#curious if anyone will know what this is even from

[lalunanymph]

CAUGHT

☆° syp: caleb catches you jerking off and decides to try something new with you

☆° tw: caleb x fem!reader, masturbating, watching p0rn, suspension, improper use of evol, dom!caleb, unprotected sex, bondage, dirty talk, possessiveness, silly banter, kinda crack-ish at the end, brat taming-ish, 1.8k+ words

☆° dawn says: caleb's secret times affinity 85 has got me feeling some kinda way so i locked in for two hours and wrote this (shame)

Skyhaven is chilly, but under the sheets of your shared bed with Caleb, you’re sweating your ass off. 

It’s not like you to typically be this… well, desperate, but hey—ovulation week can tank even the most disciplined of girls. And you, for sure, aren’t the strongest when it comes to fighting back these primal urges. 

Your fingers make quick work under the bands of your sleep pants, and you’re huffing, panting as your eyes lock onto your phone screen, drinking in the sight of a woman passionately getting eaten out by her Dominant as she’s dangling from the ceiling in shibari. Look—not to yuck anyone’s yum, but you sure as hell didn’t think you’d find something like this hot. 

Caleb and you were still… finding your intimacy footing. He’s gentle and sweet in bed, always paying attention to your needs. He wouldn’t even come unless you were close, constantly edging himself so you two could fall down the precipice together.

Warm and kind, you could never envision him doing something like this to you. 

The woman moans through your wireless earbuds, her hair cascading in magnificent waves. Her Dom grunts, a mess between her thighs, his chin and cheeks slick with her juices. You can tell from how her belly is constricting rapidly that she’s close, and your body surges in a feverish pitch, trying to find your own peak.

When, suddenly, the blanket is yanked off your body and you’re looking right into the wide eyes of your boyfriend. 

Caleb stands, frozen, still in his Colonel uniform. He’s had a hard day—you can tell. He looks deprived of a few hours of sleep, and his shoulders are rigid.

But, the second he fixes his gaze on you, his jaw goes slack. In awe.

You quickly yank your hand out of your pants and remove your earbuds. But, this damn technology had it out for you. The second your wireless connection is disconnected, moans and slurps fill the awkward space between you and Caleb—definitely blowing your cover.

“Crap!” 

With a squeak, you hasten to switch off your phone, mortification washing over you in waves. You scramble to sit up, and as if you hadn’t been edging yourself to an explosive orgasm, you nervously chuckle, unaware of how Caleb’s eyes have darkened. 

“Pipsqueak…” His voice is low, fringed with curious suspicion. “What was that?” 

Before you can change the subject and claim that it’s nothing, the pull of gravity flicks your phone off the bed and into his hand. He knows your password by heart, like how you know his, and when the screen flickers to life, he huffs under his breath.

“So… this is what my naughty little girl gets up to when I’m not home, huh.”

His words send an unexpected thrill down your spine, but you’re too horrified to say anything else, your cheeks leeched off color. 

You stutter, “It’s not what you think—” But, he cuts you off, shaking his head. 

“Boo. Wrong. Means I’m not treating you right,” he chuckles, and tosses the phone back to you. “But, y’know what, I’ve always liked a little challenge, so maybe it’s time we took things… to another level.”

Curlicues of heat shiver down your body, and you throb hotly between your thighs. Stubbornness, however, would be your downfall when you scoff and try to play off the intensity building you two. “Caleb, you big dummy—I told you it was nothing—”

He grips your jaw, gently tilting your face up to meet his. 

For the past few minutes, you’ve been resolutely avoiding his gaze, afraid of what you might find there. But, when you tentatively slide your eyes to meet him, you’re not greeted by contempt or disgust as you originally thought. 

Caleb’s looking down at you with an inexplicable heat in his gaze. There’s a slight tremble in his fingers, though his expression remains deceptively calm. 

“Princess, come on.” His thumb strokes your lower lip. “When have I ever judged you, huh? I love you—” He sounds ardent. Sincere. “I love you and I would do anything you wanted. Anything at all.” 

A fissure of arousal snakes through your veins, lighting you up from head to toe. 

“... anything?” 

Caleb doesn’t hesitate to nod. “Anything.”

… 

Which is how you currently find yourself suspended in mid-air, at the mercy of his Evol. 

Caleb sticks true to the unholy scriptures found on your phone’s browser, on his knees, right between your thighs. 

He does that thing with his tongue you absolutely adore. You squirm in your gravitational bindings and he glances up at you, a glint in his eyes. Hoarsely, he rasps, “You’re so pretty, baby.”

His tongue digs back into your insides, and your warbling cry resounds throughout the room. Caleb’s not gonna stop—he’s gonna make sure the whole of Skyhaven hears you coming.

“Louder,” he growls, and he picks up the pace, slurpin’ down on your folds like it’s his last meal. Fast. Messy. He punctuates the rhythm of his laps with grunts of, “Pretty. So pretty.”

Your pliant body is for him to do as he pleases. Every touch. Every lick. Every caress. Caleb knows what he’s doing—how exactly to drive you wild. This feeling of power and control that comes down on him—it’s heady. 

Addictive.

You’re the sweetest addiction he can never get over. Your body, your sounds.

God, it drives him insane.

The sway of your hips as he bullies his tongue deep into the buttery heat of your arousal makes him grin, shark-like. 

“Enjoyin’ this, baby?” He pauses to whisper between laps. 

You’re unable to move in mid-air. The ends of your hair sway with every tremble of your body. You’re gasping, eyes-crossed, dumb on his tongue. He has your arms dangling at your sides, and maneuvers them over your head with his Evol to really hammer in your helplessness. 

“Pretty like a doll,” he groans, all lustful and thick. Drip, drip. The syrupy gloss of your juices saturate his tongue, and he moans at the taste, like honey and sunshine that comes straight from his favorite fountain. 

Oh, he has it down bad—

Caleb can’t think. Can’t focus past the ravenous hunger demolishing his composure, making him thirsty and hungry for only you. 

And, god do you taste divine. 

His Adam’s apple bulges down on a swallow as you feed him some of your squirt. “There ya go—” he growls, placing a quick smack! on your inner thigh. “Squirtin’ like the ripest peach f’me. Pretty little peach. My pretty—” he rolls his tongue over your folds, swirling it like a madman hellbent on pushing you down the last cliff of your sanity. “—pretty lil’ princess.” 

“Caleb!” Your meek cry doesn’t stop him.

“Nuh-uh,” he moans into the thick of your treacly folds, all swollen and puffy now from his ministrations. “S’not a safe word, baby.” 

You want to hold him. Pull his stupid face up and kiss him senseless.

But, he’s got all the ropes now. You’re just a puppet caught in his web. 

A marionette he can’t wait to fuck straight until she can’t walk.

“Did’cha think I would let you go after that lil’ stunt you pulled, princess?” His leering smirk disappears back between your thighs, the edges of his teeth grazing your trembling, defenseless clit. “Touchin’ yourself like I don’t please you every night—you wound me, baby.”

The raw possessiveness of it all makes you clench down on his devious tongue. Caleb is out for blood, and he won’t stop until he milks you dry. 

He slurs his stake right into the heart of your cunt, lapping at the pearly drops of pleasure oozing right down to the ground. “Anythin’ you want, I’d do it for you. Fuck you on the moon if you want.”

“Caleb—” you whine. 

You’re close—trembling violently. “Caleb, please—inside,” you gurgle. “Inside me, please!” 

He answers your prayers in a split second, cock pushing through your tight heat, up and down, up and down, stroking, thrusting…

He’s as keyed up as you are. The sloppy plap plap plaps of your bodies meeting together makes his pride soar and his balls clench. Caleb digs his fingers into your hips, watching your body undulate in thin air—like a ship rocked apart by a storm with only his cock as an anchor. 

The silver glint of his dog tag slams back onto his chest repeatedly. His abs are coated with a light layer of sweat and exertion. He’s sprinting you to the finish line, both of you keyed up beyond belief—he needs to see you shattering all over him like the finest China falling to the ground. 

“God, you look so good like this,” he licks his lips, dragging his tongue over a spot of pussy juice he missed, moaning when he tastes you again. “Hair all flowin’, body all taut. Imagine if I had you in ropes, baby,” he grunts, gunning for the sweet ending, digging the balls of his feet into the hardwood floor for maximum thrusting. “You’d be—hngnn—under my control.” 

His words snap the fragile crisp of self-control you’re holding onto. 

You come for him, loud and wholeheartedly, and the gusto makes his heart soar, his cock throb—

Warm spurts fill you to the brim, and your shackled-to-the-air legs tremble, your body trembling in zero gravity.

Caleb gnashes his teeth and whines like a mad dog coming down from his high, using the last of his strength to catch you as you both go tumbling to the floor like Lego pieces. 

For a second, the room swims in a pure haze of white light. You can’t feel your feet, or your hands. 

Shit—he’s fucked the soul out of you. 

But, in the ringing silence, you feel his hand gently cradle your head to his chest, and the wayward seed is back on her beloved apple tree. 

Caleb caresses your head, gently leaving kisses on your temple, cheeks, chin. Anywhere his mouth can reach. 

After a moment of silence, you reach for your phone and he raises a brow.

“Seriously? You’re not gonna make a Moments post right now, are ya, Pipsqueak?” 

You flop onto his chest, and rather than being tuckered out like he hoped you would be, you kick your feet up, giggling as you scroll through your phone. “Noooo. Got something else better in mind.” 

He nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your custom-made shampoo you once DIY-ed with him at a fragrance fair. Your excitement re-sparks the flames again, and he chuckles when you excitedly show him your phone screen—showing off a new position where the bepenised specimen has his unimportant half lying down the side of the bed while his female counterpart hops up and down his more important half.

It looks easy enough, and Caleb is surprisingly limber for his size. 

“Supernova, huh?” He squints at the screen, looking deep in thought. “I guess it’s doable—”

You shake your head, tossing him a grin brimming with mischief.

“Oh. I’m not done yet.” You swipe the screen, and it’s an even more complicated position. He inwardly tries not to break. Caleb has indirectly created an insatiable monster.

“Have you ever tried this one~?” 

♡ feedback and reblogs are appreciated

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my works into AI.

[00valentina-writes00]

I read the cheating with Abby, Ellie and Sevika... And I was curious how the situation would be if it was reversed. If they were the ones caught with someone else. If Reader was the one who was betrayed.

Yea. Okay so I did Drabble the headcanons cause yeah!

♡♥︎ Sevika/Ellie/Abby cheating on you ♥︎♡

Warnings: walking in on them cheating, mentions of cheating, angst

♡ Sevika ♡

The apartment is quieter than usual when you step inside, the scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air, mixing with something muskier, filthier. It’s late—too late for her to have company. Your shift ended early, a rare break in your schedule, and all you wanted was to come home, kick off your boots, and collapse into Sevika’s arms.

Instead, you hear it.

A moan. High-pitched, breathy, unmistakably not yours.

Your stomach drops.

You move before you can think, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor as you push the bedroom door open. And there she is—Sevika, between someone else’s thighs, her broad shoulders flexing as she holds the woman down, tongue buried in her like she’s starving. The other woman gasps, head lolling to the side, eyes wide when she spots you.

Sevika doesn’t notice at first. She’s too fucking into it, too focused on making this stranger cum.

Then she looks up.

And for the first time since you’ve known her, she looks scared.

“Shit.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, jaw tightening as she sits back on her knees, her muscular frame still wedged between the woman’s thighs. There’s no excuse she can give you. No way she can explain this away.

You don’t say a word. You just stare.

Then, without another thought, you turn and walk away.

And she doesn’t even try to stop you.

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t chase after you immediately. She sits there in silence, hands running over her face, knowing she just lost the best fucking thing in her life.

♥︎ She doesn’t sleep that night. She smokes a whole pack of cigars, drinks herself half to death, replaying the look on your face over and over.

♥︎ The next day, she tries to find you. You won’t answer her calls, won’t respond to texts. When she shows up at your friend’s place, you don’t even come to the door.

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t beg—but fuck, she wants to. She’s never been the type to grovel, but for you? She would. She just doesn’t know where to start.

♥︎ She sends gifts. Flowers, your favorite liquor, a stupid note that just says “I fucked up.” But you don’t want gifts. You wanted loyalty.

♥︎ She drinks more than ever. She’s a wreck without you, picking fights at The Last Drop, snapping at anyone who even looks at her wrong. She knows it’s her fault, but that doesn’t make the guilt any easier.

♥︎ She shows up to your job. Not to cause a scene—just to see you, to see if there’s even a chance you’ll look at her again.

♥︎ She tells herself she doesn’t deserve another chance. But that doesn’t stop her from wanting one.

♥︎ Eventually, she shows up at your door, sober, broken, and finally ready to say it— “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you, but I can’t fucking stand this. Tell me how to fix it.”

♥︎ If you take her back, she changes. No more fucking around. No more slip-ups. She works to earn your trust back because losing you once was bad enough—she won’t survive losing you again.

♡ Ellie ♡

The apartment is supposed to be empty. That’s what you thought when you got home earlier than expected, kicking off your boots at the door and shrugging out of your jacket. You’re exhausted, ready to crawl into bed and let Ellie pull you into one of her lazy, warm embraces.

But then you hear it.

A desperate, breathy whine.

Your heart stops.

You take slow, careful steps down the hall, and the second you reach the bedroom door, you wish you hadn’t.

Ellie is there—naked, flushed, and wrecked—her freckled face buried in the crook of some other woman’s neck. Her hips snap forward in an erratic rhythm, the pink strap slick with someone else’s arousal, her breath ragged and uneven.

“Fuck—fuck, you feel so good,” she whines, gripping the woman’s hips, completely lost in the moment.

And then she sees you.

For a second, she freezes. The color drains from her face, her mouth falling open in shock.

“Shit.”

The other woman turns, looking between the two of you, but you don’t even register her. It’s just Ellie. Ellie, who is still inside someone else, sweat-slicked and guilty as fuck.

