#and its more quiet than it is in the game

[pmpmyread]

Content Warnings: 18+/MDNI, suggestive themes Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!Reader Summary: "It’s just way too tight, Kento. I really don’t think you’ll fit.” You deliberately punctuate your statement with a lilt of your voice, which implies far more than your words convey, a shift that does not go unnoticed by Nanami. It’s what finally earns you the view you’re fishing for. Word count: 3.4k

It’s a bright, frigid winter afternoon, the kind that sees the sun casting a dazzling light off the patches of the morning’s snowfall with near-blinding intensity. Your breath fogs slightly as you bring your hands to your mouth, pretending to warm up the fingers that are concealing the chuckle you simply can’t contain anymore.

You’re sitting in your car, parked just outside Nanami’s apartment building, watching in quiet amusement as the sorcerer emerges through the automatic door and approaches you. His eyes are narrowed in a sharp, assessing gaze as he glances first to the front and then to the rear of your car, undoubtedly taking stock of the cramped space and the less-than-ideal angle you’d managed to maneuver into. When his gaze briefly locks with yours, it is a small shake of his head that acknowledges your sheepish smile before he crosses in front of the car ahead of you to reach your side.

Oh, how you love to play the game.

It’s a game that owes its inception to a spark ignited within you one evening, several months prior. Your second official date with Nanami Kento was a memorable one; a wonderful outing together comprising delicious food and delightful open conversation, which allowed you to discover an unfiltered side to the otherwise reserved colleague you’d only grown so fond of. You’d learned so much about him in the space of a mere few hours.

After which you'd also learned something about yourself.

“Damn, they really boxed us in like this…” You’d said as Nanami opened the passenger door to his car for you.

You’d just wrapped dinner at a quaint and charming restaurant whose only drawback was the inconvenience of only having street parking available on what was a rather narrow street. It now appeared that since your arrival, two vehicles had parked so closely, both behind and in front of Nanami’s, leaving it with hardly any room to exit.

“That is rather bothersome,” Nanami said before gently closing your door and squeezing his way over to the driver’s side.

He took a moment after pushing the ignition, and you sensed he was making a mental calculation in his mind as he thought through this conundrum. You reached into your handbag, taking the opportunity to quickly reapply a thin layer of your tinted lip balm, which you damn near bit off when Nanami abruptly draped his arm over the back of your seat as he looked over his shoulder, assuming a new position that saw him leaning both backward and towards you. The combination of his sudden nearness, the faint woody scent of his cologne, and his warm breath on your neck was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” He murmured, more to himself, his confident words a low rumble that tickled your ear and sent a warmth spreading through you.

When you finally dared take a sidelong glance at Nanami, you were gifted with a breathtaking sight. You took notice of the way the setting sunlight illuminated his strong jawline, of how it enhanced the sharp features of his face, and of the subtle radiance emanating from his profile.

You watched his eyebrows furrow in focus, his eyes narrow in calculation, averting your gaze just as he faced forward again, shifting your focus to where his fingers gripped the wheel as he turned it with the same practiced precision he carried when out on the field, exorcising curses.

The sleeves of his blue dress shirt were rolled back, revealing strong forearms that flexed as he brought his right arm from the steering wheel to the gear stick. In just a handful of dexterous maneuvers, he found the right angle and effortlessly managed to glide out.

Just like that.

Heat sluiced through the air, through you, and suddenly it was warm, far too warm, even for an early summer evening. The low buzz of excitement that had hummed just below your surface all evening had now reached its fever pitch. The air in the car was charged with a quiet intensity. Even today you wonder what you must have looked like in the moment, what kind of expression you had on your face as your eyes remained fixed on Nanami as if he was the first person to ever reverse out of a damn parking spot, what he might have seen in your eyes when he finally glanced your way and caught your lingering eyes, prompting him to ask, in a tone tinged with earnest curiosity:

“Is something wrong?”

“No, uh… You didn’t even use your backup camera.” It’s the desperate substitute for a coherent reply formulated by your slightly panicked mind.

“I didn’t, no. I find that leaning on the traditional way works best in a tricky situation like that. In fact, I usually don’t use the camera at all.” He paused a bit before playfully adding, “Is this a deal-breaker for you?”

“Well yes, Nanami, I perceive you so differently now…” You buried your genuine sigh of relief beneath one of mock concession. “But since I really like you, I guess I can learn to live with your lifestyle.”

“Thank you for accepting my cavalier ways.” Nanami’s lips curved into one of his warm smiles that you’ve grown to live for, distracting you, only for a brief moment, from the fact that you’d almost gotten caught flagrantly ogling him.

I have got to be careful with this, you’d thought to yourself at the time.

And for a while, you did; you discreetly savored in the rare opportunities you were offered, and keenly watched Nanami engage in the skillful displays that were his reverse maneuvers.

But now, it’s several months later, and time and familiarity have long since dulled the edge of caution.

Now, you’ve shed some of your inhibitions, and you allow yourself to be a bit bolder, more brazen.

Now, you don’t always want to wait for opportunities, so sometimes you manufacture them.

The distinctive clicking sound of your door latch snaps you out of your reverie as Nanami opens it, and the frigid winter air finds your face again, bringing you back to the current moment.

One quick look at him, at the tousled blonde locks freely cascading over the reading glasses he didn’t bother removing, at the black sweatshirt peeking through his unzipped puffer jacket, at the comfortable gray sweatpants emblematic of his peaceful weekend détentes confirms what you’d suspected a few minutes ago, as you texted your SOS regarding your precarious parking job.

You imagine the soft glow of his reading lamp and you can almost hear the light rustle of pages from the book he was likely reading before you interrupted him. For a moment, you feel the prickling sensation of guilt crawling up your spine. But then a second picture, even more alluring than the first, fills your mind, a vision so enticing that it relegates any and all thoughts of retreat to the far back corner of your mind, and you find yourself back on task with renewed motivation.

“Hey, thanks for being my hero again.” You cheerfully say, springing out of the car and landing on your tiptoes, your arms encircling his neck as you brush his cheek with a light kiss, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cool lips.

“Your knack for finding the trickiest spots on this street is unmatched, truly remarkable.” The bright sunlight reflects off his glasses, but you don’t need to see his eyes to detect the affection underlying Nanami’s exasperated tone. This isn’t his first rodeo, this is not your first time pulling this stunt, and you’re not new to this careful plotting of the conditions that would grant you the otherwise rare view you enjoy so much.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I always prefer this side for the convenient view I get from your place. I saw the spot and I really thought I could hack it.” You point back at the high-rise towards Nanami’s window, the one that faces this street some twelve stories above you, intent on feigning innocence by leaning onto the plausible excuse you’ve employed time and time again.

“You know, if you’d told me you’d be available earlier, I could’ve picked you up myself,” he says as he gently taps his boots to the side of your car, carefully ridding himself of the snow clinging to his boots before taking the wheel.

“I didn’t want to disturb you… Though I realize that I sort of am right now.” Your reply is apologetic in its tone but unapologetic in its objective to obscure your true intentions. You start on the path Nanami just took to get to you, following into the fresh footprints left by his boots in the snow to find the sidewalk again, expertly dodging the “you never disturb me” he undoubtedly has ready at the tip of his tongue.

Because you are disturbing him, deliberately so.

In theory, parallel parking never was your forte. Technically speaking, you could use his help. It is a stretch of a rationalization, something you know very well, being the architect of your premeditated predicament, as evidenced by the self-satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips once more.

You try your best to school your expression back into neutrality as you re-enter Nanami’s field of vision and as you move to enact the next step of your little scheme. Once you finally reach the car, it is in the back that you slide into, rather than the passenger seat.

Nanami uses the edge of his shirt to wipe the fog from his glasses before he wears them again, and only then, through the rearview mirror, does he seem to register your unusual decision to sit where you do. A slow arch of his eyebrow betrays his amused confusion.

“I’ve already made peace with being your valet, but am I to be your chauffeur as well?”

“Ah, you know, all of my things are on the front seat. I figured this is simpler,” you say in the most persuasive tone you can.

He glances down at the passenger seat, where you’ve indeed ensured, before driving here, to pile your handbag over the three hefty grocery bags holding the ingredients for your shared dinner, the ones you’ve deliberately left out of your spacious trunk.

“I see…” he says, finding your gaze through the mirror again, something unreadable briefly crossing his eyes. “I know we just discussed this the other day but I do wish you’d just let me rent you a spot in the indoor parking lot.” He adds, finding his train of thought once more as he shifts the gear into drive and begins his maneuver, moving a few inches forward.

“There’s no need, Kento. We’ll be moving in together soon, and besides, I rarely bring my car around here. It only amounts to a couple of times a month, if that.” Your rehearsed responses are a refrain from a conversation you’ve already had countless times.

“So you take my spot then, and I’ll park on the street. My car is smaller, and it will be easier this way.” His hand stills over the gear switcher, awaiting your feedback on his proposed alternative. Icorrigibly pragmatic, this man is; always so logical, constantly looking to make your life easier, all things you utterly love about him. But this is not a problem you want him to solve, at least not in the ways he’s thinking. The seconds tick by, each one a hammer blow against your carefully crafted plan.

So you quickly decide to shift tactics.

“I guess you’re right.” You slowly say. “You should get us out of this spot and park us elsewhere. I don’t think it can be done.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it can’t��”

“It’s just way too tight, Kento. I really don’t think you’ll fit.” You deliberately punctuate your statement with a lilt of your voice, one which implies far more than your words convey, a shift that does not go unnoticed by Nanami, who responds instantly with a lift of his head up as he anchors his gaze to yours. The signs that betray the successful effect of your instigation are nearly imperceptible but they are there; in the minute narrowing of his eyes, in the slight lift of his eyebrows, in the subtle hitch of his breath.

It’s what finally earns you the view you’re fishing for, today’s at a newfound angle; Nanami finally reaches behind the passenger seat, places his hand on the headrest, and takes his usual position to reverse.

“Well, I’m certainly not one to back down from a challenge,” he says, defiance laced in his tone.

You mentally give yourself a pat on the back, but your triumph is quickly replaced with another sentiment. Because for some reason, as he maneuvers the car a few inches backward, Nanami holds your gaze, and you hold your breath. He doesn’t waver as the car slightly jerks under the audible tap of his foot on the pedal, and now you’re nervous. You are acutely aware of the ridiculously small space left between the cars, making his blind attempt at the maneuver seem irrational.

“Hey, shouldn’t you actually be keeping your eyes on the road?” It comes out of you, more a breathless utterance than a clear question. You watch Nanami shift back to drive and give a few light taps to the gas pedal, before switching back to reverse, his amusement now increasingly evident as his eyes find yours once more.

“Hey, shouldn’t you actually be seated next to me? Or is this the new best seat in the house?” His gaze does not waver, and he punctuates each of those last three syllables with a tap to the pedal, each producing a short, jerky backward jolt of the vehicle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nanami.” You mumble this, and you don’t even bother to sound convincing at this point, you’re still reeling at this unrelenting teasing. Here you are, having scored something even better than the mere view you were after, and somehow you’ve still lost the upper hand.

“Ah, so I’m just Nanami, now?” He says with what is now unmistakably a smirk.

A nervous scoff escapes you and you attempt to avert your gaze to something, anything other than his sly, piercing hazel eyes. You’re not left with many alternatives, so your eyes find purchase on the hand he’s placed on the headrest right in front of you, and you hope it will suffice to bring your heart rate down, to lower the increasingly warming temperature in the car, and to help you find your footing again in this repartee.

He must notice your newfound anchor and he must be determined to sink you because Nanami’s fingers begin to move in a light rhythmic tapping of his index finger and you now find yourself somewhat distracted again. His hand disappears momentarily as he grips the wheel to move forward, and when it returns, it is both his index and middle fingers that are moving again, together, this time.

What begins as a seemingly random, lazy, circular motion quickly transfigures into a slow, deliberate up-and-down rubbing motion; the minute squeaking sound of fingers against rubber, an audible evidence of a nebulously steady rhythm. Suddenly, it’s a pattern you recognize all too well, a motion you’ve watched him, felt him enact far too many times, one that causes a familiar fizzing of your stomach and compels you to instinctively squeeze your thighs together.

You find yourself unwittingly transfixed, the subject-changing retort you so desperately want to wield in self-defence, never quite making it to your lips. Did seconds pass? Did minutes? It is only once Nanami pulls his hand back to himself, and breaks the tense silence that you realize that the car has long since stopped moving,

“Now, tell me how I did.” He says in a commanding but gentle tone.

“How you… what?” You are decidedly disoriented and you don’t even know what he’s asking anymore.

“Check the curb, my love, and tell me if I’m aligned properly?” His abrupt flip back to his usual kind and even tone after engaging in the most egregious display of pettiness is dizzying.

You open your door to find your car perfectly positioned, your dicey position long since corrected.

You shut your door to meet a gaze that betrays the mischief simmering just beneath Nanami’s surface.

“You’re good,” you mumble, still pulling yourself back to reality. You would marvel at this masterclass in hand and eye and apparent finger coordination if you could think straight. Instead, your mind is a mix of hot and bothered and confused and you think to yourself that perhaps this time, you bit off just a bit more than you could chew.

“It was a tight fit, but as usual, I made it in.” He says these words in such a casual tone, and you know that he knows that he doesn’t need much more than this, that you’re already riled up.

Decidedly eager to vacate the car and get a breath of fresh air, you lean over the center console to reach for your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, Nanami sees this as an opening, an advantage to exploit.

By the time you feel Nanami’s arm draping just behind you as he reaches for the passenger seat once more, it’s already too late, and you find yourself stuck in your awkwardly bent position on the other side of his arm.

“Actually,” you feel more than you hear his voice rumble just behind your left ear, “I think I could back up a bit more.”

You watch him shift the gear into reverse, and he moves to look over his shoulder, but he can only really make it halfway.

Your faces are so close that you can see your reflection in his eyes, pupils and irises now indistinguishable. This is beyond impractical; you know it and he knows it. You look down to find something to grab onto, using the center console to brace yourself against the next anticipated jolt of the moving car.

It’s one that never materializes.

After a few moments of inertia, you finally lift your face to level your eyes with his, and by now it is a full-on, mischievous smirk plastered on his face.

And this ignites you. Because you, too, are not one to back down from a challenge.

You decide to make the most out of your newfound position by moving your left hand to grab onto his right leg. There it is, the shift of his expression, the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth now nothing more than a memory. Slowly but surely, you glide your hand up his leg, maintaining your eye contact, inching closer and closer up toward his lap. You watch as his breath hitches for a moment, as his gaze wavers, as a brief dark flicker crosses his eyes, telegraphing in advance the question he’s about to blurt out in a disquiet of his own, one you’re now more than willing to answer.

“What are you—” He breathes out.

“Well, Kento, I need to hold on to something, don’t I? You wouldn’t want me to fall, right?”

Nanami reaches down to switch the gear to what you assume is ‘Park’, his first gesture of concession. But you don’t relent, no, you double down.

You shift some of your weight off the console and onto your offending hand, gliding upwards, up towards his lap. Moving inwards, in towards his—

Your movement is abruptly halted, but you don’t miss the small audible groan that melts into the gulp he swallows as he closes his free hand over yours in a grasp that is both as gentle and as firm as his tone when he finally chokes out, “Upstairs.”

“Oh. Is this capitulation I hear from my beloved valet?” Your voice does not come out as even as you intend, your breath hitches, and frankly, it’s a miracle that you’re still holding your own, that you still manage to speak because the truth of the matter is that witnessing the effect of your anticipatory torture on him only serves to exacerbate your own conundrum.

“Let’s call it a temporary truce,” he says as he gently interlaces your fingers, cautiously moving your hand away from the danger zone all the while bringing his face as close to yours without touching, as if to spill his next words of promise directly into your mouth, words that come out as a deep rumble and that travel straight to your core.

“Capitulation is what I’ll pull from you real soon.”

[scarnatlover]

Run, baby, run

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (romantic)

Summary: Finding a moment of peace away from the chaos of superhero life isn't easy, but with a little help, you can carve out time for a romantic retreat in a secluded cabin in the woods. What begins as a lighthearted chase soon transforms into an exhilarating game of predator and prey, sparking intense passion and desire between two lovers.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. sexual themes, smut, Reader has a cock, predator x prey, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, edging, name calling, praise, passing out, aftercare.

REQUEST: YES

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling. If you have any request (read this first), I will try and write them.

