#but these days I think I’m ready for the light.

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[multific]

Between Doubt and Secrets

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: When Geta and Caracalla left to attend to their duties as Emperors, you stayed behind due to sickness. Geta returns he notices just how distant you are, a week passed and he thinks he knows the reason behind your coldness. 

The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoes in the quiet of the palace, each step bringing him closer to you. 

After what feels like an eternity, Geta is done with his daily duties. 

Normally, that would be a relief, a reason to smile.

But tonight, the air between you feels different. It’s heavy with a secret you’ve carried alone for far too long.

You stay by the window, watching the fading light of the setting sun. You were nervous. 

The day is ending.

The news of your child you have known for over three weeks now. The doctor confirmed your suspicion and your heart sank. 

A child wasn’t part of your plan. At least not now.

In truth, it’s thrown everything into chaos. 

But now Geta is back, and the tension in the room is thick.

When he steps into the room, his presence fills the space. 

His eyes immediately find you, but there’s something different about his look tonight. 

It’s not the warmth you’ve grown to know, not the loving look he only gives to you. 

No, tonight his eyes are sharp, suspicious. His brow furrows just slightly as he approaches.

“Where have you been today?” he asks, his voice even, too calm for the question. He was angry.

In the morning he did ask to see you, but you failed to.

For a moment, you stop. 

You weren’t expecting interrogation, weren’t prepared for it. His eyes are searching, like he already knows something.

“I was... outside. Just needed some air.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you can see the suspicion in his eyes.

It doesn’t take much for him to read you, to notice when something’s off. To know when you lie.

And for the last week he has been home, something has been off.

“You’ve been distant,” he says after a long pause. “Too distant. I’ve been gone for weeks, and it feels like you’ve shut me out.”

His words cut deep, though you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you. 

He doesn’t understand. 

He hasn’t seen the turmoil you’ve been living with, the fear that’s kept you awake at night.

“I’m not... I’m not shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... a lot has happened while you were gone.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. 

“What kind of ‘a lot,’ exactly? Have you been seeing someone else while I’ve been gone?”

The accusation hits you like cold water. 

It’s not anger that fills his voice but hurt. 

The kind of hurt that makes your stomach swirl. 

You want to tell him that it’s not like that, that there’s no one else. But the truth is so much more complicated. And far more frightening.

“Geta, no,” you say, your voice trembling. “There’s no one else. I’ve been alone while you were gone. It’s just... I’ve been trying to figure things out.”

He watches you for a long moment, and you see the doubt still in his eyes. 

You know he’s not convinced. 

But you don’t know how to explain the truth. 

How could you tell him that you’re carrying his child when you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself?

How could you tell him that you have been inside all day trying to figure out how to finally tell him?

Especially when he specifically told you he is not ready for a child. Only the senators demand such a thing. And he doesn't want to give into their needs.

He had enough to care for already, the Empires, his brother and now this.

For a long moment, the room is silent. You tried to collect your thoughts as you played with the hem of your dress.

You and Geta loved each other. Your love was known far and wide for its fire.

Then, finally, you collect yourself. You took a deep breath and realized, you needed to say it.

“Geta... there’s something I must tell you.”

His eyes shoot up to yours, but he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t say a word. He just waits, watching you closely, as if bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say. He prepared for the worst, he is scared you are about to break his heart.

“I’m pregnant,” you finally say. The weight now lifting from your shoulders but it fills the room instead.

The silence that follows is thicker than the air.  Almost makes in impossible to breathe.

His expression shifts from one of anger to one of pure confusion. 

He was a smart man, he probably connected the events already.

“Pregnant?” he repeats, voice low. “But... how? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you spoke. “I wasn’t sure what to think, and... I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he shakes his head. “I... I don’t understand. I thought you were... I thought you were pulling away from me, that you found someone.”

“How can I find anyone Geta? I love you so much. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t plan for it. And what you said about the senators... I was scared.”

He falls silent, staring at you for a long time, as if frozen in time. He realised it was all his fault. That day, he spoke out of anger, he didn't realise just how much pressure that put on you.

In reality, he always wanted a child with you, just on your own terms.

After a moment, he steps closer, his hands trembling as they reach out to you.

“Are you truly pregnant?”

You nod, and a single tear slips down your cheek. The weight that’s been crushing you lifts just a little.

Then, without warning, Geta pulls you into his arms. 

It’s a sudden and tight hug as if he’s afraid to let go of you. 

His embrace is tight, warm, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that everything will be okay.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought... you didn’t want me anymore.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, searching his eyes, you offer him a warm smile. 

“I do want you. I just... I was scared. This wasn’t how I imagined it would happen.”

He brushes a hand over your stomach gently. 

“You’re carrying our child, the future of Rome.” he says softly, the disbelief still evident in his voice.

“I am,” you reply, your voice catching in your throat.

His hand rests on your stomach, his fingers warm and protective. "I'm not leaving your side again. And what I said about the senators... I don't care for them. I care for you, I love you. I will protect you and our child. I promise."

For the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to breathe. 

“We’ll be okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, but he hears it.

Geta presses a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you close again. His voice and heart beat fill you with hope. 

“I promise.” he whispered again. 

And you knew Geta always kept his promise.

Suddenly, your baby felt like a blessing. The future of Rome and you.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

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/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[star-suh]

Happy-ly Ever After: The Spa

Ricky Shen x Male Reader

an: last part of the happy spa trilogy, also i became lazier so i won't be writing content warnings anymore 😭

—

yn hasn’t had sex for a long time due to university assignments so when the opportunity appears, he takes it but first he has to get ready for the occasion. he decides to visit a famous spa that is said to have the most pretty and gorgeous people in the world. “i have to make sure if that’s true” he mutters while locking the front door.

the bell on the door rings, alerting the receptionist that someone just arrived, “hey hello, my name is matthew, how can i help you today?”. “hello, i want a massage and some uhmm… depilation.. y-you know where” yn says embarrassed. matthew lets out an almost quiet laugh, “sure buddy, let me guide you to the locker rooms so you can change your clothes and then go to this room” he hands him a card with a number on it, “enjoy” he smiles at yn.

yn nervously awaits for the person who’s gonna service him when the door creaks open, revealing a tall and handsome guy. “good afternoon, my name is ricky and i’m gonna be in charge of you for the rest of the day” he confidently says, “so a massage and a depilation.. wax?” his question being responded with a little yeah from the client.

the massage started, ricky made sure to put enough body oil so the movements of his hands were smooth, pressing the right pressure spots, relieving yn from the stress.

“how are you feeling mr. ln?” the masseur’s hands kneading the skin as if it were bread dough, moans coming out of his mouth “it feels so good mr.” he praises “the best feeling. i feel as if i’m on top of a fluffy cloud”. yn completely relaxes on the mattress, his body glistening with the yellow and white lights around the room. “okay, time for waxing” unexpectedly ricky slaps yn’s ass making him gasp in surprise, “what?” he says looking around. “you asked for it, ricky pulls out the card matthew gave yn before, a massage and a depilation you know where” ricky hides the card on his pant’s pocket, “the wax is ready man, so sit on all fours or whatever position your comfortable, what matters is that your ass is wide open for me to do a good job”. ‘why’s he smiling like that? yn thought, ‘he seems like he enjoys this type of work’. yn obeys but he just sits with his legs on each side of his body, near the mattress edge, his ass wide open and hole visible for ricky who makes a wow with his mouth and bit his lower lip.

he starts spreading the wax with a device that leaves a thin film of it on yn’s ass, ricky just needs to peel it and ta-dah the hair is gone. he continues repeating the process all over yn’s ass until it’s completely smooth, “something special for tonight?” ricky asks, sensing the reason for the waxing. but yn was too embarrassed to answer, after all he has his ass in front of an unknown’s face. “tough crowd huh” ricky murmurs, continuing doing his job. yn hears when ricky puts the device on a table near them and think he can go already but ricky’s hand grips his left ass cheek hard stopping him from stepping outside the massage bed, “i’m not done with you mr., it’s the turn of your hole to be waxed” despite his smile yn could sense ricky was getting annoyed by his actions. ‘don’t worry yn this is just the last part’ he says in his mind and as if ricky had read his thoughts he mutters an ‘it’s not the last part’.

yn’s hole clenches on air while being smeared on the wax, this time ricky was using his hands, with gloves of course, he then peels the film of wax in little chunks until it’s gone completely, once again repeating the process until all is clean and smooth. at this point yn has given up, he was now face down ass up, his hole clenching right in front of ricky’s face, “look who’s being cute all of a sudden” ricky pours some cream on his hand and smears it on yn’s ass, he starts to pretend as if the hole was yn’s face, talking to it. sometimes his hand slips right above the pulsating hole disguised as accidental touches, “sorry” he mutters everytime it happens. yn was getting aroused, the same as ricky, who’s bulge started to appear on his silky pants. yn’s dick gets hard, the mere thought of someone as hot as ricky doing those types of things to his hole clouds his mind. ricky blows air from his mouth directly to yn’s hole, it clenches on it. as if he was being hypnotized ricky slowly moves his face closer against the other, whispering sweet nothings to it, his mouth opens, it was watering, eager to taste that ring of muscles. finally his wet tongue mets with it, he licks a strip from his balls to his hole, “fuck” he couldn’t hold it anymore, latching his lips on the needy hole, draggin’ his tongue around and inside it, ravaging it completely. “mr. rickyyy” yn tried to push his head away from him but to no avail, ricky just replied with a moan indicating that he wasn’t planning to stop. the masseur’s hand grabs yn’s dick and closes around it, moving it up and down, “look at you, already dripping” ricky mentions when he touches yn’s wet tip, precum dripping of it, he use it to slick the shaft and make it more pleasurable for yn.

yn leaned on his back and holded his legs, knees near his chest so ricky could keep doing wonders with his tongue, “why are y-you doing this?” yn asked, curiosity getting the best out of him but ricky responded with a simple “it’s my job, i have to make sure i did it well. not a single hair so i think i did a good one” he winked and resumed his rimjob.

minutes passed and ricky has still his face buried on yn’s ass but this time he was jerking off too, pulling his pants and underwear down enough to pull his dick out. “just put it in already, please” yn begged, he wanted to feel something bigger and thicker, ricky’s tongue was not enough for him. “what about your date from later at night?. thought you were doing this for them?”, ricky rubs the puckered hole with two fingers then introduces them and moves them in a scissors motion to open it more, “i don’t care just do it” tears threatening to spill, overwhelming feelings taking over him. “say less”.

ricky’s thick cock pummels its way, its big head opening his walls so deliciously that yn moaned loudly, asking for more, the veins around the cock scrapping yn’s walls so damn good. “ufff tonight’s situation gonna eat good” ricky jokes, positioning his hands on yn’s shoulders to pound harder. the bed moved in a rhythmic pace, squeaking caused by every thrust. “you fuck so good” yn praises, driving ricky even wilder. he discards hispants completely, his bottom half completely naked. he lies down on the bed too and position yn on his side, slapping his shaft on the other’s back entrance, “ready?” he asks, “yeah” yn responds quickly. “i’m not gonna hold back” ricky adds, “i don’t give a fuck”.

his balls slapped against the other while still shoving his dick, “i’m not gonna stop until your ass remembers the shape of my dick and would only accept mine, no one else's. sorry for your situationship”. ricky bites yn’s ear and then lick the back of his neck. yn manages to be on top this time to ride his masseur, with his hands on each side of his hips, guiding him, “you like it mr. ricky?” he sits hard “am i your best client yet” yn says pouting, with doe like eyes that immediately rolled back when ricky hit on his sweet spot, his tip scraping around it, the pleasure expanding throughout his whole body. ricky likes how feisty yn tried to be, “yes mr. ln you’re the best cockwhore i’ve ever had”. yn stops the riding session, he just sits with ricky’s dick still inside, he starts to move his hips and hump on him with all the strength left on him, this caused his hole and therefore insides to contract so tight that ricky came instantly. yn’s inside being flooded by ricky’s sticky spooge, the liquid went down ricky’s shaft and balls, dripping on the mattress, ricky gasped for air, still holding yn’s hips while riding his high, “fuck this was indeed the best fuck. i’ve never had someone to make me cum so easy” ricky praises, he stands up to clean himself and then yn.