You don’t say a word. You don’t scream, don’t cry, don’t even breathe. You just shake your head, turn on your heel, and walk out.

She stumbles after you, nearly tripping over herself in her desperation.

“Babe, wait—please, fuck, let me explain—”

But you’re already gone.

♥︎ Ellie is a mess. She spends the first few hours pacing, hands in her hair, tugging at the strands as if she can rip the mistake out of her skull. She knows there’s no way to justify it—she fucked up and there’s no taking it back.

♥︎ She doesn’t stop calling. Voicemails, texts, all of them frantic, all of them desperate. “Please, baby, just let me explain—” “I was so fucking stupid, I swear to God I wasn’t thinking—” “I need to see you, please.”

♥︎ Ellie goes into full self-destruction mode. She drinks. A lot. Smokes until her lungs burn. She doesn’t sleep, barely eats, and isolates herself, refusing to go out or see anyone.

♥︎ She hates herself more when she realizes you’re really gone. Your side of the bed is cold, your clothes are missing from the dresser, your presence is completely wiped from the apartment. That’s when it really fucking hits her.

♥︎ She tries showing up at your place. Knocking, waiting, sitting outside your door for hours in the cold, hoping you’ll open it. You don’t. She knows she deserves it, but it still fucking kills her.

♥︎ She doesn’t hook up with anyone else. The idea makes her sick. She barely even remembers why she did it in the first place. No excuse feels strong enough—she just knows she ruined everything for something that didn’t even matter.

♥︎ Eventually, she writes you a letter. Because words don’t come out right when she speaks, and she knows she won’t get the chance to say them in person. It’s long, messy, covered in scribbled-out words and tear stains, but the message is clear: “I love you. I never stopped loving you. And if I have to spend the rest of my life regretting this, then so be it. I just needed you to know that.”

♥︎ If you agree to see her, she doesn’t try to win you back with excuses. She just stands there, looking like absolute shit, and says, “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll never stop wishing I did.”

♥︎ If you take her back, she changes. No more slipping, no more fucking up. She makes damn sure you never feel unwanted again, and if it takes years to earn your trust back, she’s willing to put in the work.

♡ Abby ♡

The outpost is quiet when you return earlier than planned, the sun barely setting over the edge of the stadium. You were supposed to be out longer, supposed to still be on patrol, but an unexpected shift change sent you back early. You’re exhausted, ready to collapse into Abby’s arms, maybe steal a lazy kiss before passing out.

You don’t expect to hear her first.

Low, breathy, a sound you know too well—Abby’s moans.

Your heart pounds as you step into the room, your boots feeling heavier with each step. The door is cracked open, candlelight flickering inside, casting shadows against the walls.

And then you see her.

Abby. Naked, skin flushed, her powerful legs trembling as she grinds against another woman. Their bodies press together, slick and desperate, muscles flexing as they fuck each other like they don’t have a single care in the world.

“Fuck—fuck, just like that,” Abby groans, hands gripping the woman’s thighs, her abs tensing as she moves.

Something inside you shatters.

Your breath catches, and Abby hears it.

Her head snaps toward the door, sweat-slicked skin glistening under the candlelight. The second she sees you— sees the absolute devastation on your face— her entire body tenses.

“Shit,” she whispers, immediately pulling away from the woman beneath her.

But it’s too fucking late.

Your throat feels tight, your vision blurring as the weight of what you just saw settles in. You can’t even speak. Can’t breathe.

You turn on your heel and walk out.

“Wait—wait, babe, please—” Abby stumbles off the bed, scrambling to grab something—her clothes, the blanket, you.

But you’re already out the door.

♥︎ Abby doesn’t even try to lie about it. She knows there’s no excuse, no way to spin it. The second you walk out, she just sits there, face in her hands, realizing she just lost the best thing she’s ever had.

♥︎ She tries to find you immediately. She throws on her clothes, leaves the woman in bed, and sprints through the stadium like a madwoman, searching every corner, every hallway, desperate to explain.

♥︎ When she does find you, she looks wrecked. Eyes red, breathing ragged, voice hoarse from saying your name over and over. But all you do is stare through her like she’s nothing.

♥︎ She can’t sleep, can’t eat. She spends every night replaying the look on your face, every second of her mistake looping in her head like a fucking nightmare.

♥︎ She stops training. No more weightlifting, no morning runs—nothing. Her routine falls apart because the only thing that kept her going was you.

♥︎ She refuses to be with anyone else. She knows she doesn’t deserve you, but she’d rather be alone forever than ever touch someone else again.

♥︎ She tries to prove herself in small ways. Leaving your favorite snacks where you’ll find them, making sure your gear is in top condition, standing guard at your door at night without you knowing.

♥︎ If you agree to talk, she’s a fucking mess. Voice shaking, hands trembling, on the verge of breaking down when she says, “Please, just let me fix this. Let me fix us.”

[bunni-v1]

Hiiiiiii, I wanted to, first if all, say thank you for writing so perfectly for Shadow Milk like fr i never saw anyone describing him so well I'm gonna cry. And I wanted to ask ,if you are ok with it, would you be able to expand a little more on the nsfw part of the headcanons you wrote about him? If not it's totally okay ahaha and in any case have a good day :D

Yeah, I for sure can! I left it kinda vague on purpose, purely because there's a lot to him and it was already so long. I'll try and write some more based on the original ones, but they won't be all that long lol. Still I hope you enjoy what I make up for you...

Tw: NSFW; Mentions of choking, biting, bloodplay, roleplay, etc..; grammar errors

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader; Nsfw headcannons

-To start I want to reiterate that he's very much in it for seeing you squirm. There is something so sweet about seeing your body jump and jolt beneath his touch. It makes him feel better about the effect you have on him.

-It's almost like revenge in a way, getting back at you for making him so weak and soft for you. If he can make you melt and mold for him in the bedroom, it's almost like he can call it even.

-For Shadow Milk Cookie, sex is fun. It's less about an expression of love and more about chasing your highs. Letting loose together and seeing how you can get each other to react to different things.

-With that being said he's super willing to experiment with just about anything and everything. If there's a kink you want to try, he'll go for it. Why not? He's just as curious as you are, y'know!

-Seriously, nothing (except sharing) is off the table at all. Hardcore BDSM, roleplay, watersports, pain play, blood play, and anything else you can think of really.

-He's, unsurprisingly, fond of things involving pain such as choking, spanking, biting, etc.. Not because he likes seeing you in pain, (well... he does, but only in the bedroom and ONLY inflicted by him.) but because you make the cutest little noises for him! Oh! Your squeaks and squeals are simply divine!~

-Biting is the most common thing he'll pull out, usually, each session ends with a nice new bloodied mark. It's his mark of claim on you, of course. A warning to anyone out there that you're not to be touched and that he does bite.

-He loves seeing them in private more though, especially after the deed is done. Cleaning the jam from your dough and soothing the marks over with kisses is his favorite pastime.

-Not to mention the absolute trust you have in him. Knowing that he would never let anything really terrible happen, so you sit and bear the pain for him. You like the scars they leave behind too, and trust me, they do scar.

-Speaking of trust, though, choking is up there because of the amount of trust you must have in him. When his hands wrap around your delicate little throat, he's reminded so intimately that he could kill you at any second. You are so small and weak next to him, and you know that, but you chose to love him anyway.

-So as he squeezes the air out of your lungs and hears the wheezy moans leave with each thrust of his hips, he's reminded of just how lucky he is. Sick and twisted in a way, but he can't help but fall in love with you all over again when you grab at his wrists like you can actually do anything.

-He actually prefers you unrestrained, because he likes you better when you can fight him off. He thinks it's cute when you struggle so hard against him, only to lose and get your brains fucked out like always.

-Oh and he loves to fuck you dumb. Seeing you babble and whine for more is such an ego booster. His little doll all limp and useless under him, pretty little empty head filled with nothing but him. (And he can see those stupid endless thoughts too! How sweet you are!~)

-Now when he's bottoming it's a different story. He does not like being vulnerable at all, so being on the bottom and letting you have that control over him is a struggle.

-When he's topping he doesn't say no to much, but bottoming is a different story. Like, very different.

-He fights you when you want him to bottom, like really fights with you about it. He'll make it very hard for you to make him submit, poking and prodding at you with mean words and as much physical force as he can muster (without causing long-lasting damage to you.)

-He is impressed if you get him to behave, though. He knows he's stubborn, so your patience has got to be insanely high to get him to this point.

-Once he has finally given up his control, you have to be very sensitive and in tune with his needs. He's needy, and he's not really ashamed of that fact either.

-I can't imagine him liking being degraded or belittled, it makes his insecurities rage in his dough. Parts of him believe that the insults are truthful, that you really think that about him, and that thought makes him want to cry.

-He doesn't mind being smacked around, especially if he's misbehaving and fighting you, but he isn't a fan of being hit by you. A little smack here and there, sure, but don't hit him like you mean it. It'll fuck with his head a little too much, and I feel he'd have a hard time separating the action from your actual feelings.

-No, he's quite a princess, actually. He likes being pampered and treated like a king. Gentle touches, loving words, and soft sentiments are what he needs from you. He wants to feel loved and adored by you, because he worries that you might not feel the same at times.

-When he bottoms is when sex is more about love than fun. It's the only chance you get to care for him, and the only time you see him willingly showing his softer and weaker side. You have to be gentle with him, or else he won't let you see that side of him again.

-Now I didn't really go into anatomy much when I was making my initial post, but this guy is wild. He can change his physical appearance at will, which means he can have a lot of fun so to say.

-I don't think he has much down there unless he wants to, and when he does want to let me tell you. It's not a penis. I mean, it is, but it doesn't look like one. It's a tentacle, a blue and white striped tentacle that gets thicker the closer you get to the base.

-He controls how it moves (most of the time), and can jerk you off with it or reach deep inside you to places you didn't know would feel so good. He rubs at your most sensitive spots with ease, torturing you with ease.

-He can also use his hair as tentacles as well, and often uses it to restrain you and play with you while his dick is inside. He prefers using his hair as a restraint than anything else because he can really feel you struggle that way.

-His cum is very thick, almost jelly-like, and a pretty light blue. It tastes like overly sweet blueberries. It's hard to swallow, but if you make the effort he'll be so very happy with you.

-He likes to cum just about anywhere, though. Your tummy seems to be his favorite, only because he likes it when you play with it after the fact. Finds it so cute when you can't help but worsen the mess.

-Oh and the last thing, which I feel is very important, he is big. And I don't mean like his dick is big, no. Shadow Milk Cookie is large, like literally ten times your size.

-Normally he takes a more... approachable form around you when he can help it, but... if you want to he would be happy to have his way with you at his full stature.

-You'd be sososososooooo easy to play with when he's so big, he'd love seeing his little dolly melt in the palms of his hands.

[car-o-line]

HIII!!! I LOVE YOU'RE POPPY PLAYTIME WORK SO MUCH!!! Could you do a jack kevin and matthew where the reader was jacks younger sibling and came back to the factor years later in there teens and a little reunite with each other (I NEED THEM TO BE BROUGHT OUT OF THE FACTORY AND READER SAYING TO DOEY BEACUSE THEY ARE 3 KIDS "So does that mean I have 3 brothers now?" Or somtehing like that sorry for this being long lol)

THE POPPY PLAYTIME STREAK CONTINUES🙏🙏🙏 this is literally adorable, if y/n and Jack are happy then I’m happy as well.

The Doey consciences with Jacks younger sibling who reunites with him<3

Info:

I think Jack is around 8 or something, so for the sake of that let’s just say that he was born in 1985 and made into Doey in 1993.

You were 4 years younger than Jack so you were 4 when he “passed” away.

Now you’re 13 and the reason you’re at Playcare is because you turned into an orphan there when erm, Kevin(I think) killed both your and Jacks parents.

You weren’t brought down to the labs like the other orphans, instead you snuck away from the Prototypes sight and paired up with Poppy to save the other orphans.

Sorry if this makes no sense, y/n lore is weird.

Also this is me editing, half of Jacks stuff is based about a whole ton of things so sorry about that😭

Jack Ayers:

He adored you when he had a normal life.

He would always be excited to play games or toys with you even if the toys you chose weren’t to his liking.

You were actually at the Playtime visit when Jack fell into the vat of dough, but the memory was so vague you could barely remember it.

All you knew is that your older brother, who wasn’t even that old, had gotten into an accident at the Playtime facility.

Then your parents got a call, a call to come visit the factory and see their “son” again. It would lead to their demise.

“Yes. It’s mommy and daddy and y/n! you remember, don’t you?”

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Hey. Hey, you’ll be okay. I promise. Mommy’s only here to talk.”

“No, no I don’t WANT to talk. Get out!”

“Susan, I think we should leave…”

“Jackie, I’m staying right here. I’m not leaving you. Not ever again, do you hear me?”

“The gentle voices lie. I know what they do, they lie..and they poke..and they hurt!”

“Mommy won’t lie to you, mommy won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you-”

“Hey… hey open this door! Oh god, Susan! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR LET Y/N AND I OUT! PLEASE-”

Unfortunately, both your mother and father died during that incident, that’s how you could recall everything. Their death was recorded on the VHS tape.

You were saved by a scientist who grabbed you out the last minute before Doey could do any harm to you.

After that you were brought down to the orphanage.

Fast forward into when you run into Pianosaurus and he tried to attack you.

And we all know what happened to him :(

But it’s okay because he wanted to kill you(I’m gaslighting myself rn)

Anyway! Matthew who was in charge at the time was shocked to see a child who was barely even a teenager.

So, he lead you to Safe Haven right away, he didn’t need a kid to be doing tasks for him and Poppy.

You went with him without resistance because even if you didn’t admit it, you were tired as hell.

You rested up in Safe Haven, unlike the player the toys were actually welcoming towards you. Some even recognized you as their past friend.

But there was a specific boy who recognized you more than anyone.

“I know them..I love them.”