Taglist

She had been running for what seemed like hours. She didn’t know where she was going, she didn’t know the route she had taken, and she didn’t know where she would end up. The forest she was in seemed endless. There was no stream to orient herself by, and the treetops were too thick to see the stars. She could hear her labored breathing, her quick steps, the owls hooting in the trees. But most of all, she could hear whoever was behind her and chasing her getting closer and closer.

Their footsteps were heavier than hers, but their breathing matched hers. She could tell that whoever was following her was taller and more muscular, but not more agile since she heard them trip over some fallen tree branches. She also knew that they were far behind her and that this gave her an advantage. And so she did the only thing she could think of. She hid behind a massive rock after jumping off its top.

She held her breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible, but she jumped as soon as she saw the figure dart over her head, then rolled on the ground to cushion the jump and immediately resumed running. She was right, actually. Even from a distance they looked about four inches taller than her and decidedly more muscular. She breathed a sigh of relief and, once she was sure they were far enough away, she stood up and began to run at a moderate pace towards where she thought the exit of the maze of trees she was in was.

But after walking a few meters, she started to feel like she was being watched. She turned in every possible direction, but there was no one but her. She started walking again, the feeling of being watched always with her, but she turned again when she heard a twig snap behind her. After not seeing anything or anyone, she prepared to start again but this time, when she turned, she found your muscular figure in front of her. “Boo” you muttered, a smile plastered on your face and your arms that wrapped around her hips.

“Are you running away from me, pretty girl?” you asked, backing her up against a tree trunk. “Why are you running, baby girl? You know I’ll always catch you.”

And with that you kissed her, hard. Her back against the tree made your body pressed against hers, making her feel your hard cock against her belly. Her hands flew into your hair, pulling you closer. You moaned into her mouth, enjoying her hands on your head, and she smiled slightly into the kiss.

Your violent kisses ran down her jaw and neck, pulling her skin with your teeth. She moaned in pleasure and pain, without letting out a gasp first. She could feel her arousal dampening her panties, yet she remembered that this person in front of her was the one who not even ten minutes ago was chasing her through the same woods where she was about to be fucked.

Your hands traveled to her breasts to feel one of her spheres through the shirt she was wearing. Being the impatient person you were, you quickly shrugged off the piece of clothing, ripping it in half. There, you were met with her bare tits, no bra covering them. You smirked, easier access for you.

You lowered your head to take one of her nipples into your mouth, licking it until you felt it harden under your tongue, your other hand still busy groping her other tit. You then switched sides, repeating the same movements and giving the same attention to both of her tits. Her back arched, pleasure coursing through her. Her hands still in your hair to hold you closer to her chest and instigating you not to stop. She laughed briefly feeling you play with her nipples, but immediately moaned when you bit one of them.

You both watched your fingers slide along her skin, down past her belly button, and stop above her pelvis. You looked into her eyes as you slowly knelt in front of her. You pulled down her leggings, but left her panties on. With a smirk, you moved them to the side and slid your hand to her pelvis between her legs. You caressed her folds, parting them slightly so you could see her arousal before sliding your fingers inside her.

She moaned and leaned her head against the tree trunk, completely surrendering to the feeling of your fingers inside her. She let your hands and fingers explore her body, both inside and out and in all the ways you wanted.

“God, you look beautiful even from down here,” you murmured, starting to slowly move your fingers inside her. She groaned at the sound of your voice, so low, husky and sexy, full of your desire for her body. Simultaneously, your mouth began to leave hot kisses everywhere it could reach: her thighs, her belly, her pelvis, until you lightly kissed her clit.

She gripped your hair in her hands as your lips touched her hot clit and whined. Her hips began to move back and forth on your fingers. “That’s it. Ride my fingers like the good girl you are. My good girl.” You pinned her hips against the tree so you could slide your fingers deeper into her. You started slow and gentle until you built up to a force and speed that rivaled – not really – your cock. “Good, just like that. You’re doing great.”

Your tongue laid flat against her clit, her eyes rolled and her mouth made sounds sweeter than honey. Her entire body jolted with pleasure as your tongue flicked at her bundle of nerves. Your fingers slowed, making her whine, but the movements of your tongue made her hips buckle, your hand on them the only reason she didn’t fall to the floor.

Her moans grew louder, louder, her body shaking with pleasure and the need to come, as you brought her closer and closer to the climax. As you continued to tease her, she moaned in frustration and writhed beneath you. With each passing second, her need for release grew stronger and stronger due to denial. You took your time, pleasuring her until she was begging for more.

“Please, let me come. I beg you,” she pleaded, her eyes locked on yours, her green ones filled with desperation.

You quickly removed your tongue from her slit and stood up, now much taller than her, but your fingers never stopped moving inside her. “I’ll tell you what,” you whispered in her ear. “I’m going to let you go now. You’re going to start running in that direction again, until you see a cabin. I’ll give you a twenty-second head start before I start chasing you,” you removed your fingers from inside her, drawing out a whine from her throat. “If I catch you before you get to the cabin, I’ll fuck you until you pass out and it’s up to me whether or not I make you come. If you get to the cabin and I can’t catch you…” you gently kissed up her neck, until you reached her cheek. “…when I fuck you, you can come as many times as you want,” you concluded, placing your sweatshirt on her shoulders and lifting her pants, to cover her nakedness.

As soon as those words left your mouth, she started running again in the direction you indicated, faster than before despite the ache between her legs. She could smell you on her, her pussy clenching around nothing even as she ran, but most of all your voice, which was counting the seconds, growing more and more distant.

The forest seemed endless, she didn’t know how much longer she had to run. There was no sign of the cabin you had told her about. She was starting to doubt its existence. Her legs were burning and with them her muscles, the temperature had dropped slightly, but it was cold enough to notice the air coming out of her mouth every time she was out of breath.

She stopped to rest only when she was sure that your footsteps couldn’t be heard, but she remained alert anyway. She collapsed on the ground, her back against a tree, she caught her breath and looked around, but she couldn’t see anything. Her ears couldn’t pick up any suspicious noise, other than the wind in the branches of the trees and a few night birds here and there. Not even a shadow of you could be seen.

When she was sure she was rested and had enough breath, she started running again, always in the same direction you had told her. She ran and ran and ran, until she could see a light far away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief and increased her pace. Now she could also see inside, with the fire lit in front of the couch and under the TV, thanks to the windows that acted as a wall on the outside of the house.

But just as she was approaching the path that led to the stairs to enter the cabin, out of nowhere she glimpsed your figure staring at her from a tree. Nat returned your gaze for a few seconds, and then sprinted towards the house, but you wrapped your muscular arms around her waist before she could touch the wood of the stairs.

“That means…” you murmured in her ear as she squirmed. “That I won, sugar.” You took her earlobe between your lips and bit it enough for her to feel it.

You slowly brought a hand to her face and turned her towards you, kissing her without hesitation. She immediately found herself returning the kiss that became more and more passionate. Her head was spinning and you pulled her towards you roughly, making her feel your semi-hard member. Your tongues rubbed together. Her hands returned to your neck while yours continued to move down and then back to her breasts and grope them roughly.

You quickly removed the hoodie she was wearing and kissed along the column of her neck, leaving purple marks as you went further down, your hands now massaging her ass. You backed up with her, leading her up the three steps to the wooden patio and setting her down on the cool surface. You ripped a hole in her pants, then did the same to her soaked panties.

“Look at you, sugar,” you turned your gaze to her pussy. “Your swollen, soaked cunt, still clenching around nothing,” she whimpered, the cool night air in direct contact with her wet, exposed sex. You ran two fingers between her folds and brought them to her mouth, letting her taste her essence. “You need it, don’t you? You need to be stretched, ruined, and used like the whore you are for me.”

You pulled down your pants and boxers, letting your cock pop out, pumping it a little to get it fully hard, which didn’t take long given the magnificent sight before you. You leaned over her, your hands on either side of her head, staring into her beautiful green eyes filled with lust.

She kissed you harder than before, nipping at your bottom lip, making you groan into her mouth. She suddenly felt a lot warmer, wondering if she was really about to get fucked on the wooden patio of a cabin by the person who had been chasing her ten minutes ago. But her mind went blank the moment she felt one of your hands spread her thighs, making her wet pussy meet your now painfully hard cock.

You positioned the tip of your cock so that it was prodding at her entrance and at the same time you pulled away from the kiss to watch her facial expressions. She immediately gasped and her back arched towards you. You slowly pushed it in, feeling her warm and tight around you. “Fuck, are you still this tight? After so long?” you asked a rhetorical question.

You took her hands and brought them above her head, pinning her down, and leaned down to kiss her slowly. You started moving, rocking your hips harshly. She gasped first into your mouth, then broke away from the kiss and began teasing the sensitive skin of your neck. You moaned in her ear, increasing the force of your thrusts, the only sounds that could be heard at that moment were your breathing and moans and the wet sound that Nat's pussy was making.

At this point you were ramming into her, whispering in her ear how pathetic and desperate she was. “Look at you, beautiful. Taking everything I’m giving you like the slut you are,” you moaned in her ear, feeling her shivering and whimpering beneath you. You could feel her getting closer to her climax, but you had other plans.

“Please,” she whispered, running her hands under your shirt and digging her nails into your back. “Let me come,” she continued with a few tears rolling down her soft face. You just grinned and continued to rock your hips fast and hard, her walls squeezing you tighter and tighter, making you groan once more.

Immediately, you slowed down and looked down at where her cunt met your cock, which was fully immersed inside her, filling her completely. She sobbed, her orgasm having been denied for the second time that night, and she began to shake even more. After a few minutes of your thrusts being soft and slow, making her feel every inch of your cock, you started moving your hips violently again, her cries of pleasure could probably be heard from miles away. Her body was aching, from the run she had been on and how you had left her in the middle of the woods, and her moans were now coming out uncontrollably. Her legs were shaking, her eyes scrunched shut and you could feel how close she was to cumming.

You continued to do this until she was a blabbering mess, the only things coming out of her mouth were pleas and moans of your name. “Tired, baby? You can’t take it anymore?” you asked, slightly worried. You looked at the expression on her face and it all hit you. You started to ram into her one last time, intertwining your hands with hers above her head and kissing her sensually and softly. “Can I come inside you?” you asked, feeling the knot in your stomach about to break. She just nodded, too tired to even respond.

Your climaxes came at the same time, her coming on your cock with the loudest moan of the evening and you painting her walls white, filling her with your seed. Her pussy contracted around you for the last time, making you groan in her neck, where you were resting your head, which you raised a few seconds later to look into her eyes, but instead you saw her passed out from exhaustion. You smiled gently at her and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

You carefully slid out of her, trying not to hurt her, and got dressed, but first you watched your cum leak out of her gaping hole. You then picked her up bridal style and the two of you entered the cabin, which felt like a sauna compared to the outside. You continued to the stairs and carefully carried her to the bedroom you were in. You laid her on the bed and ran to the bathroom, where you drew a hot bath. You quickly ran to the kitchen to get her a bottle of water and a snack for later.

When you got back to your room, Nat was waking up. You were immediately at her side, stroking her hair. “Hey,” she whispered to you and you smiled, telling her that a bath was ready for her. “Can you carry me?” she then asked and you rolled your eyes playfully and picked her up in your arms, carrying her to the bathroom and placing her in the hot water. You handed her the bottle after opening it and helped her take a few sips.

Nat looked at you puzzled when she noticed that you were not undressing and getting in the tub with her, but instead grabbing the shampoo ready to wash her hair. “Aren’t you coming in?” she asked and you looked at her in disbelief before answering her.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to hurt you,” you started, looking at the water instead of her face. “I think I overdid it a little,” you continued. Nat pulled her hands out of the water and placed them on your face, looking into your eyes.

“I liked everything you did, from the chase in the woods to the fuck on the patio. I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me,” she wiped away the single tear that was sliding down your face with her thumb. “Get undressed and come in. I want you even closer to me,” and with that you took off your clothes and Nat made room for you between her legs, where you stayed until the tub water was cold.

The two of you dried off and got dressed, exchanging a few kisses here and there. Once you were in bed, Nat immediately curled up around you, her head on your chest and one leg bent over your hips. One of your hands slid under her shirt, touching her bare skin, while the other reached for the remote on your nightstand and you scrolled until you found her favorite James Bond movie on the TV.

Nat fell asleep not even halfway through the movie, her breath on your neck, where you could feel her smile as she slowly massaged your abdomen, tracing her fingertips over your abs. You looked up at her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face like you had done a few hours ago. You fell asleep shortly after her, hoping that Tony hadn't installed cameras on the patio too, otherwise neither of you would ever see the end of it.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-two: Power not Pity

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

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Series Masterlist

In-ho’s POV

I left the quiet confines of my office and made my way down the hall, the weight of tonight’s task pressing heavily on my chest. The moment had come. The moment I’d been preparing for since the panther mask had dared to make his move. It was no longer about subtlety, about games or manipulation. This was about sending a message—a loud, resounding message.

The VIP room was as opulent as ever, but tonight, it felt like a cage. The usual tension that lingered in the air, thick with whispers of power and influence, seemed more suffocating than usual. I couldn’t afford to have this simmer for any longer.

When I arrived, the panther mask was in the corner, sitting comfortably in one of the plush chairs, looking out over the city through the tall windows. The mask glinted in the dim light, its polished surface reflecting the cold, calculated silence of the room. He hadn’t heard me approach.

I paused at the entrance, my mind already preparing for what was about to unfold. I could feel the growing rage inside me, the need to assert dominance, to remind him and everyone else who ran this world.

“Still hiding behind the mask?” I asked, my voice low but carrying through the room.

He turned his head slightly, the panther mask gleaming in the half-light, but his posture didn’t shift. He was playing it cool, still believing he could control the situation. Typical.

“I don’t hide,” the panther mask said, his voice smooth, almost too casual. “I’ve always been exactly who I’ve claimed to be. It’s you, In-ho, who likes to pretend. Pretend you can control everything. Pretend you hold all the cards.”

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face—thin, predatory. “You think you’re the one with the cards? Let me remind you who’s holding the deck.”

Before he could react, I was on him in an instant, closing the distance with a speed that caught him off guard. I grabbed him by the collar of his tailored suit, yanking him to his feet, slamming him into the cold marble of the wall with such force that the impact echoed through the empty room.

His eyes, hidden behind the gold mask, widened briefly with shock. For a split second, I saw the uncertainty flicker in them. Good. He should feel it. Fear was the first step to understanding who truly ruled here.

“You should have stayed in your place,” I hissed, tightening my grip on his collar, my voice low and dangerous. “You crossed a line, and now you’re going to pay for it.”

The panther mask struggled briefly, but I didn’t loosen my grip. I could feel the faint tremor in his body, the subtle crack in his bravado. He was trying to regain control, trying to figure out how to twist this into his favor. It was too late for that.

“You think I’ll just sit back while you try to take what’s mine?” I growled, my face inches from his. “You’ve made a dangerous mistake. And I’m here to correct it.”

I saw him swallow, his confidence draining, his breathing growing shallow. The mask was his armor, but underneath it, he was nothing more than a man. And now, he was finally realizing that I wasn’t some shadow in the background. I was the frontman. And when the frontman speaks, people listen.

“You think this is some game, don’t you?” I continued, pressing my body closer, feeling the heat of his fear seeping through the cold mask. “Well, let me make it clear to you, panther. This isn’t a game. This is my world. And you’re just another player—one I can erase in an instant if I so choose.”

His lips parted, perhaps to protest, perhaps to challenge me, but before he could utter a word, I shoved him back. He staggered, but managed to keep his footing, his hands instinctively moving to adjust the mask, trying to regain composure.

“I don’t need to hear your excuses,” I said, my voice like ice. “You’ll stay out of my way, or I’ll make sure you regret ever thinking you could challenge me.”

The panther mask stood there for a moment, still reeling, but then—surprisingly—he straightened up. His pride, his arrogance, it was all coming back to him. He took a step forward, chin raised. He thought he could salvage this.

“You’ve shown your hand, Frontman,” he said, his voice steady, though I could sense the strain beneath it. “But don’t forget—I’m not the only one who holds power here. There are others who will be watching. Others who may not be as… loyal as you think.”

I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head at his arrogance. “You think I’m afraid of threats? I’ve built an empire, panther. I’ve torn down those who thought they could bring me down. Do you really think you’re any different?”

Before he could respond, I moved again, grabbing his arm with such force that it cracked against the marble once more. I leaned in, my lips almost touching his ear, and whispered, “You’ll learn your place. And I’ll make sure everyone else learns it too.”