“thank you for today, hope you enjoyed it fully” ricky thanked yn while waving goodbye, “hope i can have you here some time soon”, yn turns around and smirks at him. trust, this is not gonna be yn’s last visit to the spa, the happy ending spa.

[ducktoo]

Choose

Kim Minju x Reader

Note: first 2025 fic legggo! Miss seeing Minju around TT

Kim Minju

The name was practically a brand on its own. She wasn’t just a household name—she was the household name.

Not just in South Korea, but globally—a star whose name was synonymous with elegance, talent, and quiet determination. From her humble beginnings as an idol in a popular girl group to her meteoric rise as an actress, she’d built a career others could only dream of.

Critics raved about her ability to convey raw emotion in dramas that consistently topped ratings, and audiences adored her versatility on the big screen. Whether she was playing a fiery prosecutor in a courtroom thriller or a broken-hearted artist in an indie romance, Minju brought every character to life with a grace that felt effortless.

But behind the glitz and glamour, the award shows and flashing cameras, was a woman who hated doing the dishes and could never fold her laundry properly.

That’s where you came in.

The first time you met Minju, she wasn’t the polished actress everyone else saw. She was a frazzled young woman who had just moved into her first apartment after leaving her group, staring hopelessly at a mountain of cardboard boxes. You had been the part-timer hired by her agency to help her unpack and organize things for a day.

“Hi…I’m Minju,” she’d said with an awkward smile, wearing sweatpants and a messy bun. “I’m really bad at this sort of thing, so... please don’t judge me.”

You’d laughed, her candidness catching you off guard. “Pfff… no judgement…maybe. Just tell me where you want everything.”

One day turned into a week, then a month. By the time she’d landed her breakout role, you’d somehow become a permanent fixture in her life. Officially, you were her house helper—a job that involved cooking, cleaning, and occasionally wrangling her into her hectic schedules. Unofficially, you were her confidant, her sounding board, and her backup alarm clock when she hit snooze too many times.

It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was steady, and it let you witness a side of Minju no one else saw. The Minju who ate ramen straight out of the pot at 3 a.m., who cried over cheesy romance movies, and who practiced her lines in front of the bathroom mirror with more passion than she ever showed on set.

Although…you weren’t sure when your job title had expanded to include helping her choose a husband.

“Y/n, do you think this looks good on me?”

Her voice drifts from the walk-in closet, soft yet commanding, the kind of tone that doesn’t allow for a half-hearted response. You glance up from the laundry pile you’ve been folding for the past twenty minutes, catching sight of Minju stepping into the room in a pale blue dress.

It fits her perfectly, accentuating her delicate frame without being overly flashy. If anything, the dress looks like it was made for her. But you’ve learned to temper your words around her. Minju doesn’t need flattery—she needs honesty.

“It looks…good,” you say simply, folding another shirt with mechanical precision.

She frowns, turning back to the mirror. “Just good?”

You pause, trying not to sigh. “Fine…It looks great. You could wear a potato sack and still outshine half the world.”

Minju’s lips curve into a small smile, but it fades quickly as she smooths the fabric over her hips. “It’s not about outshining anyone, Y/n. I need to look like someone who’s ready to settle down. Someone... wife-like.”

"Pff…his clothes won't be folded anytime soon."

"Yaaaaaa" Minju whined, but the tone remains light.

Despite the teasing, the word wife hangs in the air between you, heavy and unspoken. You focus on the shirt in your hands, folding it once, then twice, before placing it neatly on the pile.

“I think you’re overthinking it,” you say, your voice steady despite the subtle tension building in your chest. “If a guy can’t see you are wife material, that’s on him, not your dress.”

Her head turns sharply, eyes narrowing. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being paraded around like a prize at an auction.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” you reply, finally meeting her gaze.

“Is it?” she shoots back, her hands planted firmly on her hips now. “I’ve got a dinner tomorrow with some CEO my manager thinks is perfect for me. Perfect age, perfect background, perfect everything. But do you know what’s not perfect?”

“Your minju ga tto moments?” you suggest, unable to resist a smirk.

“You,” she huffs, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it effortlessly, placing it on top of the laundry pile as if it belongs there.

“You’re the worst house helper ever” she mutters, but there’s no venom in her tone.

“I’m your only house helper,” you correct, standing and stretching your arms over your head. “And I’d argue I’m doing a pretty decent job.”

“Debatable,” she mumbles, turning back to the mirror. She’s quiet for a moment, her reflection deep in thought. Then, as if deciding something monumental, she spins back around.

“You’re coming with me tomorrow.”

You blink. “…What the f*ck?”

“To the dinner. You’re coming with me,” she repeats, crossing her arms like it’s already decided.

“Minju, I think you’re confusing me with your manager—”

“No, I’m not.” Her voice softens, but her eyes stay locked on yours. “I need someone there who’ll actually tell me what they think. Someone who’s not afraid to call out nonsense when they see it.”

“Right. And…you’re asking me?”

“Exactly.”

“I��m not exactly the type to blend in with high society,” you point out, gesturing to your worn-out hoodie and jeans. “They’ll take one look at me and think you brought your assistant as a pity date.”

“First of all, you don’t look that bad,” she says, her lips twitching in amusement. “And second, I don’t care what they think. You’ll just sit there, eat your food, and occasionally tell me if the guy is worth my time.”

You open your mouth to protest again, but the determination in her eyes stops you. She’s already made up her mind.

“Fine,” you relent, leaning back against the couch. “But I'm sitting nearby, not at your table."

"Nope." Minju demanded. Her lips loudly popped the 'p'. "You're sitting with me, hon."

You could only sighed at her antics. "…don’t blame me if I scare him off.”

Her smile returns, small but genuine. “That’s exactly why I’m bringing you.”

-

The restaurant feels like a different universe, the kind of place where the chandeliers probably cost more than your yearly rent. As you step inside, you’re painfully aware of how out of place you look, despite Minju’s efforts to make you “presentable.”

The tailored suit she picked out for you fits fine, but the collar feels like it’s choking you, and the tie might as well be a noose. You tug at it instinctively, only to have Minju swat your hand away.

“Stop fidgeting,” she whispers, her voice low but firm.

“Ya, it feels like I’m wearing a straightjacket,” you mutter under your breath, glancing around at the other patrons. Everyone looks like they stepped out of a luxury magazine, and you feel like an impostor sneaking into their world.

Minju sighs, looping her arm through yours as she steers you toward the table. “You’re fine. Just... don’t embarrass me.”

“That’s a tall order,” you joke, earning a glare that makes you straighten up immediately.

As you approach the table, the man—Jae, or whatever his name was—stands to greet her. His suit is sharp, his smile even sharper, and he exudes the kind of confidence that comes from always being the most important person in the room.

Minju is poised as always, but you can tell she’s studying him with the precision of someone trained to spot subtleties. Her eyes flick to his tailored suit—dark, impeccably fitted, clearly custom-made. His watch glints under the low lighting, its sleek design screaming exclusivity. She notices how his shoes are polished to a mirror shine, a detail she quietly admires, though it’s more the habit of presentation than the man himself that earns her approval.

Her gaze lingers on his face for a moment longer. He’s conventionally handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline so chiseled it seems engineered. His skin is flawless, either naturally or through an aggressive skincare regimen, and his neatly styled hair has the kind of sheen that comes from salon-grade products.

But it’s his smile that makes her hesitate. It’s too practiced, too polished. The way his lips curve feels less like an expression of genuine emotion and more like a calculated performance. Minju can’t quite put her finger on it, but something about him feels... rehearsed.

“Minju,” he says, his voice smooth, “you’re even more stunning than I imagined.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Great start, mister.

Minju smiles politely. “Thank you. This is Y/n, my house helper and friend.”

Jae’s gaze flickers to you, and his smile tightens ever so slightly. “Ah, I see.”

You shake his hand, trying not to let his patronizing tone get under your skin. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” he replies, though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean it.

You sit down, carefully unfolding your napkin and placing it on your lap like Minju instructed. It’s a small gesture, but it feels absurdly formal. The waiter arrives almost immediately to take your drink orders, and Jae doesn’t even glance at the menu before ordering an expensive bottle of wine.

“Water’s fine for me,” you say, earning a subtle nudge from Minju under the table.

-

As the evening progresses, you can’t help but feel like a fish out of water. The silverware is arranged in a way that makes no sense to you, and you’re pretty sure you’ve been holding your fork wrong the entire time.

Jae, on the other hand, seems completely at ease, dominating the conversation with tales of his business ventures and luxury vacations.

“And of course,” Jae says, swirling his wine glass like he’s performing for an invisible audience, “I make it a point to give back. Philanthropy is very important to me.”

“That’s wonderful,” Minju says, her voice even.

You nod along, keeping your expression neutral even though every word out of his mouth makes you want to groan.

“So, Y/n,” Jae says suddenly, turning his attention to you for the first time all night. “What do you do besides housekeeping?”

“I’m Minju’s househelper…just housekeeper yeah.” you reply, keeping your tone polite.

He nods slowly, his smile almost condescending. “That’s... noble. It must be fulfilling to work for someone like her.”

“It is,” you say simply, ignoring the way his words make your stomach twist. "She's a good person to work for…"

Minju shifts uncomfortably, clearly picking up on the tension. “Y/n isn’t just my househelper,” she says, her tone sharp. “They’ve been with me for years. I trust them more than anyone.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you glance at her, surprised. There’s a sincerity in her voice that makes your chest tighten.

Jae, however, seems unfazed. “Of course,” he says smoothly. “Loyalty is such a rare quality these days.”

As he speaks, his voice is smooth, his words carefully measured to sound charming without crossing into arrogance. She notices how he holds her gaze just long enough to seem interested but shifts his focus to his wine glass in a way that feels almost dismissive. It’s subtle, but Minju catches it.

She always catches the subtleties.

Still, she plays along. She smiles when he compliments her, nods when he  launches into a monologue about his career—something to do with technology and blockchain, and asks polite questions to keep the conversation flowing. But every now and then, her gaze drifts to you. You’re sitting stiffly, your hands clasped in your lap, your eyes darting between the silverware and your plate like you’re trying to decode a secret message.

“And of course, we’re always looking for ways to innovate,” Jae says, swirling his wine like he’s in a movie. “The future is all about disruption.”

“Disruption?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds... interesting.”

Jae chuckles, a sound that grates on your nerves. “Yes, yes! It’s about breaking the norms, you know? Creating new opportunities.”

“Right,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Like disrupting this conversation with a sales pitch?”

Minju chokes on her sip of wine, quickly covering her mouth with a napkin. Jae’s smile falters for a moment before he recovers.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a sales pitch,” he says, forcing a laugh. “I’m just passionate about what I do.”

“I can see that,” you reply, your tone flat.

Minju shoots you a warning look, but there’s a flicker of amusement in her eyes. You force a smile, resisting the urge to continue your sarcastic run.

For Minju’s sake, you bite your tongue and focus on the plate in front of you.

-

The meal itself is exquisite, but you’re too preoccupied to enjoy it. Every detail of the restaurant—from the pristine tablecloths to the hushed murmurs of other diners—feels like a reminder that you don’t belong here. But every time you catch Minju glancing at you, her expression soft with gratitude, it feels worth it.

She’s trying to hide her discomfort with Jae when she turned her attention back to him, but you can see it in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. And that’s enough to keep you on your best behaviour, no matter how much you want to call him out on his smugness.

When Jae leans in to comment on the wine selection, Minju notes the way his cologne—a sophisticated, woody scent—lingers in the air. It’s pleasant, but it doesn’t linger with her the way simpler, more familiar things do. Like the faint scent of laundry detergent you carry when you come in from running errands, or the sharp tang of cleaning supplies after you’ve wiped down the counters.

She glances at him again, taking in the way he gestures with his hands—broad, sweeping movements that seem designed to command attention. He’s polished, no doubt about that. But Minju’s gut tells her that beneath the polish, there’s something... hollow.

By the time dessert arrives, you’ve somehow managed to keep your composure. Minju excuses herself to the restroom, leaving you alone with Jae.

“So,” he says, swirling the last of his wine, “you must see a lot, working for Minju. I imagine it’s quite the experience.”

“It is,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You’re lucky, you know. Not many people get to be so close to someone like her.”

Your grip on your fork tightens, but you force a smile. “You’re right. I am lucky.”

Minju returns moments later, her presence immediately easing the tension. She glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Perfect,” you say, standing to help her with her chair. “Just perfect.”