“Huh..? Jack, you just met Y/n.”

“Y/n..y/n Ayers. Y/n Ayers right?!”

My boy was saying that out of excitement.

He let his emotions take him over and immediately went to go find you.

He was a bit overwhelming to say the least, Matthew had to calm him down.

Eventually he did calm down and Matthew and Kevin left him in control so he could speak with you as his brother.

He sat down on the ground while you laid in one of the Safe Haven beds. He grabbed your hand in his and played with your finger tips, curious.

You both talked for a bit, he apologized profusely for everything you’ve been through.

He told you about Matthew and Kevin, to which you asked if that meant that you have 3 brothers now. He pouted for a moment before nodding slightly, if it also went by his logic they were also his brothers. So it’d make sense that they’re your brothers as well.

Matthew Hallard:

Okay first off.

He’s pissed at Poppy for letting a CHILD do her dirty work for her, so he’ll definitely have a discussion with her about that later.

He’s more focused on not letting you out of Safe Haven for now, trying to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be in a place like this.

Then he overheard something odd from Jack, talking to Kevin.

“We they were tinier, I’d let them ride my back like a horse..they really liked it.”

“Hm.”

“When who was younger Jack?”

“Me and Y/n! They’re my family!”

He immediately whipped his head towards him, calling a “I’m sorry?” at that.

It makes him remember when those people came by, saying Jack was their son. And a little child in their father’s arms, that was you. They killed your parents.

Either you didn’t mention it or completely forgot since it was long ago, either way he felt horrible. Even if it wasn’t directly his fault, he was part of the reason you were here. In this hell.

He made extra sure to treat you as gently and as kindly as he could, and make Kevin behave himself around you. He thought that it could bring flashbacks that you don’t want to remember.

Once you figured out about Jack being part of Doey, and talked with him a bit, Matthew asked you a few questions himself.

Nothing deep, just what your favorite animal was, or your favorite toy at Playtime was. Just a few icebreakers.

When you asked him if him and Kevin were basically your brothers now since they’re apart of Jack he gave you a wink and his signature smile.

(he thought you were too cute he could die)

“Of course!! Everyone here is family, especially us four.”

Kevin Barnes:

Like Matthew, Kevin was a bit pressed about Poppy having such a young person to fill out her list of commands, but he wasn’t too upset that he had to scream at her about it, he just thought she was stupid. Because, thinking logically, they were all kids. So what’s one more going to change?

He was wrong🫶

He was..more tolerant around you. Matthew tells him that you’ve been through enough already and that you needed to stay in Safe Haven and get rest, and he actually agreed with that himself.

Butttttttttttttt, he’s more thoughtful about he, Matthew and Jack, more than a teenager he just met.

That was until Jack said something about you.

“Kevin! Let me tell you something!”

“No-”

“I know Y/n!”

“Me too.”

“No, like before everything! They’re my family!”

“What.”

So that’s how Kevin started to pity you<3

He took the liberty of asking Matthew about you, information that he got from Jack..and that odd VHS tape.

Just because he finds you tolerable, that doesn’t mean he likes you(he loves you like you a sibling and he hates it)

So when you asked him if that since Jack is your brother, and that he’s stuck with him and Matthew that makes you and him siblings to.

His eyes watered a bit but shhhh(he needs a hug)

He still said you were a dumbo.

#Kevin’sLoveLanguage

I hate my life my writing was way too confusing to be this long😭

[chibinasuu]

Unexpectedly | Law x Reader

★ requested by @supernatural-hunter1

Summary: You and Law never expected to fall in love with each other. Tags: sfw, strawhat!reader, takes place from sabaody to end of wano told through drabbles, GN but written with F!reader in mind, no use of y/n

Law never believed in love at first sight.

Hell, he never expected to fall in love with anyone at all, much less a rival pirate he never even talked to.

But the moment he got a glimpse of you outside that Auction House at the Sabaody Archipelago, for the first time in his life, he felt his heart somersaulting in his chest. 

That somewhat crazy glint in your eyes as you gracefully fought your way through the throng of Marines… Well, Law nearly took a bullet to the chest, the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Law convinced himself that it couldn't have been love.

Attraction, sure, but certainly not love.

And then you disappeared without a trace. For two years. 

He tried not to think much about you.

You were nobody to him, after all.

Law focused all of his time on his goal.

He became a Warlord of the Sea, and his grand scheme was finally in motion.

You were completely out of his mind by then, but suddenly, out of nowhere, fate brought you together again. 

There you were, standing beside your Captain in your cute winter coat, peering at Law disapprovingly as he extended his alliance proposition.

“I don’t trust you,”were the first words you gave him, a finger pointed accusingly in his direction.

Definitely not love, Law thought as annoyance started to rise within his chest.

“Believe me, I don’t trust you, either.”Law had scoffed in reply.

He would be a fool to immediately put his trust in you, no matter how kind and gentle you appeared to be towards your crewmates. It pissed him off to no end that he was the only one you were being hostile with. You weren't even that unfriendly toward the G-5 Marines!

Law tried to return your hostility with the same fervor, and outwardly, he seemed to have succeeded.

He would never admit that his heart still skipped a beat when you stared him down as if his Warlord title meant nothing, all the while threatening to end his life if he so much as betrayed your Captain. 

It wasn’t until the Battle of Dressrosa that you started to see Law in a different light.

His tenacity and determination moved you, and you would be lying if you said that didn’t make you curious to know more about him. 

As you sleeplessly laid—packed together with your crew and allies in Kyros’ little house on the hill—you reminded yourself that this alliance was only temporary, and there was always a chance that Law would betray the Straw Hats.

He got what he wanted all along—Doflamingo toppled and in chains. What would prevent him from just turning around on his promise to work together to defeat Kaido? 

Soft groans sounded from somewhere on your right.

In the dark night, with everyone deep in slumber, it was hard for you to identify who they belonged to, until someone suddenly jerked upright, clearly woken up from a nightmare.

Law.

His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breath, a hand wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.

Before you could stop yourself, and against better judgment, you whispered, “Are you alright?”

The word “yes” almost flew out of his mouth—the standard response. But somehow, he found himself unable to lie to you. 

“No.” He ended up choking out. 

The room was silent for a few moments before your voice rang out, firmly, but softly.

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

Law knew your words were mostly customary—the standard response. But his heart felt more at ease anyway.

“Are you alright?”

It was Law’s turn to ask when he found you in the woods on the outskirts of the Guardians’ residential district in Zou. 

You immediately wiped your eyes with the back of your hands, a bit embarrassed at getting caught crying. 

You smiled humorlessly up at him, “No.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

You chuckled at the way Law parroted your words from back at Dressrosa.

“Straw Hat-ya is going to get him back.”

“Oh, I know.” You said, accompanied by a more genuine smile this time, “I don’t doubt him one bit.”

Law raised his eyebrows, silently asking, why are you sobbing alone in the woods then?

“It’s just…” You sighed, “I can’t imagine what Sanji’s going through right now. What burden he must’ve been carrying this whole time.”

Law padded towards you hesitantly, like approaching a wounded animal.

You patted the ground next to you. 

He took you up on the offer and sat down, leaving a respectable distance between you.

“He’s going to be okay.” 

You didn’t know what came over you, but you leaned your head on his shoulder, finding comfort in this man you barely knew anything about, “I know.”

For a hunk of metal engulfed miles beneath the ocean’s surface, the Polar Tang felt surprisingly warm and homey. 

It had only been a few days into your journey to Wano, but you already found yourself attached to the Heart Pirates’ library. Well, it was mostly Law’s library, to be fair. 

There was no point in worrying anymore about what was going on at Whole Cake Island. There was nobody you trusted more than Luffy and your crewmates. They would get Sanji back, you were sure of it.

Now, the only thing you could do was focus on your next moves and ensure the plan to defeat Kaido was already set by the time they met up with your side at Wano in a few weeks.

As might be expected, planning for war was not what you would call fun. Everybody was exhausted, tense, and anxious about what was coming.

The library became your refuge in the evenings, a hideout after the days that were filled with meetings, and meetings, and more meetings.

You were perusing one of Law’s medical books when a voice interrupted you, “You’re interested in learning medicine?”

The Captain and Doctor of the Heart Pirates was leaning against the door, arms folded in front of his chest.

You gave him a small smile, “I’m interested in learning. Period.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his feet unsurely stepping forward, then back, before he finally decided to fully come into the room, pink blush adorning his cheeks.

“I can teach you more, if you like.”

“I’d love that.”

It wasn’t long until the library rendezvous became your solace, something to look forward to at the end of every day. 

It wasn’t long until the conversations about complicated medical procedures turned into subtle flirting.

It wasn’t long until the “accidental” touches—of your fingers as you passed a book back and forth, of your knees beneath the table—became more purposeful.

It wasn’t long until you started trading whispered stories late into the night, learning things about each other that no other people knew—the dim library a comforting haven for the unlikely pair.

“Don’t forget the fact that you doubted the loyalty of my crew.” Law coldly told Shinobu, “If we can’t trust each other in moments like this… then I can’t expect to entrust my safety to you when the fighting is fierce!”

The room was quiet as Law stormed outside, no doubt immediately heading towards the Flower Capital, where his crewmates had allegedly been detained as prisoners.

You hurried out after him, catching his arm before he could run off even further, “You know it’s a trap, right?”

Desperation dripped from his voice as he replied, “What else can I do? I can’t just leave them to be tortured by Orochi’s men.”

You knew you would've done the same if you were in his position—if it were your crewmates who had been captured. It would've been hypocritical of you to try and stop him.

You slid your hand down to grasp his, “Be careful.” 

He nodded.

He squeezed once, then you let him go.

When Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi eventually returned without him, it felt like someone had ripped your heart out and broken it into one thousand pieces.

On the day of the Fire Festival, you couldn't stop the tears of relief that ran down your face when you caught sight of that familiar yellow submarine in the distance, its Captain safe and sound, standing proudly on its hull.

It felt like a boulder had been lifted from your chest, the tightness in your heart replaced by a ferocious pounding.

The knot in your stomach loosened, and in its place, butterflies ran amok.

And there was no denying it anymore.

You had, unexpectedly, completely and unequivocally fallen in love with Trafalgar Law.

Cheers echoed throughout the Skull Dome as Luffy's victory against Kaido was confirmed.

Chopper was bandaging your arm, the skin ripped to shreds by Ulti's claws, but you could hardly feel the pain anymore.

Luffy won. Every single member of your crew was safe.

Yet, you couldn't fully relax. Not yet.

Your eyes darted across the open floor, praying for a glimpse of a fluffy spotted hat, or a blue feathered cape, or a bright yellow shirt. Anything.

You bolted from your seat the second Chopper finished tending to your injuries.

You needed to find him. You needed to see with your own eyes that he was alive.

Moving through the masses of samurai and pirates, your heart clenched tighter each second that you could not see him.

And then, among the crowd of thousands, you heard him.

Your name, shouted out with a joyous lilt that you had never heard from that deep, familiar voice.

The heat of the moment, the thrill you felt when your eyes finally found his, the impossibly fast rhythm of your heart when you saw the huge smile on his face.

You didn't think twice as you ran over, flung your arms around his neck, and crashed your lips against his.

Law's surprise lasted but a second before he kissed you back fervently, his arms pulling you impossibly close to his body.

The gasps of the onlookers did not reach your ears—it was as if you and he were trapped in your own little bubble, oblivious to whatever was happening outside.

“People will talk, you know.” He managed to let out between kisses.

“Let them. I don't care.” You answered, feeling his smirk as you captured his lips again.

The Heart Pirates had started giggling and whispering among themselves, some even running off to find your crewmates to spread the gossip, but you and Law were too far gone to notice.

Law's steady hands moved to cup your cheeks, and you let him angle your face so he could kiss you deeper, his tongue seeking yours desperately.

Even Bepo's awkward cough wasn't enough to tear you apart, prompting the mink to tap Law's shoulder hesitantly instead to gain his attention.

Without breaking the kiss, the Captain swatted the fluffy hand away in annoyance, but Bepo was insistent.

"Excuse me!" He shouted, the sheer volume of his voice finally bringing some sense back into you.

You instantly jumped away from Law in surprise, face burning in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I really didn't want to interrupt but..." He pointed to your arm, where the fresh bandage was already soaked with red, "I just think you shouldn't… agitate the wound too much. Sorry!"

As Law redressed your wounds, you couldn't help but stare at his face, then shifted your eyes up and down his body, taking inventory of the injuries he sustained after facing off two Emperors.

"You're okay." You finally declared, letting out a relieved breath.

"We're okay." He said as he tightened the knot of your bandage, before taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Dawn never looked as beautiful as it did in Wano.

You sat with Law on top of the hill just outside the Flower Capital, watching as the first sparks of sunlight peeked out from the horizon, streaking the purplish sky with tinges of orange and yellow.

The beats of the drums and the bright melodies of the flutes and the strings continued to flow in the distance, in harmony with the cheers and laughter of the freed people of Wano.

The celebration had been going on for seven days and seven nights now, but there were no signs of it stopping just yet.

Come morning, the Straw Hat Pirates, the Heart Pirates, and the Kid Pirates would all go separate ways, each taking a different route from the log pose.

You and Law both knew each other well enough to know that he wouldn't ask you to join his crew and that you wouldn't say yes even if he did.

Yamato had kindly made Vivre Cards for the two of you. A piece of his now belonged to you, and yours to him. That would have to be enough for now.

Although, you did have one more thing you wanted to give him.

You reached into your pocket and pulled something out. Taking Law's hand, you placed the small item on his open palm.

Law stared at the golden coin, one side engraved with a picture of a town, and the other with the name of your birth island.

You had shown it to him, at one of your library sessions, when he admitted to you that he collected coins from the various islands he visited.

Law also remembered you saying that this was the only memento you had left of your hometown. 

“I can’t—”

“Take it.” You closed his fist over it, dramatically proclaiming, “To remember me by."

Law scoffed, "It's not as if we're just never going to meet again."

