away from turning another year older, and as every year, reflection seemed inevitable.

You wondered whether you were truly happy with the position you had earned through so much effort and yes, with some help, in Formula 1. Whether you really had a place in this male-dominated world where whispers and inappropriate comments were something you endured just to keep chasing your dream.

You questioned if the suffering was worth it. But then you pictured yourself doing what you loved… what you had fought so hard for. Every time you thought of Seb and the life you were slowly building together, day by day, and how proud your parents would be of you... it started to feel like maybe it was worth it.

There was a time, not long ago, when you thought it was the end, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you still had so much more to give.

Maybe you both did.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. You jumped off the bed, eager to shake off the storm inside your mind.

Without even checking the peephole, you opened the door and there he was. 

Your Seb. Your boyfriend. Smiling ear to ear, holding a vibrant bouquet of multicolored tulips in one hand, and a mystery bag in the other.

“What is all this?”

He gave you a radiant smile. You were surprised, excited, and while you’d expected some sort of gift, that wasn’t what you imagined.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Before he could even step inside, you launched yourself at him, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him into the room. You started kissing every inch of his face, clinging to him as if he might vanish at any moment.

Between kisses and gasps for breath, the only words you could string together were “thank you” and “I love you so much,” to which he replied, “it’s nothing,” “you’re welcome,” and your favorite, “I love you even more”.

All words you never wanted to stop hearing for the rest of your life.

“Easy, love,” Sebastian whispered between kisses, gently pulling back. “We’ll have time for cuddles and kisses, I swear. But first, you have to open your gifts.”

You laughed quietly, realizing you might have overdone it, especially since his face was now covered in crimson lipstick.

“Then give them to me already.”

“Here you go, my lady.”

He handed you the bag. Without hesitation, you snatched it and tore it open, curiosity and excitement taking over. Inside were a few neatly wrapped packages. You looked at him. He shrugged, and you knew immediately: he’d gotten help to make everything perfect.

“You know wrapping gifts isn’t one of my strengths,” he admitted.

With trembling hands, you began opening the presents slowly, carefully, feeling your anticipation grow. A soft blue sweater, a few cord bracelets you’d been eyeing for a while, a signed Speak Now special edition album by Taylor Swift, a box of chocolates, and the bouquet now resting on the desk, all of it exceeded your expectations.

This was the first birthday you’d truly celebrated in about three years, and this time... it felt like a celebration. Maybe because the person behind it was the same one who threw you that surprise party back in 2009.

“Do you like it?” Seb asked nervously, stepping closer.

“Like it? That’s not enough to describe it. This is... perfect. I don’t know how you always manage to give me the best gifts.”

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your temple.

“I’m glad you like them, darling. I was a little unsure what to get you, especially after what I did for Valentine’s. I honestly thought maybe you wouldn’t like this.”

“How could I not, sunshine?” you asked, genuinely. “Everything that comes from you is perfect.”

“I don’t know, love. After…”

You moved in gently, stood on your toes, grabbed his neck, and kissed him, silencing the doubts that were likely weighing him down. You didn’t think he’d respond the way he did, but when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer, your thigh brushing lightly against him, you were caught off guard.

You ran your fingers through his hair as your mouths stayed connected. His hands roamed your body, hungry but respectful. You realized you were slowly moving across the room when your back hit the wall near the bathroom. Your soft moans spilled out naturally as Seb lifted you, his mouth exploring your neck. He seemed surprised when you began cursing and asking for more, but he didn’t judge. 

You were surprised at yourself, too.

“Oh God... Seb...” you moaned uncontrollably.

“Fuck, love, if you keep moaning like that I’m going to come just from hearing your voice.”

You and Seb had never gone this far before, though you had longed for it longer than you wanted to admit. And you were sure he had, too.

“I want to do it.”

Your voice barely came out, a whisper. The blond paused for a moment. He gently lowered you, hands still gripping your hips. Though he knew exactly what you meant, he asked for confirmation:

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Sometimes it annoyed you how many times he double-checked everything, always making sure you were okay. But you knew him. And one of the things you loved most about him was the way he treated you: with kindness, and more importantly, with care and full consent.

You had been hurt, both physically and emotionally. You had needed, and still needed, time and support to heal from what you’d been through, and to prepare for whatever might come.