I could feel his body stiffen, the fear now radiating off him in waves. He was beginning to understand—he wasn’t untouchable. No one was.

With one last shove, I threw him back into the chair where he had once sat so confidently. He sat there for a moment, dazed, the mask slipping further down his face. He was broken. His facade had shattered, and he knew it.

“This is your warning,” I said, my voice cold, final. “Don’t ever cross me again.” He wasn’t going to like what would happen to him if he did.

I turned on my heel, the silence in the room deafening in my wake. The panther mask didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mask wasn’t the only thing cracked now.

As I walked away, I felt a grim satisfaction settle in my chest. This was more than just a lesson for him. This was a reminder to every single VIP in this building. Every single person who thought they could challenge me.

The frontman wasn’t a position to be questioned. And anyone who forgot that would be dealt with swiftly.

I stepped out of the VIP room, letting the door close behind me with a soft click. The message had been delivered, loud and clear. The panther mask would think twice before daring to make a move again.

As I made my way back to my office, my mind shifted to the next task. There was still work to be done. But for now, the lesson had been set. A reminder that no one—not even the panther—was above the frontman.

———————

Chapter twenty-two!! Whoa we are getting up there in numbers! Lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

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[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Geo has officially become my second favorite character in Tkatb. As an asexual person writing about another asexual-coded character, I have to say—he makes me feel seen. It’s like he literally can’t take his eyes off me (and let’s face it, with Geo, that’s more intense than romantic).

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

But let’s be serious: I love him platonically. Sorry Brittany.

So, of course, I’ll share my headcanons about Geo, some shared by other fans, and even a few from the game’s lore. And no, before you ask, I won’t be writing about Sol in this “Type of Boyfriend” trope. He’s the obvious main choice in the game, and countless talented writers have already explored that lane. 

Geo, however? His quiet, unsettling stares deserve its moment in the spotlight.

Okay, so let’s talk about Geo as a boyfriend. First of all, congratulations on making that happen. Like, seriously, how did you pull it off? 

Because let’s be real, Geo is not the type to just open his heart to anyone. This man’s walls are practically made of steel, and I’m sure it took some serious patience, persistence, and probably some sorcery to get him to even consider letting you in.

But hey, you did it. So now you’ve got yourself the most stoic, broody, and incredibly hot boyfriend. So let’s break it down! 

✑ The Silent Observer

Like said, getting close to Geo? Oh man, that was like trying to break into a vault without the code. And let’s be honest, at first, you probably weren’t even trying to get to him—he just happened to be standing there while you were hanging out with Crowe. But of course, Geo being Geo, he’d hit you with those cold, piercing stares that made you question every single life choice.

And don’t even get me started on his bluntness. He’s the definition of the strong, silent type. He only speaks when he thinks something needs to be said, which means you’re never getting any filler or small talk from him. It’s not that he’s rude—he just values words and doesn’t see the point in wasting them. 

He’d just say it. Straight up. No filter. 

However, he does talk—pretty much one sentence though, it’s worth listening to because you’ll quickly realize how sharp he is. Geo’s intelligence and observant nature are on another level too… 

The kind of observant where he notices *everything*. He’s like that one friend who knows all the drama without ever saying a word. While Brittany would spill the tea loudly and proudly, Geo keeps it all locked away in that steel trap of a brain. He’s always watching, analyzing, and probably always two steps ahead. It’s part of what makes him such a great strategist but also why he’s so cautious about trusting anyone.  

So, instead of running for the hills like most people would, you stayed. And that’s probably what made him start noticing you. You didn’t back off, didn’t try to change him, just kind of… stuck around. 

Geo doesn’t do well with people who push or pry, so the fact that you respected his space but still showed up? Yeah, that got to him. Even if he’d never admit it out loud.

What’s wild is that he notices everything. Stuff you didn’t even realize about yourself? Yeah, he’s clocked it already. He’s the kind of guy who remembers your favorite drink, the way you twirl your hair when you’re stressed, or even the exact date you mentioned something offhand weeks ago. It’s almost unsettling how much he takes in, but it’s also one of the ways he shows how much he cares.

He’s not the type to constantly shower you with compliments or grand gestures, but his quiet, steady presence speaks volumes. Geo’s the guy who will fix something for you before you even realize it’s broken or offer exactly what you need without you having to ask. 

And when he does open up or say something heartfelt? You know it’s real because he doesn’t just say things lightly.

✑ Low-key Romantic

Okay, let’s get real���Geo is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. If anything, he’s probably got it locked up in a box somewhere with a “Do Not Disturb” sign slapped on it. But here’s the thing: when Geo cares, he cares. Like, no half-measures. 

Once he lets someone in—which is a feat on its own—you have his full, unwavering loyalty. And let’s be honest, why would Geo want anyone else? He’s not the type to hop from person to person—when he chooses you, he chooses you.

I’m pulling his asexual card here because it just fits. Geo isn’t about flashy romance or grand declarations. For him, love isn’t in the words or PDA—mind you he HATES PDA—it’s in the quiet, consistent ways he shows up for you. He wouldn’t just call you his partner; he’d treat you like you’re the most important person in his life, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

And the way he shows his affection? It’s all in the details. Geo is hyper-observant—he probably knows you better than you know yourself. 

Again, he’ll pick up on the smallest things, like how you take your coffee or tea, the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, or how you’re always talking about that one book or game you’re obsessed with. And he’ll use that information to make your day in ways that feel effortless.

Expect random, thoughtful surprises. Maybe your favorite snacks just happen to appear on your desk when you’re having a rough day, or you’ll find tickets to that movie you’ve been dying to see in your bag without him saying a word. He’s not going to make a big deal about it either—he’ll just shrug it off like it’s no big deal, but deep down, he’s paying attention to every detail that makes you you.

Geo’s love language is subtle, sure, but it’s also steady and reliable. 

You won’t always see it coming, but you’ll feel it in the way he’s always quietly there for you, no matter what.

✑ Protective But Not Overbearing

Oh, Geo’s hella protective—like, protective to the point where you know he’s got your back no matter what. But don’t think for a second he’s the clingy or overbearing type. Nah, that’s not his style. 

He’s more of a silent sentinel kind of guy, keeping a close eye on everything while letting you do your thing. He trusts you to handle yourself, and honestly? That trust speaks volumes. He knows you’re capable, and he’s not about to baby you or hover like some overprotective shadow.

But let’s get one thing straight—if someone crosses the line with you? Game over. Geo might seem calm and composed most of the time, but when it comes to defending you, that sharp tongue of his comes out swinging. 

And let’s not forget the fact that he’s an archer. I’m just saying, if someone pushes too far, they’d better pray they’re not anywhere near a target. He wouldn’t need to say much—one cold glare, one well-aimed shot at a bullseye, and everyone around would get the message.

What’s even better is that Geo doesn’t make a scene about it. He’s not the type to start unnecessary drama or puff up his chest to prove something. He’ll shut down any nonsense with a few carefully chosen words or, if it comes to it, an intimidating presence that leaves no room for argument. 

He’s protective, yeah, but it’s in this quiet, no-nonsense way that just makes you feel safe without feeling suffocated.

And honestly? That balance is rare. He’s like your personal bodyguard without the need for the over-the-top theatrics. It’s not about control—it’s about making sure you know you’re valued and looked out for. 

And for Geo, that’s everything.

✑ A Hidden Heart

Geo’s not the type to be up in your face 24/7. Nah, for him, it’s all about quality over quantity. He’s perfectly fine with spending an hour sitting next to you in total silence, maybe reading or just walking side by side. 

You don’t even have to talk—he’s not big on words anyway. It’s the connection that matters to him, not the setting or how much time you spend together. 

To Geo, a quiet moment shared between just the two of you means more than any loud party or over-the-top date night ever could.

Now, let’s talk about Geo’s bluntness. We all know he’s sharp-tongued, unfiltered, and way too honest for his own good. It’s kind of his thing. But when it comes to you? That edge softens, and he tries—tries being the keyword here—to rein it in. He’s still going to tell you exactly what he thinks because, let’s be real, that’s just who he is. 

But with you, he’ll make the effort to phrase things more gently. You’re one of the very few people who gets that version of him, and let’s be honest, that’s kind of special. You get to see the side of him that’s not all sharp remarks and icy glares, the side that actually cares.

And while Geo might seem like this stoic, broody guy who doesn’t let anything faze him, he’s secretly a total softie when it comes to you. Again, he’s not going to smother you with hugs or drown you in words of comfort when you’re upset—that’s not his style. He’s not like Crowe T-T.

But he’ll be there. 

Sitting beside you when you’re crying, quietly handing you tissues, letting you lean on his shoulder without a word. He listens, like really listens, and you can feel his presence grounding you even when he doesn’t say much.

It’s not that Geo doesn’t care—he just shows it in his own way. A quiet walk, a softened tone, a steady shoulder to lean on. With Geo, love isn’t loud or flashy. It’s steady, subtle, and completely genuine.

✑ Tailored to You

Geo and the five love languages? Well… Spoiler alert: this man is low-key okay at all of them, even if he’ll never admit it.

— Words of Affirmation? 

So… Compliments? Yeah, don’t hold your breath. He’s not going to gush about how you’re the most incredible person on the planet. 

But when he does say something nice? Oh, it means something. If Geo tells you, “That was impressive,” just know he’s basically screaming, “I’m so proud of you” on the inside. And if you ever compliment him? Expect a half-hearted shrug and a muttered, “I guess,” but deep down, you know he’s preening like a cat that just caught a mouse.

— Acts of Service? 

This is where Geo shines. He’s not going to say, “I love you” outright, but he’ll carry your bag, or make sure you’re eating when you’ve had a rough day. 

Dating Geo means having someone who sees you, even when you think no one else does. He’s a protector, a confidant, and someone who keeps things real—all wrapped up in a broody, mysterious package. 

Need something heavy moved? Done. Can’t open a jar? No problem. He’s like a one-man life support system, quietly taking care of you while pretending it’s no big deal.

— Receiving Gifts?

Geo doesn’t do flashy gifts, but when he gives you something? It’s weirdly specific and thoughtful. Like, you’ll casually mention liking a certain anything once, and boom—it’s sitting in front of your door the next day. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, though. “Oh, I just saw it at the store,” he’ll say, even though you know he went out of his way to get it.

— Quality Time?

This one is Geo’s bread and butter. He’s all about meaningful moments. Forget big group hangouts or extravagant plans—he’d rather spend a quiet evening with you, just existing in the same space. You could be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, and he’d still find a way to make it feel special. And if you’re both just sitting in silence, reading or scrolling on your phones? That’s peak romance for him.

— Physical Touch?

All right, let’s be real—Geo isn’t big on touchy-feely stuff. He’s the type to freeze up if someone hugs him unexpectedly. But with you? He warms up to it. He’s still awkward as hell at first, but over time, he’ll start initiating small touches—a hand on your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, or even holding your hand when no one’s looking. And if you hug him? He’ll grumble about it, but he secretly loves it.

In conclusion? Geo’s love language is basically Geo Language—quiet, understated, and 100% tailored to you. He’s not going to shout his feelings from the rooftops, but if you pay attention, his actions scream, “You’re my person, and I’m not letting you go.”

✑ Tailored to Him

So you wanna know Geo’s love languages? As unique as he is and if we had to rank them, here’s the holy trinity that makes this stoic archer tick:

Geo is an independent guy, but even the most self-sufficient people need someone who understands them. He craves someone who respects his need for space but knows when to step in with the right kind of support.

— Acts of Service (His #1, obviously)

Geo isn’t the type to ask for help—he’s too independent for that. But when you step in and do something thoughtful for him without being asked? 

That’s how you win this man over. 

He’s got this quiet appreciation for when people notice the little things, like brewing him tea when he’s had a rough day or cleaning up his gear after practice. Bonus points if you surprise him with something related to his hobbies, like a rare Japanese opera recording or a new pot for one of his plants. Acts of service show him that you’re paying attention, and trust me, he notices.

— Quality Time

Geo doesn’t want loud, over-the-top outings or big social gatherings. In fact, the less noise and chaos, the better. What he really craves is quiet, intentional moments with someone who just gets him. 

Sitting together in a cozy home, tending to his potted plants, or watching the intricate art of shadow puppetry—these are the things that speak to his soul. Geo thrives in these quiet spaces where he can relax, reflect, and enjoy meaningful companionship. 

Just don’t interrupt if he’s hyper-focused on something. He’ll side-eye you into another dimension.

— Receiving Gifts

Okay, hear me out—Geo hates getting gifts, right? I mean, he literally burned the random Valentine’s Day presents people gave him that one time. Absolute menace behavior, but honestly? It’s kind of funny in a this-man-does-not-care way. But here’s the twist: Geo’s not against all gifts. He’s just very particular.

See, he doesn’t want over-the-top, flashy stuff. No giant teddy bears, love letters, heart-shaped balloons, or anything that screams “cliché.” If you even think about giving him something generic, he’ll give you that deadpan look that could shrivel your soul. However, thoughtful, personalized gifts? 

That’s a whole different story.

Picture this: you show up with a sleek, modern pot for one of his beloved plants, or maybe a rare variety of seeds that he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet. Geo would never say it out loud, but inside? He’s lowkey impressed. Or let’s say you score him tickets to a Japanese opera—something you know he’d appreciate but would never bother getting for himself. Now, that would leave him quietly staring at you like, “…You actually get me.”

And don’t even get me started on shadow puppetry. If you found a book about advanced techniques or a vintage lamp to use for creating the perfect shadows? You’d probably see the faintest flicker of a smile—like, barely there, but it counts.

With Geo, it’s not about spending a ton of money or going big. It’s about showing that you know him—that you’ve paid attention to his quirks, his hobbies, and the things that make him tick. When the gift reflects his personality and interests? 

That’s when you see the softer side of him, the part of him that’s secretly thinking, “How did I end up with someone like this?”

And yeah, he might not say that, because Geo and verbal affection are basically strangers. But the way he takes care of that plant pot or treasures that opera ticket? 

That’ll tell you everything you need to know.

✑ Cultural Depth 

Geo’s all about his Japanese roots, but he doesn’t go around making a big deal about it. It’s in the small things—the quiet traditions he carries, the way he’ll casually drop some next-level cultural knowledge.

— Sharing His World (Quietly)

Geo isn’t the type to throw you into the deep end of his culture, but if you hang around him long enough, he’ll start to let you in. It’s like a slow reveal in a really good book—you don’t even realize you’re getting hooked until you’re deep into it. 

He’ll start small, teaching you a word or two in Japanese. Nothing too complicated at first—basic phrases like arigatou or ohayou. God writing this is killing me…

But if you’re patient (and don’t butcher the pronunciation), he might hit you with the poetic, meaningful stuff. Like, “The moon tonight reminds me of home,” kind of poetic.

And food? Oh, he’s low-key a food snob, but in the best way. If he takes you out for sushi, don’t embarrass him by drowning it in soy sauce, okay? He might roll his eyes, but deep down, he’ll think you’re a lost cause. 

Bonus points if you ask him to show you how to make something traditional, though. Watching him calmly explain how to roll onigiri while being so exact about it? Weirdly cute.

— Secret Nerd Side

Geo doesn’t advertise it, but he has a soft spot for traditional Japanese arts. Shadow puppetry? Yeah, that’s a thing he knows. He won’t just show you for fun, though—you’ll have to ask and even then, it’s going to be, like, the most casual display ever. He’ll make a crane with his hands in the middle of a quiet moment, the shadow falling perfectly on the wall, and act like it’s no big deal. 

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, wondering if he’s secretly an 80-year-old trapped in a hot college guy’s body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on Japanese opera. It’s his go-to when he needs to vibe or think. You might catch him with his headphones in, looking all stoic, and he’s probably listening to something hauntingly beautiful and dramatic. But good luck getting him to admit it.

✑ Such Spa Days

If there’s one thing you should know about Geo, it’s that he takes self-care very seriously. This man isn’t just about keeping clean—he’s practically the ambassador of flawless skin. His routine is a whole event, and don’t even think about interrupting it unless you want to be met with one of his signature cold stares.

Geo’s all about precision, from his perfectly tied low ponytail to his smooth, glowing complexion that looks like it came straight out of a skincare ad. He’s the guy who has a shelf full of serums, toners, face masks, and creams, all neatly organized by purpose and ingredient list. Oh, and he definitely uses products with names you can’t pronounce but that sounds expensive. He’s from the rich side of the society anyway…

Sunday nights? They’re sacred. You’ll find Geo in full spa mode, complete with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders and maybe even some calming Japanese opera music playing softly in the background. He’ll light a candle (something subtle, probably sandalwood or green tea) and go through his routine like it’s a religious ceremony. Cleansing, exfoliating, masking—he’s got it all down to a science.