"Yeah, but who knows when that'll be." You bumped your shoulder against his teasingly, "It might even be after Luffy becomes King of the Pirates." 

“Don’t be so sure.” He smirked, “I could still become the Pirate King, you know?”

You barked out a laugh, giving him a pat on the cheek, “Keep dreaming, honey.”

Law twirled the coin around between his fingers, his smile dropping into a slight frown.

“I’m going to miss you.”

The words were so softly spoken that you almost missed them.

You hugged his arm that was closest to you, snuggling into his side, “Me too.”

You felt his lips on your forehead before his head moved to rest against yours.

Fingers intertwined, you both watched as the sun crept higher and higher into the sky.

Yes, in a mere few hours, you would go your separate ways. But there was no doubt in your mind, and heart, that you would surely meet again, someday.

You knew it as sure as the ocean was blue and the grass was green.

Your story was nowhere near its end. 

a/n: guess who started writing a new law fic before finishing the part 2 of her existing one? 🙋🏻‍♀️ i can't help it, this request was too tempting. i feel like this fic is a little bit different from my usual writing style, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! <3 (i am now going to pretend law didn't get his ass beat not even a week after they parted ways shhhh that didn't happen in this timeline)

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[drdemonprince]

I should probably preface this by saying that this is a genuine question, not an attempt to "own" anyone, not a troll, etc. I'm genuinely curious and interested: Has there been any good scientific studies done on the question "Does having a kink about a 'problematic' subject, reading about it, fantazising about it, roleplaying it, etc., make a person more or less likely to do that problematic thing in real life?" Do you know of any good research papers or articles on the subject? Maybe it's a whole field of study?

I feel like if I ever (god help me) would have to defend a position of "other people's kinks, no matter how disgusted they might make me feel personally, are none of my business" to someone, it would be useful to have some kind empirical science to point towards.

Again, I'm not trying to be a jerk saying "source, please?", I'm genuinely interested in reading about it.

So a good place to start here is in thinking about how this kind of topic gets data collected about it. So if you're wondering about the relationship between, for example, fantasizing about bestiality and actually abusing animals, your primary way of being able to study actual, real-world behavioral outcomes would be to identify a source of data on acts of bestiality...which would almost exclusively come from the police state. If you really wanted to study who actually does commit these acts and what their history was, you'd have to look at people who were convicted for having committed animal abuse of a sexual nature.

The problem is, that data isn't necessarily representative of what abuse actually occurs and how often. The police aren't trustworthy, the carceral justice system is profoundly unjust, not every person gets investigated or tried fairly, and even if all those systems DID operate justly and fairly, you'd still be missing all the people who never got caught. And we know that since these systems are racist, classist, ableist, etc, that they are not 'catching' real offenders from all groups equally. Poor & Black people who have committed these acts are most likely to get caught, rich & white ones least likely. And so the data is skewed.

This is FURTHER complicated by the fact that even if you do look at this data, you are only seeing the people who *have* harmed animals sexually, not the people that haven't, and so that is going to be susceptible to confirmation bias of your prior assumptions and not be representative of the whole population if you use it to draw conclusions. So, for instance, if you look at the porn habits of every person who has been convicted for bestiality, you will probably find a lot of bestiality porn (both fantasy and real) in their histories. Okay, not surprising... but of the average people watching this porn, how many actually go on to offend and how many don't? We have no way of knowing. And because such an activity is so stigmatized (and in the case of real porn, itself illegal), you're going to not be able to get self-report surveys from the general population on this.

If you did try to give out surveys on this kind of stuff, you might be forced to report any of your respondents who did admit to doing something illegal. It wouldn't really pass most ethics boards to do this research at all.

So you can see why this is such a shadowy field of discussion. The thing to keep in mind is that the number of people who do get arrested for things like bestiality, child sexual abuse (especially the kind that is driven by an attraction to children rather than your garden variety case of a parent abusing their power over their kids in multiple ways, including sexual, but the sex is incidental), etc are very small. These are vanishingly uncommon crimes. and we can't really trust the police state to give us reputable information on this. and it is very hard for scientists to study well, and most who study it do approach it in a pretty sensationalistic way.

So, to answer your question, yes you can hop onto google scholar and dig around for studies on 'paraphilias' and their relationship to criminal offenses, but most of it is going to be profiles of people locked in mental health institutions and jails that SOUNDS super scary and fucking disgusting but is not a good reflection of whatever the hell is going on in the actual world. I think it's evident that a hell of a lot more people are fantasizing about this stuff than are offenders. Especially if we are drawing a distinction between fantasy and porn that depicts actual abuse. The people drawing dogs fucking on like deviant art or whatever probably do not pose any actual threat to real animals 99.99% of the time.

And if and when a person with a desire to DOES harm animals, it is because of the legal construction of animals as property that it is possible for them to do so. once again power is the root of the crime. more than a 'paraphilia' making someone like, evil. a lot of this stuff is values based and a philosophical case about how the world works rather than a specific statistical claim. but the number of real offenses that happen are so vanishingly thin that we could barely empirically study them anyway -- it's too small a sample size, and there is no ability to locate comparison groups of non-offenders who share these kinks.

I hope this helps answer your question. Obviously I am using bestiality as one example here but you could apply this to CNC and rape porn, child abuse and age play porn, etc etc.

[newdreamlove95]

Real talk 👏

I love fanfic. I know so many of us here love it too and that’s why you’re here, reading my post. It’s a space where we can explore existing stories that we LOVE, continue them, change them, connect with our favourite characters, and create new ones to interact with them.

No one is getting paid to tell their stories, and no one is being forced to read. People are telling stories for their own enjoyment and just want to share it with others.

That’s why it’s so frustrating, and honestly heartbreaking, to see people being harassed over their fics in the Hogwarts Legacy fandom. They’re being torn down, called names, and made to feel awful. I’ve seen people in this fandom get harassed to the point where they delete their works entirely. That’s devastating for the people who created them and the people who loved them.

I’ve been on the receiving end of this kind of thing myself. I was sent a horrible message recently, and it triggered a full-blown panic attack.

To whoever is sending these messages or making anonymous comments, please know that you’re not actually helping anyone. You might think you’re “calling someone out” and doing the right thing, but you’re not. Your actions can make people more insecure, anxious, and depressed. They can make people second-guess every post, idea, and interaction (or lack thereof).

Regardless of the reason why you like or dislike someone’s work, bullying them is not the way to handle the situation.

I’ve seen fandoms die out because of negativity (I’ve been in and out of fandoms for 20ish years), and this kind of behaviour is exactly how that happens. Fanfic writers (and artists!) stop sharing and feel pushed out of a community they love. People who are curious about drawing/trying to write don’t even start because they’re scared. It’s already terrifying to put yourself out there into the world, even under a username. (And remember, we are actual human beings behind these usernames!)

Hell, I don’t like certain genres of fics because I find them to be personally problematic, but do I send the writers hate over it? No. I just don’t read them. I don’t get filled with rage either. I just move on.

And what really bothers me is that the people posting these comments on AO3 for example, do it anonymously. I get it, you’re afraid of backlash from the fandom, but don’t you see? You’re doing the very thing you yourself are afraid of. That person who posted their story, putting themselves out there, is facing your hurtful backlash. And while you’re hiding from the consequences of your actions by commenting anonymously, you’re forcing someone else to suffer.

If you’re someone who engages in this type of bullying, even just a little, I need you to ask yourself: why? Why does someone else’s fanfic make you this angry? Why do you feel the need to go out of your way to make them feel bad? And what are you trying to achieve with this?

I’m not saying all of this to make you feel bad, I’m just hoping that you can start to see this whole thing from a different light. In fact, I hope the one thing you can take away from this is that it’s never worth it to make someone else feel horrible about themselves when all they were trying to do was have fun (without any intention of harming others). You can try to justify that they are harming others due to ethical implications of their fic’s genre or way/style of telling their stories, and we can get on a whole back and forth about that if you want (I mean come on, we’re continuing stories based on a world made by JK Rowling, which is already ethically questionable for a lot of people and I understand why), but I’m just asking you to just take a step back and think about the comments or messages you have left people and how it made them feel.

If you can apologise to the people you’ve hurt, then amazing. If you can’t, then honestly just leave them alone and please don’t hurt more people.

Life is hard enough as it is—especially at the moment with so much going on.

Let people find the fun escape they want, either by telling their stories or reading them.

Don’t like it? Move on.

Like/love it? Show it! ❤️

[phyrestartr]

Deal With It (P.2) | Gojo x M!Reader |

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

WC: 4k C/W: depictions of self-harm, depictions of depression, poor mental health, stress, mental illness, arranged marriage, hostile relationships, smoking, language, violence, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts (non-graphic) Tags: SFW, hurt/comfort, drama, canon-typical violence, character growth, eventual romantic feelings, eventual fluff and good vibes, kouhai gojo, senpai reader, plot and lore note: this is lowkey kinda clunky in some parts but I just wanted to get it out there since it was sitting 95% done in my docs for way too long lol...hope it's a fun read! tysm in advance!!

Tag list: @pleniluneg4ze @aizen-lover @easnowpw @tomiokasecretlover @snoweclipsese @mef0rg0r @soulsire @kiiyoooo @reiluvr @fricking-ur-mom @cucumbertoptier @enchantingkitty @mira-la-sol @deepestartisanhumanoidshark @animadi888 @cloudserenity @sageofspades @dietothemusic @prettorett @animadi888 @playboygeniusphilanthropist @chikai-k @starrykie @miakxn @atoriid @ami20019 @lastbreathtaken @drewyumi @stachelrose @jazzyocs 

2.

[NOW]

“For this mission,” Gojo announced, voice bouncing with his joyous skipping, “we're gonna meet someone suuuper special!” 

“Eh, seriously?” Yuuji asked, power walking to keep up with Gojo. “I thought we met everyone already.”

“There's one more,” Megumi sighed. “He's useful, a good sorcerer, and the only one that can successfully boss around Gojo-sensei.” 

“Sounds fake,” Nobara decided, grimacing. “This freak doesn't listen to anyone.”

“That's what I thought, too. But he seriously listens to him. It's weird,” Megumi said. “He's listened to him since I've known him.” 

Yuuji gawked. “Eh? Dude, no, wait—how long have you known him?” 

“Most of my life.” 

“(Name)!” Gojo cried as he threw open the sliding doors. “My honey, are you here?”

The students balked.

“Don't call me that,” your voice called from behind a decorative privacy screen. It was set in front of your expansive desk, shielding you from passersby with ostentatious flair; the piece was a wedding gift from your husband, designed and decorated exquisitely with him in mind so he could always keep you company. 

“Mou, you don't mean that!” Gojo pranced behind the divider, leaving the young sorcerers behind. He braced his hands against the edge of the desk and leaned down, trying to maneuver a kiss onto your cheek.

“I mean it,” you said as you swerved his obnoxious, puckered lips. “Your English is horrible. The pet names you choose are even worse, somehow.” 

“My English is amazing! You said so yourself!”

“I lied,” you hummed, and Gojo gasped. “Anyway,” you said as you stood, straightening out a handful of papers with a few taps against the table. “Here’re the projections.”

Gojo stared at the papers, head tilted like a curious pup. Then, a swift smile brightened his face, and he leaned into your space even more. You hardly flinched, instead raising your brows in some kind of surprise while glancing across his features, looking for answers despite knowing what was to come. 

“You have to pay the toll, Senpai,” Gojo purred. “You know I won’t take the papers unless you pay up~!”

You sighed through your nose—a sure sign you were about to crumble to the man’s demands—and cupped the underside of your husband’s jaw. You pulled him in and left a sweet, short kiss on his lips. Gojo tried to lean in to make it into something, but you, ever wise to his antics, were quick to pull away and press the papers against his chest. 

“Now take these. And stop making your students wait.” 

“Sure, sure.” He held your hand to his chest firmly, creasing the papers in a way that made your eye twitch. “But you have to come meet the kids first—I’ve told them all about you!” 

“That’s not a very reassuring thing to hear coming from you, you know?” You reached up and adjusted the uneven set of the man’s blindfold to suit your nit-picky standards better. “But alright.” —

[THEN]

Gojo heard your voice, frayed and broken, exploding off the walls as Yaga's shouts filled in any chance of silence. Too often did the tones overlap into a disgusting, grating noise that had the young sorcerer on the defensive, wondering if he had to step into the office and calm things down—not that he actually would, however.

“Fuck you,” you spat. “You said they'd—”

“I can't control what they do,” Yaga snapped. “You know that.” Gojo heard him shift and take a step, but your own shuffling and empty laughter dampened everything else. 

“You said—you promised they'd listen, that they'd choose the best outcomes and be patient and—”

“There's not always room for patience.” 

“People died—”

“People always die.”

“But they didn't have to!” Your voice cracked as it rose an octave. “There was a clear-cut way around this—” 

“Get your head out of the past, (L. Name).” 

Silence blanketed the room. Gojo almost risked a peek into the office to see if you'd both spontaneously teleported elsewhere, but a deep sigh grounded the scene, and held him back. 

“What's done is done. You can't change it.”

Eh? Gojo crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. I thought that was the point.

He didn't know much about you. It was for a lack of trying, naturally, but he didn't see a point in associating with you when he was sentenced to spend eternity at your side. But he knew you had a strange job, one that kept you chained down by the college, and you never took to combat missions like the rest of them (probably because of a lack of firepower, he’d decide). Then again, the question of if your charting involved any cursed energy was unanswered, too. 

Still, you made it clear the disaster could've been prevented. You made it clear that there may have been a chance to save more lives, but your projections were set aside for the sake of haste. There was no telling if waiting would have cost them more, but considering your endless, trusted job was creating favourable outcomes, Gojo had measured faith in your competency.

Gross. He made a face, scrunching his nose up until his shades brushed his forehead. Don't give him compliments. Just demand to know what detergent he uses! That's why he sought you out, anyway; you and your linens smelled nice, something like fresh laundry and chamomile, and he would discover your secret. 