-

As the evening progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that Jae is more interested in talking about himself than getting to know Minju. He interrupts her stories to share his own, checks his phone under the table, and even orders dessert without asking if she wanted any.

“Minju,” he says at one point, leaning forward with what you’re sure he thinks is a charming smile, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person than you are on screen.”

“Thank you,” she replies, her smile tight.

“And I’m sure someone like you must have a very busy schedule,” he continues. “But if we were together, I’d make sure you had time to relax. Maybe even a vacation. The private villa I mentioned would be perf-”

“Excuse me, but what’s your favourite film of hers?” you interrupt, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Jae blinks, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been talking about how amazing Minju is,” you say, folding your arms on the table, “so I’m curious. What’s your favourite film of hers?”

Minju turns to you, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Well, uh...” Jae stammers, clearly scrambling. “There are so many great ones, it’s hard to choose.”

“Come on, Just pick one,” you press, leaning in slightly.

He clears his throat, his confidence wavering. “I think the one where she plays that, uh, spy? You know, the action movie.”

Minju tilts her head. “I’ve…never played a spy.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Oh, right,” Jae says quickly, laughing nervously. “I must’ve been thinking of someone else.”

You sit back, biting back a laugh. “Right, understandable. That's…a good suggestion for her next role.”

Minju also bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

-

By the time you leave the restaurant, Jae’s enthusiasm has dwindled significantly. He bids Minju a somewhat awkward goodbye, promising to call, though you suspect she won’t answer.

Back at the house, Minju lets out a heavy sigh, kicking off her heels and tossing them unceremoniously by the door. “Well, that was a disaster,” she groans, plopping onto the couch with an exaggerated huff.

“You’re welcome,” you reply dryly, loosening the tie she forced you into. The thing’s been choking you all evening, but at least the dinner’s over. "Far out, this is choking me."

She shoots you a glare, though it lacks any real bite. “You didn’t have to roast the guy alive.”

“What? I was just asking innocent questions,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you loosen another button on your shirt. “If he can’t even name one of your works, he’s not worth your time.”

Minju groans again, pulling a throw pillow into her lap. “Maybe I’m just not meant to find someone. This is the fifth disaster in a row.”

The vulnerability in her voice makes your chest ache. You look over at her, noticing the way her shoulders slump and how she’s hugging the pillow like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Aish, you’ll find someone,” you say quietly, trying to sound reassuring but feeling like your words are hollow. “It’s not like you’re in a rush, right?”

She turns to you, her expression unreadable. “What if I’ve already found them?”

You blink. “What? Who? I kept track and you crossed all of them.”

“Well what if…the person I’ve been looking for has been here all along?” she says, her voice soft but steady, her gaze locked onto yours.

"Minju," you repeat, but it comes out like a plea. "The heck you're saying?"

She sits up, crossing her legs beneath her, and shifts closer to you. The pillow falls forgotten onto the floor as she leans in, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Why do you think I’ve been dragging you to these dinners?" she asks softly.

"Uh…" You blink again, trying to piece together her meaning. "…Because you wanted my opinion on these guys?"

She shakes her head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at her lips. "No, stupid. Because I wanted you to tell me they weren’t good enough for me. I wanted you to realize that no one else could ever measure up to you."

Your brain screeches to a halt. You can feel your face heating up, the familiar panic rising in your chest. “Uh... sure, yeah,” you stammer, scratching the back of your neck. “I-I mean, you’ve got me and all, but I don’t think I’d make a great husband. I can’t even fold fitted sheets properly.”

“Y/n, I’m serious.”

“Right, serious.” You laugh nervously, trying to deflect. “Well, you know what they say, the best relationships start with someone who knows how to fix your coffee machine when it breaks—”

“Jung Y/n.”

Her voice is firm this time, and it stops your rambling dead in its tracks. She shifts closer, her hand reaching out to rest on top of yours. The warmth of her touch sends a jolt through you, and you freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Kim Minju,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you clear your throat. “You’re tired. It’s been a long day. Maybe sleep on this whole ‘husband-hunting’ thing, and tomorrow you’ll realize it was just—”

“It’s not ‘just.’” Her grip tightens, her eyes glistening with something you can’t quite name. “You’ve always been here for me. You know me better than anyone else, and you make me feel... safe. Like I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than myself.”

You swallow hard, feeling like your heart is about to beat out of your chest. “Minju, I... Look, you deserve someone who can give you the world. I’m just your househelper. The person who unclogs your sink when it’s backed up with hair.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You’re more than that, and you know it.”

“Do I?” you blurt out, your voice louder than intended. “Because honestly, I’ve been trying to keep my distance for ages. You’re—you’re Kim Minju. Successful, gorgeous, amazing Minju. And me? I’m just—”

“Mine,” she interrupts, her voice barely a whisper.

That one word makes your entire argument crumble. You sit there, stunned, as she inches closer, her eyes searching yours.

"…Fair move, damn it." You muttered, ignoring the rapid beating of your hearts and the continuous butterfly in your stomach.

“So…are you really going to make me spell it out?” she teases, though her voice is laced with emotion.

You let out a nervous laugh, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “Well, I do like it when people are straightforward, so maybe a—”

Her lips meet yours before you can finish your sentence. It’s soft, tentative, and completely disarming. Your mind goes blank, every sarcastic comeback dying on your tongue.

When she pulls away, her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes are steady. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I—uh—” You blink rapidly, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Yeah, no big deal. Happens all the time. People confess their undying love to their house helpers every day.”

Minju giggles, leaning her forehead against yours. “You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, but you’re still here,” you mutter, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Always,” she whispers.

Her fingers lace with yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope. Because the real one wasn’t someone Minju needed to find—it was someone who had always been beside her, waiting.

And now, finally, she’s chosen you.

[creamecafe]

Love you the same and to the moon and back | Hyun Ju

Summary: After Hyun Ju came out as woman, it seemed like hope was lost as she lost everything. The military, her family and her friends. When dating you, she’s afraid she’ll lose you too. Or will she?

Pairing: Hyun Ju x GF!Reader

Warnings: angst, fear of coming out, fluff

Word Count:

Author's Note: This was requested by countrybarbiegalss from my book titled “Squid Game Imagines” on Wattpad. If you’d like, please check it out I’d really appreciate it. Don’t forget to vote, comment on what you think and share!

Feedback is always appreciated!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Hyun Ju could have not expected her life to take a turn like this. Discovering she’s transgender was a question she was able to solve. But the problem was what it came with after.

Shortly not long after she came out, she was kicked out of the military, struggled to find a job for at least almost two months. A lot of her family members cut her off and she lost friends she knew for years.

It seemed like everything was lost, until she met you. You were in the light in her eyes she needed. She met you while she was running late for work and you were jogging and accidentally bumped into her.

She remembers it all well the moment she met you, what she and you were wearing. You were so beautiful and hope was found again.

Hyun Ju hoped to see you again when she came to work and she did. Days turned into weeks and eventually a month. She really wanted to ask you out but was terrified of the relationship not lasting long as she was hiding herself, her true identity.

But something told her to ask you out. So the morning that she got ready for work, she told herself, she’s going to ask you out when yiu see her. As usual, she saw yiu again. She put a hand up as if she was going to raise a hand but it was to capture your attention.

You stopped running, took out your phone to pause your music and took out a earbud from one of your ears.

“Hey, how are you?” Hyun Ju asked

“Good and you?” You replied breathing heavily from the running.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes, what it is”

Hyun Ju took a pause and took a deep breath

“We’re always seeing each other when I’m going to work and you’re running. I just think you’re really pretty and I wanted to know if you would like to maybe get a coffee together or go out sometime?”

After what Hyun Ju said to you, you had to think of what she was saying to you. You also found him (because at the time you didn’t know that she identified as a she even in that moment)

Hyun Ju took your silence as a possible rejection. It wasn’t until you replied

“Sure, I would love to” You nodded

“Really?” Making sure of what Hyun Ju was hearing right now.

“Yeah why not?”

Hyun Ju couldn’t believe it. Was her life finally turning around for the better? Was this a sign?

“What time and day works for you?” You asked

“I get out at work around 6:30. 6, if my boss is merciful.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Sounds great”

Hyun Ju nodded and smiled to herself. This was really happening. She asked out a girl.

“See you around then” You said about to go back to your daily running

“See you” Hyun Ju exclaimed as she was going to head to her work. She realized one thing. She didn’t know your name and you didn’t know hers

“Wait!” She turned around to face you hoping you didn’t run off already. Luckily, you just about to put your second earbud in when she called out. You turned around.

“I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Y/N.” You smiled and Hyun Ju didn’t forget that

“Hyun Ju” She said

“That’s a pretty name. I hope you don’t leave me hanging tomorrow Hyun Ju.”

“I won’t.” She shook her head and laughed.

You chuckled too as you ran off, looked back and waved to him her. She waved back to you as she looked at the time and realized she’s running late. “Crap!” She ran off to her work.

A few hours passed and she was done with her job. She took the subway home and was tired. Your smile wouldn’t leave her mind. When she got back to her apartment, she prepared something to eat, watched TV and went to sleep. A few more hours and she’ll be going out with you, she thought to herself.

The next morning and she was more than ready to get out of bed to see your face again. Everything she was doing in her daily routine was fast paced as she was so excited. She always double checking herself, to see if her hair was fine in every reflection she could see. While she was fixing her hair while walking looking in a shop glass, she bumped into someone. She looked at who she bumped into, it was you again. Time felt like it stopped. She was going to apologize but you did first.

“We, well I gotta stop bumping into you. I gotta be more careful when running.” Yiu chuckled putting a hand to your mouth

“It’s alright,” Hyun Ju nodded smiling.

“Tonight’s still on?” You asked playfully

“What? Oh yes, it is.”

“Great!”

“Here,” Hyun Ju took a notebook and pen out of her bag and wrote down her number to give to you. “You can text or call me if anything comes up”

You took the paper and looked at what she wrote.

"Ok will do. I'll let you get back to you going to work."

"And I'll let you get back to running."

Both of you nodded and parted ways. A few hours have passed and Hyun Ju finished her shift. She rushed home to get ready for her first date with you.

It was going to be at a small restaurant, nothing fancy. When she saw you at and what you wore, it felt like her heart was going to fall out her chest.

The date has gone well and you started seeing each other after work more often. Both of you not long after started dating each other.

This was the happiest Hyun Ju been in a long time. Being with someone, finding peace and security. But while dating you, still being happy, there was something eating at her.

Her wanting to come out to you, telling you she's transgender. Over the course, you have been dating her, you notice his her hair would get longer and would paint her nails.

You seen other guys done the same as it was a trend mostly among Gen Z, so you thought nothing of it.

Every opportunity Hyun Ju had to tell you, she would shut it down quickly as she was afraid of losing you. She hated lying to you. It wasn't right, but she was afraid of your reaction of her telling you.

She believed that you would cry and yell at her, never wanting to see her face again. Tonight after work was the night she was going to tell you.

When she came home to your shared apartment, you came running to you excited to see you, her boyfriend girlfriend again.

"Hey babe, how are you doing? How was work" You said smiling

"Good thank you. Work was good. How are you?"

"I'm good thanks, just reading a book. I made dinner for both of us. I waited for you to eat togther."

Your kindness. That was the thing Hyun Ju was going to miss when she tells you the truth tonight.

"I need to tell you something, Y/N."

"Yes, what is it?" You asked without looking up from your book.

"I don't know how to say this. And when I do, you might not wanna be with me anymore."

You put your book down at what she meant by this.

"What do you mean?

"I have discovered something about myself. And I'm trans. Transgender."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes I am. I won't be known as your boyfriend anymore. I probably won't even be yours anymore after I have said this."

Putting your book down, you got up and went up to him her.

"Hyun Ju-"

"Listen," Hyun Ju's voice starts breaking up as she looks down. "If you want to break up with me, that's fine. But this is who I am."

"I loved you as the man you weren't meant to be. And who doesn't say I won't love you as the woman you're going to be?"

"You're still going to be with me? People will look at us and I don't wanna damage your reputation."

"So what? Screw those who are going to judge, that's not make me change my mind or make me love you any less."

Hyun Ju tried to hold it in but she was crying. You held her close and sat down on the couch. Her sobs broke your heart. You probably didn't realize how hard this must have been on her, keeping this a secret from you.