And don’t get him started on baths. Geo’s baths are an experience. He’ll fill the tub with just the right temperature water, toss in some herbal bath salts or a soothing bath bomb, and relax like he’s starring in a luxurious retreat commercial. He even has a book propped up nearby or maybe a cup of tea to complete the vibe.

The best part? Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just about himself—it’s an extension of his personality. He values control and discipline, and his skincare routine is a reflection of that. Every step, every product, is carefully chosen because it’s his way of staying grounded in a chaotic world.

Now, if you’re lucky enough to be part of his life, he might invite you into his sacred self-care space. Don’t expect anything over the top, though. Geo’s not going to gush about it, but he’ll casually hand you a face mask or suggest a product he thinks you’ll like. It’s his way of saying, “I care,” without actually saying it.

But be warned—if you touch his stuff without asking, he’ll probably give you a look that could freeze fire. He’s protective of his skincare collection, and for good reason. You’ll never forget the day you used his serum without permission and had to endure a five-minute lecture about “proper application techniques” while he looked genuinely offended.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: Geo’s devotion to skincare doesn’t just stop with himself. Oh no, if you’re doing it wrong, he will notice—and he will step in.

Say you’re casually applying his skincare collection one day, just slapping it on like it’s sunscreen at the beach. Geo, from across the room, will stop dead in his tracks, narrow his aquamarine eyes, and calmly say, “What are you doing?” in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. Before you can even protest, he’s already approaching with that look—the one that says, “I didn’t want to get involved, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Geo doesn’t offer to fix your skincare routine; he takes over. He’s not the type to sugarcoat it either. “You’re wasting product,” he’ll mutter, carefully squeezing the perfect amount of serum onto his fingertips before gently patting it into your skin. “And you’re supposed to press it in, not rub it like you’re sanding wood.”

And honestly? He’s ridiculously good at it. His hands are steady, his movements precise, and for someone who doesn’t talk much, he somehow explains every step with just enough detail to make you realize how little you knew about skincare to begin with.

Geo is not one for half-measures, so don’t be surprised when he starts rearranging your entire routine. Suddenly, you’ve got a multi-step process you never asked for, complete with double cleansing, toners, serums, and a nightly mask rotation. You didn’t even know what a niacinamide serum was before, but now you have one, and you’re using it correctly, thank you very much.

The funniest part? Geo never complains about doing your skincare. He acts mildly exasperated, sure, but you catch the tiniest flicker of pride when your skin starts glowing like his. 

And while he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly likes having an excuse to take care of you. It’s his way of showing he cares without all that messy emotional talk.

But if you dare to slack off? Oh, you’ll hear about it. “You didn’t put on sunscreen today, did you?” he’ll ask, his tone low and judgmental as he crosses his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when you age prematurely.” And yet, despite all the teasing, he’ll still hand you his favorite SPF because, deep down, he can’t stand the idea of you not taking care of yourself.

At the end of the day, Geo’s skincare obsession isn’t just about looking good—it’s about discipline, self-respect, and now, begrudgingly, making sure you’re glowing just as much as he is. 

In the end, Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just a quirky habit—it’s part of what makes him who he is. It’s his way of maintaining balance, staying composed, and, let’s be honest, looking damn good while doing it. 

✑ So Damn Competitive

Don’t let Geo’s stoic, “I’m too cool to care” vibe fool you—this man is surprisingly competitive. Like, you’d think someone who’s all about calm and control wouldn’t get riled up over a board game, right? Wrong. The moment you pull out a board game or even a deck of Uno cards, you’re witnessing a transformation. Same too…

Geo doesn’t just play to win—he plays to crush. He’s not loud about it, though. Oh no, Geo’s trash talk is subtle but devastating. “That’s an… interesting move,” he’ll say, his aquamarine eyes glinting with quiet smugness as he places his piece exactly where it’ll ruin your entire strategy. And let’s not even get started on trivia night. This man has an encyclopedic knowledge of random facts, and he’ll flex it in the most deadpan way possible.

But here’s the best part: Geo will let you win sometimes—just don’t expect him to admit it. He’ll subtly fumble a move in Jenga or conveniently “forget” the answer to a question during trivia, all while keeping that unreadable poker face. If you call him out on it? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’ll say, completely straight-faced, as if he didn’t just let the tower fall on purpose.

The funniest part is how petty he can get when he doesn’t win. Like, say you beat him in a cooking challenge (because your pancakes were objectively fluffier). He won’t throw a fit, but you’ll catch him side-eyeing your plate like it personally offended him. “Your syrup-to-pancake ratio is off,” he might mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

But his competitive streak isn’t all bad—it’s actually kind of adorable. If you’re struggling with something, Geo will quietly make it his mission to help you improve. 

Trying to get better at a sport? Let’s use Kyūdō, in other words, the Japanese martial art of archery. It started as you’d expect—Geo, all serious and instructor-like, standing behind you to adjust your posture, his hands steady as they guided yours. “Hold it like this,” he’d say, his tone calm and precise. You could tell he was in his element, and honestly? 

He’s kind of hot when he gets all focused like that.

At first, you weren’t great. The arrows went everywhere except the target and Geo’s quiet sighs of exasperation were hilarious. But instead of getting frustrated, he’d patiently explain what you were doing wrong, occasionally muttering things like, “It’s not that hard,” under his breath.

But then something shifted. One day, it just clicked. Suddenly, your arrows weren’t just hitting the target—they were landing dead center. 

Every. Single. Time.

Geo’s reaction? Priceless. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his aquamarine eyes narrowing as he watched your shots. “Beginner’s luck,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Except it wasn’t luck. You kept getting better. So much better, in fact, that you started beating him.

The first time it happened, you expected him to be annoyed. But instead, he just stared at the target, then at you, and said, “You’ve been practicing without me.” (Spoiler: You hadn’t.)

From then on, Geo challenges you to little games—first one to hit three bullseyes, trick shots, you name it. And every time you won, you’d catch that subtle crease in his brow like he couldn’t quite believe it.

But despite his bruised ego, Geo was secretly proud of you. You’d catch him smiling—just barely—when you weren’t looking, and if anyone else tried to challenge you? Oh, he’d brag like crazy. “She’s the best shot here,” he’d say, completely deadpan, like he wasn’t lowkey sulking about the fact that you’d surpassed him.

Watching Geo try to outshoot you while pretending he wasn’t bothered was half the fun, you know it’s eating him up inside. “Good game,” he’ll say, his tone perfectly neutral, while internally plotting his revenge for next time.

 It’s all part of the charm, though. 

✑ You’re His Safe Space

Okay, I know—Geo and PDA? They’re not exactly besties. He’s not the guy to be all over you in public; in fact, he hates it.

Holding hands? Brings too much attention.

Kisses in front of people? Absolutely not.

He’s got that whole “reserved and composed” thing going on, and the idea of being openly mushy in front of others? Yeah, hard pass.

But here’s the plot twist: when it’s just the two of you? Total cling mode.

When Geo’s guard is down, he’s secretly so affectionate it’s almost like a plot twist you didn’t see coming. Imagine this: you’re just minding your own business—maybe reading, scrolling on your phone, or binge-watching something—and out of nowhere, you feel his arms snake around you. He doesn’t say a word; he just pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder or burying his face in your hair like it’s his personal safe haven.

It’s his way of saying, “You’re my peace,” without actually having to string the words together. Subtle? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Geo isn’t heartless—not by a long shot. He cares so much, he just doesn’t always know how to package those feelings into neat little boxes with bows on top. He’s the type to skip the love letters and dramatic proclamations and go straight to showing you how much you mean to him.

Actions over words, always.

And okay, let’s be real—some of us can relate to that. Maybe feelings aren’t the easiest thing to express, so we see a bit of ourselves in Geo. It’s not that he’s cold or distant; he’s just navigating his emotions in his own quiet way. And when he finally lets his guard down? That’s when you see his true colors.

After pulling you close, Geo turns you around, his hands lingering gently on your arms. His touch is feather-light, deliberate, as though he’s giving you a moment to realize what’s happening. He pauses, his fingers brushing against your lips in a way that sends a quiet thrill down your spine.

His eyes lock onto yours for a heartbeat—then they drop to your lips, lingering there just long enough for you to feel the tension in the air. When his gaze meets yours again, there’s something unspoken in his expression, a question he doesn’t need to say out loud: Is this okay?

And then, he leans in. It’s not rushed or overly dramatic; it’s a simple, slow movement like he wants to savor every second. His lips meet yours softly at first, testing, then growing a little firmer as he presses closer. It’s the kind of kiss that says a thousand things he wouldn’t dare put into words—trust, vulnerability, and a quiet kind of devotion he’s still figuring out how to show.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and steady as he lingers there for a moment. It’s like time stops, and nothing else matters except the two of you in that little bubble of intimacy.

Geo’s not about grand gestures or big, romantic speeches. But this? This is his way of telling you everything. His actions speak volumes, and each small touch, each lingering look, is filled with a kind of tenderness that words could never capture.

And maybe that’s the most Geo thing about him—he doesn’t need to shout his love from rooftops or drown you in cliché romance. Instead, he gives you moments like this. Moments that feel raw, honest, and entirely yours. Moments where he silently tells you, “You’re my world,” without ever saying a word.

Trust me, it’s worth the wait.

✑ Flaws? There’s a few…

Now nobody’s perfect—not even our polished, broody archer. Geo’s got his fair share of flaws, and honestly? They add to his charm in that I-don’t-know-why-I-like-this-but-I-do kind of way. 

First of all, he’s stubborn as hell. Geo’s stubbornness could rival a brick wall and spoiler: you’re not winning an argument against him. Once his mind is made up, that’s it—game over. Whether it’s something as simple as how to fold laundry (he has a system) or something as big as life choices, he sticks to his guns like they’re glued to him. 

Convincing him to budge? Good luck; you’ll need it.

Second, he doesn’t believe in second chances. Mess up once, and that’s it—you’re done. Geo’s not the type to forgive and forget; it’s more like, “You did what? Cool, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He’s incredibly selective about who he lets in, so if someone breaks his trust, they’re out for good. 

It’s harsh, but for Geo, it’s about protecting himself.

Third, picky with a Capital P. Geo’s the kind of person who knows exactly what he wants, and if something doesn’t meet his standards? Nope. He’s picky about everything—his appearance (always flawless), his environment (no mess, no chaos), and even the people he surrounds himself with. 

If you’re lucky enough to pass his “quality control,” congrats, you’ve made it to the inner circle.

Lastly, Geo’s got walls on walls. He’s not about to open up to just anyone, and even once he does, it’s a slow process. He’s constantly watching, analyzing, and second-guessing people’s intentions. It takes someone special to get through that, and even then, he might still keep certain things locked away.

So, What Does This All Mean?

Geo’s flaws can make him seem intimidating and hard to approach, but they’re also part of what makes him so uniquely him. His stubbornness shows his determination, and his lack of second chances highlights how much he values loyalty and his pickiness. Well, it’s just another way he shows that he’s got high standards—whether for himself or the people around him.

At the end of the day, Geo’s trust issues are a double-edged sword. They make him fiercely loyal to the people he *does* trust, but they also mean it takes a long time for him to get there. 

Still, if you’ve made it into his inner circle, congrats—you’re probably one of the few people he truly feels safe with. And that? That’s priceless.

Is he perfect? Nope. 

But would we want him any other way? Not.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Okay, let’s get this out of the way again: Geo has serious trust issues. And honestly? Can you blame the guy? He’s been through (we don’t know about) so much that his walls aren’t just up—they’re basically a fortress complete with a moat, a drawbridge, and probably a dragon or two guarding the gate.  

Here’s the deal: nobody really knows Geo. Like, we know he’s loaded, he’s ridiculously good with a bow, and he has a death glare that could probably stop traffic. But beyond that? Nothing. It’s like his life story is classified information, and we’re all just stuck guessing what’s in the classified files.  

So anyway, Geo used to be High Class—fancy, untouchable, the whole package—but then bam some kind of near-accident happened, and he got booted down to the Low-Class building. Can you imagine the whiplash? Going from being at the top of the food chain to the bottom? That kind of thing doesn’t just bruise your ego; it leaves emotional scars. 

And let’s be real, Geo doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to sit down and talk about his feelings and thoughts.

And then there’s Hyugo, Geo’s stepbrother and certified mortal enemy. 

If you’ve played the game, you already know the vibes. Mention Hyugo’s name around Geo, and boom—instant disgust. Like, man doesn’t even try to hide it. His whole face scrunches up like he just smelled expired milk. And then, he hits you with the classic, “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” No explanation, no backstory, just vibes. It’s lowkey hilarious how much he’s committed to pretending Hyugo doesn’t even exist. For me.

I feel like Hyugo has something to do with Geo’s big fall from High Class. Like, maybe Hyugo was the one who caused whatever accident messed up Geo’s status. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? Who knows! But Geo clearly decided, “Yeah, you’re dead to me.” Now, the name “Hyugo” might as well be a four-letter word in Geo’s dictionary.

And then there’s Crowe—the only person Geo actually trusts. And you know that didn’t happen overnight. Crowe probably had to work overtime, chipping away at Geo’s defenses like he was mining for gold. It was probably like:

Crowe: “Hey, let’s be friends.” Geo: Stares in suspicion for six months straight. Crowe: “Alright, cool, I’ll wait.”

If it took Crowe that long to get through, what does that mean for literally anyone else? Good luck, because Geo ain’t handing out trust like candy.

Now, let’s talk about you. Geo doesn’t say much to you, but the way he just… stares at you? Constantly? It’s like he’s trying to solve some crime scene in his head and you’re the number-one suspect. You’re just standing there like, “Uh, did I do something wrong? Or do I just look suspicious?”

Honestly, it’s so awkward and funny. Like, dude, either spill whatever you need to say or stop looking at me like that. But nah, Geo’s gonna stay quiet, because why use words when you can silently judge someone instead?

That’s the Geo experience in a nutshell.

Maybe he doesn’t trust you because of something to do with Crowe—like, maybe he thinks you’re toying with Crowe’s feelings ouch, judgmental much?. Or—plot twist—he’s onto something way bigger. What if he already knows you’re being stalked by whatever creepy thing is lurking in the shadows, and he’s just keeping tabs to figure out why it’s after you?

Who knows?

But here’s the thing about Geo: in the game, he’s not super complicated to figure out. He’s more of a supporting character—like that mysterious friend everyone secretly simps for but who tragically isn’t dateable. Pain. He’s just this quiet, chill dude with sharp words, killer aim, and a ponytail that probably smells like fancy shampoo. And somehow, he’s still everyone’s type. Go figure.

So yeah, Geo’s like a locked box made of solid silver—fancy, mysterious, and absolutely refusing to open. Respect the whole “keeping it classy” vibe, but come on, man—just crack the lid a little!

We’re starving for answers!

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── ·

[jacquitries]

Through the Threads of Fate | H.P.

You've always kept your ability to read the future a secret, but when Harry Potter starts suspecting you're involved with the dark side, everything becomes dangerous. His growing mistrust of you only fuels the tension, and as your hidden talent remains shrouded in mystery, you find yourself caught between protecting your secret and surviving the storm brewing around you.

𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

The dungeons were your sanctuary. Cloaked in Slytherin green and silver, you moved through Hogwarts like a shadow—silent, unseen, always just one step ahead. The weight of knowledge settled on your shoulders, a burden and a gift intertwined. You saw the threads of fate twist and pull, shaping lives without mercy. But you knew better than to interfere too boldly. No one could ever understand what you saw. Least of all Harry Potter.

From the moment your eyes met his, there was an unspoken war—a silent reckoning. His emerald gaze flickered with suspicion, always following you, never trusting, as though you were the embodiment of the mysteries he couldn’t untangle. And yet, your path seemed to cross his at every turn. Every twist of fate, every dark secret, always brought you into his orbit. A slow-burning tension hung in the air, a game of cat and mouse. You, the elusive enigma. He, the determined hero.

The castle had its secrets, and it whispered them to you. The ancient stones hummed with echoes of both the past and the future. You listened, weaving yourself into the delicate strands of time. You saw the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, felt the cold wind atop the Astronomy Tower, and watched the Black Lake shimmer with memories only you could comprehend. You didn’t want this power. It was a curse more than a gift, revealing fractured glimpses of what was to come, yet leaving you powerless to change it.