“No shit,” you scoffed, locking Gojo back into his ‘accidental’ overhearing. Your voice contorted in a strange way, wobbling like a rookie trying to survive their first walk across a tightrope. “Fuck you. Fuck this school. You're all fucking disgraces.” 

Footsteps thundered towards Gojo. The thought of running away to avoid getting caught only flickered in the young sorcerer’s mind after the sliding door slammed open, and you trudged past your fellow student.

Phew! That coulda been bad. But Gojo still chose to lean into the open doorway and throw a cheeky grin Yaga's way as the man rubbed his brow. “Uh oh, you're in trouble with the third year~!” 

“Gojo, get lost.” 

“Aye, aye!” 

Gojo followed after you. It'd be easy, he figured; you probably hadn't gone too far, considering how nauseatingly plain and weak you were. It didn't take long to realize he'd bamboozled himself, however; you weren't at the school, you weren't even near it. The place wherein he found you was far away and unexpected, but you were there nonetheless, sitting on the ground, legs threaded through the guardrails of a high-arching bridge. You were shivering, soaking wet, and puffing on a cigarette while the ocean churned below you. 

“Eeh? You don't look so good, Senpai,” Gojo cooed as he waltzed up to you, pivoting on his heel to look out at the ocean as well.

You didn't speak. You only took another drag, and sighed deeply as you rested your forehead against the iron bars. The smoke curled and coiled in odd ways, almost looking like it were shifting into little creatures before dissipating with the wind.

Gojo, ever tactful, leaned down, hands tucked in his pockets, and stared at your dismal, gloomy face. His smarmy smile started to wane, losing its childish gusto as your grief refused to waver in the enlightening presence of Gojo Satoru. 

“Jeeze, you're not being any fun.” He sat down next to you and wiggled closer until his shoulder pressed against your soaked one, rocking you to the side and back. “How come you care so much if normies die?”

“How could you people not care?” You mumbled around your cig. Gojo followed the shallow bobs of your smoke like a cat enticed. “Aren't we supposed to save ‘normies’? Isn't that the whole point of this?” 

Gojo hummed. “Naaah, I think we just need to be the strongest and destroy the baddies! Normies are gonna die, that's just how it is, yenno.” 

You scoffed. Something bitter lifted the corner of your mouth. Something even worse gnawed at Gojo's mind. 

“You really are the prime example of a sorcerer, four-eyes.” 

“Six Eyes,” Gojo corrected.

You graced him with your empty stare. “What?”

Gojo puffed his cheeks up. “My ability—it's Six Eyes, not four. Duh.”

You cringed. “I'm talking about your glasses.”

The younger gawked, his jaw dropping with a choked gasp as though he was some sort of cartoon character. The bridge of his nose flushed a light pink colour, but Gojo himself didn't know what the hell kind of emotion had made his skin betray him. It was probably some sort of primal disbelief. Yeah, definitely. 

“Senpai, you're joking,” Gojo squawked. He awkwardly grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you as he spoke. “You can't bully me for having glasses when my beautiful, pure eyes are too sensitive for the world around me! That's rude! That's cruel! And then making a joke about them that's way too easy to get confused with my inherent technique of—”

You exhaled a cloud of smoke into his yapping mouth and the younger burst into a fit of coughs and tears. 

“Why have you forsaken me?!” He wailed.

“Because I loathe you,” you said simply.

Gojo stopped his whining. He wiped his eyes under his sunnies before granting you his undivided attention. He watched every movement you made from brushing off the hand on your shoulder, to turning to look out at the horizon, to plucking the cigarette from your mouth. You acted so calmly. Gojo must have misheard your declaration. 

So, Gojo rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, staring out at the view while keeping a secretive eye on your profile. 

“Pah, no one hates the Gojo Satoru. It's clinically impossible!” 

“If you didn't exist, the world wouldn't be so out of balance. My life wouldn't be so hectic,” you murmured. You examined your smoke before tucking it back between your lips. “It's just a fact, like it or not.” 

Cold swept through Gojo. “And if you could actually drown yourself properly,” he drawled, smiling, vengeful, “I wouldn't be stuck marrying someone who's sooo jealous of me that he decided to hate me.” 

You sighed and shifted to stand. “I wish I could, too.” Gojo admired your silhouette as you stood against the pale blue sky, but felt something uneasy rise in his throat as you looked down at the churning rapids. “But I always get pulled back.” You gripped the railing. “Wanna see?”

Ice held the younger in place. His instincts fought, struggling to be serious or make a joke, but yours seemed to sing in harmony from how quickly and easily you threw yourself from the bridge. He knew he should stop you, but you were already falling, and he couldn't move, and—

A burst of updrafting wind toppled the sorcerer, freeing him from his paralysis. He squawked and scampered onto his feet, grabbing at the railing, preparing to throw himself off after you—but then you were there, carried by blustering, smokey spirits, and set down as though you were a priceless artifact.

A new coat of misery had been painted on you with a heavy hand; you were soaked again, and wore a look of annoyance that was far worse than anything you'd pointed Gojo’s way. Part of the younger sorcerer felt a little lighter at the thought. Part of him felt a little darker, too.

The spirits—shikigami, maybe—circled you, whinnying and throwing their large heads in some sort of display of displeasure. Their hooves clacked and thumped against the ground like claps of thunder, but you were hardly off-put by the mighty sound. 

“Sorry,” you uttered their way. Gojo's heart did something funny when he saw you something close to embarrassed.

The younger snapped from his trance and marched up to you, walking through one of the great beasts to grab the front of your shirt. Surprise next decorated your features in pretty colors. Gojo never looked away.

“Never again,” he said. “You're not gonna do that ever again.” 

The shikigami huffed and snorted, hooves clomping. Gojo figured they agreed. Good. 

You swallowed, and sighed. “Why do you care?” 

“Like it or not, you're my fiancé—your life is mine, and my life is yours.”

Something complicated crossed your face. Gojo didn't have the ability to decode it. 

But he could understand the shallow nod you gave him. He could hate and understand the confused looks you shot at the horses that then flanked Gojo's sides as you reached for his wrist and squeezed, reassuring, albeit unsure. 

“Okay.” 

---

“I gotta say,” Ieiri hummed between fries, “I didn't think you'd really care if he lived or died.”

Gojo lifted his head from the fast food joint’s table and rested his chin down instead, forcing an exceptional pout onto his face. 

“I'll get blamed for it!” He whined. “Yaga'll toootally punish me or smack me around or something!”

Getou sighed. “Then there's the issue of your clans,” he reminded. He reached for Gojo beside him and lifted his chin off the table before tucking a few serviettes beneath his jaw, and setting it back down. “They wouldn't be happy. I wouldn't be happy.” 

“Eeh?” Ieiri rested her cheek in her palm and looked at Getou. “You wouldn't be happy?”

“The point of the union is to make sure (L. Name)-senpai, and those affiliated with him, stay on Satoru's side.” Getou shrugged and plucked Gojo's glasses off his face to clean them. “It's important.” 

Gojo laid his head down to stare up at his partner. “Huh? Huh? Whaddaya mean?” 

Getou sighed and placed the shades back on Gojo's nose. “You really tune out anything you think is boring, huh?”

“That's kind of his specialty,” Ieiri chimed. She smiled and reached across the table, taking her go at the infamous sunglasses, but instead carefully putting neat fingerprints all over the gleaming lenses.

Gojo pouted. “Mou, just tell meee! I probably just forgot! My brain's sooo big, I get stuff lost in there, you know!” 

Getou smiled. “Eh? If you have so much space in there, it's probably too empty.” 

“Suguruuu—”

“Fine, fine.” The raven leaned back, arms crossed. “The only sorcerer to take out a Six Eyes, limitless user was a shikigami user.”

Gojo snorted and sat up, crossing his arms behind his head as he stretched. “Pft. Yeah, fine, but that? Taking me out? Right.” 

Ieiri gasped a tiny oh. “No, wait, that's so true—he's got Zenin blood, doesn't he?”

Gojo frowned. Echoes of horses’ hooves played in his memories.

Getou nodded. “He does. It doesn't mean he's as strong as his predecessor, but the opportunity is there.” 

“If he's sooo damn strong like you're saying, then why the hell isn't the college sending him out, huh? Huh?” The chosen one scrunched up his nose in disgust. “He just sits around all day, looking at numbers, doing lame shit and being useless!” 

“I don't know,” Getou said. “But sometimes the best way to keep someone subdued is to keep them close.” 

“Pah. That'd never work on me. I'm way too un-subduable.” 

Ieiri laughed and cleaned off the lenses before handing them back. “Well, he'd probably answer if you asked about it. You're his fiancé, after all.” 

Gojo grumbled. “Yeah, maybe.”

—

Gojo did his damndest to interrogate you. Unfortunately for him, you were too focused on getting from point A to point B to stop and humour him for even a moment.

You locked your door, and your shikigami (some cute, little cat-like things with wings and horns) hissed and swatted him away. That didn't stop him from muscling through the scratches and bites to break in and bother you, however. Your stallions took over from there, and Gojo had to deal with the bruise of a crisp hoof in his forehead for a week. 

Soon enough, you avoided your room altogether. That's when Gojo found you in the third years’ room, and tried to harass you there. He'd have to deal with another hoof to the chest for that. 

Eventually, you disappeared from that spot, too, and Gojo was once again left to search. Yet his nosiness knew no bounds—it even coaxed him into swallowing an ounce of pride and accepting that the curling trails of smoke in the air were his Six Eyes showing him a path of your very real, very potent cursed energy that’d lead him straight to you. 

And follow it he did, straight down to the first-year's room. 

“...don't understand it,” Nanami's voice rang. Gojo slowed his steps and strained to listen. “A binding vow alone would be sufficient.”

“Seriously!” Haibara chimed in. “Why would you need to commit yourself like that if you can just vow to never hurt him?”

Gojo leaned against the wall beside the doorway. They weren't wrong; he'd asked the same questions before and had been given a multitude of answers that he disregarded as soon as they were spoken. There existed no good reason for any of it. You didn't get along, you hardly could stand each other—

But then, you laughed, and a tremor, or maybe a voiceless growl, echoed through the hollows of Gojo Satoru's bones. Your voice was so different. He wished he could have seen your eyes crinkle, or your lips tilting upwards. He wished he could catch the scent of chamomile again, too.

“It's more complicated than that,” you said, tone still rich with mellow fondness. “My bloodline, it's—”

“You're a Zenin!” Haibara cut in. Gojo heard the sharp sound of his hand clasping over his mouth, muffling a quick ‘sorry!’ while Nanami no doubt shot him a look for cutting their superior off mid-sentence. 

You laughed again. Gojo chewed the inside of his mouth. 

“It's fine, it's fine, don't sweat it. But it's a bit more complicated than you’d think.” There was the sound of the chair creaking, of your clothes shuffling as you shifted. “My bloodline is more Zenin-adjacent than true Zenin,” you said. “We just go along with the rumours to make life easier.”

Nanami grumbled, troubled, and Haibara gasped. Gojo’s grimaced at the grating sound of chair legs shrieking against the floor as Haibara no doubt scooted in and leaned closer to you. 

“I had an ancestor,” you continued. “His mother was mortal, and his father was supposedly Amatsu-Mikaboshi, or closely related to him.”

“Amatsu-Mikaboshi,” Nanami repeated slowly. “An obscure name.”

“Yeah, preeetty ominous,” Haibara added. “I mean, ‘Dread Star of Heaven’? Totally bad news.”

“A god of chaos,” you said. “Sometimes referred to as Kagaseo. A rebel kunitsukami—not often mentioned, not often spoken of, but prayed to as a landlord deity these days.” 

Haibara cackled. Nanami scoffed. Gojo pursed his lips.

“But back then, he was chaos incarnate. He objected and acted against the amatsukami during the kuniyuzuri—the transfer of land and rulership from the earthly kunitsukami to the heavenly amatsukami. He was supposed to have been slaughtered, but, well, gods have their ways.

“He somehow came to be with a noble sorcerer woman who bore his child. Apparently, she was an elusive criminal of sorts, but only revealed that truth on her death bed. It’s probably why chaos sought her out and courted her.”

“And she was a Zenin?” Haibara asked as Gojo wondered the same. 

“Not by blood,” you said. “But, like I said, Kagaseo favoured her, and he adored his son who proved to be a true, human embodiment of chaos—his son conquered and burned the legacies of other clans, he manipulated political powers, he destroyed whatever he pleased from the inside out, and stole whatever secrets he wanted.”

“Including cursed techniques,” Nanami pondered. “I see.”

“But—but how could that guy just take someone’s cursed technique? Doesn’t make sense, ‘specially if it’s inherent!” Haibara objected. 

“It's said he indulged in other magicks, and drank their blood to consume their abilities,” you said, far too casual while your kouhai gawked. “I mean, how else would you steal a bloodline’s technique?” 

“S-So, if you, y’know, went all vampire on one of us,” Haibara started, “Could you steal our techniques?”

“Potentially, sure.” 

“The marriage is to protect limitless and the Six Eyes, then,” Nanami sighed. “And, additionally, to ensure you won’t use the Zenin’s techniques against him.” “More or less. But we don’t know if it’s possible for me to be a threat like that. Better to be safe than sorry, I guess.”

A thrill raced up Gojo’s spine, sparking and igniting excitedly in the back of his skull. His fingers pricked with energy and the urge to move to go to you and—

“Hear that, Gojo?” You called, and the sorcerer held his breath like it might help him disappear. But it wouldn't. So, he confronted the matter head-on while trying to keep his acute, you-centred furor in check. 

“Bah,” he scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood in the doorway and turned his nose up at you, and subsequently the first-years. “I'm not impressed! Like I said, you're never gonna be better than Suguru!”

You didn't look too impressed in turn. In fact, you quirked a brow on that plain face of yours, and Gojo wanted to yell at you to smile or laugh or—or do something. 