Seb had made sure, from day one, that you were psychologically ready not just for intimacy, but for any new experience you wanted to share with him.

The only thing you could give him was gratitude, for his patience, even after he had promised time and time again that he’d wait forever… for anything.

Just imagining the two of you becoming one made your heart swell in a way you never thought possible.

“I want us to do it. I… want to have sex with you, Seb,” you said clearly, firmly., but shyly at the same time

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, love.”

“Love… are you really sure you want to do this?” he asked again.

He stepped back slightly and looked at you, really looked, his eyes scanning yours, seeking certainty.

"I'm serious, sunshine. I'm ready. And I think today, on my birthday, is the perfect time for us to share a… gift."

Sebastian said nothing more. As you leaned in, bringing your face back to his once again that night, he gently held your cheeks and deepened the kiss.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, but you were sure it had been long enough to realize it was something you never wanted to stop doing.

When he finally pulled away, now both of you lying on the bed you shared, catching your breath, you noticed a smile curling on his lips. You couldn’t help but laugh softly and wrap your arms around his waist, trying not to get completely squashed.

All you could do was smile at him, remind him how much you loved him and how grateful you were to have him in your life.

You repeated, again and again, that you were ready to have sex with him, and Seb, once more, made sure you were absolutely certain.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure, you know it, right?” he insisted again, wearing down your patience.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” you told him honestly, “and I’ve also been preparing myself for it. I know you’re not… you know who, and I know you’d never hurt me. I trust you, Seb. You don’t have to worry, especially not about me.”

You believed the truth in your own words, but… a part of you was still afraid of being wrong.

“You can be sure of one thing,” he said, voice low: “the only marks I’ll ever leave on you will be from my lips kissing your skin.”

“Seb!”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “So…?”

“I want you to make me yours, Seb,” you whispered in his ear, as seductively as you could manage. “Fuck me.”

You felt him tense up at those words. God, even you were surprised at what had just come out of your mouth. You expected him to get a little more excited than he already was, but he ended up surprising you. You noticed his arousal, prominent beneath his pants. When you reached to unbutton them, he gently pushed your hands away.

“Today’s your day. Let me take care of everything.”

You stood still in front of him as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt. He didn’t even let you help with that. Once his chest was exposed, you ran your trembling hands over his skin, letting yourself go, trying to steady your nerves.

He took your arms, turned you around, and carefully pulled down the zipper of your dress. It slid to the floor on its own, leaving you in the lingerie set he’d given you for Valentine’s Day, the one you’d never dared to wear until now.

You turned to face him, standing so your eyes met his.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“Nothing,” he said with a small shrug. “I just can’t believe I’m about to make love to the love of my life for the first time.”

“Are you nervous?”

No. You’re the nervous one.

“I just want it to be perfect,” he admitted. “I don’t want to hurt you or turn this into something you regret. I want our first time to be special. And I’m going to try my best to make it that way.”

“Then I don’t know what you’re waiting for, sunshine.”

He gently lifted you into his arms and laid you down on the bed. You sat with your back against the wall, a little tense. Seb sat beside you, on your right, and cupped your chin to kiss you again.

This time, your lips moved slower. You felt one of his hands start to massage your breast through the fabric, focusing on your nipple. The other hand trailed down between your legs, and when his fingers began to toy with your clit, a strangled moan escaped your lips.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”

His fingers slipped past your thong, making full contact. The way he moved, rhythmic, deliberate, grew faster and faster.

“Yes, Seb,” you managed to say through shallow breaths.

At your response, he suddenly stopped. You didn’t argue. You didn’t even look at him. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then started leaving a trail of kisses down your body, stopping at your lower stomach.

“Love…”

His hands brushed the edge of your thong, sending chills down your arms. You were pretty sure you even held your breath when he began to remove your lingerie, bra and all, his eyes silently asking for permission.

“If anything we do tonight makes you uncomfortable,” he said gently, “just say so. And, before your brain starts spinning out, no: I won’t be mad if you change your mind. I promise.”

“Seb,” you cut in, “it’s you. I could never feel uncomfortable with you or anything you do.”

“Promise me, love.”

“I swear.”

He nodded and took hold of your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed so that his face lined up perfectly with your pussy.