Every warning, every quiet intervention, every seemingly innocent suggestion was a part of a greater plan. But none of them could prepare you for the choices you’d soon have to make.

𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

You’d always known about the Philosopher’s Stone, long before Harry stumbled across the truth. When the troll rampaged through the dungeons, you stood calm, your voice steady as you guided a pair of terrified first-years to safety. When the whispers of Nicholas Flamel reached you, you carefully placed books open on the library tables, knowing Hermione would find them. And when the final confrontation loomed, you were far away, ensuring the corridors were clear for Harry, unknowingly steering him toward his destiny.

But it was the Chamber of Secrets that truly tested you. The mystery unfolded around you in subtle pieces, fear creeping through the walls like an invisible fog. You never spoke of what you’d heard or seen, not even when Mrs. Norris lay petrified in the hall. The whispers came to you, but you stayed silent, only nudging others in the right direction. When Ginny was taken, you held your breath, knowing Harry would be the one to find her. But as the events unraveled, Harry began to grow suspicious. He had seen you talking to Ginny not long before she disappeared, and his mind began to connect the dots. Though you kept your role hidden, a part of you braced for the moment he would confront you. You had done your part, quietly ensuring the balance tipped in the right direction, but now you would have to face the consequences of your actions—especially when Harry, driven by his suspicions, began watching you more closely.

𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Harry couldn’t escape you, no matter how hard he tried. You appeared everywhere—always just beyond his reach. In the library, your eyes lost in ancient tomes. In the corridors, slipping away just as chaos erupted. By the Great Hall, your gaze lingering on the enchanted ceiling, as if you could see beyond the stars themselves.

It infuriated him.

"She knows something," Harry muttered one evening, pacing in the Gryffindor common room, frustration evident in his voice. "She’s always there, slipping away before I can ask anything. There’s more to her, I’m sure of it."

"Maybe she’s just… clever?" Ron offered, though even he wasn’t convinced.

Harry’s gaze darkened. "No. There’s something else, something she’s hiding."

𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Your path and Harry’s truly collided during the Triwizard Tournament. You had seen it all—the chaos, the danger, the unexpected twists. You watched from the shadows as Harry’s name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire, his shock palpable in the air. You remained distant, a constant, enigmatic presence, your calm unshaken as he faced the dragons, the maze, and the deadly trials.

It was the dragons that first set everything in motion. You whispered to Neville about gillyweed—just a casual remark, but one that changed everything. And when Cedric Diggory died, when the tournament turned from a test of courage into a nightmare, your heart twisted. You had seen it all—had tried in your own way to adjust the timeline, to alter fate just enough to give Harry a fighting chance. But the outcome was inevitable. Fate, in its cruel simplicity, would not be swayed.

𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

The darkness deepened in your seventh year, and the weight of fate pressed against your chest like a looming storm. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor, you were already there, a silent force, woven into the very fabric of danger. Your presence was like a shadow, unseen but ever-present, watching as the threads of destiny pulled tight around your friends.

Bellatrix’s shrill voice pierced the air, a maddened cackle as she tortured Hermione, her wand poised like a dagger aimed at the heart of your very soul. You stood in the shadows, every muscle tense, your heart a drumbeat in your chest, yet your face was a mask of icy indifference. The visions you had seen, the threads of fate you had tried to piece together, were unfolding in front of you—but this moment, this confrontation, had always been unclear, a haze of pain and suffering that left you uncertain of where to stand.

And then, when the Snatchers dragged Harry before the Malfoys, your eyes met his—briefly, almost imperceptibly. The shock that flooded his expression was unmistakable, his disbelief evident as he saw you standing there, a ghost in the midst of the chaos. But you gave nothing away. Your gaze was sharp, unreadable, a carefully constructed wall that no one could breach. Not even him. You had to keep the illusion intact, no matter how much it tore at you to see him like this.

As the room erupted into chaos, time seemed to stretch, every moment suffocating with tension. You moved like a phantom, a blur in the dark, slipping through the chaos with the precision of someone who had already seen it all. Each step was deliberate, calculated, as if the very air around you bent to your will. Your wand flicked silently, and a whispered incantation loosened the bonds on Harry’s wrists, the ropes falling away like brittle threads. Without hesitation, you sent another silent spell, deflecting a curse meant for Ron, your magic swift and lethal.

You lingered just long enough to ensure their escape, your pulse thundering in your ears as the last of the danger dissolved into the air. The room seemed to hold its breath as you turned on your heel, vanishing into the shadows like smoke. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione dared to glance back, you were already gone—nothing more than a fleeting whisper in the night.

𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

The final battle came, and with it, the revelation that had been a long time in the making. The skies were suffocating with smoke, the ground shaking as the forces of darkness and the defenders of Hogwarts clashed with a fury that could not be contained. Through it all, you moved like a shadow—graceful, lethal, and precise. The chaos around you was a dance you knew well, every step and strike calculated with a cool precision that only someone who had seen this moment unfold could master.

Harry caught glimpses of you throughout the battle. At first, it was just a fleeting shadow, a figure who seemed too composed for the madness swirling around him. But then, his eyes started to linger longer. The way you moved, the way your magic flowed, it all clicked for him. You weren’t just another face in the fight. You knew this battle—the exact moments when to strike, when to fall back, how to make every move count. His suspicions grew, the pieces falling into place, but a part of him refused to fully accept it. Could he trust you? Could he even trust himself?

Then, it happened. In the thick of the battle, when the world was reduced to chaos, a Death Eater lunged at Harry. He barely had time to react, his own wand raised, but before he could defend himself, you were there. A flash of movement, a wordless spell, and the Death Eater was thrown back, crashing to the ground with a force that rattled the air itself. Harry froze, watching as you didn’t just save him—you fought with a fury and skill that was terrifying in its intensity. The shock flooded him. This was no longer just the girl he'd suspected; this was something else. You weren’t just playing a part in this war. You were at its heart, shaping its outcome.

He barely had time to process. The fight raged on, louder, fiercer, but through it all, his mind kept returning to you. Every spell you cast, every life you saved, seemed to carry a weight he couldn’t ignore. He tried to focus on the battle, to finish what he had started, but it was too late. The doubt had already taken root. What did this mean? What had he gotten wrong?

When Voldemort finally fell, the world seemed to inhale a collective breath, but the Great Hall was left in ruins. The echoes of battle lingered in the air like an aftershock. Harry stumbled through the debris, searching for something, someone—when his eyes found you.

There you stood, amidst the wreckage, the first light of dawn breaking through the shattered windows to cast a pale glow on your face. You were silent, watching the aftermath with an expression that betrayed no joy, no satisfaction. Only the heavy weight of everything that had passed. There was no triumph in your gaze, just a deep, quiet burden that only someone who had seen the future—and fought to change it—could understand.

Harry approached cautiously, the tension of the battle still thick in his voice. “You were never against us,” he said, more to himself than to you, the words spilling from him like the release of a long-held breath. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement—a truth he had been blind to for far too long.

But you didn’t offer him the comfort of an easy answer. You simply met his gaze, your eyes cold but not cruel, a subtle edge of something deeper, something far more complex. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Harry flinched, the sharp sting of guilt cutting through him. The weight of all his mistakes pressed down on him, heavier than anything the battle had left behind. He had accused you, doubted you, turned his back on someone who had been fighting for the same cause all along.

“I… I’m sorry,” Harry said, the words thick with emotion, every ounce of regret spilling out. “For everything. For doubting you.”

You didn’t move, your gaze unwavering. You studied him for a long moment, the years of suspicion, of distance, crashing together into the silence between you. “Apologies won’t change the past, Potter,” you said quietly, the words biting with the weight of everything that had been left unspoken. “But they’re a start.”

The air was charged with the unspoken tension of everything unsaid. Harry stepped forward, searching your eyes as though he could finally understand the woman behind the mask. “You saved so many lives. All this time, I thought you were working against us.” His voice cracked, regret lacing every syllable. “I was wrong.”

You didn’t answer with words. There was no need to. His regret was all over his face, written in the lines of guilt that creased his brow. You had always known he’d get there eventually, but it didn’t make the journey any easier. You didn’t expect forgiveness. You never had.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a fleeting thing, barely there. “And now?”

Harry’s voice softened, raw with sincerity. “Now I see how wrong I was.” He took another step, his presence steady, unwavering. “You… you’re incredible.”

For a moment, your eyes softened—just a fraction. You tilted your head, acknowledging the truth of his words, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of an easy answer. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“It’s not flattery,” Harry insisted, his voice steady but full of something deeper. “It’s the truth.”

A silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy with everything that had been left unsaid. But for the first time, you truly saw him—not as the reckless boy who had thrown himself into danger at every turn, but as the man who had borne the weight of a war, who had fought through the impossible, even when it meant facing his own demons.

“Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought,” you said softly, your voice carrying a weight neither of you had expected.

Harry smiled—a faint, almost apologetic curve of his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

But the battle hadn’t ended yet. You both knew that. There was more to be done, more healing to be had. Harry still had much to learn, much to undo. In the days that followed, as the Wizarding World began its slow process of rebuilding, Harry came to you, again and again, seeking your trust. He wanted to know you—not just the seer who had saved him, but the person you had kept hidden for so long. Slowly, carefully, you allowed him in, but it was never easy. You had learned to guard your heart—especially from someone who had been so quick to judge.

One evening, after an unspoken stretch of silence, you both stood at the edge of the Black Lake. The moonlight glinted off the water, casting the world in a soft, otherworldly glow. Harry turned to you, determination clear in his expression. “Let me make it up to you,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of all the doubts, the accusations, the distance that had passed between you. “For all the times I doubted you, for everything I got wrong.”

You turned to him, the cool night air brushing your face. You didn’t respond right away. The past wasn’t something you could simply forget, but as you looked at him, something in your chest shifted—something neither of you had anticipated.

With a faint nod, you said, “You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Harry smiled, the sincerity in his eyes breaking through the years of tension and regret. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For the first time, you believed him. You believed in the possibility of trust, of something more.

And with that, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—you could trust him, too.

𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Years later, your name would be etched into the halls of history as one of the greatest seers the Wizarding World had ever known. You became a legend, revered for your foresight and for shaping the very course of events, all while remaining a mystery to those around you. By your side, always, was Harry Potter—your equal, your ally, the man who had finally understood you.

One quiet evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, Harry asked with a teasing smirk, “Still think I’m hopeless?”

You glanced at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, your eyes soft with the weight of all that had passed between you. “Always.”

But deep in your heart, you knew—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[adoresia]

HOME RUN : LIKE THE WIND CHAPTER FOUR ;

LIKE A GUNSHOT

hey siri, play Never Be Like You by Flume

series masterlist | more JJK

⬅️ back / next ➡️

CW // none? Lolz

WC // 0.8k

The stadium buzzed with the electrifying tension of a game nearing its end. Yuta sat at the edge of his seat, the melted remnants of his soda sat forgotten beside him. The game had been neck-and-neck, and as the final inning approached, all hope to bring this home seemed to be on you.

Down on the field, a player on the opposite team waved toward their section of the bleachers. Her grin was wide, self-assured, and a little too sharp. Yuta instinctively waved back, with a smile of course, he could recognise who it was from a mile away. What kind of friend would he be of he didn’t?

He leaned toward Toge, his brow furrowed. “Oh wait I lowkey forgot the whole reason we’re here, look” he pointed, squinting at the diamond. “She transferred just for the game? Crazy” Toge muffled while shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Yeah she told me, I thought it was insane but,” Yuta shrughed, eyes narrowing as he thought back to their conversation. “I promised I’d talk to her after the game.”

His focus was quickly pulled back to the field as she strutted confidently toward the mound, ready to field your next hit. The air grew tense, Rika on the opposite team shot you a smug look, her confidence radiating in the way she rolled her shoulders. “Don’t think you’re so special, L/n. One good hit doesn’t mean you’re the heart of the game,” she taunted, her voice dripping with arrogance.

You recognised Rika, It would be concerning if you didn’t, her ego followed her everywhere — it was so big you could see it coming before her.

You simply smiled, adjusting your stance. “I’m not like you. Rika.” you replied calmly, your tone carrying an effortless edge. “I don’t care about being better than you, I just need to win this game.”

Rika’s smirk wavered ever so slightly, and the crowd quieted in anticipation. You stepped up to the plate, your grip tightening on the bat as you glanced at the field; calculating. The pitcher wound up, their arm cutting through the air with practiced precision as the ball came hurtling toward you once again.

The moment stretched in slow motion. You tracked the ball with sharp focus, your body moving fluidly as you swung. The crack of the bat meeting the ball was sharp and pure, a perfect connection that sent the ball soaring high and fast.

Yuta’s heart skipped a beat, or maybe two as he followed the arc of the ball, which cut through the air like a bullet. It sailed over the outfielders, who could do nothing but watch as it cleared the fence entirely.

Another home run.

The crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of cheers and applause rolling through the stadium. You sprinted around the bases, every movement precise yet effortless. The way you carried yourself confident but not arrogant, focused yet still having fun made it impossible to look away. By the time you slid into home plate, your teammates swarmed you, their cheers blending into the roar of the crowd.

Back on the field, Rika stood frozen, her fists clenched at her sides. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and frustration, her earlier confidence completely shattered. She scowled, muttering something under her breath as she walked back to her position.

“Hell yeah!” Yuji shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. “This is the most insane thing I’ve ever seen,” Yuta uttered without thinking, his eyes glued to you as you laughed and high-fived your teammates. “Bro’s whipped,” Toge teased, snickering. Rika’s glare burned into you from across the field, you could feel it — but you didn’t seem to notice, or maybe you just didn’t care. The poise and calm you exuded were undeniable and it only seemed to annoy her more. Yuta noticed her irritation and felt a pang of curiosity. Did she know you?

The final moments of the game were just as electrifying. With the score tied, you stepped up to bat one last time. Rika moved to field once again, her irritation now replaced by a steely determination to stop you. The ball came hurtling toward you, but this time it was faster, sharper, meant to intimidate. You didn’t flinch. Your swing was powerful, almost effortless, the crack of the bat echoing like a gunshot. The ball rocketed into the sky, higher and farther than anyone had expected. It cleared the outfield with ease, sailing over the fence and into the parking lot beyond.

Cheers and applause thundered through the stadium as you rounded the bases once more, your teammates waiting at home plate with wide grins and open arms. The energy in the stadium was electric, the kind of moment that stayed with people long after the game ended. As the game concluded, with your team taking the win, Yuta was sat frozen, both shocked and unsure on what to say or do.

The game ended with a buzz of excitement, the air electric from the win. Yuta’s eyes trailed after you as you jogged off the field, your helmet tucked under your arm, your hair slightly mussed but still managing to frame your radiant smile perfectly. “You know you might aswell say something to her now,” Yuji grinned, leaning forward. “This is like the first time i’ve ever seen her, your acting like this is love at first sight” Yuta grumbled, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “She’s just a really good player, that’s all there is to it.”

“I’ve never seen this much glaze in my life.” Toge smirked, leaning back with his arms crossed. “You’ve been burning holes into her this whole game. There’s no way she didn’t notice you dude.”“Talking about her plays like you’re on commentary duty or something. Get up off your knees.” Yuji chimmed in.

“Well I mean? did you see that double play in the sixth?” Yuta leaned forward with too much excitement, like the scenes kept replaying in his mind over and over again like an Ipod stuck on replay. “She made it look so easy…”

“Do you even know what a sixth is…?” Megumi asked. “My ears are bleeding please stop.” Toge slapped both of his palms over his ears in agony. “You need to Calm down, I don’t want to walk into your room and see pictures of her invading your walls…” Megumi sighed in agreement.

Before Yuta could respond, a familiar voice chirped behind them. “Yuta!” The group collectively froze, heads snapping around to see Rika approaching, her expression bright but her smile just a little too tight. Toge upped the strength on the hands he had covering his ears so hard he almost started bleeding.

“Hey, Rika,” Yuta greeted, his tone polite but distracted. His gaze flickered briefly toward her before returning to the field. “I saw you watching from all the way down there.” she said pointing down to the diamond, stepping uncomfortably closer to him. Her voice a touch louder than necessary. “What’d you think of the game? We didn’t win but I lowkey carried.” “Oh, yeah,” Yuta said absently, nodding. “You did okay.” “O-kay…?” Rika’s smile faltered, but Yuta didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, but number 13 was fucking insane. Her batting, her fielding… it was crazy.”