“Your tactless words never cease to amaze, Gojo-senpai,” Nanami droned. 

Gojo wheezed and crumpled. “Tactless…how can you be so cruel to your senpai?!”

“I lack respect for you.”

“Nanamin!”

“Alright, alright, cut him some slack,” you warmly scolded as you rose from your seat, gathering your scattered papers. “He can't help being an idiot.”

Haibara shot Gojo a sympathetic look. Nanami sighed, but kept his judgement to just a cruel stare. Gojo withered away. 

You said your goodbyes to the first years, they said theirs, and you took your leave. Gojo followed along, face caught in a crude pout and hands stuffed further into his pockets. 

“How come you never told me any of that crap, huh?” The menace asked. 

You hummed. “Your clan should’ve told you. They probably did, actually, but I doubt you listened.”

The younger whined and slouched more as he walked. “Stuuupid. It's probably all bullshit anyway! You're just trying to—”

Thud.

Gojo swallowed involuntarily; you'd turned and slammed your palm against the wall by his head, caging him in between yourself and the building in a cliché kabedon. You leaned in close, too, and that earlier roil returned to Gojo's stomach as he met your no-nonsense stare. 

“Listen up,” you said lowly, “I don't care what you say about me. I don't care if you think I'm useless and weak. But you're gonna need to think twice about badmouthing my lineage.” 

Gojo managed a smirk. “Oh? And why's that?” He wondered, head tilting. “You gonna throw hands if I talk shit?” 

“No,” you said, a smile threatening your calm and softening your voice. “But others in my family and in the Zenin clan won't take to it well, alright?” 

The younger scoffed. “You think I'm afraid of some geezer clansmen?”

“You should be.” You leaned back, letting your hand drop to your side as you affixed your partner-to-be with a concerned look. “Please, just listen to me for once. I'm trying to make your life easier.”

“Since when?” Gojo huffed. “Since you tried to kill yourself in front of—”

You raised your hand, and he fell silent. 

“Yes,” you conceded, brows knitting together. “Look, I'm sorry. I just—I spiral sometimes and, I don't know, get destructive, I guess.” 

Gojo crossed his arms and pouted. “Maaajor understatement.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. Gojo found it somewhat endearing. 

“Yeah, I know. But trust me when I say giving you a warning about my clan is making it up to you. I was going to let you incur their wrath naturally,” you said. 

“You think that's enough?!” Gojo balked. He jabbed a pointer finger into your chest a few times, grinning when you hit him with an annoyed look. “You owe me more than that!”

You closed your eyes and muttered under your breath before nodding. “Fine. Name your price.”

“One of each Kit-Kat flavour from the convenience store!” He declared, still poking at your surprisingly well-built chest.

You grimaced. “Are you five?”

“Don't question me!”

“Fine. I'll buy you candy.”

“And!” He crossed his arms again and turned his nose up at you like a snobbish brat. “I wanna know what detergent you use.”

Your expression contorted. “You're a freak, you know that?” 

“Hey!”

[folkwhoreberry]

Danny Ric x Oscars sister who’s like a violinist or soemthing creative in the FIA, so she’s at the races. Maybe she’s like super super weird and pessimistic like Tori Spring and likes to do soemthing silly like building dioramas LOLLL

Yeah, So What? Everybody’s Weird

daniel ricciardo x reader

or... the one where daniel gets abducted by aliens

word count : 937

warning : unrealistic (or not?) imaginations, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : freeze your brain by from heathers

🍯🦡

you never quite understood why you were in the fia. after all, your job was “creative event logistics,” which was just a fancy way of saying you had to find clever solutions for logistical nightmares. but mostly, you spent your free time in the paddock building dioramas. not just any dioramas, though - yours were masterpieces of chaos. monaco? there was always a tidal wave. spa? suddenly in the middle of a dense, monster-filled forest. silverstone? consumed by an inexplicable sinkhole. no one asked why you did it, and you liked it that way.

you weren’t exactly an optimist. okay, let’s be real - you were a walking cloud of pessimism. you had this deep, unwavering belief that something would always go wrong, whether it was a pit stop catastrophe, a sudden storm, or, your personal favorite, a freak crash that would involve a rogue cow from the countryside. oscar, your brother, called you “grim” and laughed it off. the rest of the grid just found you a little unsettling, especially when you casually brought up how a massive engine failure could cause a car to explode. just casual race things.

but not daniel. no, daniel ricciardo found your weirdness… charming? confusing, yes, but somehow, he liked it.

you first met him when you were setting up a particularly complex diorama for the hungarian grand prix. it involved an alien invasion, complete with miniature ufos and tiny f1 cars being lifted off the track. you were deeply engrossed in sticking a model of max verstappen into a green plastic claw when you heard that unmistakable australian accent.

“that’s… terrifying,” daniel said, crouching beside you to get a closer look. “is that me about to be abducted by an alien?”

you glanced at the tiny replica of his helmet sticking out of a ufo’s tractor beam and shrugged. “yeah, but don’t worry, you’ll probably survive. or not. I haven’t decided yet.”

daniel grinned. “I love it. you know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to race in space. reckon I’d still beat max.”

you blinked at him. usually, people just backed away slowly when you went on about hypothetical disasters. but here he was, smiling like you’d just paid him a compliment.

“maybe,” you said. “or maybe you’ll get brainwashed by aliens and lose all your steering ability.”

he laughed, the kind of laugh that echoed around the paddock and drew curious glances. “you’ve got a dark mind, y/n.”

“I prefer ‘realistic’,” you muttered, going back to your work.

from that day on, daniel kept showing up. he’d pop by whenever you were working on a new disaster, always offering weird suggestions like, “what if it rained donuts during the singapore gp?” or “have you ever considered adding a giant squid to the monaco harbor?” you started keeping a notebook just for his absurd ideas, most of which you’d never use, but it amused you.

the thing about daniel was that he was endlessly positive, a ball of chaotic sunshine who seemed immune to the gloom that hung around your brain like a permanent fog. at first, you thought it was annoying. how could anyone be so… chipper? but then it became kind of nice, like you were a bitter coffee and he was the sugar. maybe you needed that sometimes.

the grid noticed, of course. oscar definitely noticed. he cornered you one evening in the paddock, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“are you and daniel… a thing?” he asked, like the thought was more horrifying than any of your diorama disasters.

you snorted. “me? and daniel? no. I’m pretty sure he’s just fascinated by how weird I am.”

oscar raised an eyebrow. “he’s fascinated by something, all right. just don’t get too distracted. I don’t need daniel ricciardo messing with my head before a race.”

“you’re being paranoid,” you told him, though you couldn’t help but wonder if oscar had a point. not that you’d ever admit it.

things took a turn one night after the canadian grand prix. you were sitting in your tiny hotel room, working on yet another apocalyptic diorama (this one involved an earthquake hitting the montreal circuit), when there was a knock on your door.

you opened it to find daniel standing there, holding what appeared to be a box of miniature race car parts.

“what’s this?” you asked, already suspicious.

“for your next masterpiece,” he said, stepping into the room and dumping the box on your bed. “I figured if you’re gonna keep making these, you could use some real f1 car pieces. authenticity, you know?”

you stared at him, bewildered. “you brought me spare parts… for dioramas?”

daniel nodded, his grin widening. “yep! thought you’d like ‘em. you’re always talking about how the cars would crumble during a meteor shower, so now you can show me exactly how.”

it was then, staring at this man who had just gifted you a box of tiny car pieces, that you realized something horrifying. you liked him. like, actually liked him.

you groaned inwardly. this was the worst. liking daniel ricciardo? the human equivalent of a golden retriever? you could already feel the impending disaster. maybe he’d get bored of your dark humor. maybe he’d try to “fix” you with positive affirmations. or worse, maybe he’d start doing the thing people always did - expecting you to be someone you weren’t.

but then daniel plopped himself down on the floor, crossing his legs, and started rummaging through the box, excitedly babbling about how cool your earthquake diorama would look with actual f1 car debris.

maybe… maybe this wasn’t a disaster after all.

————————————————————————————

a/n : I let my weird girl out with this one guyssss take me back to my diy days 💔💔

[caffeinated-binturong]

Corrective Maintenance

Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: You thought no one would notice the sudden decline of your prosthetic but are caught and forced to get fixed up. Genre: Fluff POV: Second Warnings: None Word Count: 1.9k

—

The problem started a few days earlier with the occasional hitch in your step. Nothing serious or out of the ordinary, just an annoyance, but you made a note of it all the same for the next time you went to a mechanic. It progressed faster than expected, though. You could still compensate at the moment but it was getting harder and more painful to do so, and you could feel the difference not just between days but from when you started a shift to when you were done.

With growing anxiety, you were forced to accept this wasn’t something you could ignore or put off. Not that you had the money or anything worth bartering with to get it fixed immediately but this wasn’t sustainable. You couldn’t even say what was wrong, only that something was clearly not right.

In the meantime, you kept being a cog in the Shimmer empire. Officially your job was personal courier employed by a shell company of Silco’s in case anyone was sniffing around. Unofficially it was the same work but for the drug network instead. The irony of barely being able to walk while being colloquially known as a runner wasn’t lost on you.

It wasn’t thrilling work but at least it loosely put you under a chem-baron’s protection.

The Last Drop served as a central hub, the centre of a surprisingly vast network. You could and did take things directly between different outfits as needed but you assumed what you moved required a certain amount of oversight or keeping people in the loop. Not that you thought too hard about it—getting too curious is how you wound up with this job to begin with and you weren’t going to make the same mistake as your predecessor.

How often you appeared made you a familiar face no one noticed, background noise long since tuned out. It wasn’t unusual to be in and out in under a minute with only a few words exchanged. Not even the regulars tried talking to you anymore, which suited you just fine.

What was unusual, though, was Sevika roughly grabbing your upper arm while the bar keep was telling you where to go.

“The hell’s going on with you?” she hissed.

Without anything more specific, your only response was to give a quizzical, albeit alarmed, look.

“Don’t think I haven’t see you trying to hide that limp. You’ve been doing it every time you come in.” Her voice was a low growl and her vice-like grip on your arm was tightening. “If you can’t do your job…” The threat hung in the air.

Around you, a few people were watching the show with interest while others were acting too hard as if nothing was happening. The poor man behind the bar looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Oh, that!” you blurted, recognizing what she was referring to. “My leg’s been acting up and I haven’t been able to get it checked out yet.” You give a half shrug with your free shoulder, playing it off as no big deal.

“… Why didn’t you say so? Follow me,” she said after searching your face and eyeing those watching. She let go and the sudden release sent blood you didn’t know was missing rushing back into the limb. That will be a nice bruise later you thought, flexing fingers as you trotted up stairs after her.

That’s how you found yourself in your Boss’ office with your superior hunched over your leg.

Various tools were spread out on the table that was also helping prop up your leg. The couch you sat on was plusher than you were used to and who even framed their paintings and hung them in such a lavish manner? The room itself even smelled important. Everything screamed you weren’t supposed to be here and your face must have reflected that.

“Relax, Silco’ll be out all day,” says Sevika, elbow-deep in machine guts.

“I’m not supposed to be up here.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was almost done for the day anyway. I’ll go.”

“Now that… that’s not fine,” she sighs with exasperation. You couldn’t feel it but you saw the way Sevika’s mechanical hand flexed around your metal shin, locking you in place if you tried to bolt. You were stuck here and it did nothing to calm you down. Sevika mutters to herself about something and grabs a different tool, seemingly forgetting you, but her hold doesn’t lessen just yet.

Without being able to leave and not having anything useful to say, all you can do is watch your senior deftly rummage around your leg. The rhythmic tapping of metal against metal, the occasional curse under the breath, and cigar smoke wafting in and out ends up lulling you into a trance despite your unease. Without noticing, you start to nod off.

You jolt awake when you notice Sevika fully turned on her stool as she looks pointedly at you.

“Uh, sorry. Say again?”

“I asked,” she turns back to do something with your ankle joint, “when did you get this?”

“Oh, a few years back.” You could still remember every detail from when that ceiling collapsed and crushed your lower leg. You could still feel it if you wanted to, not that you wanted to.

“Looks older than that.”

“Might be.” It definitely was. It had happened before you started working for Silco, back when you still lived in a particularly destitute part of Zaun and worked mines deemed too unsafe to work. Sevika lets it drop there and you’re glad for that. It’s not that you were still raw about the subject but you were used to snide comments about the tech, as if it was so easy to get where you’re from or you weren’t aware of how ancient it really was.

Silence on the matter instead of prodding questions was a nice change.

“Don’t you have to keep an eye on the bar?” you ask, realizing the time and not wanting to still be there when Silco returned.

“The others can handle it for now. It’s a slow day and won’t pick up until later,” she shrugs.

“Is that why you’re doing this? Boredom?” You didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation but that’s how it comes out. Your stomach drops.

Sevika slowly turns to look at you, not quite believing what you said. Her harsh gaze alone is enough to lock you in place this time.

“I’m doing this because some fool thought they could still work despite barely being able to walk,” she snaps. “You put others at risk with your stunt and I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” A dangerous energy hangs in the air.

“Sorry,” you mumble, averting your eyes and feeling redness crawl up your neck.

She huffs at that—at you—before turning back once again. You expect to be kicked out, fired, banned from the bar, something. People had lost their heads for less and there was no reason to think you were an exception.

But nothing happens. It still feels too combustible in the room, as if one wrong word would ignite everything, but it’s clear you’re allowed to stay.

Truthfully you’re glad for what Sevika was doing even if you would have preferred it to be somewhere else—even the leers and commentary from downstairs would have been better. You had never been mechanically inclined but even if you were, the prosthetic couldn’t be disconnected and working on it yourself required more flexibility than you possessed. You learned early on to grit your teeth and deal with any problems as they came up.

You had even had issues before while working for Silco. Not as serious as this but no one ever said anything, it’s why you thought you could get away with it this time. That and you had to keep working if you wanted to get it fixed, and it’s not like you could request desk duty in the meantime.