Without warning, he flattened his tongue and ran it slowly along your folds. Even that first motion was almost too much to bear. He alternated speeds, fast to slow and back again, letting his nose brush your clit as his tongue worked wonders.

When Seb began to explore you more deeply with his tongue, and slid his index finger between your folds, the same finger he raised to the sky after every Formula 1 win, you arched your back, hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer while your hips rose to meet his mouth.

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” he asked between strokes, pausing the oral contact but not his finger.

“Don’t stop, sunshine. For God’s sake, don’t you even think about stopping.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.”

With that, he slid one finger inside you. A gasp of surprise left your lips, and when he looked up at you, laughing with a blush, he kissed your thighs while he kept moving his hand. Before long, he added a second finger.

Everything was happening so fast. Waves of pleasure kept crashing over you, stealing your sense of time. You weren’t even sure when it happened, but as soon as he added his tongue again, along with the motion of his fingers, a strange pressure built in your lower stomach.

It was getting harder to hold back your moans. Your eyes fluttered closed, your legs started to shake.

“Come for me, love,” Seb whispered. “Go on, love. You’ve got it… just let go.”

And so, you did.

Your back arched hard enough that your sweaty body could barely keep writhing the way it was. You were moaning like you never had before, and Seb noticed because he let out a small, proud laugh while licking your release, his mouth teasing your clit just enough to draw more gasps from you.

Then the German climbed over you.

“I love you. You don’t know how much,” he whispered between kisses, making you taste yourself on his lips. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. Never doubt that.”

“Seb, I’m not…” you tried to protest, unable to pull away from him.

“Yes, you are. And I’m not going to let you speak badly about yourself. You’re perfect.”

After those words, he pulled away slightly, reached into the nightstand, and pulled out a condom. With care, he put it on before positioning himself at your entrance.

This was it. The moment had come.

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” he said, looking into your eyes, “but if you want me to stop, just say so. I need to know you’re really sure about this.”

It took just the slightest nod from you for him to enter you. Slowly, carefully, without warning. He stayed still for a moment, likely giving you time to adjust to the length of him.

“F-Fuck, Seb!” you cried out as you felt him fill you completely. His hips began to move again, a steady rhythm building between you. “Seb…”

“Does it feel good, sweetheart? Are you enjoying my cock as much as you seemed to crave it before?” he groaned, biting softly at your neck.

“This feels insane,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“For you? Never, baby.”

His movements grew faster. You arched your back, moaning nonstop as you felt the depth of his thrusts intensify. Your moans blended with his, forming a rhythm of pleasure that was probably echoing into the rooms nearby.

“Seb,” you cried again when you felt his fingers press into your bundle of nerves.

“God, baby…” he groaned through clenched teeth. “Don’t stop saying my name. You don’t know what it’s doing to me right now.”

“I hope it makes you feel even better when we do this again,” you gasped, drowning in pleasure. You sat up slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to do this again, Seb. Every chance we get. I want to be like this with you as many times as we want.”

“We’ll always be one, love. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

You kept moaning his name while he kept whispering yours in your ear, his pace building faster, harder, deeper.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Fuck, Seb…” you stammered. “I think I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” he encouraged you, voice thick and full of emotion. “You’ve got this. Come for me.”

“Yes, sunshine—”

You didn’t even get to finish the sentence before your climax took over. It hit so hard your whole body arched, slick with sweat, writhing beneath him as wave after wave tore through you. Seb followed just a few seconds later, thrusting a little deeper before letting go inside the condom, his body trembling above yours.

He leaned down and gave you a soft, lingering kiss before carefully pulling out and collapsing beside you, breathless.

Neither of you said anything. Only your ragged breathing filled the room, your chests rising and falling in sync, slowly calming.

You noticed Seb sitting up, pulling the covers over himself, suddenly shy, as though modesty returned after you’d both seen every part of each other.

“Was it okay?” you asked quietly, unable to stop yourself.

He let out a soft laugh, leaning toward you to curl up against your shoulder. You welcomed him, even though you were overheated, pulling the sheet around both of you as you clung to each other.

“You were amazing, baby,” he whispered, arms sliding around your waist to draw you closer. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I should’ve asked if you liked the pace... I think I might’ve gone a bit too fast…”

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, sunshine,” you interrupted gently, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. “Let’s make birthday sex a tradition. Our tradition.”