“Her?” Rika’s voice sharpened slightly, her eyes narrowing, ultimately thinking back to number 13 on the field.. you. “Yeah, you know,” Yuji chimed in, barely hiding his smirk. “The one who pretty much carried the whole game.”

“She was unreal, as much as it’s killing me to hear Yuta going on and on about it.” Toge added, shaking his head as though in disbelief. Rika’s lips pressed into a thin line, her patience clearly wearing thin. She opened her mouth to retort, but Yuta’s attention had already drifted again. His eyes widened slightly as he spotted you a few rows away, running up to Maki and Nobara.

You were laughing, breathless from the game, and Maki grinned as she pulled you into a quick, casual hug. “Your actually insane what the fuck,” she said in absolute disbelief of your play, not for the first time either. “Litterally,” Kugisaki agreed, her eyes glinting with pride. “The way you caught that thingy in the eighth inning? I almost kissed Maki.” She made the gesture dramatically. “Why the hell would you say that. I’m never sitting next to you at a game again.”“Guysss, It was all instinct,” you joked, shrugging. “But thank you, it was all for you guys but whatever.” She smiled “Aww shucks I feel so special.” Kugisaki held onto her chest dramaticaly, wiping away fake tears.

From his seat, Yuta was completely transfixed. The warmth in your laughter, the ease in your movements — it was all so magnetic, even from a distance. Kugisaki’s gaze flickered to the stands, catching sight of Yuta and his friends. She nudged you with her elbow “Omg look, I told you I wasn’t crazy! It’s the guy who was staring before.” “Huh?” You followed her gaze, spotting him almost immediately. His awkward wave made you laugh softly. “Oh my gosh him?! I could literally feel his eyes on me the whole game.”

Maki snickered. “He looks like he’s about to pass out now that you’re looking at him.” “Well, I guess I should be nice then,” you said, flashing a bright smile in Yuta’s direction before lifting your hand in a casual wave. Yuta froze for a second too long before managing to wave back, his movements clumsy but endearing. “Yikes,” Toge muttered under his breath, watching the scene unfold. “We’ve officially lost him guys,” Yuji added, grinning.

Rika, meanwhile, had reached her limit. She cleared her throat loudly, forcing Yuta’s attention back to her. “Well, anyway,” her tone clipped, “thanks for coming to watch. I’m glad someone noticed me out there.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and walked off.

As the group watched her go, Yuji leaned closer to Toge. “When you think your the main character but its actually me.” Toge turned to him. “Who even are you?” But Yuta barely registered the exchange. His gaze remained locked on you as you laughed with your friends, your happiness lighting up the evening like a firework. In that moment, as the crowd began to disperse and the sun dipped lower on the horizon, he realized just how much better you looked up close.

He sank back into his seat, heart racing, your smile etched into his mind. Somehow, even after everything, you’d left him even more mesmerized than before.

Hmm. Does Rika like Yuta?? Guess we’ll find out in FRIDAY’S. episode of hrltw 🤗🤗

One thing I will say though is that they’ve been friends since they were kids, and you’ll find out why and how that happened xxx

Also Rika used to be on their school’s baseball team but she left because she thought she was too good for it and joined another college/uni (guys idk im aware i mostly have american mutuals on here so atp its up to your interpretation where they’re at)

Rika and you are opps and have always been opps because she’s a bit odd

idk why megumi wants to be so nonchalant about knowing you

Taglist ! : @shokosbunny @fushiguruuzzzz @blu3-l0v3r @lizbix @anonnieghost @juneii3 @madison777x @jvpit3rr @cup1dsh0t @potteraep @anotherwriternamedclara @cinnamxnangel @raven-nevra @s777athv @sunnie21 @cutiestawberries @evilari111 @shitoke-mushrooms-1128 @luluminati

19/50

If your user is in bold I couldn’t tag you because of your settings!!

Sia here ! : hey guys. Lol. Im going to crash the fuck out why the FUCK IS THIS POSTED??? TUMBLR COUNT YOUR DAYS WTF. THIS WAS SCHEDULED FOR THURSDAY. DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THURSDAY TO YOU TUNBLR??? DOES IT LOOKN LIKE THURTSAY. Watch this flop. Pls reblog for me guys ❤️

[inky-writing]

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: mention of death, of dead people, pagan holiday, ESME, anyway, its long, sorry for any typo...

Word count: 3,399

Book II - Chapter 4: Yule secrets

December 2005

The Christmas season had settled over Forks, though the cheer it brought seemed muted in the Swan household. Bella, still a ghost of herself, rarely left her room. She avoided the festive decorations lining the streets and the cheery music playing in stores, retreating deeper into her sadness. When she did speak, it was in short answers to Charlie or Y/N, never more than what was strictly necessary.

Y/N tried to remain optimistic, but it was hard to ignore the weight of the silence that hung over their house. Bella wasn’t the only one struggling, though Y/N’s struggles were far different.

The strange occurrences that had plagued her life in recent months had only grown more bizarre. Objects still appeared seemingly out of nowhere whenever she thought about them, and the black cat continued to follow her wherever she went, its orange eyes watching her intently.

One cold afternoon in early December, Y/N decided to pick up groceries after school. Charlie had forgotten his list on the kitchen counter that morning, and she figured she could knock it out quickly before heading home.

The supermarket was crowded, filled with shoppers stocking up for the holidays. Y/N wove her way through the aisles with her cart as she ticked off items on the list. Milk, eggs, bread, canned soup, cereals… it was all mundane, but it was a welcome distraction from the strange whirlwind her life had become.

As she rounded a corner into the baking supplies aisle, she bumped into an elderly woman.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Y/N said, stepping back quickly.

The woman smiled faintly, her piercing grey eyes twinkling with an odd intensity. “No need to apologize, dear.”

Y/N couldn’t help but stare. The woman was very old, her face was lined with deep wrinkles, her skin papery and thin, but there was something about her that seemed… ageless. Her hair, though streaked with white, hung long and thick over her shoulders, and her posture was surprisingly straight for someone her age.

But what really caught Y/N’s attention was the necklace around the woman’s neck.

It was almost identical to the one Y/N wore, except the stone in its center was a glowing white, almost translucent, apophyllite instead of amethyst. The intricate metalwork surrounding the stone was the same, though, delicate spirals and runes that seemed far older than anything you’d find in a modern jewelry store.

The woman noticed Y/N’s gaze and smiled again, this time with an air of knowing. “You have questions,” she said simply.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

The woman nodded toward the amulet around Y/N’s neck. “About that.”

Instinctively, Y/N’s hand flew to the necklace, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the amethyst. “How do you know?”

The woman tilted her head, her smile never wavering. “Because I’ve seen others like you before.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Others like me? What do you mean?”

The woman’s gaze seemed to pierce straight through her. “It’s not something we should discuss here. The walls have ears.” She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small slip of paper, writing something on it before pressing it into Y/N’s hand. “If you want answers, come here tomorrow at noon.”

Before Y/N could say another word, the woman turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner of the aisle.

Y/N stared at the slip of paper in her hand. It had an address scrawled on it, along with the word Tomorrow underlined twice.

Her mind raced. Who was this woman? How did she know about the amulet? And what did she mean?

When she finally left the supermarket, her hands were shaking.

The house was quiet when Y/N returned, save for the faint hum of the television in the living room. Charlie was watching a football game, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Bella’s door was shut, as usual.

“Got everything on the list?” Charlie asked without looking away from the screen.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

She put the groceries away mechanically, her thoughts consumed by the encounter at the supermarket. She considered telling Charlie about the old woman but decided against it. He would probably just tell her to stay away from strangers, and she didn’t have the energy to argue.

Instead, she retreated to her room, locking the door behind her.

Sitting on her bed, she pulled out the slip of paper and stared at the address. Her fingers brushed against the amulet at her neck, and for the first time, she wondered if it had been a mistake to start wearing it.

The black cat was sitting outside the house again, its orange eyes glowing in the moonlight at it starred intently at her window.

The next morning dawned cold and misty, the kind of day where the fog clung to the ground and muted the world. Y/N couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in her chest since her encounter with the old woman at the supermarket the previous evening. The slip of paper with the address sat on her nightstand, the handwriting etched into her mind as though it carried some weight she didn’t yet understand.

By mid-morning, her curiosity got the best of her. Putting on her leather jacket, scarf, and gloves, she grabbed the paper and slipped out of the house, leaving a note for Charlie saying she was going to run errands. Bella wouldn’t notice her absence, she hadn’t noticed much of anything since the Cullens had left.

The address led Y/N to the outskirts of Forks, down a narrow dirt road flanked by pines. She had almost convinced herself she’d gone the wrong way when she spotted the house.

It was small, like something out of an old storybook. Vines twisted around the wooden porch posts, and colorful, wildflowers grew in neat beds around the yard, defying the snow. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the faint scent of lavender and sage drifted through the air.

Y/N hesitated at the gate, her fingers brushing against the amulet at her neck. For a moment, she thought about turning back. Then, the door opened, and the old woman stepped out onto the porch.

“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” the woman said, her voice carrying a touch of amusement.

Y/N took a deep breath and walked through the gate.

Inside, the house was warm and cozy, a contrast to the chill outside. The air was filled with the scent of herbs and spices, and every surface was covered in books, jars, and trinkets.

“Sit down, dear,” the woman said, gesturing to a sage green sofa.

Y/N sat, her eyes darting around the room. The woman moved about the kitchen, setting out two delicate teacups and a teapot.

“I imagine you have questions,” the woman said, her back to Y/N as she reached for a jar of tea leaves.

“A few,” Y/N admitted.

The woman smiled. “We’ll get to them. But first, let’s have some tea.”

She carried the teapot to the table and set it down. That’s when things took a turn.

As Y/N watched, the teapot tipped itself, pouring steaming tea into one of the cups. Then it straightened and moved to the second cup, repeating the action before settling back in place.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What the…?!”

Before she could finish her sentence, the room spun around her. Her vision blurred, and the last thing she saw before everything went black was the old woman rushing to her side.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she was lying on the couch. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the same warm, herbal scent filled the air. The old woman was sitting in a chair nearby, her hands folded in her lap.

“You fainted,” the woman said, her voice calm. “I suppose I shouldn’t have let the teapot serve itself. It’s been a long time since we’ve had someone new in the family.”

“Family?” Y/N sat up slowly, her head pounding.

The woman smiled gently. “Yes, my dear. I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Callista. I’m your grandmother’s sister, your grand-aunt, if you will.”

Y/N stared at her, the words struggling to sink in. “Did you… knew my mom?”

Callista nodded, her expression tinged with sadness. “I did. Though I haven’t seen since she left. She left the family when she reached eighteen, determined to marry your father despite our objections.”

“Why did you object?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Callista sighed. “Because your father wasn’t one of us. Your mother came from a long line of witches, Y/N. Magic runs in your veins, just as it does in mine. But your father was human, and your grandmother feared their union would weaken our legacy.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the thought of her parents. “So she left?”

“She did,” Callista said softly. “She chose love over tradition, if I must say. And though it broke our hearts to lose her, I never blamed her for it. I guess she still practiced magic in her own way, even after she left, small things, I imagine. But she never contacted us again. Learning her death has been terrible… Your grandmother retreated into the Canadian forest just after, I don’t have news anymore…”

Callista paused, her gaze searching Y/N’s face. “And now, here you are.”

Callista then rose from her chair and disappeared into another room. When she returned, she was holding a large, black leather-bound book that looked extremely old. The cover was embossed with symbols and runes, and the edges of the pages were gilded.

“This,” Callista said, setting the book on the table in front of Y/N, “is your mother’s grimoire. It contains centuries of knowledge, spells, rituals, history, and things she added. She didn’t take it with her when she left. Everything you’ll need to understand who you are and what you’re capable of is in here.”

Y/N reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against the worn leather. “I don’t know if I can do this. It all seems so unreal.”

Callista placed a hand on her cheek. “You can. It’s in your blood. And you won’t be alone, I’ll help you, if you’ll let me.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. Everything Callista had said felt overwhelming, like stepping into a world she hadn’t even known existed. But at the same time, something deep inside her stirred, a sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in years.

“I’ll try,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Callista smiled, her eyes gleaming with pride. “That’s all I ask, my dear. Now, let’s begin.”

Two weeks later

The days leading up to Christmas passed in quiet monotony for the Swan household. Bella still barely left her room, her absence a ghostly presence that hung over the house. Y/N tried not to let it affect her, but she could feel the tension like a weight pressing down on her.

Every week, Y/N made the trip to Callista’s house, and sometimes to the esoteric shop that Callista had introduced her to just days after they’d met. The shop was tucked into the edge of town, its windows filled with crystals, herbs, and candles. It smelled of incense and earth, a comforting combination that felt like home.

In the back room, Callista guided her through the basics of potion-making and telekinesis. Y/N’s progress with telekinesis was slow but steady; she could now move small objects across a table or float them in the air for brief moments.

Still, she felt the weight of her potential. Callista had assured her that her other abilities would reveal themselves when she was ready, but the anticipation gnawed at her.

And now with school out for winter break, Y/N spent her days trying to fill the silence. She and Charlie had fallen into a rhythm, dining together at the kitchen table, watching old movies on the couch, and decorating the house for Christmas. Charlie seemed grateful for her presence, though his worry about Bella was palpable.

The decorations they hung were simple: twinkling lights around the windows, garlands draped over the fireplace, and a tree they adorned with ornaments.

But Y/N couldn’t help but add her own touches. After hours spent pouring over the grimoire Callista had given her, she’d learned about the traditions of Yule and how closely they tied to her own magic.

She collected pinecones from the forest behind the house, stringing them together with cinnamon sticks and small bundles of rosemary to hang on the tree. She placed oranges studded with cloves in bowls around the house, their warm, spicy scent filling the air. And she crafted a wreath of evergreen branches to hang on the front door, weaving ribbons of gold and red through the boughs.

December 21st, 2005

By the time Yule arrived, Y/N had memorized the pages of her grimoire about the holiday. She knew that Yule marked the longest night of the year, a time when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. It was a night to honor the dead, to reflect on the year past, and to welcome the returning light.

That evening, after a quiet dinner with Charlie, Y/N retreated to her room. She lit a small cluster of candles on her desk and opened her grimoire, sitting cross-legged on her bed with the book resting on her lap. The soft glow of the flames flickered across the pages as she practiced simple spells, her focus sharpening with each word spoken.

A faint meowling interrupted her concentration. She looked up, startled, and saw the black cat perched on the windowsill outside her room. Its orange eyes gleamed in the darkness, almost glowing.

“How did you even get up here?” she muttered, crossing the room to open the window.

The cat stepped inside with an air of ownership, leaping onto her bed and curling up on the knitted blanket. Y/N hesitated, then shrugged. “I guess you’re staying, then.”

The cat flicked its tail as if to confirm her words, its eyes watching her.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere in her room grew heavier, charged with energy. It was almost midnight, the hour when the veil between the living and the dead was said to be at its thinnest.

Y/N felt an inexplicable pull, a need to acknowledge the moment. She pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, her hands trembling slightly as she began to write.

The first letter was to her mother. She wrote about the memories she could still recall, the warmth of her embrace, the sound of her laughter, the way she used to hum the same melody while cooking. She thanked her for the love and strength she had passed down, and for the magic that now felt like a lifeline.

The second letter was for her father. She wrote about how much she missed him, about how Charlie often reminded her of him. She told him about her life in Forks, about the struggles and the small moments of joy. She wished he could have been there to see her grow.

When she finished, she folded the letters carefully and placed them on the windowsill, letting the candlelight illuminate them.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, tears rolling on her cheeks. “For everything.”

The air in the room seemed to shift, a soft breeze brushing against her skin despite the closed window. The cat purred softly from its place on the bed, its eyes half-closed as if it, too, understood the significance of the moment.

As the clock struck midnight, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, she felt more connected to her family, to her magic, to herself.

And as she lay down to sleep, the black cat curled up in her arms, its presence comforting.

Later that night

Y/N stirred awake around 3 a.m., the room quiet except for the soft purring of the black cat nestled in her arms. Its warmth was comforting, but her thoughts were anything but. Sleep had eluded her ever since the letters she’d written, and now her mind wandered, seemingly without direction.

But there was a pattern. A name. A face.

“Carlisle,” she murmured, almost afraid to say it aloud.