“Hey, Sevika,” you carefully broach once the tension dissipates enough.

“Hmm?”

“I just wanted to say thanks. Formally and all that. It would have been a bit before I could have seen someone.”

“You’d have been lucky to make it a couple more days without the whole thing giving out. Shit’s busted in multiple ways.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No shit. It’s more patch job than original.”

“Makes sense. I got it as a teen and it wasn’t new then.” It still amazed you that you got it at all when you thought about it. Prosthetics were a luxury where you grew up, it was far more common to see people missing body parts completely.

She gives a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was old. Can’t say how much longer it will last.”

“It’s not like I can afford a new one,” you sigh, knowing how this conversation will go

“If those mechanics you’ve been seeing weren’t so eager to take your money, you could,” she says. “It’s clear there’s no point continually repairing it at this point.”

You frown at the idea you’ve been swindled all this time. It wasn’t like there was a new problem every month and obviously something so old with daily wear would have issues… It didn’t sit right but you couldn’t deny it either.

“I don’t mean to push,” Sevika continues, “but you really should consider a replacement.”

You only grunt. It’s not your fault the finances never work out.

“Besides, if you don’t I’ll have to pull you. Can’t have a courier who can’t walk.” She slaps the compartment shut in victory. “See how it feels.”

After carefully standing up, you tentatively see if it will even support you but it holds without complaint. Emboldened, you to risk a few steps, the catches and grinding you were used to were gloriously absent—your gait was smooth, the actuators properly adjusting.

And it held.

“It works!” you exclaim, unable to hide the grin on your face.

“You doubted me?” Sevika raises an eyebrow. Her posture is casual but her eyes are all business, assessing the result of her work.

“No!” you’re quick to respond but Sevika’s eyebrow only arches higher at the obvious lie. “Okay, maybe a bit,” you add sheepishly.

“It wasn’t easy,” Sevika responds with a chuckle. Deciding you weren’t going to fall over any time soon, she switches to the formality you were used to. “Come on, we should head back down. You aren’t done yet, either.” Without waiting for a response, she’s out the office door.

Back in the main area, the two of you go your separate ways. The bartender hands you a sealed folder for the second time and reminds you where to take it, unsure if you remembered. With new orders, you go to head out but not before giving Sevika a small nod—she’s back at her usual table—but she barely glances at you. What she does do, however, is give a brief swirl of whatever was in her glass. It was small and might have been coincidence but you want to think it was a response.

Out on the street, you allow yourself to smile. You weren’t done for the day and the sun was already setting behind the evening haze but a growing weight had been lifted.

—

A/N: So many Mechanic!Reader fics about fixing Sevika’s arm and Mechanic!Sevika AUs, how about one where she fixes Reader? That’s it, that was my thought process.

[amongemeraldclouds]

a dwindling mercurial high

Beware of the boy with bright eyes. He'll lure you in with his sweet smile and intoxicating words. It'll feel like heaven until he drags you down to hell.

Toxic!Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader (smut, angst)

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire Masterlist | 1.7k words

Lorenzo Berkshire and his smug fucking smile. You won't see it, not until it's too late. When your clothes are discarded on the floor, breath heavy and legs spread. He has you right where he wants you.

No. It starts with sweet smiles. A small turn of the head from the corner of your eye. You've caught his attention. Suddenly, you're the luckiest girl in all of Hogwarts, at least that's what the gossip circles will whisper. The next pitstop in his long journey of conquests, a coveted spot that each girl had fantasized about at least once.

Everyone knew Enzo went all out. Thoughtful gifts, memorable dates, and that damn charm. His ability to make you feel like you were the only girl who ever mattered. Anyone else would have been labeled a playboy, proceed with caution, but Slytherin's golden boy could do no wrong.

Until sweet smiles turn to equally intoxicating words.

"You're smart and funny, the real tragedy here is that I didn't meet you earlier." "You don't have to pretend around me, just be yourself. I like it, I like you." "You deserved better than how you were treated in the past, but I'm here now. Let me take care of you."

Your intuition will warn you to run, rattle against the ribcage guarding your chest. Your heartbeats screaming, be careful. You'll smile and shake your head, silly little heart. Doesn't she see? He knows you, he cares.

Walking side by side in school hallways gives way to laughing across each other at dinner. Add in study dates in the library where you memorize his eyes more than the lines in your textbook. Deep conversations and secrets shared in dark corners of the castle. Refilling the vase in your dorm with the flowers he gives you, taking up more space in your room and heart.

He's patient, savoring the twinkle in your eye, your little smiles that he tallies in an invisible scoreboard. Soon, he thinks, as he counts down to the grand finale.

You never see it coming, though you really should have. Reputations are earned after all, not bestowed. One day it's raining outside and he's forgotten his umbrella. You take your wand out, mind shuffling through spells, but he'll insist. It will only take a few moments and who could say no to those puppy eyes?

It's cozy, then. A warm room with a fireplace is much better than the cold, damp weather outdoors. Of course, it makes sense to stay in instead and cuddle by the fire. It's electric, to be this close to him in a room all alone. The nervous glances and shy smiles never last long.

Not when you find yourself melting into his arms, lips locked as you give into him. Your fingers lost in his soft hair, gentle moans exchanged between lips, and he pulls you in closer. He lets you breathe for a second as he whispers his vow in your ear, "you taste so good, baby. You're all mine tonight."

There's nowhere else you'd rather be. You yelp when he carries you up bridal style, giggling in the crook between his shoulder and neck. "Let's get you comfortable, yeah?" His finger traces circles on your shoulder.

Who needs clothes? Certainly not you and you sigh in relief and gratitude when he undoes the first button from your blouse. He looks at you, his eyes curious, seeking consent.

You nod, unwilling to open your mouth or else you'll beg him to go faster. To do every sinful thing that has ever crossed his mind. You try to hold onto the final shreds of your self control even as he slips your unbuttoned blouse down your arms, leaving nothing to his imagination.

"You're so beautiful, baby," Enzo praises you as he unclasps your bra, his eyes comitting every inch of your figure to memory, as if this is the first and last night he'll spend with you. Because it will be, though you don't know it yet.

He's sweet in the way he plants soft kisses from your neck all the way down to your breasts, where he licks and teases you as if he has all the time in the world. Your thoughts melt into the elixir of his touch, heightening your senses, as heat blooms in the pit of your stomach.

He moves lower still, discarding the rest of your clothes like carefully unwrapping a gift. "You're gorgeous," he sighs, "an absolute goddess." He kisses along your thighs until nothing and no one else exists but you and this beautiful, eager boy. All yours.

He wraps his arm around each of your thigh, keeping you still as you squirm against him. His tongue traces circles around your clit before he laps up your sweet juices.

"Mm you taste so heavenly," he praises you as he dives in deeper for more, tongue darting into your entrance. He becomes the very axis your planet spins on as you lose yourself in the pleasure, head sinking deeper into the pillow. The room is filled with his sloppy kisses against your wet cunt, sucking and driving two fingers into you. Your toes curl and your fingers grip the sheets tighter.

When you feel yourself teetering on the edge, that's when you see it. A smug smile from the boy who has been nothing but sweet and kind. It twists his features, still handsome but with the edge of a predator who has sunk his teeth deep into his prey.

"E-enzo?" You ask tentatively, suddenly tense and unsure.

He takes his time responding as you hold your breath. "Ready for me, baby?" His eyes snap back to you, tender and warm. You can almost pass off what you saw as a trick of the light.

You sigh in relief, "god yes."

He chuckles, "I'm not god but I can give you the world, darling." He discards his clothes and you follow each of his movement, enthralled by his lean, sculpted figure.

He lines himself up to your entrance, teasing your slit as he glides himself along before thrusting into you. You moan in surprise and delight as he stretches you out. He goes slow, letting you adjust to his size and he encourages you. "You feel so good baby, you're doing so well for me."

You look into his eyes, a whirlpool of emotions coursing through you. Here's the boy who makes you feel special and safe, seen and understood. After weeks of spending time together, it feels right to give everything to the boy who has become your everything.

He continues praising you with his sweet words, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to euphoria.

"You're taking me so well." "My perfect sex goddess." "Yes, moan for me just like that, baby."

He brings out the filthiest sounds you didn't know you had in you, pornographic moans and whimpers as he makes you beg for more. Gushing fountains for him over and over, with you laying down, him having you on all fours, and you riding him.

You recite his name the entire evening, reverently, as you lose your mind in the ecstasy of his movements, his touch. He may have been worshipping you, but to you, he's the god granting your every prayer.

When you're spent and beyond satisfied, he brings you close to him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're amazing," he praises you over and over, his finger tracing shapes on your shoulder.

"It's all for you," you tell him as you kiss him gently on the cheek. When you lay back down, he caresses your hair. There's no more words left to say, just a warm feeling of home shared between you two, and it's enough to lull you to sleep.

Once Lorenzo Berkshire is done with you, you'll never be the same. It's one thing to go through life, not knowing certain things. You can't miss what you don't even know exists.

It's an entire world of pain to have a bite of the sweetest fruit only to have it snatched away from you. To always crave for a flavor you can never taste again. The longing and worse still, the hope, is what kills you in the end.

Lorenzo Berkshire is suddenly too busy for you. Of course you understand, you respect his space. But you also know his schedule and all the places to find him. Before you met him, you probably never would have called yourself a masochist, but now you sneak around.

In corners of the quidditch field, on a far off bench in the courtyard, you wait with bated breath until you see him. He's goofing off with friends, his arm around a shiny new prize. Another pretty girl with wide eyes and a bright smile.

You nearly come crying to your friends about it, but you can already hear what they'll say. For five whole weeks, or even just five days, you were lucky to have caught Enzo's attention.

You should be grateful to have ever been noticed at all. So you save your tears for lonely nights with only your pillow to catch them, keeping you company through your grief. It seems just like yesterday when it was his shoulder you had laid on.

There he goes, Enzo parading around with his warm smile, charming everyone, including the professors. You remember a second when his mask slipped, a smug smile from an apex predator. You saw him as he truly is. But you keep it to yourself, no one would believe you. Some days, you barely believed it yourself.

There are moments in life that humble you, when you realize you're not as smart as you believe. Lorenzo Berkshire was the biggest lesson of all. But if you were truly honest with yourself, being with him had been so good, it was nearly worth the heartbreak.

You go about your days then, as if it had never happened. There's always more projects to work on, exams to study for, parties to dance in. The tears stop running and your smile returns. But every once in a while, you see him.

The boy who promised the world and gave it to you for a moment. A blaze across the sky burning brightly, before the darkness swallowed it whole.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire Masterlist

A/N: I always feel like I write Enzo sweeter than he really is, so I'm glad I get to write this take on how toxic he can actually be.

May or may not be inspired by someone I met. Dammit why are men.

[hoonieyun]

date with bachelor number two

welcome to, "is he mr. right?", the dating game! where a lucky girl who is looking for love has the opportunity to go on a date with four handsome and eager bachelor's who are also looking for love.

this is an interactive dating show au where the readers can vote on "yn's" decisions, ultimately leading to who she will be with at the end... but more on that later!

heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon

warnings: not really lol

wc: 3168

episode five: date with bachelor number two

“is he really your ex?” your stylist asks, staring at you with wide eyes through the mirror as she puts the final touches to your hair. 

you give her a tight lipped smile paired with a nod. you didn’t know how big of a coincidence it was to be in the same place as your ex a few years after your breakup, that doesn’t seem like much of a coincidence– but when you add that fact that it’s to film a tv reality dating show, then it feels like the biggest coincidence in all of existence. 

you’d be lying if it didn’t feel somewhat like fate.. but you didn’t want to just throw that word around. 

you and your stylists chit chat for some time after they’ve finished getting you ready. asking questions about your date with jake, how it was compared to the past when you two were actually date, how it compares to your date with jay, do you think you’d give him another chance– yadda yadda yadda. 

you didn’t mind discussing these topics because people would naturally be curious about these things; it’s just that you never expected jake to be a topic of discussion again after not seeing him for so long since your breakup. it wasn’t a nasty breakup, pretty tame honestly; but you’d always remember the look of betrayal on jake’s face when you told him you weren’t ready to settle down. 

a part of you had suspected jake was going to propose and because the two of you hadn’t even graduated university yet, you wanted to have that conversation with him before he did something as drastic as proposing to you. you weren’t even sure how you would’ve reacted in that moment if he did, would you have said yes then privately rejected him? or just outright decline his proposal no matter the circumstance. 

one thing’s for sure, you weren’t ready to get married. 

today felt like a long day, you weren’t sure why but it seemed everyone was on the same page as you because all of the staff and crew were moving at your pace. like everyone was exhausted and had something better to do than film a reality tv show. 

you couldn’t blame anyone though, it was taxing to do this every week and it took a toll on your body. filming days usually started from 8am where you’d start with hair and makeup, then wardrobe, then you’d film interview questions and what not for the show to add filler throughout the episode, then the actual date wouldn’t start until way into the afternoon, sometimes the early evening. 

there’d obviously be breaks in between filming so you could eat, rest, touch up, etc– but for the most part the day started early and ended late. you were just grateful that it was a fun experience so far and that aside from the general fatigue, there wasn’t anything to complain about. 

you tried to not let it show that you’re exhausted, your makeup artist gave you the courtesy of adding a bit of extra makeup so that you appeared brighter and more awake; to which you didn’t complain about because your skin could use the extra help. 

the outfit for today was pretty simple but cute. semi-casual, one would say. a white button up that was tucked underneath a beige knit sweater vest paired with wide legged jeans. it was definitely an outfit you would’ve worn in your regular life. the outfit made you wonder what the date could be. 

possibly something simple? like a date at a library? or perhaps something creative like a painting class or pottery? you weren’t sure but the longer you pondered on it the more excited you became. it was nice to have these little surprises to look forward to and it made it feel more special knowing that the bachelor’s were putting a lot of effort into coming up with something that was memorable and enjoyable. 

you’d be lying if you said that jake was no longer on your mind because it seemed like he’s taken a temporary lease the way he’s occupied your mind throughout the days following your date with him. you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, he was just as shocked as you were and there was no way he would’ve known that you would be on this show– so it couldn’t be that he planned this. 

maybe it was fate, who knows? 