"Do you want to go to the bed and just lay down?" You asked softly

"Yes, yes" She took her hands from her face and nodded.

You helped Hyun Ju up and went to your shared room. The room was dark as you turned on a lightly dimmed lamp.

You sat down on the bed first and waited for Hyun Ju to come. She hesitated a bit, but eventually sat down next to you. She wrapped her arms around you. Both of you went further into the bed as you both laid down.

Her broad arms were firm but soft on you as she laid her head on your chest. Trying to match her breathing to your heartbeat. You still felt her tears fall on your tank top and some on your arm.

"It's ok, it's ok. I got you" You whispered kissing her forehead.

Hyun Ju was shaking under you. This wasn't the reaction she wasn't expecting. She was sure you were going to break up with her. This all had to be a dream, like too good to be true.

But she felt safe here. Like her past and everything else didn't exist. It didn't matter.

"I don't deserve you" Hyun Ju said so faintly as shell break.

"Don't say that. Whoever made you feel like you weren't deserving of love just because of the way you identify, don't deserve you. Not the other way around."

After what you said, Hyun Ju just wanted to continue laying and not say another word. You kept kissing. Her forehead, her neck, slow and soft with your lips.

"I love you Hyun Ju. I'll always love you the same and to the moon and back."

Hyun Ju now knows it was indeed a sign you were the one for her. She gets up a bit to face and kiss you on the lips sweetly and gently.

A tear dropped down and you tasted her salty drops. You pulled back and just smiled.

"I love you too Y/N."

"We can take a nap and eat dinner later. Or we don't have to, tomorrow's the weekend. We can stay in, lay like this all you want."

Throughout the night, you guys talked nonsense until you both fell asleep holding each other. This was all Hyun Ju wanted and needed.

Safe and sound in your arms. She was ready to become a new person. But in your eyes, she was the still same.

She was still yours, and you were hers.

Taglist:

@itsnznn, @soultyun, @hobinistaworld, @happyfrog7681, @Tiuhiatus, @star2008, @magicalconnoisseurcoffee, @fyraevya, @ninahorikoshifr, @ouwioworuuu, @cloudysxkura, @iidontwannadiealone, @idontreallyexistyet, @gigglingkickingmyfeet, @hollxe1, @uuhhtt, @bludzk1llzyuzu, @maymustdie, @bahoglobot, @bread-crum206, @lovesickxmina, @galactict3a, @livelaughlovekuni, @petrrraaa, @sackgirl666, @grimminiecricket

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[demonic0angel]

Just saw your phantom family in uniform art (looks as majestic as usual) can we have some wraith x nightwing?? Just them flirting and kicking ass together <33

(Hell yeah >:D Glad you enjoy it!)

Wraith hummed cheerfully as he sat on the edge of the roof overlooking the alley where Nightwing was pummeling some gang members. He seemed to be in a bad mood with how curt his one-liners were, but he was still ridiculously flamboyant as he flipped and somersaulted to beat people up.

Yes, it would be a good day today.

When he noticed Wraith, he paused before calling out in a snappy tone, “Are you going to sit there all night? Or come down and give me a hand?”

Wraith smirked. Their relationship used to be frosty, with Wraith uncharacteristically reaching out over and over to poke at Nightwing’s buttons, but now it seemed amicable. Sometimes, Nightwing stared at him with an unreadable look that Wraith didn’t know how to react to, but over all, he had fun when he was around him.

“Ohh? Well, what are you going to give me in exchange, little hero? My help isn’t cheap.”

That indecipherable look was back on Nightwing’s face before he said, “I’ll buy you dinner at the new restaurant on XXX street.”

“Hmm… deal.” Wraith did not ask for much. If anyone else asked for his help, he would’ve refused or probably extorted every single penny in their bank accounts before even considering the ask, but Nightwing was not just anybody and he was so pleasant to be around that even when he used to try to drive him away in the beginning, he had still stayed.

Wraith dropped down and blasted an opponent with a weak ray to slam them against the wall. Realizing that Nightwing had a helper, the gang members burst into a run and escaped.

Nightwing watched them as he caught his breath and Wraith turned to look at him. “So? Shall we follow them?”

“Yeah. You can sense them right? And lead us to them?”

Wraith nodded with a sharp smile and Nightwing grinned at him. It made him feel pleasant. In this world full of disgusting humans, only Nightwing and his sisters were people who he liked. (The rating on his brother/younger self was still pending.)

They waited for a few moments, tying up the knocked down criminals for the police to find before Nightwing looked at Wraith with an easy smile. “Ready to sniff ‘em out?”

“Hmph. This’ll be easy. You could’ve brought out a nose-blind cat and they’d still be able to find them in an instant,” Wraith said with a sigh, thinking of the smell of the criminals.

Nightwing laughed though, so all was well.

Wraith then went off to find the escapees. The scent of their souls were uninteresting, unappealing, and even disgusting in their blandness. Their general smell was just nasty. Wraith, however, disliked disappointing Nightwing and so he persisted and led them right to the criminal’s hideout.

“No killing,” Nightwing said absentmindedly, as he took out his escrima sticks. They crackled with energy, lighting up the blue that lined Nightwing’s suit.

Wraith huffed. “Fine. You’re boring.”

“Ohh? If I’m so boring, then let’s make a bet. If I defeat more people than you, then you’ll pay for dessert, alright?” Nightwing smirked. “And I get to order double.”

Wraith perked up with the incentive. “You can’t beat me,” he said, but Nightwing was rarely so playful with him. He seemed to be in a good mood now. “I’ll win.”

“We’ll see,” Nightwing said pleasantly, and then they both kicked down the doors, startling the gang members.

“Crap! It’s Nightwing and Wraith!”

Wraith frowned for a moment, wondering why they seemed to fit together too well, but Nightwing threw himself into the fray and Wraith was quick to follow with a feral grin.

Fighting side by side with Nightwing was an amazing experience. Wraith loved it. It felt better than being alone with only Fright Knight by his side, killing whoever he wanted and terrorizing the masses just because he could. With Nightwing, it was easier to remember how he used to be a hero.

Wraith’s eyes caught the bright blue that flashed out of the corner of his vision, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but think that his sisters would’ve been proud of him for finding such a kind, gentle, and powerful soul.

Yes, it would be another good night with Nightwing.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: 😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear your father in the garage. It’s a comfort knowing he isn’t in the house. You’ve learned to navigate so that you rarely run into him. The fact of your existence only ever seems to irk him. 

That day, there’s a low rumble between the clank and clunk of his tools. You’re not sure it’s the engine or something else. The last time you glimpsed inside the garage, the engine wasn’t even in that old Bronco he’s worked on for seven years. 

You rub smooth the lines in your forehead and give a long blink. You’ve been squinting at the diamond art for much too long. You sit up and roll your shoulders. You need a break. 

As you emerge from your room, you feel guilty. A break from what? Doing nothing. That’s what your dad always says. Then he laughs and finds something to throw at you. 

You take his lunch box from the floor by the shoe mat and bring it to the kitchen. You open it up and clean out all the containers. Those things you do, as small as they are, like cleaning and making his meals, aren’t enough. He doesn’t fail to remind you of that. 

You dump the uneaten crust from his ham and cheese sandwich as the door from the garage clatters open and lets in the smell of oil and dirt. You turn your attention to the sink as you put the container with the rest. It’s only as you flip the faucet on that you realise the steps aren’t your dad’s. 

“Scuse me,” Sy says. “Don’t mean to bother, but, uh, had a bit of an accident.” 

You face him as he holds out the front of his tee shirt. You gulp. There’s a smear of shiny oil across it, ready to drip onto the floor. Your eyes round. 

“I can clean it in the bathroom, I see you’re busy.” 

He goes to turn away and you put your hands up. The oil won’t come out if he just wipes it into the shirt. You would know since you deal with your dad’s stained jeans.  

He nears as you sidle down to grab the baking soda from the cupboard. He looms, his shadow moving in your peripheral, and you shift the faucet to off. You grab a paper towel and turn to him. You hesitate to reach for him, that seems too much but before you can make a move, he peels his shirt off. 

You flutter your lashes and point to the counter. He lays the shirt out and you open the box of baking soda. He stands back and watches. Heat trickles down your back as you focus on the task. You sprinkle the powder over his shirt. 

You let it soak up as much as it can then blot daintily. 

“You’re clever,” he muses. “Helpful.” 

You shrug. 

“How lucky’s that daddy of yours, huh? You out here cleaning all his mess. You make his lunch?” He peeks over at the sink and you follow his gaze. You nod. “Hm, think he’d be nicer then, wouldn’t ya? Well, I know him, he ain’t a nice fella.” 

You return your attention to his shirt. If your daddy isn’t so nice, why does he come around? You wouldn’t ask even if you could. You can barely concentrate with him exposed like that. 

Your eyes dart over in a fleeting peek. His chest is hair and his stomach thick, his arms too. You’re always aware of how big he is but at that moment, he seems even larger. You look at his shirt. It’ll need more time to soak and wash. 

“Could wash it with the hose, don’t wanna ruin your machine,” he offers as if reading your mind. 

You frown and shake your head. You hold up your finger and flit away with his shirt. You put stain remover on it and dump it in the machine. You set the cycle then hesitate. What will he wear now? 

Your dad isn’t as big. He’s a pretty small guy. He might have something... 

You hurry into the closet of old things and search around. There’s one of those tees he got from a case of Labatts. They always pack the XLs and nothing else. It has some sports team logo on it. 

You go back to the kitchen and offer it to Sy. He crosses to you and accepts it with a smile, “thanks, sugar. That’s mighty nice.” His fingertips brush yours.  

He unfolds the shirt and shakes it out. He pulls it over his head and your eyes crawl down his torso unintentionally. You back up a step as he tugs down the hem, though it hangs short of his belt. Even that is too small for him. 

“You’re not scared of me, are ya?” He asks as he curls his shoulders as if to make himself smaller. 

You shake your head. Shy is all. You’re not eager to mingle with anyone. Nor they, you. 

“You know, I might have a word with your daddy. He shouldn’t be so nasty to ya. ‘Specially all the work you put in.” 

You shake your head frantically and clasp your hands. You know better than that. Even if he’s trying to be nice, it’s the worst thing he can do. 

“What’s wrong? Huh? Just wanna tell him what a good girl ya are,” he crosses his arms and seems to double in size. 

You pout and press your hands together. You cower and takes another step back. His expression turns dire. 

“Sorry, sugar, hope I didn’t upset ya there. I was only... only bein’ nice, ya know? Seems you’re not used to all that.” He drops his hands to his hips. “Fine then, I’ll just have to save them sweet words for you, huh?” 

You look down and chew your lip. You’re not used to the attention. Your dad’s other friends, if you can call them that, just ignore you or laugh at his jokes about you. You nod and turn, gesturing to the sink. You walk up to it, clinging to the excuse to get away. 

“Yeah, I know, you workin’ hard,” he praises. “I’ll be outta ya way now.” 

You bob your head and turn the tap on again. You work at scrubbing the containers, waiting and listening for him to go. When he does, you can breathe again. You’re not so sure why he’s being nice. Not like you can do much but stare. 

💘

When your dad’s at work, you’re as close to peace as you’ve ever been. There’s still that constant restlessness that follows you. The gnawing reality that time is passing you by. That you have no purpose. No direction. 

You envy others. That they have a reason. That they have everything you don’t. They have other people, ones that care, not those burdened with them; they have important work to do; they have fun things to celebrate; graduations, new jobs, marriages. They have voices and you remain unheard. 

You busy yourself with the tidying when he isn’t there. If you try to clean with him around, he only antagonizes you. There’s a roast out for dinner. It will last a few days. Most times, you lose your appetite. You spend all day craving and making the food then lose all desire the moment it’s before you. 

The small pleasures you once treasured fade with each day that starts and ends the same. You can’t feel too bad for yourself. Your dad doesn’t have to keep you. You’re an adult now. Maybe he’ll never say so, or even show it, but he must care, right? 

You finish mopping and start on chopping up the potatoes. You arrange them in the roasting pan around the slab of beef. Then carrots and celery. You save the onions for last because they make you cry. You’re saved from tears by the rumble of thunder on the horizon. 

Curiously, you set the knife down and go to the window. Would your dad be home early? Some days, they shut down the shop when business is slow. 