“We can make anything a tradition, love,” he said, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Today, tomorrow, two weeks from now... every time you want us to.”

© VETTELSVEE (2025). Please, do not steal, copy, translate and share my works in other platforms. Thanks for reading!

[serenades-of-slumber]

I can’t even react and I almost cried, for that blog was my life, eight months it lasted and I can’t seem to measure the fact it’s lost, it was literally a pice of myself.

for context, i was @star-riding-through-clouds, seems like my blog was terminated and with it a certain part of my will to live/hj

ehh, i suppose i’ll tag some people idk. i had like 650 followers, ouch it hurts

pinning this until i get enough energy for a new intro

@birdesque-behaviors @fuzzywaffledragon @23cond21ght23er @keepingitrealforyoull @prayforme08 @prophecyhaunted @purec8h10n4o2

i can’t remember usernames ever god i’m dying

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

“You’re a goddess, You’re my rockstar”

Synopsis: You met her on a tram in Hong Kong. She never asked you to stay, but you did. Now she’s gone, and the city remembers her better than you do. You wander through neon and noise, still waiting on the moon.

Word Count: 1,264

Kim Minjeong X M!Reader

tags: fluff? angst.

You meet her on a tram.

Upper deck. Cold night. She’s curled against the window, earphones in, mouthing lyrics. You’re across from her, pretending not to look, until she looks back—like she felt you looking.

“You always stare at strangers like that?”

Her voice is calm, flat, a bit amused.

“Only the ones who seem like they don’t want to be here,” you say.

She scoffs. “That’s everyone on this tram.”

But she doesn’t stop looking at you.

That’s the first time.

She gets off at the next stop.

You think that’s it.

It isn’t.

You run into her again.

A week later. Same tram stop in Wan Chai. She sees you first this time.

“You stalking me?”

“I was here first.”

“Mm. That’s what they all say.”

But she stays. She sits next to you this time.

You learn her name is Minjeong.

She likes quiet things—old bookstores, vinyl stores, fishballs from carts no one trusts.

She tells you she’s not from here, but the city feels right when she’s lost in it.

“Hong Kong’s loud enough to drown my thoughts,” she says.

“But soft enough to let me feel them when I want to.”

You remember the second time you met her better than the first.

It was unplanned—at least, you thought it was. She never told you if it was a coincidence or not.

You were on your usual route home, cutting through Temple Street Market even though it was out of the way. The air was thick with roasted chestnuts and engine smoke. Someone was playing a saxophone nearby—off-key, but bold. You liked that.

And there she was.

Hair pulled back. White hoodie. One hand wrapped around a can of lemon tea, the other holding a plastic bag of cut mango with chili powder.

“You again?” she said, like you had crashed into her.

“You sure you’re not following me?”

“If I was, you’d never know.”

She bit into the mango and winced.

“God, I hate that it stings.”

You laughed. “Then why eat it?”

“Because I like the pain more than I like the fruit.”

You didn’t know it then, but that sentence would explain a lot about her.

You remember Mong Kok. A chaotic Saturday. You wandered through tangled neon streets that pulsed like veins, her hand barely brushing yours in the crowd.

She dragged you into every store that sold things you didn’t need—plastic sunglasses, LED lights shaped like clouds, tiny capsule machines with anime figurines. She insisted on spending HKD 60 just to get a keychain that looked like a cat wearing sunglasses.

She bought matching socks with embroidered whales.

“These are for when you feel like the world’s swallowing you,” she said.

“Whales are good luck?”

“No. But they’re big, and they don’t let the ocean break them.”

You still have them. They don’t even match anymore. But you can’t throw them away.

There was a café in Sheung Wan that she loved. It played soft jazz and always had one booth with a broken lamp above it—the one she called “our cursed seat.” You didn’t even drink coffee, but you went with her anyway.

She liked her milk tea strong, no sugar. She drank it like medicine, like it grounded her.

One night, she sipped her drink and said,

“If I told you I was leaving… would you stop talking to me?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No. I’d just talk faster.”

She laughed so hard she had to set her cup down.

You think that was the first time you truly saw her.

Not just the Minjeong the city swallowed, but the Minjeong who wanted someone to stay.