The thought came unbidden, like a whisper from deep inside her soul. She tried to push it away, but it lingered, persistent and nagging. Why was she thinking about him? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought of him before, he’d been so kind to her during the summer, so understanding. But this was different.

She wondered where he was. What he was doing. Was he with his family? The questions swirled in her mind, growing heavier with each passing second.

Then, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt something. It was faint at first, like the lightest tug on her heart, but it grew stronger, more defined. It felt as though there was an invisible string connecting her to him, a thread woven into the very fabric of her being.

She closed her eyes and imagined pulling on it, curious to see what would happen.

Carlisle’s pov

Thousands of miles away, in a quiet corner of London, Carlisle Cullen sat alone in the small flat he’d rented for the time being. The room was sparse, elegantly decorated with neutral tones and clean lines that reflected his meticulous nature. Yet, despite the calm surroundings, his mind was a storm.

Esme had left for Australia nearly two weeks ago, insisting she wanted to visit friends she hadn’t seen in decades. She had convinced him to stay behind, claiming she needed “girl time.” At first, he had acquiesced, not wanting to deny her something so simple.

But now, as he sat in the stillness of the night, he knew the truth. Esme was responsible for everything, her manipulations, her deceit. He had realised she had powers. He could feel it like a shadow pressing on his mind, the edges of it fraying at the seams. She hadn’t been able to maintain her hold entirely, and now he could see her actions for what they were.

Still, he hadn’t confronted her. Not yet. He needed time to think. About her lies, about how he now felt she wasn’t his mate. He hadn’t say anything to the others, but as each day passed, the weight of the truth bore down on him, and he felt increasingly alone.

He sighed, leaning back in the armchair as he gazed out the window at the city lights. His thoughts drifted to Y/N. He remembered her laughter, the way she’d looked at him with such trust, and the strange sense of peace he’d felt in her presence.

A sudden jolt broke through his reverie, a pull so sharp and undeniable that it made him sit up straight. His hand instinctively went to his chest as though the sensation were physical. It wasn’t pain, exactly, but an ache, a longing.

And then a whisper in his mind, soft but insistent.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 11 a.m. on December 22nd. The pull intensified, a silent demand that he couldn’t ignore.

“Forks,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning.

He didn’t know why, but he knew he had to return. Even if just for a few days.

Y/Ns pov

Y/N opened her eyes after pulling on the string, the feeling of it fading into the back of her mind. The cat shifted in her arms, looking up at her with its piercing orange eyes.

“Did I... do something wrong?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The cat only blinked, purring louder as if to reassure her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to shake off the lingering sense of connection. Whatever had just happened, she couldn’t explain it. But for the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of hope.

Note: HEHE, so Carlisle is now aware of Esme, but, what will he do about it???

Tag list: @inky-bonnie

[cuffmeinblack]

Sated

Emmrich Volkarin x f!reader

Tags: explicit | sex | fingering | hand kink | teasing

2.48k words (ao3 link)

A/n: Sorry HogLeg followers, this had to be done.

The dim corridor stretched before you, a sliver of light dancing across the stone floor, beckoning. All was quiet, not even Taash’s snores to mask your footfalls as you approached the door you knew all too well. Often had you found yourself drawn to this very spot, unable to articulate why you sought his comforting presence. You would watch him read or weave his magic, and he would allow it without complaint, only a wry smile upon his beautifully distinguished face.

And tonight, you were so very tired, body drawn so tight that the very mention of Gods or Venatori might send you spiralling into a pit of despair; a day spent slaughtering would do that to a person. So you lingered by that door, placed a palm upon the wood and sighed.

“Rook?”

The voice came from within and you jolted back, contemplating running back the way you came. Instead, the voice lured you further with promises of softly spoken words and the ghost of a touch upon your skin. This little game you played, this dance of desires, was as agonising as it was enticing. There was thrill in the chase, the longing. Your skin tingled before you even laid eyes upon him, and pushed open the door.

“I thought it was you,” Emmrich said. “I could sense your presence, dear.”

He stood by the fire, his back turned to you whilst absorbed in something you couldn't see. Even after hours of battle he remained pristine; freshly bathed, hair combed and clothes neat. You took tentative steps towards him, pulse already racing and stomach clenching with anticipation. His jewellery glinted by the light of the flame, and you saw that he was holding a book. Of course.

“What are you reading?” you asked, wishing that he would turn to you.

“A tedious tome, I'm afraid. Though it might very well prove useful, so unfortunately I must persevere.”

His fingers skimmed the page, dancing over the words as if conducting a symphony. Dexterous fingers that had occupied your thoughts for weeks. The scent of ink and old parchment filled your nostrils and you shivered, watching him splay the pages with erotic curiosity.

Emmrich finally turned to you with a friendly smile that quivered upon meeting your gaze. 

“Are you quite alright?” he asked with a hint of concern.

No, you weren't. But there was little to be done about the hunger that clawed at your chest, night and day. “I'm fine,” you said instead.

His head tilted to one side to regard you, his hand stilled upon the page as you watched in rapt fascination. Those hands might have been able to unravel the tension knitting every muscle in your body, with little more than a curl of his fingers. Molten desire flooded your veins, burning your skin, and an ache settled low in your abdomen. No soft words and pleasant company would be enough for you tonight.

“I don't think you are…” 

Emmrich snapped the book shut and placed it upon his chair, stalking towards you. He stopped only inches away and frowned, as if examining a specimen for its ailments. Your eyelids drooped to be so close, caught in the maelstrom of his presence. His lips, so tempting, parted.

“Oh.”

You blinked. “Hm?”

Emmrich smiled and brought a hand to your cheek, catching you unawares. Knuckles skimmed across your skin, a ring-clad finger resting below your chin.

“I can practically feel the warmth radiating from your skin, darling. Your pupils dilated, that nervous energy.” He chuckled. “If I didn't know better I would say you came here seeking…relief.”

“Would that be so unbelievable?” you asked, fingers daring to reach out, to pick at the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Perhaps. I thought you enjoyed our flirtations, but I admit I had no idea that you were serious—”

“I'm serious.” 

Don't make me beg.

He took that half step forward to close the distance between you, his breath ghosting the skin of your cheek. Instinctively, your head lolled to expose your neck, exposing your vulnerability, a soft and shuddering sigh escaping your lips. The pulsing between your legs intensified as he took the cue without hesitation, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear before his lips found skin. 

Emmrich kissed up the column of your neck almost languorously. A gentle flick of tongue at your pulse point had you whimpering for more. Your hands worked of their own accord, picking open the buttons you'd been idly toying with only moments before. Turning your face, his lips found yours instantly, a low hum of satisfaction working its way up his throat.

Yes, finally. 

This was exactly what you needed. You felt frenzied, but Emmrich tempered your enthusiasm with a grip around your wrist, a well-placed thigh between your legs. He had you pinned against his desk—or had you dragged him here?—still intent on slowing your burning need to rid him of his clothes. No matter—he looked ravishing in them.

“We have hours, dear. Slow down, hm?” he whispered in your ear, sending yet another wave of desire rippling through your torso, dislodging every internal organ.

You whimpered in response and felt the twitch of his lips, apparently amused by the reaction. His kisses traced your jawline, then captured your mouth in one swift and breathless motion. Tongues entwined, intent on exploring every angle, swallowing every breath.

His waistcoat fell open by your insistent fiddling, hands finding his firm stomach as you splayed your fingers wide. Tracing down to his hips, all sharp angles. He did not waver in his pace, looping a gloved hand around your neck to cup the base of your skull as his kiss deepened. The friction against his thigh did little to relieve the intense ache in your core as you felt your underwear slicken with need.

“Emmrich,” you sighed into his open mouth, his teeth nipping lightly at your lower lip.

What a tease he was, enjoying prolonging this game far too much. But you felt the hardened length in his trousers press against your hip, an undeniable reminder of his own desires. You arched your back, grinding into him with renewed vigour, and he gasped with a flex of his hand. Another slow roll of your hips drew a low, rumbling groan from his throat. The satisfaction of his unravelling could not be matched, and you smirked against his lips.

“The things you do to me…,” he muttered, bringing his bejewelled fingers to rest upon your thigh.

You drew back to look into the hazel depths of his eyes, melting as the golden flecks wavered in firelight. Every line, every mark upon his skin only made him more beautiful, each telling a tale of a life well lived. Your thumb traced the crow's feet in an entirely too intimate gesture, and you witnessed Emmrich's self control wane. 

His grip upon your thigh tightened, body pressing closer as he kissed you again, and the hunger that roared in your chest was matched only by his own. He murmured your name in reverent praise with every press of his hips. And his hand moved higher, unfastening the buckle of your trousers.

Yes, yes, yes.

You helped him slip the pesky clothes down your legs until you were bare from the waist down, the cold wood of his desk pressing against your behind. He resumed his previous kneading of your flesh, the cold metal of his rings trailing your burning skin. When he reached the apex of your thighs, your breathing was ragged, chest heaving.

A single finger slid between your lips, coated in your desire, effortlessly honing in on the swollen bud that demanded attention lest you cry out in frustration for the entire Lighthouse to hear. You might have begged, but were too enraptured with Emmrich's lips, his meandering hands, the silken silver strands of his mussed hair. The first press of his finger made you shudder, and you squirmed and moaned as he began the slow, firm circles, winding you tighter and tighter.

You’d succeeded in ridding him of his waistcoat, then unbuttoning his shirt to press kisses against his collarbone, but became too distracted to unclothe him any further due to his unwavering attention. He watched you intently, seemingly fascinated by your desperate whimpering. He'd brought you to the edge in mere minutes, a mess between your thighs that doubtless pooled onto the desk beneath. You were perched atop it now, legs pressed wide. Emmrich took no shame in watching as his fingers slipped around your aching centre—then again, neither did you. He slipped a single finger inside you, then another, to the knuckles.

You moaned and clawed at his hair, writhing in an attempt to push him deeper. He acquiesced, burying his ringed digits inside you. Fingers pulsed, the drag of metal making you shudder with pleasure. Then he curled those fingers with dextrous precision and you cried out as an orgasm ripped through your body. You fell limp, arms barely able to keep you propped upright. The waves kept coming, Emmrich returning his attention to the swollen bud that became increasingly sensitive with every swipe of his thumb.

He kissed you through it all, until only gasps and brushes of lips remained.

Dazed though you were, you could not ignore the hard cock that twitched in his trousers. You didn't want to ignore it—as wonderful as his fingers were, you'd not be sated until he was buried deep inside you.

When he pulled his hand from between your legs, you watched with hooded eyes as he surveyed the mess, a slow smile creeping onto his handsome face.

“Feel better, darling?”

“I want you, Emmrich,” you sighed. “All of you.”

Fuck being mysterious and coy.

“Here?”

He looked genuinely shocked by the prospect of fucking you over his desk. Your chest tightened, and you pulled him closer by his shirt. He didn't resist as you undid his trousers, cock springing free as you pushed them past his hips. A groan laced with pure lust left your lips, and you wrapped your hand around him, swiping a thumb over the glistening precum that stained the fabric pooled below. Emmrich gasped, looking to the ceiling as if in silent prayer.

“I need you,” you reiterated with a gentle tug of foreskin.

“Then you may have me, dear. Every—” he kissed your lips, gloved hand stroking your cheek “—inch.”

He pulled off your top with unexpected strength, baring your breasts to the chill. Nipples already peaked, he took one between his fingers, the soft leather adding extra friction to the already sensitive skin. You moaned and stroked his cock with a steady rhythm to match the flicks of his tongue that found your breast. A light nip of teeth, a firm handful of flesh. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, then looked up at you. “Shall I remove my glove?”

“No, leave it. I like it,” you replied with a lopsided smile.

“I thought you might.” 

Emmrich peered down at where your hand continued to stroke his length, letting his eyes close for a moment. You ached to have him inside you; that thick cock nestled between a patch of silver hair. What might he taste like? The thought of running your tongue up the underside of his shaft, enveloping his head in your mouth…it made you salivate. There would be time for that later, perhaps. His eyes snapped open when your finger pressed the ridge of his cock.

“Please…,” you whined, not caring how pathetic it sounded.

Neither did he, apparently, as he spread your legs further with ease, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance that pulsed in excitement. The stretch as he slid in made your eyes roll back in pleasure, and Emmrich groaned as he took you inch by inch. Firm hands pushed your knees further back, driving deeper until your sweat-slicked skin was flush.

“Oh fuck you feel good,” you said.

He pulled out about halfway, then thrusted back with a snap of his hips. You whimpered, feeling his head kiss your cervix, walls fluttering around his cock as another orgasm started to build.

“Language, darling. Or I might send you back to your room.”

“You wouldn't dare,” you chuckled shakily.

Another thrust silenced you, and your arms finally gave out, sending you crumpling backwards onto his desk. You growled in frustration, pulling papers from underneath your back and throwing them on the floor. 

Emmrich looked positively scandalised.

“Do I need to teach you a lesson about respecting others’ property?” he asked, silken voice growing more hoarse with every slow thrust.

You laughed, quickly devolving into another moan. “Yes, professor.”

Emmrich hummed and gripped your waist, hard. Fingers dug in, creating dents with his nails on one side, the burn of leather on the other. Then he began to fuck you in earnest.

Emmrich was capable of such gentleness, but he knew what you needed now. He pulled you onto his cock with each snap of his hips, hitting every sweet spot you possessed in tandem. It was overwhelming, a swirling vortex of pleasure. You were dizzy, so hazy with ecstasy that you couldn't form coherent words, only moans and screams. Fuck anyone overhearing, you didn't care, there was only him.

His steady rhythm gradually sped up, becoming more erratic as his breath laboured. Silver strands crossed his brow, the last of his composure now deserted him. You liked him like this—dishevelled, sweaty and eyes glittering with passion. As the wet slap of skin filled the room, echoing off the bookcases and scant furnishings, you felt your legs begin to shake as your climax approached.

“Emmrich…Emmrich I'm going to, fuck.”

He pounded into you at the same pace, bringing a thumb to circle your overstimulated clit. 

“Let go, darling. I have you,” he replied.

You cried out, searching for something to cling to. Fingers curled over the lip of the desk. Your back arched, and you fell apart. Your vision faded to black amongst the pounding in your ears, but Emmrich didn't relent. The whimpers and whines only fuelled him; his grip on your waist became bruising, but there was pleasure in the pain.

“Rook…,” he panted. “Where can I—?”

“Inside me, please.”

Emmrich gave another hard thrust and a great shuddering sigh, and his cock pulsed inside you. He filled you until his spend coated your thighs, your bodies simultaneously exhausted as he slumped on top of you. He nuzzled against your neck, breathless; a vulnerability that you cherished. Hearts beat together, touches turning gentle once again.

“Thank you,” you said eventually, now sated and tired.

Emmrich kissed your neck, your chin, your lips, standing unsteadily and pulling his trousers back up to his waist. He held out a hand as one might ask for a dance, returning to the gentlemanly scholar once again.

“Any time, my dear.”

[kxttqi]

ノ [01] THE START OF IT ALL (t. oikawa x f!reader)

fic m.list . prev

+ content: swearing, suggestive, crack, kys/kms jokes, manga spoilers for timeskip, written and smau

guys i beg ignore the microsoft emojis its a long story 😢😢

[ send a comment under the fic m.list or send an ask to be added to the taglist!! (4/50) ]

the arrival in brazil had been smooth. yachi had booked a cozy airbnb close to the beach, tucked away in a neighborhood where the scent of saltwater clung to the air and the sound of crashing waves provided a soundtrack to every moment. after a quick power nap—just enough to shake off the haze of the flight—you found yourselves walking along sunlit streets, the kind that felt alive with color, on your way to the beach where hinata was set to play.  

you hadn’t expected to feel so at ease this soon. brazil was bright and unfamiliar, but something about it wrapped itself around you like a warm breeze, coaxing you to settle into its rhythm. what you really hadn’t expected, though, was to run into oikawa tooru at a small café on your first morning.  

the café was tucked into the corner of a quiet street, its awning striped with faded green and white, the smell of fresh pão de queijo wafting out onto the sidewalk. you’d walked into the cafe, still shaking the sleep from your bones, when you noticed him.  

at first, you weren’t sure. the early morning light filtered through the windows at just the right angle to make the edges of everything a little too bright, a little too surreal.   

but it was hard to miss the way he carried himself: tall, composed, every movement so deliberate it felt more like choreography than casual habit. he was standing at the counter, ordering something in fluent portuguese that rolled off his tongue like he'd been born speaking it.  

you knew of him, of course. who didn’t? even if you weren’t religious about every volleyball match, his name was impossible to avoid. he was a figure who existed in stories, in highlight reels, in the corners of conversations you only half-listened to. yet here he was, very much real, very much in front of you.  

your gaze must have lingered too long, because as he turned to leave, his eyes caught yours.  

he smiled.  