It’s not him but you recognise the grating on the truck’s nose. The large truck sends up dirt and gravel as it cuts across the worn roadway. Your confusion floods to panic and you rush out the front door.

Is your father hurt? Why else would Sy be here? 

You hover on the top step as he grinds to a stop and shuts the behemoth truck off. The driver’s door creaks as it opens and Sy jumps down. Instead of his usual camo cargo shorts and sweat-dampened tee, he wears a button-up with short sleeves and a pair of brown slacks. It even looks like he combed his beard. 

Your face twists in a grimace. What’s going on? Why is he here? 

He reaches back into the truck and brings out something behind his back. You can’t see it as he keeps his arm bent behind him and shuts the door. He grins and walks up to the house as you watch. 

“How’s it goin’?” He asks brightly. 

You blink. You look at his collar, the top button straining against his thick neck. You lower your gaze to your loose blue tee and barrel jeans. You’re dressed like a laundry line. Your clothes offer no shape, nothing. They just do the job. 

“I, uh, I wanted to surprise ya, and uh, I was thinkin’ ya know, this place deserves a bit of colour,” he chuckles then clears his throat, “and you deserve good things, so, uh, here.” 

He reveals the flowers from behind his back and you blanch. You stare at the dainty petals, white with violet edges. They are pretty. Too pretty for this place or for you. Besides, why would he do that? 

“You don’t like em? Should I have got roses?” He asks. 

You flinch. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. You come down the steps and cautiously reach for the paper cone. He hands it over and you stare at him. Then you smell them. You think that’s what you’re supposed to do. 

“Smell good?” He asks. 

You peer over the petals at him and nod. You’re not sure how to react. What do you do now? You can’t just leave him out in the yard. You raise your thumb and point it over your shoulder and tilt your head. 

“Sure, I’ll come in,” he accepts. 

He steps forward, a bit too close, and you hop backward up the step. You barely keep from tripping. You get onto the porch and spin around, scurrying to the door. You open the door and step to the side to hold it for him. 

He laughs again, “now, I’m a gentleman, sugar.” 

He grabs the door and gestures you through. You take his directive without pause. You hurry inside and he follows. As he stops to take off his shoes, you continue on into the kitchen. 

You search for an adequate holder for the flowers. You find an old canister and set them in it with some water. His presence lurks behind you. You put the bouquet on the table as he looks around. 

“You cookin’ a fine dinner, huh?” He says. “Like I tell your daddy, he’s a lucky man. Any man’d be lucky to have that waitin’.” 

You shrug. He shifts. 

“I don’t mean to take advantage of your kindness but I was gonna ask ya a favour.” 

You look at him blankly. He reaches in his pocket. He pulls a length of silk. A tie. 

“Couldn’t figure this out,” he explains. “Thought maybe you might...” 

You stare at the tie. You remember tying your daddy’s for your grandma’s funeral. That was a long time ago but you think you could remember. 

You swallow down your nerves and approach him. You take the tie and he glances around. He pushes a chair out and sits. He leans his head back. 

“Just wanna make sure I look good for ya,” he says. 

You flip up his collar and bring the silk around his neck. As you do, your thumb brushes his coarse beard. He hums. 

“Don’t worry bout pullin’ my hair,” he scoffs. “Won’t bother me none.” 

You line up his tie, knuckles brushing his shirt as you go through the steps in your hand. You pull the tie snug and fix hit collar. You step back and he sets his head straight. You hug yourself and give him a questioning look. 

“Ya like your surprise?” He asks. 

You look at the flower then nod. 

“And what about the other?” 

You face him again and your brows draw together. 

“Me,” he snorts. 

You purse your lips and shrug. What does he mean? 

“We’ll wait for your daddy, huh? Then I’ll ask his blessing.” He rests his elbow on the table, “and you’ll have dinner all ready, won’t ya?” 

[red-writes]

unknown

yandere! izuku x reader

you went from being scared of the unknown caller that constantly blew up your phone with creepy messages and texts to somehow staying up late waiting for his call so you could moan into the phone while he tells you how to touch yourself.

cw: yandere behaviors/words, phone sex, ft sex, pet name princess is used.

a/n: ughhhhh pls I’ve hard this idea for forever now but I only just now decided to write it

he was such a creep. he knew everything there was to know about you. your bra size, your shampoo and conditioner brands, even what the password was on your phone. it was creepy, he was creepy. and yet. somehow every night like clock work you'd shower and get ready for bed only to not sleep. at around eleven pm, your phone would ring. it would be a different number, with a different area code each day. today it was a 917. you answered with a quickness that could only be labeled as desperation. you held the phone to your ear.

“hello?” your breathing was already so heavy and he hadn't spoken a word, did he really have that much of an effect on you?

“good evening princess, how was work?” he inquires. his voice is so deep and it sends shivers throughout your whole body and the night had barely begun. you cleared your throat before speaking again, a sort of effort to keep yourself from melting into a pile of lusty goo barely 2 minuets into the conversation.

“annoying, as per usual. you?” this part of the conversation was strictly a formality, Izuku is meticulous and organized, there are some things that need to happen first before the fun.

“hard, but I wouldn't trade it for any other in the world” he quips and you sort of smile, apparently he was a big time pro hero, he claimed that you definitely saw him on tv and in magazines everywhere. 

“well, I'm glad you weren't hurt” you say and he gives you a gentle hum of agreement. there's silence for a moment before Izuku says anything else. 

“that co-worker of yours..denki, I think he might have a thing for you” Izuku expresses and your stomach drops but at the same time your cunt begins pulsing with need. he was jealous, its always more fun when he gets jealous.

“oh? why do you say that?” you respond and Izuku gives you a deep chuckle that has your hand twitching with the need to slip underneath the elastic of your panties.

“he always brings you lunch, hands always touching you in some way, it’s starting to irritate me you know” you hear him sigh from the other line and you’re giddy with excitement.

there’s a small buzzing coming from your phone and you pull it away from your ear to observe it, it’s a video call from Izuku. you’re quick to answer. he never shows his face but you have to show yours, so you turn the camera to face you and give him a small smile.

“hi izu” you whisper and you hear him chuckle, “aww, you sound so shy, are you embarrassed or eager? It’s hard to tell” he says.

“definitely both” you admit and with an amused huff of air falling from his mouth that concludes the small talk portion of the evening, Izuku’s camera turns on and you’re able to see everything except his face. his neck, chest and torso all on display. he was well built, he definitely had the body of a pro hero that’s for sure, his body was also covered in a light dusting of freckles that you thought were actually kind of cute.

“turn that camera around for me princess” he says and you do so, hitting the reverse camera button with your thumb.

“pretty panties, you’re finally wearing the ones I sent you, good girl.” he rewards and you’re preening from the praise. you angle the camera a bit lower so he can see directly between your legs,

“I’ll admit that.. I've been thinking about you all day” the light from your phone shows the dampness of your underwear and for some reason, it feels good to know that he's watching this, watching you. 

“I see. you're soaked my love, how about you take off your undies and show me how wet you are” 

You rested your phone on the bed before shimmying out of your panties and tossing them off the edge of your bed. You pick up your phone and angle the camera once again between your legs. 

“God you're so pretty aren't you?” he mumbles, more to himself than you and it does nothing but cause your nipples to stiffen under your shirt and a small ‘please’ to fall from your lips. 

“Go ahead and gather up some of your pretty pussy’s arousal and start rubbing your clit nice and slow for me” he says and you can see him gripping his cock in his hand and slowly stroking it with a focus on his tip, squeezing it a bit and he sucks in a breath when a drop of pre-cum lands on his abs. 

The show he puts on for you acts as more incentive to follow his orders. You gather up slick from your drooling hole and begin drawing small circles on your clit and the pleasure is immediate. You're unsure of what it is about tonight but your moans were already beginning to leak from your mouth and this slow pace was only frustrating you.

“I-Izu..can I speed up?” you asked and he chuckled from the other line

“Already starting to feel it? You weren't kidding when you said you'd been looking forward to this, were you ladybug?” 

When you don't reply he sighs softly, “You're so sensitive tonight, stop for me little one, I got a surprise for you” 

Your brain is a little hazy when you pull your fingers away from clit, it throbs visibly and Izuku coos. 

“Surprise?” 

“Mhm. check the first drawer on your night stand” 

“Can I set the phone down while I go check?” and he hums in approval. 

You place your phone on your bed and walk on slightly shaky legs to your large oak nightstand. You hook your fingers in the loops attached to the first drawer and a small gasp leaves your lips at the sight of a pink vibrator. 

It’s small enough to fit in your palm, with a bulbous head and a tail that trailed behind it you could guess where this was going. 

You climb back in bed and pick up your phone, “Found it.”

“Good job ladybug, grab some lube, don't want you to hurt yourself” he says and you feel your heart skip a beat at the caring sound of his voice.

You grab the lube resting on the bedside table and you lay back in bed. You wet the toy and gently push it inside of yourself. You whimper at the stretch it provides you and Izuku praises you from behind the screen. 

“You know what's special about this toy? I’m the one controlling it.” he mentions, you can see his cock twitch on the screen and he shows you the small plastic remote in his hands. He clicks one of the buttons and it causes the toy to activate, low vibrations course through your body and instantly you clench down on the toy. 

“O-oh..wow” you say and Izuku hums softly at your reaction.  “Tell me you want more and I’ll give it to you, I'll give you everything and anything you want” he says and you can see him resuming the slow stroke he paused earlier.

“I want more Izuku. please” you huff out and as soon as the words leave your mouth the vibrator is turned on the highest setting and it causes your back to arch off the bed and the phone to drop from your hand. 

“Tell me you're mine” he says and you can hardly respond, trying to get used to the feel of the strong vibrations that cause your cunt to squeeze down on the plastic down desperately. Slick pours from your cunt causing the sheets under you to become sticky. 

“I-I’m yours Izuku!” you whine and you him hum in approval. 

“Pick up the phone, I want to see that desperate little cunt of yours”

You do as you’re told and spread your legs, showing off your pussy with shaky hands. 

“Atta girl, you're so good for me” 

You can feel the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, your cunt is already spasming around the toy, threatening an orgasm. 

“Izu- g’nna cum, please can I cum?” 

“Mmm..” he says as if he's thinking about it. Your whimpers of desperation continue and Izuku’s hand on his cock speeds up, assuringly approaching his own orgasm. 

“Please please ‘m so close” you pant and a shiver runs through your body.

“Cum for me lovely” he grunts, cum splashes on his own abs and that pushes you over the edge and it forces your orgasm to brush over you like a wave, a gush of liquid shot out of your cunt and onto the camera lens. you dropped your phone as your body spasmed. 

Once you came down from your high, Izuku had ended the FaceTime and reverted to normal phone call. Only your heavy breaths were heard from behind the phone.

“How was it?” he asked and you giggled tiredly 

“Really good” 

“You sleepy ladybug?”

“Mhm..”

“Make sure to clean up before falling asleep lovely”

“Mhm” you yawned. 

“Want you to get some sleep then tomorrow I'll call you same time okay?”

“Yeah..see you tomorrow” you slurred and he chuckled softly from behind the phone

“Goodnight my love”

[chrypir]

FOR THE BEST

in which two past lovers meet again when they needed each other the most. 🎐

after 2 years of letting go the dream she once lived Yu Jimin now faces the hard time of living a life she doesn’t deserve. as she navigates through herself and her emotions she stumbles back apon Choi Su Bong. a childish man that she once called hers. however, now unable to call their relationship something in the present, the two split due to difficulties in life. but a man in a suit and a silly offer to play some games can change everything for these two.

hi everyone! this is my first fanfic so i hope you guys enjoy! this will be chapter one and i’ll try to send more chapters asap! this is a past lovers fic with angst and a hint of smut eheh, but this will be a choi su bong x oc fic since i dont really like doing xreader fics hehe. but i might do one in the future who knows! nws enjoy!

CHAPTER 1: the lies i tell myself

YU JIMIN

“Uhm excuse me?”

I felt a light tap on my shoulder, turning around a small kid came eye to eye with me. “Yes can I help you?” I was exhausted, working here in a children’s play area was not for the weak. The amount of shit I had to clean up (literally), the moms coming an hour later to pick up their kids, and don’t get me started on the married fathers hitting on me. “Unnie can you help me find my toy? I think I lost it in the area over there..” I let out a sigh, ‘It doesn’t hurt to help a kid out..’, I thought to myself. “Sure kiddo, just lead me to where you think it might be.” I crouched down and ruffled his hair.