You remember the harbor. Victoria Peak glowing in the distance like a crown. It was close to midnight. Cold wind bit at your ears. She sat beside you on the stone ledge with her knees tucked to her chest, jacket zipped up to her mouth.

“I feel like I’m always half-here,” she murmured.

“Where’s the other half?”

“Still trying to figure that out.”

You stayed quiet. You offered your shoulder.

She rested against it like it wasn’t the first time.

You never said anything more that night. You didn’t need to.

She tried to teach you Korean once. Just the basics. She wrote “괜찮아” on a napkin and made you repeat it until you got the tone right.

In return, you taught her how to say “faan nei” in Cantonese. Return to you.

“Say it again,” she whispered, folding the napkin in half.

You didn’t know if she was talking about the phrase, or something else.

She fell asleep on an MTR ride once. You were headed back from Tsim Sha Tsui, the train gently rocking, lights humming above. Her head tilted onto your shoulder, a bag of pineapple buns half-open on her lap.

She didn’t flinch when you adjusted her scarf.

You watched her chest rise and fall with the rhythm of the rails.

In that moment, you imagined a future you’d never get.

She scribbled her name on your arm with a pen while you waited for a street performer to start. It smudged halfway through the evening, but you didn’t wipe it off.

“Temporary tattoo,” she said.

“How long does it last?”

“Depends if you shower.”

You didn’t wash your arm that night.

In Sham Shui Po, she forced you to buy fake jade bracelets.

“To ward off weird exes,” she claimed.

“You’re my weird ex,” you said.

“I’m not your anything,” she replied. But she didn’t give the bracelet back

All of it—the fruit stalls, the overhead tram wires, the scent of her shampoo on your jacket, the sound of her voice beneath the ferry horns—

All of it became her.

A Week Later.

It’s raining hard. You’re both caught under a narrow awning near Temple Street. She’s fiddling with her umbrella, but you can tell—she’s restless.

“I don’t want to stay here much longer,” she says.

“You mean tonight?”

She shakes her head.

“No. I mean… in general.”

You don’t ask what that means.

You just walk her home.

In silence.

The sun dips just beneath the skyline, casting the city in gold before letting it go.

You wait for her at your usual cafe. Two drinks. One with sugar, one without.

She never shows up.

You wait an hour.

Then two.

Then every Friday after that.

Eventually, the barista stops asking if she’s coming.

He just hands you her usual order with a pitiful smile.

You search the city for her.

Every tram. Every corner.

Every skyline.

But she’s gone.

You don’t know where.

You don’t know why.

And now:

You’re back.

Same city. Same silence.

You walk the places where her laughter used to echo.

You ride the Star Ferry with no destination.

You sit on rooftop steps she used to hum songs on.

You check your phone sometimes—not because she texts.

But because you’re afraid she never will again.

Then one day, the bookstore clerk hands you a note.

Says she left it “just in case.”

It reads:

“You didn’t make me stay. But you made me wish I could—

That’s more than anyone else ever did.”

You stare at it for a long time.

Then fold it.

And leave it behind.

You’re still in Hong Kong.

But maybe this time, you won’t stay waiting.

The city doesn’t pause for heartbreak.

And maybe… neither should you

All of it is gone now.

But that’s the problem with memory, isn’t it?

You don’t get to choose what lingers.

You just keep living in a city where she’s already gone.

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

maybe a Yandere Gigi headcanons x reader? 👀

Yandere Gigi With The Reader Headcanons!

Ohhhhh, more yandere stuff? I hope the headcanons I thought amuse you, dear anon! Here you go, thank you for requesting! <3

At this point I'm not even gonna say I'm getting busy or anything else sobs I think it's obvious sksksksk

Ik I take Sundays off but shhhh-

Kinda not proofread gelp sobs

-Anna

-Gigi's obsession with you was kinda obvious and at the same time not really. She's that best friend where you always know you are going to have a fun time with. When you appeared somewhere, it was basically almost a guarantee that Gigi would always be with you. She just adored having you around and following you to places. Whenever she appeared, she also liked giving you your favorite snacks or even showing you what else she managed to pull from her head, find or even something she totally borrowed from.. the others. All she wants to see is you smiling, that means you like her a lot, right??