“hey,” he said, his voice smooth, warm. “i think i know you. you’re… y/n, right?”  

it took you a second to process. oikawa tooru not only recognized you, but knew your name. you blinked, fumbling to keep your expression neutral even as your stomach twisted itself into knots.  

“uh, yeah,” you managed, suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you probably looked after the long flight. “that’s me. and… you’re oikawa.”  

he laughed, a sound that was annoyingly charming, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you were the punchline to a joke you hadn’t realized you were telling. “small world, huh? what brings you to brazil?”  

you shrugged, trying to appear unbothered, though the weight of his gaze made it hard to stand still. “vacation, sort of. i’m here with a friend for a university project.”  

his eyes lit up, sharp and curious, and you had the distinct feeling that oikawa was the kind of person who could make you want to spill your life story without meaning to. “a project? what kind of project?”  

you explained it briefly—the film project, how you and yachi were here to gather inspiration and maybe even shoot some footage of hinata’s matches. he nodded along, his interest feeling genuine, which only made you more self-conscious under the weight of it.  

“that’s impressive,” he said. “if you need any help, let me know. i’m not bad with a camera.”  

he grinned, but there was something in his tone—half-joking, half-serious. before you could decide how to respond, yachi appeared by your side, wide-eyed and a little out of breath.  

“y/n! we need to leave soon if we want to get to hinata’s game,” she said, her voice cutting through the haze of the conversation.  

you glanced back at oikawa, offering a small, apologetic smile. “i guess i’ll see you around?”  

he waved as you turned to leave, his grin softening into something easier, less practiced. “yeah, see you.”  

the two of you stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the interaction lingering on your skin like the heat rising from the pavement. as you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back once. he had taken a seat at one of the decorated tables now with what you assumed were some of his argentinian friends, sipping a latte.   

[ tagging: @stwberri @scoupsworld @x3nafix @kenyuukissme ]

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[bbrissonn]

𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

✩°｡⋆˚⁺ you're really cute

✩°｡⋆˚⁺ real life

✩°｡⋆˚⁺ gabe perreault x camila yanez

✩°｡⋆˚⁺ au masterlist

✩°｡⋆˚⁺ my babies finally interact !!

‎‧₊˚✧[ SEPTEMBER 29, 2023 ]✧˚₊‧

➻❥ tallahasse, fl

"okay, cami, i think you've had enough." your teammate laughed as she reached for the drink you had just taken from a cooler. your team had played a game earlier in the night, easily winning 2-0 against miami university, meaning they were still unbeaten this season. the girls had decided to have a little get together to celebrate the win and the end of the week. it was something small, just the team, a couple of girlfriends and partners, no more than 40 people.

since the beginning of september, you guys had played a game almost every 5 days, but you now had almost a week until your next game, meaning this was the first opportunity to let lose this semester.

"give it back, silly." you giggled as you tried to grab the drink back, resulting in a couple of teammates laughing at the situation.

"come on, lets go home." you roommate said as she grabbed your hand. you attention quickly shifted over to her, a wide smile on your face as you followed her. you all bid your goodbyes before making your way to your dorm, the campus quiet as the two of you walked hand in hand.

"you were like amazing tonight." you gushed, smiling at the defender who had saved your team's butt more times than you can remember.

"so were you, cami." the girl smiled over at you, her eyes looking at you with admiration. you had scored the two goals for your team, which now brought your total to 7 this season.

"i missed you so much this summer!" you exclaimed, swinging your hands together, making your roommate chuckle. this was your second year rooming together, meaning the two of you were insanely close.

"i miss you, too, stargirl." she laughed, making your smile grow even bigger.

"this summer was actually crazy." you sighed, thinking about how surreal it all felt.

"so i've heard." she smirked as the two of you approached your dorm building, making you look over at her with a confused look on your face.

"what do you mean?"

"you know damn well what i'm talking about, girl. that little hockey guy all up in your likes, and all his friends in your comments!" she exclaimed, making your face turn a deep shade of pink.

"it's nothing."

"right, that's why your red like a tomato right now." she joked as the two arrived at your dorm, making your way inside your room.

"shut up."

"look, its quite obvious that you think he's cute too, i mean all your friends were up in his comments, so you guys like have to get married now." she joked as the two of you changed into your night clothe. "and you both know sober you is too shy to make the first move, so i say you should dm him, or at least started by following him."

"now?"

"yes, now. i know i'm supposed to stop you from doing stupid shit right now, but you guys would be cute together. so i say go for it." she explained before getting in bed. you stood at the edge of your bed, her words replaying in your head.

she was right. the boy was clearly into you, so truly what's the worse that could happen. and you would be lying if you said a part of you hasn't been hoping you would see a message from him appear in your inbox.

you softly got into bed, the two of you wishing each other good night before your roommate fell asleep. meanwhile, you laid in bed, your eyes wide open as you stared at the celling.

fuck it.

―┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆―

➻❥ chestnut hill, mass

gabe was currently sitting on one of the couches in one of the senior's house, a cup in hand as he watched some of guys mess around with each other. will and ryan were sitting next to him, the blond boy between the two. it was the last weekend before the season started, meaning the upperclassmen claimed they had to make the most out of it.

but gabe still wasn't used to partying every weekend, his body still tired from all the practices this week, and honestly he did not want to be here right now. he wanted to be in bed, watching his show until he feel asleep. but here he was, the early hours of saturday rolling around, sitting in the chaos of drunk college students.

his phone buzz in his pocket, making his brows fur slightly. the only people who would text him this late are in the same house as him. his family was certainly asleep, and his friends from home never texted this late.

his confused look soon turned into one of shock as his eyes read over the two new notifications on his home screen. there was no way this was happening right now.

"holy shit." the boy gasped, making his two best friend look over at him.

"what's up?"

"holy shit." the boy repeated, his body not moving an inch.

"gabo, what's going on?" ryan asked, reaching over will to wave his hand in front of gabe's face. the boy didn't answer them, instead clicking on the first notification, his phone opening and his instagram popping up on his screen.

➻❥ camila_yanez started following you

"oh, shit." will gasped with a smile as his eyes looked over at his friend's phone. in a moment of panic, gabe closed his phone quickly, throwing it into the blond's lap. ryan was quick to snatch it, opening the home screen to put in the boys password, but the remaining notification caught his eyes.

➻❥ camila_yanez wants to send you a message

"oh... my... god!" ryan laughed, handing gabe his phone back. the boy just looked over, looking clueless as ever.

"what do you want me to do with that!"

"open her message, duh." ryan said, making will look over at him. he hadn't seen anything about a message. the blond was quick to grab the phone, his eyes quickly finding the notification, his eyes growing wide.

"dude!"

the commotion between the three freshman had quickly caught the attention of some of their teammates.

"what's going on over here?" cutter asked, as he, along with a couple of juniors and seniors, approached the three.

"the girl gabo's been crushing on followed her back!" ryan was quick to say, a smirk on his face as all the guys quickly looked over at gabe. he still hadn't moved, his eyes staring at the ground as millions of thoughts raced through his mind.

"she dmed him, too!" will added, earning gabe a couple of slaps on the back.

"atta boy, gabo!"

"is he okay?" eamon asked, poking gabe gently on the cheek until the boy finally looked up at them.

"huh?" the french boy said, snapping out of his trance. the ground around him chuckled slightly, teasing smiles on their faces.

"you okay there, bud?"

"yeah... yeah i'm okay. i should... um." the boy trailed off, looking for his phone. he snatched out of will's hands quickly before standing up. "i should go." he finished, will and ryan quick to follow him as he left the house.

"what do you want?" gabe asked as he turned around. at first he thought his best friends were just going to go somewhere else in the house, but as his feet hit the sidewalk and he still heard them giggling behind him, it was clear they were following him.

"we're coming with you." ryan said before placing his arm around gabe's shoulder, forcing the boy to keep walking. will appeared on the other side, a grin on his face.

"why?"

"dude, we've been here since day one. we gotta know what she said."

"you're not knowing shit." gabe said, making the two boys scoff slightly.

the two eventually convinced gabe to be there when he opened the message, he accepted mainly just to get them to shut up, but still. this led to them all sitting on gabe's bed in his and will's shared dorm room. it was almost 2 in the morning, and the boy was debating wether or not he should just wait until later in the day.

"dude, just do it!"

"okay, okay." gabe mumbled before finally opening your dm.

cami

hiiiii

ur like reallyyyy cute yk ☺️

"what do i say?" gabe freaked out as he showed the two boys the messages. will chuckled slightly as he read the message, while ryan almost snorted at his friend's behaviour.

"well first, you can greet her, you know." ryan said, pushing the phone back towards the perreault boy.

"right, yeah."

"and then tell her she's pretty!" will added, his smile growing as he watched gabe type on his phone, a look of concentration on his face.

GP

heyyy

ur reallyyyy pretty yk

"why'd you just say the same thing she said?" ryan asked, almost wanting to hit his friend across the head.

"you said to tell her she's pretty!"

"yeah, but not like that, dude. now you just look desperate."

"she answered!" the boy gasped, making the two other boys light up.

"dude, you cannot fuck this up."

cami

awhh ur so adorable

thank youuu

wait why are you up so late 🤨

GP

why are you up so late?

cami

😮😮

toucher

had a little night with friends

"okay, you can leave now i've got this." gabe mumbled, shooing his best friend away before looking back down at his phone. ryan and will has a silent conversation with their eyes as will made his way over to his own bed. ryan eventually gave up, rolling his eyes before slapping gabe on the knee, a way of telling him goodbye, the boy barely reacting. he then dapped up will before leaving the two alone.

will made himself comfortable as he opened tiktok, scrolling for a bit while his eyes kept looking over at the perreault boy every couple of videos. he hadn't seen him smile this big in a long time, the last probably being when they won the gold medal at the u-18 worlds.

GP

special occasion?

cami

no no

just wanted to have a little fun after our game

GP

how'd it go?

you guys had won 2-0, he knew that, he also knew you had scored both goals.

cami

not our best but we won

GP

how's the season been?

he knew that too. you guys still had not lost a game so far, but there was no way he'd ever admit to knowing that.

cami

couldnt of had asked for a better start honestly

its been amazing

what abt urs?

gabe found himself blushing at your question, although he didn't really understand why.

GP

we start next weekend

cami

oh 😭😭

honestly i dont know much about hockey

GP

im guessing it's not really popular in spain?

cami

oh so yk where im from 🤭

GP

pretty hard not to

you were everywhere on tv during summer

cami

you watched?

GP

im gonna be totally honest i just turned it on cause there was nothing else

but then you kinda made an impression...

cami

did i now

you and your friends have made quite an impression too

GP

im sorry about them

they can be a little... out of control sometimes

cami

😭😭

its all good

honestly im flattered

it appears im quite famous in your circle

care to share why that is?

GP

have you looked in the mirror lately?

cami

im flattered truly ☺️

have you taken a look in the mirror lately?

GP

depends

why're you asking

cami

you make quite the impression as well gabe

the boy felt his heart skip a bit slightly as his eyes read his name over and over. he knew he shouldn't be reacting like this, after all his name was in his user, so it was a given that you knew. but still, he couldn't help it.

GP

yeah?

what abt rn?

still making an impression?

cami

definitely

GP

good

cami

i gotta go, my roommates abt to throw a shoe at me because phone time is over or wtv :(

GP

it's all good

cami

am i gonna hear from you again?

GP

do you want to?

cami

duhhh

why do you think i message you pretty

GP

good night cami

cami

night night gabe

[lackpenny]

a broken man's last effort, all for nothing

[lacystar]

genuinely hilarious to me that no matter how good the graphics, no matter how good the lore, no matter how good the horror, the single BEST backrooms video game we have is the Stanley parable

[amiryllisthorn]

I kinda want to talk about this idiot for a bit. I obviously dont want to talk about Valkyra’s character toooooooooo much since a lot of what is up with her tm is a big part of the game’s narrative, but theres a bit of a different aspect I wanted to talk about.

Valkyra lisiri was a character that was really just an awfully written character. She was this too cool for school didnt need any friends hyper competent soldier who was actually written as a bit of a villain. One who would rather defend the status quo rather than actually try to change anything. It was edgy and over the top and just bleh.

So how did she become the main character in the game I am most focused on? Well what ended up happening is I had a lot of ideas for games at the time, and threw this one together as a bit of a throwaway project with these characters as that I didnt really care for anymore and the idea was to make something short and move on as a bit of a prequel to the thing I actually wanted to work on.

(this sprite is two years old now! but you can see that the general look is still similar)

Well that clearly didnt happen, because the more I worked on this short throw away project the more I thought about what I could actually do with these characters. What I could do to make this setting more mine and not just rip off of sci fi series I liked. And as I wrote more and more the more things changed and were altered  to the point where any of it is barely recognizable anymore-and I love that so MUCH! 

It was no longer a prelude for another game I was working on or this half assed setting but has become something that I am incredibly passionate about! I told my self that I would try to focus on smaller projects but I cant keep myself away from this thing and these characters.

(o7 mech game concept we hardly knew ye-the concept was being on the run as a mech mechanic for a mercenary company where the gameplay revolved around fixing mechs)

While work is going much slower than I would like, due to mostly personal reasons, I really am proud with how things are really starting to come together for this project. I didnt really start focusing actual attention on it till probably the past year or so.

I think part of why this project means so much to me, is that it has taken something from a part of my past self that I dont really like, and made it into I think something far more interesting, far more fun, more technically impressive, and just so much gayer. And these once throwaway characters of little regards, have really become the core focus of the project.

Valkyra  Lisiri went from this heartless action hero who could do anything, to a much more general person, struggling through life and trying her best, and often her best was not enough. Those actions of course having their own painful consequences, that shaped her into the character she now is.

Siane Vokir went from this really bitchy agent of the state to someone who at the drop of a hat gives up everything to fight fascism, someone who now has trouble dealing with her past and people in general, and just so many layers to her character.

The game has been so thoroughly ship of theseus’d that all that really remains of the first like year of work is just some characters  have the same name and maybe a similar appearance, and that is just a fascinating and exciting thing to work with!

(the very first concept drawn up for the game. You can also see the original design for siane)

Anyways this post has gotten a little bit all over the place, but I guess I wanted to share some of this project’s history. I dont talk about the actual details as much as I should whenever I post stuff, because I have a pretty hard time with a lot of this stuff sometimes! I wanted to make posts talking more about the setting and the characters but that kinda got uh forgotten.... well maybe I will get back to that at some point.

if you made it down this far thanks for reading! I really do want to talk about all of these things more, and have been working at it. Maybe ill try to do a weekly post talking about game stuff but no promises, my brain is bad so Ill just leave you with these two nerds.

[theantiproduct]

.

[qqchurch]

new gundam build divers series set in a vrmmo like re:rise but every player starts out with gwitch exclusive grunt suits like the gundvolva or the lfrith pre-production model that they can upgrade and customize the more wins they have under their belts

every mobile suit shown so far would be gwitch suits, with the rare few "ace" gundams that resemble suits from other AUs but still following design philosophies with gwitch

in-game missions would be either simple swarming on an objective to destroy it or more involved squad-based missions where tactics and communication matter

the protagonist for this would be an antisocial teen girl who'd recently isolated herself after a chain of bad experiences in school and wants nothing but to escape from the world by immersing herself in gaming.

she's played long enough that she managed to upgrade the default gundvolva into something that works for her, a few tweaks to enhance it's performance and a modular load out that she wouldn't miss if her suit is ever destroyed (since you'd have to buy the gear over again if it's lost)

in a squad-based mission with her nextdoor neighbor and childhood friend (also a girl) and a few randos, they run into what the community refers to as the "Game Over Boss": a gundam that randomly appears and uses multiple GundBits to overwhelm any opposition. Let's call this the Aerial Revive

naturally, the party TPKs, but the protag holds her own on enough that the Aerial Revive stands over her fallen mobile suit. the shell units on the Revive turn blue and the protag is suddenly facing a red haired child

it's Eri

surprise, this is a gwitch sequel

[enden-k]

refraining from drawing now to force myself to play through the genshin event until im done, so i can freely browse through my dashboard/tl/ao3/tumblr inbox/my fridge again without untagged spoilers