-

“You sure it’s here?” It’s been 15 minutes and I’ve been scrambling through the ball pits to find a car toy for the kid. My knees were about to go numb. “Oh unnie!” I turned around, sweat dripping through my forehead, it was a hot day already and going through thousands of plastic balls did not help. “Yes?” I replied. “It was in my pocket the whole time!” My a small smile formed, “Was it now huh?” I teased him, standing back up as I told myself he’s just a kid. “I’m really sorry for bothering you…” My smile faded as the little boy looked down. “Hey it’s alright! I can be kind of careless with my stuff too. No biggie!” I send a reassuring smile to the kid, hoping it was able to make him feel less guilty.

An hour later I closed up the shop and started my way to the race track. “Ajussi, mind turning the power on?” “Isn’t it past your bed time?” “Just turn the power on.” I laughed. Ending the day by going on the race track was always something I looked forward to. Putting on my gear I signaled the ready sign and waited for the track to be complete. As I close my eyes I felt the breeze of the wind. Gripping onto my steering wheel.

As soon as the gun went off I let go of everything and drive.

-

“Aigoo, look how skinny you are now. Here I bought some jjajangmyeon. Let’s eat” “You’re my favorite ajussi!” I giggled as I wiped the sweat off of my face. “So, how’s the investigation? Have they found her yet?” I sighed, disapointment plastered all over my face. “No, they say it’s gonna be harder since the last time I was with her she was still a baby.. But I’m sure they’ll find her someday.” As I chew the noodles in my mouth all the negative feelings start coming back, and without knowing tears start to build up in my eyes. “Hey, hey,” I look up at the old man, feeling his hand cover my own, “They’ll find her.” he reassured with a smile. I look at him without saying anything, my eyes still teary. I smile. It was great having someone to still lean onto. Someone I could still find positivity from during dark times.

Money was growing tighter, my fairytale of a life was taken away from me, I didn’t have any hope for life at some point. I remember walking up to the bridge to jump. I was so tired. So tired of how everything was being taken away from me one at a time. Until this Old Man caught me. The way he stood by me no matter what. Gave me a place to live, fed me, and took care of me. Coincidentally he was an owner of a race track, however it wasn’t being used so as soon as I came in it was mine to borrow.

Looking at the old man as he continued eating I smile, “Ajussi,” he looked up, “thank you.” “Aigoo just eat your noodles.” I laugh, and the world grew quieter.

CHOI SU BONG

“Ya, Choi Su Bong!”

Fuck this bitch is killing me. As I stepped out of the apartment my head was aching. Alcohol was still in my system and I wasn’t entirely sobered up yet. “Ya! Choi Su Bong!” “What? Can’t you see I’m trying to go home?” “You still owe me 3 more sessions! What makes you think you can just run away after fucking me without aftercare huh?!” I lit the cigarette in my palms, taking a big huff as my whole head felt like it was gonna explode. “I’ll come by next week.” and with that I was finally left alone.

The truth is I didn’t wanna do sex work. It was the last option in my list. However, after that fucking crypto scam my whole world fell apart. Things were going great at first, my career was sky rocketing, hit after hit released in my rap albums. I felt like I was on top of the world. Until the crypto shit started.. When I lost all my life savings I was done for. I couldn’t afford rent, couldn’t make anymore music, I was in the dumps. Till a friend told me about sex work. I’ll be honest at first I was intrigued, my dumbass totally thought I could actually earn shit by making some girls cum. Turns out I was wrong, I’m stuck with debt and annoying girls trying to pull on my dick.

As I kept walking trying to find my way back to the motel I was staying at my phone started ringing. “The fuck..” Checking my phone I realized it was mom. “Shit.” My hands started shaking, the last time I talked with my parents (especially my father) was when I got kicked out of the house after they found out I wanted to pursue a career of rap and music. I let out a sigh before picking up the phone call, “Hello?” Complete silence. “Su Bonga..” The voice of my mom came out, and all of a sudden I felt tears pool in. “How’ve you been? You doing okay? Sorry for calling so late, your father’s out of town and I was wondering how you were..” “I’m comfortable mom, no need to worry..” I slipped out a lie. Lie number 1. “Ah I see.. Hows Jimin? Is she still having trouble sleeping?” My mind was racing at this point, her name started ringing in my ears. “Yea she’s doing better, I try to help her out sometimes and I just bought her some medication.” Lie number 2.

“Okay well.. I see you’re doing well. That makes me relieved, please tell Jimin I said hello… Goodnight Su Bong.” “Night mom.. I lo-“ and with that the phone ended.

At this point I was lying to everyone I loved. Lying to myself was also part of the deal.

END OF CHAPTER 1

[l-starlight-l]

Caught up in the moment

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Notes: first smut🎉

Summary: Nanami and you make some poor decisions that have embarrassing consequences

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What was supposed to be a friendly drink after work with a few of your coworkers has landed you behind the bar in a very vulnerable position. Your arms are wrapped around his neck has he grips your hips tighter. Your lips on his as you two are basically eating each other’s faces. Nanami had far more to drink than he had planned and you have always been a bit of a light weight. Soft glances at each other through the night had just built up this sexual tension between the two of you. When you felt his hand creep up your thigh and the whispered promise in your ear you knew you weren’t gonna be making it home tonight.

You barely make it through the door before he is already tearing your clothes off. He’s more impatient than he usaually is causing you to giggle into his kiss as you try to undress him at the same time. The bedroom is a lost cause when he picks you up and your legs wrap around him, finally getting the skin to skin contact you’ve been craving. He sets you down on the kitchen counter and his kisses leave your lips. You feel his heat move to your neck, down to your chest. His hands are already cradling your boobs making you squirm in pleasure. He doesn’t stop there though he goes all the way down. You look into his eyes between your legs. His facial expression is hard and you know what he wants.

“Please kento” you say hushed as if you only want him to hear, “I need you”. A gasp falls from your lips as his tongue is on you. He knows exactly what you like and it destroys you. He makes quick work of sucking on your clit and then swirling his tongue in circles around it. When you feel like he can’t make you feel any better one of his large fingers slip inside of you. His hair is being pulled by one of your hands and the counter edge with the other. He would never let you fall but you are just trying to brace yourself and not come to early. As he adds another finger, a pressure starts to build up and you can’t form any more sentences. Only soft gasps and pleads escape your lips. You can feel his grin on you as you cum all over his face. You sit there in a daze as he keeps going. He makes sure to clean up his messes always. Before you can catch your breath he hauls you over his shoulder. “We’re not done yet” his deep almost feral toned voice says. He carries you into the bedroom and throws you into the bed ready to have his way with you.

The sun is high in the sky yet both of you are still sound asleep. What happened last night was unusual for you two but only because it was on a school night. Having to work the next day would tend to make him go light on the drinks, and rounds, but something about your outfit last night obviously made his judgment cloudy. A small snore escapes your drooling mouth as the door swings open. Nanami shoots up in bed, he’s still shirtless but thankfully found some pants last night before he fell asleep. “Nanami” a young man’s voice calls out cheerfully, “are you still sleep-“ his sentence is cut off as his eyes meet your horrified one’s. “Is that who I think it is ” a female voice says in shock over the phone. “It definitely is” Gojo confirms to Shoko over the phone. You cling to your baggy shirt you slipped on last night after round five in the shower and thank god you made that decision. Nanami stands up and shoos the amused man out of the room as you sit in bed flustered. No way that happened. You look at the clock and it’s already almost eleven. Shit shit shit. You’re so late for work. You hear kentos rough morning voice complaining, “I regret giving you my address”.

“You were supposed to met us at nine” Gojo explains, their voices carry through the door as you scrabble to get ready. “We were worried, you’re never late”. I’m so not gonna live this done, You think to yourself as you open the door.

“I was just um helping kento with a long lasting injury from a battle last week” you say trying to make this situation look less bad as you greet the first years.

“Oh I’m sure you were” Shoko says through the phone as you realize he was FaceTiming her the whole time. Her tone is knowing and teasing only causing your face to heat even more.

“Any way I’m late for work I’ll see you all later” you basically run out of the apartment shoot kento a pleading and apologetic look. You hear him scolding his coworkers as you make your way out of the building and a small, embarrassed laugh escapes your lips. At least you don’t have to keep your relationship a secret anymore. Though you wish you had told them in a less awkward way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[fluffy-fics]

VI X Reader (PART 2)

BARTENDER VI MODERN AU (PART 2)

Part 1

(Vi x fem reader)

(INFO: Vi is 30, you are 30 too)

2 days had passed since your last trip to the bar, and you were ecstatic about today. Something inside you yearned for the smell of sweet cedar that had clung to Vi, and to see the way she expertly poured drinks. Something about the way light reflected off of her arms and biceps as she worked made butterflies jolt in your stomach.

You walk into the bathroom of your small apartment, staring into a mirror as you adjusted your hair and clothing to look perfect, as perfect as it was gonna be atleast. 

You sigh, and flash yourself a smile, bounding outside the apartment complex and getting into your car, starting down the asphalted streets and keeping your eyes peeled for The Last Drop. Suddenly a flicker of green light up ahead caught your eyes as you traced letters across a wooden sign that spelled out the name of the bar. A sensation tingles up your spine as you survey the nearby parking lot for open spots, being a tad more packed then you would have expected. 

You finally find an open spot, park, and feel cool air hit your face as you walk out of the veichle, eagerly walking, more like sprinting into the bar. The aroma of alcohol burns the back of your throat once more as you walk through the door, a crowded scene erupting into your vision. Your eyes scan the area, looking for the bartop, and when you find it the feeling of excitement within you stalls for a moment. There is no bartender behind the counter, only the colourful bottles of booze that illuminate the bar with life. You feel your body still push forwards towards the table, taking a seat at the same stool you sat at last time.

Your eyes search for any trace of Vi, hoping to see her hair peaking through the crowd, your nose hoping for just a small taste of the cedar that had entranced you last time. But as you turn around to face the bar, you feel a small tap on your shoulder. You whip around, hope streaming through your body as you see a light tattoo. 

“Are you y/n?” 

You freeze. How does this person know your name? Her outfit is interesting, a leather top with lacing in an X formation, long purple plaid pants underneath a large belt, accompanied by 2 long blue braids of hair. You froze as you saw a shape move behind her, but felt relieved as you realized it was just a small child, brown-orange hair with blue hair colour at the tips.

“Yeah? What’s it to you.” You respond, coming off much more hostile sounding than intended. 

“I’m Jinx, Vi’s little sister. She has been gushing to me about you, but she hasn’t been feeling well. She’s being a HUGE baby about it, I really think it’s just a minor cold, but whatever.” Jinx hands you a small slip of paper, putting a hand on the little one’s head as she pulled on Jinx’s braids. You unfold the crisp paper, gazing at a phone number. 

“Thank you.” You say, sighing with relief that Vi remembered about you as you put the number into your phone. 

“Aaaaanny time- c’mon Isha.” She murmurs to the child, the two walking out of the bar. Hesistantly, you send a message to the number.

You: Vi? Is this the right number?

…

No response.

You: Hello?

…

Vi: Yeah, it’s Vi. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make our little date today, I felt really awful and didn’t want to make anybody else sick, especially you. 

You: Its alright! Please don’t stress, I appreciate the thought and hope you feel better soon <33

Vi: Awhh~ thanks cupcake. I appreciate it. If you’d like to stop by sometime, maybe when I’m not as sick as I am, I’d love to have you over!- 

You read the screen as an address gets sent. Your heartbeat picks up, and excitement wiggles through your stomach. 

You: Can we meet soon? When do you think you’ll feel better??

Vi: Maybe on Friday, 6pm? I think this thing will blow over relatively quick. 

You graze your schedule, seeing that you’d have to work earlier on Friday but should still have enough time to go home and get ready before 6. 

You: Yeah! That works!

Vi: See you then, cupcake~

You don’t know why the word flusters you as much as it does, but you DO know that you love seeing, and hearing that word spoken to you, especially when Vi is the one saying it. Or writing it.

“I’ll see you soon.” You whisper to the phone, giddy with excitement once more, but ultimately hoping that this time you’d be able to meet up for sure. 

[my-starlights]

ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ…

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which you stumble into your ex, Nanami Kento.

ʟɪᴍʙᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. Angst :: hurt/comfort :: fluff at the end :: sfw

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛꜱ. Nanami Kento  :: Gojo Satoru

ʀᴜɪ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. It’s been a while since I wrote something haha… I said I’d do geto but Nanami has my heart so here we are 😭

ᴡᴄ.  1.1k

“Listen, let’s be mature about this, please.”

The light on your phone glares into your glassy eyes.

“I don’t want this either, but you’re not a child anymore.”

Even though you’re looking at couplecore l posts on social media, Kento’s voice keeps breaking through.

Stupid lovey-dovey couples on Tik Tok. You angrily swipe at your eyes and press ‘not interested’ at the video.

“If you can’t handle this argument like an adult, perhaps you should take a step back from this relationship.”

Your phone suddenly turns dark - agh, it died - and with a huff you set it down to charge, looking at the ceiling. It’s been three weeks since your messy breakup with Nanami Kento, and social media isn’t helping you forget about you and your boyfriend’s - ex-boyfriend’s - argument;  it started as a small confrontation about him overworking and ended with… with this.

You, leaving your shared home and going to your old Jujutsu Tech dorm.

Kento, still at his office, head in hands and unable to focus.

You know he’d never cheat; but it seemed like he was working to the bone. No more weekend dates or him coming home to you cooking dinner; he was at the office more than he’d see you, and for weeks on end. You’d been crying, begging him for a break from work, and him stoically telling you in an impatient voice that this was just what being an adult was.

The two of you never fought like this before. Ever since the argument, you feel as if a chunk of your being was forced away from you, leaving you empty. Alone. You feel a lump in your throat and swallow, blinking back more tears.

It’s time to move on, you reason with yourself. It was nearing midnight.

You sigh and close your eyes.

—

The next day, you wake up with the same sense of dread you’ve had in the past couple weeks, and just as you exit the old dorms… you see Gojo Satoru. Of course. You hadn’t seen him alone in a while, only with his girlfriend.

He spots you and strolls towards you, running hand through his hair. Was he… relieved?

Something’s awry.

“Ah! I’ve been looking for you,” he says, sighing as he takes in your somber appearance. “Everywhere. You have no idea.”

“Well here I am,” you say tiredly. “Why… why were you looking for me?”

“Nanami has been quite worried about you, you know. He wouldn’t tell me anything other than that. He’s asked me to look for you and taken time off from work, and everything.”

What? Kento off of work? This only happened on birthdays or holidays. And Gojo actually listening to Kento for once too? This has never happened.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Well, I don’t know why anyone’s looking for me. I’ve been here. Besides, Kento and I, we’ve broken up, so—“

“WHAT??” Gojo screeches, and you jump back, surprised by the noise. “YOU’RE NOT TOGETHER ANYMORE?”

You rub your temples. “Not anymore, I think?  He said I should take a step back from our relationship, and—“

Gojo is about to screech again when Kento walks up, hair ruffled and tie loosened, looking ready to murder Gojo. “Leave,” he barks at Gojo. “You found her, now go bother someone else.”

You jerk away from the two men. What the hell is happening?

Kento moves up to Gojo mutters something into his ear;  the latter turns pink and begins walking away, looking at you apologetically. Kento rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to you.

“Oh, love,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry about the past couple weeks. It wasn’t you who was immature, it was me.”

You look at him, defensive, eyes already slightly glassy. “You broke up with me. And now you want me back? That’s not how break ups work.” You pivot on your heel, heart breaking at his surprised face, and start walking briskly away, him quickly catching up.

“Love, I didn’t mean to… we’re not seriously broken up, are we? I never meant to… I was speaking without thinking, please don’t tell me you thought we’re broken up…”

You turn to Kento abruptly, still walking. “What was I supposed to think?” You say, incredulous.

“No, no, no, love, I’m so sorry, please just stop walking—”

“—Kento, I’m not mature enough for you. I don’t take what you take seriously, I’m childish near you, and you made that clear. I understand now—“

You’re interrupted by Kento falling to his knees in front of you. “Love,” he says, collecting your palms in his hands. “Please forgive me. I was the immature one, you’re too good to me, you were looking out for me—“

“Kento please get up—“

“—You need to understand this. You’re the love of my life, how could I ask that you step back? I’m ruined without you—“

“—Kento, please just—“

“—you’re the love of my life, I’m so sorry, I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I’ve started going only part-time at my job. I’m ready to do the best I can for you. You were worried about my well being and I punished you for it. Please just forgive me…”

Tears finally start rushing down your face, but Kento doesn’t let go of your hands. “Oh, Ken…” you sniffle. “You started part-time? For me? Please get up, I…. Let me hug you….”

He rushes up, feeling the blood run to his head, but he doesn’t care; you hug him hard, still crying. He feels a stab in his chest every time he feels a tear sink into his shirt.

You mumble against his broad chest. “I forgive you,” you mumble. “I missed you, Ken. I love you.”

He wraps you in a hug, looking down and cupping your face. His usually steady voice tremors slightly. “Am I still your… are we still together?”

You smile up at him. “If you’ll have me.”

He hugs you hard. “There is no universe in which I don’t want you. I… let’s not do this here, love. Let’s go home, yeah?”

You smile again, looking up at him. “Home?”

“You think I just meant to apologize and move on? No, love, I have gifts for you. And a dinner planned. I don’t want to spend any more time at work that I could spend instead with you.”

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his, then lean upwards to peck his cheek. “I love you, Ken,” you say, stepping back.

The somberness, the loneliness you felt just this morning, fade away. The part of you that broke after your fight seems to mend itself back into you. Finally, you’re….

Complete again.

© property of @ghost-buddies. do not repost, translate or edit.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened. 

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!” 

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss. 

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading. 

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin. 

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now. 

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right? 

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance. 

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.  

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry! 

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk. 

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point. 

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR. 

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that. 

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project. 

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change. 

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all. 

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt. 

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character. 

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy. 

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I’m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit) 

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan! 

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone. 

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image- 

. . . 

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[grimestime27]

On Board

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: mostly fluff!!!

This was written on my phone don’t judge me 🤣

It was a hot summer day in Virginia. The group had decided to scavenge today for supplies for Alexandria. Life was better since you all had made it to Alexandria. There had been some hard times, but you all persevered and made it through.

Rick was now in charge after Deanna got bitten, succumbing to her injuries when the walkers attacked your safe haven. It took awhile to clean up the mess that was made but it was your all’s home. Life was finally feeling a little normal.

Some of your all’s group lived together. Rick, Michonne, Carl, Judith, Daryl, and you. In the other house was Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Tara, and Sasha. Carol didn’t sleep much these days, her attitude changing from meek and quiet to strong and outspoken. Of course the lovebirds Maggie and Glenn stayed together.

Daryl, Rick, and Abraham were loading a vehicle, getting ready to go on a run. Michonne was joining them. You and Rosita would take turns going. You weren’t weak, but Rick had handed you Judith in the mean time to get your mind off things, trying to bring a little joy to your day.

Judith loved you. You watched her in your free time when there wasn’t scavenging or other work to be done. Rick insisted that you needed to watch her because she was very fond of you. It was a good feeling that your fearless leader trusted you with one of his most prized possessions, one of the people he was closest to.

“Hi Judith.”, you baby talked her, causing her to smile. “Whatcha doin’ sweet girl?”

You kissed the top of her head, holding her close. She rested her head on you, pacifier in her mouth. Michonne smiled at the sight, coming up beside you before she brushed her hand through Judith’s soft hair.

“Think you could get used to that?”

“This?”

Michonne nodded.

“Maybe.”

Daryl eyed you as he was loading up a vehicle. Truth be told, watching you with Judith was one of his many weaknesses. Hardly anything got to Daryl Dixon but this was one of those things. It almost made him want to have a child of his own with you. But he worried he wouldn’t be a good dad. His dad was shitty growing up. And his mom wasn’t much better. Merle and Daryl had a very hard upbringing.

“We just need to convince Daryl to get on board.”, Michonne smiled at Judith as you continued to hold her, shielding her from the sun.

“I don’t even know if I’m on board.”, you joked. “Even though Judith here does make it pretty convincing.”

Judith giggled lightly as you tickled her. It was beautiful to have a child around. She brought light back into your all’s lives. Even on the darkest days.

“Look Judith, it’s Uncle Daryl.”, you smirked at him as he came over to the both of you.

“Aw, what’s my pretty girl up t’?”, Daryl eyed her. “Want Uncle Daryl to hold ya?”

Judith reached out her small arms causing you to scoff playfully. “Really Daryl?”

“Sorry sweetheart. She’s made her choice.”

Daryl smirked. You rolled your eyes as Daryl took her out of your arms. Michonne watched for your reaction as Daryl interacted with Judith, causing her to smile and laugh. You couldn’t help but do the same, watching the man you love.

Daryl was hard and cold at first, but as you got to know him, that changed. He opened up to you and showed you the soft side of him you never knew was there under his hard exterior. Things changed, you lost people, and you all became closer.

So close that you all had began a relationship. This world was cold but he made it better. He was the first thing you woke up to and the last thing you kissed goodnight. As long as he was with you, the world would be tolerable. Things would be okay.

Michonne and Rick had began a romantic relationship, much to everyone’s surprise. Almost as surprising as when the group found out about you and Daryl. You watched Daryl bounce Judith, he was practically a natural. Rick and Michonne kissed, signaling their departure was near.

“Ready Daryl?”, Rick asked as Michonne climbed into the vehicle.

Daryl looked at Rick, this question bringing him out of his daze. “Yeah.”

Daryl came over to you, leaning over to kiss you with Judith still in his arms. The kiss was slow. You knew why Daryl did this but you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. He was afraid he wouldn’t come home. This could very well be your last kiss.

“I love ya, Y/N.”

“I love you, Daryl. Be safe, please.”

Daryl nodded. “D’ my best sweetheart.”

“Wrap it up Romeo.”, Abraham joked, laughing as Daryl glared back at him.

Daryl flipped him off, causing him to laugh even louder.

“Daryl,”, you scolded him softly. “Not in front of Judith.”

Daryl sighed, apologizing to Judith before kissing her on the head. She just smiled up at him.

“Alright pretty girl, time t’ go back to Aunt Y/N.”, Daryl moved closer, handing her off to you.

You all shared one more kiss and he told you he’d be home soon. Rick came over and kissed Judith goodbye, telling her the same thing. You helped her wave goodbye to her daddy and the rest of the group as Daryl took one last look at you before getting in the car. You watched the car pull out, stopping at the gates before someone unlocked it, a trail of dust following them.

Looking at Judith, you shifted your focus to her. “Just me and you Judith. Let’s go inside and take a nap.”

Carl stayed back to help keep Alexandria safe. He was in the house, grabbing some water. He greeted you with a hug and you told him you were going to try and put Judith down for a nap. You told him you’d make dinner in a few hours.

Being a typical teenage boy, he acknowledged you silently and left the house with his gun.

Hours passed and dusk began to set in as you tried to focus on anything other than Daryl and the group. A knock came to the door, throwing you off. Judith was playing in the floor with her toys. You quickly ran to open the door, finding Carol.

“Need some help with dinner?”

“That’d actually be great.”

Carol came in and began helping you make a casserole. She had became quite the cook since being at Alexandria. Once it was finished, you placed Judith in her high chair and called Carl to come eat. He had taken a huge interest in Enid, a teenage girl at Alexandria. Maybe love was in the air.

Once dinner was over, Carol helped you clean up. It was easy to get Judith to sleep after her bottle. She was out like a light.

“Well, I guess I’m going to be on my way. Need anything else Y/N?”

“I’m good Carol. Thank you.”

She waved it off, saying it was no problem. You sat in peaceful silence, feeling even better now that Carl was home. This was in stark contrast to being out on the road for so long. Tiredness was sitting in and before you had known it, you were fast asleep with Judith in your arms on the couch.

How many hours had passed? You weren’t sure.

“Sweetheart.”

You jumped easily, startling yourself out of your sleep and quickly opening your eyes to see Daryl standing above you.

“S’ alright, sweetheart. Just me.”

Judith barely stirred as you immediately relaxed your muscles.

“You scared me.”

“I know. ‘M sorry sweetheart.”

Daryl took in the sight of you sleepy and holding a sleeping Judith before he sat down beside you.

“Is everyone okay?”, you asked softly.

Daryl nodded. “All safe’n sound.”