-She wouldn't exactly be the type to eliminate obstacles, let's say. She is more focused on making sure you are hers. You are her precious treasure, someone she is obsessed with having all to her. Gigi's style is more focused on pushing everyone away from you one way or another just so she can have you all to herself. You are someone truly precious that she doesn't want anyone else to have your attention for too long. She's not the type to really punish you or anything, no, no, how could she face you if she hurt you?

-Her way of getting others to distance themselves from you is by stealing their things, especially things that are super important to said toons. That way, they are more focused on finding it again or are feeling too low to hang out with you. You can try and help, of course, but you won't find anything and she guarantees it totally. I mean, who would find such important items under Gigi's massive collection? Or better yet, she gets rid of them completely in some way, that way, they will never be found again. Not every toon has to worry about this, though, as she only does it to those that hang around you for too long.

-Gigi has impressive lockpicking skills, it's how she manages to get into the rooms of whoever she wants if they piss her off enough. She is very sneaky too, learning everyone's patterns and more so she can do her job properly and with ease too. She makes sure to not do it immediately once she's pissed, she waits and sometimes she even grabs someone else's important items who doesn't hang out with you much so it's not obvious that it happens to those that are only around you. It's a way to keep Rodger or even Vee guessing constantly or even anyone else who gets suspicious enough to look into it. Gigi likes to mess with those specifically, taking their items then placing them back in a specific spot to drive them insane slowly, they think it's Connie!

-She pretends to search for the lost items alongside you and the toon she stole from. It's also a way for Gigi to see just how much panic she caused to the poor toon. If it's a toon that isn't exactly close to you, she might drop the item somewhere randomly around Gardenview but if it's someone who was close to you, like said before, she gets rid of it completely. Gigi enjoys watching their reactions. She does feel a bit bad when you also seem distressed over this but it has to be done. This is the best thing for everyone. She won't get.. TOO angry at the toon enough to cause actual damage and she doesn't get caught, win-win!

-If said toon still hangs out with you even more, Gigi really thinks here. She might cause damage to their room and somehow make it like it was an accident or something. One other thing she can do is sabotage their food and make them feel pretty sick or even hang out with you so often that it just.. feels wrong to hang out with anyone else. Can't you see that they are not feeling well? Hang out with Gigi while they rest! She will keep you company until they feel better, yup! She totally won't sabotage them again shortly after they recover or anything!

-When Gigi hangs out with you, she's overly kind and loves to stay close to you as much as she can. It's funny because if she's a very close friend to you, it's seen as normal and something pretty sweet. You just think that this is what best friends do, no? She likes to lean against you as you sit in the same beanbag, watching a movie together. Don't even question just how many snacks she has in her room, they are all for you, always for you. Totally didn't steal all your favorite ones from the kitchen, pffft! Gigi always observes your reactions.

-Gigi likes to also feel you close to her, you are her precious treasure, after all. You get hugs, cuddles, nuzzles, cheek kisses that might seem platonic but only if you knew just how obsessive she is with you, she wants you to feel so well around her that you fall for her. Even if you don't, it's fine, as long as she has you close to her forever and ever, she doesn't care. She can admire you from afar or close, whether you are best friends or lovers, she just wants to be close to you like this and adore you. When she sees you comfortably leaning against her, she feels like she completed her life goal or something like that. The smile she has is big.

-You are the only one she is willing to share anything with, no one else. When I say anything, I do genuinely mean ANYTHING, can be clothes, snacks, stuff from her collection, tapes with so many shows in them, it's like you two are married even with how much she's letting you take with a happy smile on her face. You can't really complain much because a lot of the stuff she keeps are so nice to wear or to watch and this and that. Honestly Gigi is very happy to share only with you, her beloved, as long as you are happy and you focus only on her, that's all she cares about.

-She's pretty good at pretending, really but she does get super happy and affectionate whenever she's with you. She really tries to be careful in her footsteps and for you to never figure out what she truly does behind your back. Gigi wants you to have this good image of her so she's going to try her very best in keeping it good. If she ever gets you to fall for her, she's going to make sure no one else ever lays a finger on you as long as you are by her side. Gigi loves you too much and she can't wait to spoil you so hard that you only have eyes for her only.

Thank you for reading! <3