“Thank God.”

“Want me to take Judith and put her to bed so we can lay down?”

“If you have to.”

Daryl chuckled softly. “You’re exhausted. What’d y’all do today?”

Gently, you let Daryl take Judith out of your arms. She barely moved, snuggling into Daryl’s chest.

“Napped, played, and made dinner.”

“Busy day.”

“What about you?”

“Killed some walkers, found lots of supplies. Just another day in paradise.” Daryl smirked, joking.

You nodded before he leaned in, kissing you.

“Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Sure, what’s up?”

You were awake now, sitting up.

Daryl sighed, trying to muster up the courage to ask you. He was afraid of the answer but he needed to know. His perspective on life had changed lately. Maybe he could have a good life after all.

“I was wonderin’ “, he began, looking down at Judith before looking back up at you.

Your look begged him to continue.

“Would you ever want one of these?”, he motioned to Judith.

“A….baby?”, you question and he felt like he had fucked up.

“It’s silly, ain’t it? Nevermind.”, Daryl sighed, looking away.

You grabbed his chin softly, bringing his face to look up at you. “That’s not silly, Daryl.”

Daryl’s face relaxed. You ran your thumb over his stubble.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”, Daryl repeated, making sure he had heard you correctly.

“Yes.”, you confirmed.

“Sure, y’wanna a little Dixon runnin’ around?”

“I’d love nothing more.”, you whispered lightly before you and Daryl shared a kiss before Rick and Michonne walked in.

“Are we interrupting something?”, Rick laughed.

“Maybe we’re both on board.”

You knew Rick wouldn’t have any idea of what that meant but all Michonne could do was smile.

[n0vazsq]

Unstoppable | GB5 x Reader

pairing . . . gabriel bortoleto x f1!academy!driver!gf!reader

summary . . . Winning the F1 Academy Championship was special on its own, but when your boyfriend wins the F2 championship its even more special

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . okay but why is this so cute?? anyhow yeah one more fic then ill be on the smau grind

. . . It was a day neither of you would ever forget. Gabriel had just secured his title as the F2 champion, and you? You’d claimed the F1 Academy championship after a heart stopping battle that came down to the final race.

The gap between you and Abbi had been tiny all season, and as much as you respected her, you couldn’t deny the sheer relief of crossing that finish line first.

The paddock was chaos; team members shouting, cameras flashing, and celebratory cheers echoing everywhere. But amidst it all, there was Gabriel, standing off to the side, his grin so wide it could light up the entire circuit.

His race suit was tied around his waist, and his champagne soaked hair stuck up in every direction, but to you, he looked perfect.

"There’s my champion," he called out as soon as he spotted you. Before you could respond, he was already pulling you into a hug, lifting you off the ground as you laughed.

"I thought I was gonna lose it out there," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. "Abbi was so close, I swear she could’ve reached out and tapped my rear wing."

Gabriel laughed, setting you back down but keeping his hands firmly on your waist. "Close doesn’t count, meu amor. You were unstoppable."

"Unstoppable is a bit excessive," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I was barely holding it together."

He leaned in closer, his voice soft but certain. "Doesn’t matter how you felt. You did it. And I’m so proud of you."

Your cheeks flushed at the sincerity in his tone, and you couldn’t help but smile. "Guess I had to keep up with you, huh? Can’t let the F2 champion have all the fun."

"Ah, so this is a rivalry now?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Should I be worried about you stealing my fame next season?"

"Maybe," you shot back, grinning. "Better watch your back, Bortoleto."

It was moments like this, when the world around you seemed to blur into the background, that made everything feel so right.

Racing had always been your dream, but sharing it with someone who understood every high and low? That was something else entirely.

The celebrations carried on, and for a while, you were swept up in the whirlwind of congratulations and photoshoots.

But somehow, Gabriel never strayed too far, always finding his way back to your side. It was as if he knew exactly when you needed a steady hand to ground you.

At one point, the two of you ended up sitting on the edge of the garage, your legs laid out in front of you as you watched the party unfold. Gabriel’s arm was draped around your shoulders, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your arm. You leaned into him, finally letting yourself relax after the chaos of the day.

"You know," he said after a while, his voice low and thoughtful. "I’ve dreamed about winning this championship for so long, but I never imagined it would feel this good. I think it’s because you’re here."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head to look up at him. "Gabriel…"

He turned to meet your gaze, his brown eyes so full of warmth it made your breath skip a beat. "I mean it. Sharing this with you makes it a million times better."

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned up and kissed him instead. It was soft and lingering, the kind of kiss that spoke volumes without saying a word. When you pulled back, his smile was smaller, more private, but just as radiant.

"Okay, your turn," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "What’s next for the F2 champion? Are you ready to take the big jump to F1?"

He laughed, the sound echoing around the empty pitlane. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah? Let’s just enjoy tonight."

"Fair enough," you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, soaking in the moment together. Around you, the party raged on, but it felt like you were in your own little bubble, untouchable and perfectly at peace.

Eventually, your team principal found you, informing you that you had to go to inside the garage.

Gabriel nudged you gently. "Go on, star girl. They’re waiting for you."

"Not without you," you said, grabbing his hand and dragging him along.

Your team principal smiled, microphone in hand and a playful glint in his eye. "Ladies and gentlemen, our F1 Academy champion!" he announced, prompting a wave of cheers and applause.

The team parted as the two of you made your way to the front, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves as all eyes turned to you. But then Gabriel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and suddenly, everything felt better.

You took the microphone, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "This season has been incredible, challenging, exhausting, but so, so worth it," you began.

"I want to thank my team, my family, and everyone who’s supported me along the way. And, of course, this guy right here," you added, glancing at Gabriel. "He’s been my support through all of it. I wouldn’t be standing here without him."

The team erupted into cheers, and Gabriel gave you a look that was both full of adoration and pride. He leaned in close, his voice just for you. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one," you whispered back, grinning.

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter, champagne, and endless congratulations. But no matter how many people pulled you in for hugs or photos, you always found your way back to Gabriel.

As the night quietened down, the two of you wandered away from the noise, finding a quiet spot under the stars. Sitting side by side on the grass, you looked up at the sky, the weight of the day finally settling in.

"Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"All the time," Gabriel replied, his voice soft. "But I think about where we’re going even more."

You turned to him, your heart swelling with affection. "And where’s that?"

“Anywhere we want,” he said simply, his eyes sparkling with determination.

In that moment, with the stars above and Gabriel beside you, everything felt possible.

The future was uncertain, as it always was in racing. But with him by your side, you knew you could face anything.

Together, you were unstoppable.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[etclouie]

heart to heart

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — summary; being fwb before he goes to jail, and it continues on after he gets out, but you have a heart to heart talk after visiting him (Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — warnings; aftermath of sex, talk of being naked, typical ‘what are we?’ scenario kinda, friends with benefits relationship, uh that’s it i think

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — word count; 1.2k

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — a/n; i’m so in love with this man

misc masterlist | main masterlist like spooky? join my taglist !

since Oscar got out of jail, you’d been at his place a lot more. your arrangement taking a more serious turn than you had expected, but you weren’t entirely complaining.  

now, you were both laying in his bed. his arm around your waist to hold you tight against his side while your head lay on his shoulder, hand trailing across his chest absentmindedly. 

the remnants of your encounter still lingered in the air, bodies still sweat-slicked and warm. but the unresolved tension between you both lingered too, the unspoken words and the what ifs plaguing both of your thoughts. 

the steady beat of his heart was like a fleeting moment of peace, away from the troubles of everything— but Oscar couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last. 

the scent of your perfume lingered, filling his senses as he rested his chin on the top of your head. a soft sigh leaving him as your fingers traced across the crucifix around his neck, the gold pendant glimmering in the light. 

he couldn’t remember when you first started to toy with the chain, but he’d never stop you. it was almost ritualistic now, and he found it endearing. maybe it was the way you would look up at him when you did it, eyes soft, gentle and unburdened. a stark contrast to him. 

after a beat, your voice broke the silence, low and slightly hesitant. 

“you ever think about making things serious?”

you asked, almost absentmindedly as if the question had slipped out without you fully realising it. 

Oscar stiffened, his fingers twitching where they rested on your hip. he hadn’t expected you to go there, not now and especially not after everything. 

his mind raced, a thousand thoughts spinning all at once. 

serious? with you? with anyone?

he was no stranger to complicated relationships, hell he was the king of complicated. but something about you, the way you smiled at him like you understood the things he didn’t say, the way you made him feel lighter even on his darkest days — it made the idea of ‘serious’ seem less like a burden and more like a choice. 

but all of that didn’t mean he was ready to talk about it, not yet. 

his thumb brushed over your shoulder, a soft and casual movement that didn’t match the weight of the conversation. 

he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling, trying to collect himself. 

“serious, huh?”

he muttered, his voice gruff though there was no anger in it, just uncertainty. 

he never got angry with you, never let himself. you didn’t deserve to see him like that, even if this was only sex with a little extras. 

you nodded slowly, still playing with his crucifix. tilting the pendant and letting it catch in the light, before letting it lay against his chest again. 

“i know you’re not really all about that, but i like being around you Oscar. i like this”

you gestured between you both, the intimacy of your closeness and the silence that settled between you when words couldn’t express what you both meant. 

he let out a breath, trying to sound indifferent but it was hard to mask the edge of vulnerability in his voice. 

especially with the fact you called him Oscar, instead of Spooky. it was only you and his brother that called him Oscar, meaning he’d let you in more than he’d already thought.

“you don’t have to worry about that, we’re good. just.. keep it chil, yeah?”

your hand lay just below his chain, sighing and laying your head on his chest again. 

“i don’t know if i can keep it chill, Oscar. not when i feel like this”

absentmindedly, your fingers twisted the crucifix again. he let out another breath, pulling his gaze from the ceiling as you spoke again. voice softer this time. 

“i want more, not just.. what we’ve got”

Oscar swallowed, his chest tightening. the room felt smaller now, the air heavier. 

he should’ve been glad you were finally saying what he didn’t know how to ask for, but the fear of getting too close was a long standing habit. 

relationships were messy. and he didn’t have the kind of patience that came with putting in the work. 

but if he’d be damned, there was something in your tone that made him question everything he thought he knew. 

“more?”

he asked, voice hoarse as he balanced on the line of uncertainty on navigating the conversation. 

“what does that even mean to you? like.. what are you asking for exactly?”

you smiled, a soft and patient smile that made something inside him ache. 

he watched as you sat up, still as curled into his side as you’d allow. hand splayed across his chest, and just shy of covering his heart. 

“i don’t know,”

you admitted, sounding a little embarrassed before you continued. 

“i don’t need all of your attention all the time, or.. or a ring or anything, but maybe just the possibility of something real. something that isn’t just us messing around in the dark”

Oscar felt the knot in his chest tighten. real. he hated that word because it always felt like some sort of an invitation for disappointment, but damn it, he also knew that somewhere deep down a part of him was hungry for exactly that kind of honesty. 

starving for it even. 

he lifted his hand and pulled yours from his chest, holding it in his own while his thumb soothed across your knuckles. 

“you want serious, huh?”

he repeated, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was weighing the words before they left his mouth. 

“i ain’t perfect. i got a lot of baggage, and im not sure if i know how to be that guy.. you want me to be”

the last part came out quieter than the rest of it, embarrassed to have admitted the truth of what he felt deep down. 

you looked up at him, eyes soft but searching. lacing your fingers and running your thumb across his knuckles how he had just done with yours. 

“i don’t need you to be perfect, Osc. i just need you to be here”

there it was. 

that nickname you insisted on calling him. the one thing that had him crumbling quicker than your presence did, having to look away from you to keep the pink hue from painting his cheeks. 

his heart thudded in his chest and for the first time, he let the vulnerability show on his face. 

you were so damn sure of yourself and it made him question every he’d been telling himself about staying detached. 

he let out a long breath then turned his head to meet your gaze once more. his thumb brushed across your knuckles again, his grip tightening ever so slightly. 

“i don’t know what this is, ow what it’ll turn into. but i guess im willing to find out”

your smile deepened, and you leaned up to kiss him lightly on the cheek, as if to seal the unspoken promise between you both — before you caught his lips in an even softer kiss. 

for the first time in a long time, Oscar felt a glimmer of hope, a fleeting sense that maybe just maybe, real wasn’t so scary after all. 

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