“okay, yn. ready?” the PA asks just like she always does right before going into filming. you followed her to the set and once again, you did the usual catch up and review with the love guru. sitting in the seat besides hers as the both of you discuss the events of the previous episode and what you were expecting for the one you were currently filming. 

the crowd seemed to be very onboard with the idea of an “exes to lovers” trope for this season as it hadn’t happened before on the show. when you and jake finished filming your episode the week prior, you were both pulled aside separately to discuss what happened and when they found out you were both telling the truth about being exes due to your stories being identical– they thought it was an amazing addition to the show. 

like it added even greater stakes– leading the other bachelor’s to be nervous for the outcome as one of them already has a history with you. but you weren’t going to play into the games of a reality show. of course you knew that this was a tv show at the end of the day and they were going to do what they needed to make viral reality tv moments, but you were going to stay true to who you were. 

and that is, at the end of the day, a girl who is looking for love– nothing complicated, right? 

after filming your interview with the love guru, you were informed to wait in your dressing room for what seemed like hours. all you could do was chat with your stylists, at some point someone came by and asked what you wanted for lunch– bringing you the menu and after a while, they returned with exactly that. 

the date wouldn’t start until way later, it was around 6pm when you were finally called to set again and would be transported to the location of the date. you tried your best once again to not let the fatigue catch up to you, having drank two cups of iced coffee– you were sure that you would be able to make it through this date with no problem. 

just like before, once you were a few minutes from the location, a staff member gently places a blindfold over your eyes and soon guides you out of the car and to your spot for the date reveal. it was chilly outside and although the knit sweater vest you had on was thick, it didn’t provide enough warmth; leaving your arms somewhat exposed to the cold air as it was only covered by the thin fabric of the button up. 

after being told to remove your blindfold, you’re met with a building that wasn’t familiar to you at all. it was a large white building, the shape resembling a dome; it was rounded at the top and tapered out as the walls met the concrete it was built on top of. 

you gave the camera a puzzled look with a small pout as you weren’t able to decipher where you were, there weren’t any signs outside so you asked if you could go inside and after being given the green light– you made your way to the entrance. 

there were large trees that outlined the building, several statues and fixtures were erected outside– decorating the atmosphere. when you pull the door open to get inside, you’re met with a vast white field, twinkling lights and beautiful art adorning the walls of the building. 

a boy in a similar outfit as you, standing just before the open space. he was wearing a white button up and wide legged pants but instead of a knit sweater vest, he had on a black tie– which you found cute. 

he smiled at you brightly as he watched your eyes widen at the scenery, excited to have finally met you after several weeks of waiting. 

when you scanned him up and down, you noticed that he was holding something in his hands– and that’s when you realized where you were and what the date was going to be as you identified the items he was carrying: ice skates.

“hi, i’m sunghoon– it’s my pleasure to meet you.” he says, a cute smile on his face as he approaches you, setting the skates down on the floor next to him before taking your hand in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. 

you aren’t sure if it’s the cold nipping at your cheeks or his actions, but you were sure that your face was red right now. 

“hi, sunghoon. i’m yn, it’s really nice to meet you, bachelor number..?” you responded, your voice trailing off at the end as you waited for him to finish your sentence. 

“two!” he says, putting up two fingers and then moving them towards his face to pose with a peace sign. cute, you thought to yourself. you recalled that bachelor number two was the shy one amongst all of the men, but right now it didn’t even seem like he was shy at all. 

maybe he had gotten over his shyness since the first episode but he was so sweet and bubbly so far– you were excited to see where this date was going to go and to get to know more about him. sunghoon was tall, way taller than jake and jay, he had thick eyebrows that framed his face perfectly and the closer you got to him as you walked over to the ice rink– you could see the several moles that adorned his face. 

you were going to keep this to yourself but sunghoon was definitely your type. 

“i hope you’re okay with ice skating– i should’ve picked an activity for our date that was a bit more common but if you don’t know how to skate i’ll be by your side the whole time to help you. i can even teach you if you’d like.” sunghoon explains, another smile on his face and your heart melts every time he looks at you with that smile. 

“don’t worry, i’ve skated a few times but i wouldn’t mind if you were by my side anyways.” you replied, trying to throw in a playful but flirtatious comment to see how’d he react. 

and just like you guessed, his reaction was just as cute as he naturally is. sunghoon had a cold resting face but it instantly melts away when you get to know him, even in the short time you’ve been talking, he’s already warmed up to you and been very sweet. “don’t worry, i wasn’t going to leave you anyway.” he says, instantly matching your flirtatious efforts as the two of you lace up your ice skates. 

you weren’t lying when you said that you’ve skated before but you didn’t clarify that the last time you had ice skated was when you were 14 years old when your parents took you to the ice rink for christmas and you almost ate shit as you lost your balance, hands flying in front of you to break your fall. you didn’t get hurt but you definitely weren’t going back to skating any time soon. 

sunghoon is first to get on the ice, he does it with so much ease that you’re left quite impressed as he glides onto the ice so elegantly. you exhaled before stepping out onto the ice but you’re stopped when a hand appears in front of you. sunghoon extends his hand towards you, that same smile on his face as he offers himself as guidance for you. it was like he could tell that you were nervous and you were glad that he picked up on that because you were nervous and didn’t want to look like a fool in front of such a cute guy. 

you gently place yours in his hand and sunghoon wraps his fingers around yours, a warmth generating from his skin as he holds your hand– eventually grabbing your other hand and carefully pulling you onto the ice. “see, not bad, right?” he asks, eyes carefully observing you as yours are glued to the ice, making sure you were being cautious with every move. 

“yeah– haha” you respond, a shaky chuckle leaving your lips as sunghoons brings you around the ice. the two of you talk about your lives, things like what brought you on the show, your interests and hobbies, and the whole time sunghoon has not tried to make you pick up your speed or push you to do more than you were comfortable with. 

sticking to his word and staying by your side the whole time, his fingers not once unlocking from yours. 

“can i show you something?” he asks and you nod in response, a smile on your face as you watch him intently. he guides you to the edge of the rink, placing your hands onto the railing for support before skating away. music starts to play throughout the stadium and to your surprise, sunghoon begins to do a routine on the ice. 

his movement ever so graceful and majestic, it left you in awe. you weren’t sure where sunghoon learned to move like that but it truly left you speechless, a talent that you wished you could have but were content enough to enjoy those who did have that capability. 

sunghoon at some point slid by you, rounding out the rink and giving you a small wink and a flying kiss as he swept by; you were beginning to think that shy boy persona from the first few episodes were merely an act the longer your date went on. his flirtatious advances definitely didn’t go unnoticed and it made your heart to leaps and spins of it’s own as you watch sunghoon. 

when his routine finishes, he skates back to you, his fingers once again finding themselves intertwined with yours as he pulls you to the exit– carefully assisting you outside of the ice. “sunghoon, that was beautiful! where did you learn to do that?” you asked and sunghoon confesses that he’s been skating his whole life. it used to be everything to him and at some point he had to take a break to focus on his studies and work but his passion and love for the ice always held a place in his heart.

“wow– that’s amazing. i can’t believe i had the honor of seeing that, thank you for sharing that with me.” and your words leave a tender mark on sunghoon as he blushes at your compliments. “i’ve got something else to show you.” he says, grabbing your hands and pulling you to the stands of the stadium after you’ve put your shoes back on. 

the two of you find yourself at the top of the seats, looking down at the ice rink, you furrow your brows at the moment, unsure of what this was supposed to be. sunghoon then gives a thumbs up to a man in the distance and the lights in the building suddenly go out, causing you to get startled and almost like an instinct; sunghoon wraps his arms around you, “don’t worry, everything is fine.” he whispers, softly rubbing your arm. 

just then, several spotlights appear from the ceiling, highlighting shapes on the ice that leave your mouth ajar. throughout sunghoon’s skating routine, he had managed to draw out several hearts that were shaved into the ice and at the center of it being the first initial of both of your names. you swoon at the gesture, causing you to melt into his arms even further, “that’s not too forward or cringe is it?” he asks, and you laugh in response. 

you playfully slap his chest as he tightens his embrace around your shoulder. “that’s actually one of the cutest things someone’s ever done for me, i don’t even care if someone says it’s cringe– which it’s not!” you clarified, the two of you laughing as you make your way down. 

this date was definitely unexpected but in the best way possible. sunghoon, who was almost a wildcard, left you in awe in so much adoration for his tenderness, consideration, and talent. “can i tell you something?” he whispers. 

nodding to let him know to go on, he turns to face you; “i was really hoping you were bad at skating so i could impress you.” he says, a sheepish grin on his face and you can’t help but laugh. in any other circumstance you think you would’ve been offended but because sunghoon has been nothing but sweet and caring; you found it cute. 

sunghoon was cute. 

“you’re lucky i’m not at your level because i would’ve gave you a run for your money.” you joked and sunghoon nods with a laugh, “don’t worry– i’ll be your coach so you’ll be just as good as me one day.” he says, the two of you shaking on it as if it was an official agreement. 

you and sunghoon bid each other farewell, a smile on both of your lips as you part ways, both of you wishing that the date could go on for longer. there was something special about sunghoon and you couldn’t put your finger on it but this was definitely a date for the books. 

“what was your favorite part of the date?”

yn: when he held my hand– wait! no, sorry i meant his routine, or maybe when he said he’d never leave my side.. aghh, i don’t even know. sunghoon: everything

“would you date the other?”

yn: yeah sunghoon: definitely

“do you think he’ll be mr. right?”

he’s got a really good chance, that’s for sure.

“do you think you’ll be mr. right?”

i hope so. if i’m not mr. right it’s okay, because i know i’ll have left a lasting impression on yn.

three out of four dates completed and they’ve all been so different. as the day ends and you wind down, recalling the events of your date with sunghoon, all you could think about was how great he was at comforting you, the ease of the conversation, and how your exhaustion instantly left your body as soon as you felt his touch. 

it was like he was instant burst of energy and joy, something that’d you definitely be holding onto and if you were being honest– it’s brought him up higher in the rankings amongst the boys. 

bachelor number three, the final bachelor, has got some big shoes to fill.

prev ep 𐐪♡𐑂 next ep

hoonieyun notes: i don't know why but i loved writing this chapter so much... can you tell LMFAO

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[honeycollectswhump]

happy news!!

every week maus‘ condition is improving. she has fully regained her ability to fly, even better than before. and she is becoming more and more curious and is letting her personality shine through. this is better than anything her vet and i could have hoped for.

at the moment she gets daily medication as well as an infusion at the vet every week, and so far it has been doing wonders for her health. i truly believe without the care from the vet, maus wouldn’t have made it a week or two more.

though we don’t know how long she will live, we have hope she will live longer than a couple of weeks!!

i don’t know for how long we will continue her weekly vet visits and at what point we can dare to do it every two weeks.

i am beyond grateful for any donations, you have made this possible!! if anyone wants to further support maus‘ treatment, donations are appreciated!!

hi everyone, perhaps you've seen the posts about my budgie saga before. unfortunately yesterday i found out devastating news. maus (my baby budgie) is terminally ill and likely only has a few weeks left. what started out as slight concerns for her breathing suddenly turned into her liver being both damaged and so oversized that it constricts her breathing. she is not in any pain currently but sadly it is only a matter of time before her liver fully stops working.

while we have moved her to palliative care, i am determined to give any treatment i can, to give her a bit more time and keep her comfortable.

i hate to be doing this, but as a full-time student her vet bills are a lot for me. if anyone has any money to spare, i'd really appreciate the help!!

GoFundMe link

[olderthannetfic]

hello! i have a question regarding etiquette of downloading fics (mainly from ao3)! i'm just curious about different opinions and if i'm maybe putting too much thought into this and no one's gonna care lol.

but basically, i'm currently in the process of downloading my ao3 bookmarks so that i have those fics saved, but i'm curious do people put in their bookmarks (or their profile, or maybe even somewhere offsite like tumblr) that they download or backup their bookmarks (or anything of the sort)?

i have that script thing when i make a bookmark, it automatically adds the fic's title and author and tags etc to the bookmark text field (tbh that's the only reason i use it for) so i thought about maybe adding a line of text that i have the work saved/downloaded so in case the work gets deleted, i still have the info of what the work was about but also kinda like a reminder and like a signal? to other users who were also curious about the fic that they know that particular fic has been archived... like i know that reuploading a fic is wrong (and i wouldn't do that anyway) but i know that sometimes users ask for deleted fics and people share those privately between themselves but idk about having a way to let others know like "hey i actually have a backup of this (and am willing to send you the file privately)" since i also know that some users kinda end up tripping over the thought of their work still being shared even after it has been deleted. so idk?

i got a bit more into archiving things i love lately but i'm also into sharing the things i love BUT also wouldn't want to piss anyone off basically 😅

--

[altraviolet]

Just reread the echo garden again and I must say that Soundwave’s character development throughout the story has been both beautiful and extraordinary! (Even I was proud of him)

There is something that I’ve been curious about tho. What if Soundwave somehow got the chance to reunite with his universes Megatron at some point after the events of TEG? What might a reunion between them look like?

Thanks for the reread! =D

This is a popular question! I've been asked several times: it's something people are definitely curious about.

I never had an answer because I always knew we wouldn't be going back to SW's dimension in the fic. And even if we did, his Megatron would be dead or altered beyond recognition, due to the internal logic of the universe. I never needed an answer. And it felt like it would be very complicated and Too Much Work to figure out.

Unsatisfying but true, lol.

But, okay, let's do a little mind experiment. Off the cuff. No prior planning. Let's say that, somehow, SW's Megatron is preserved and in a recognizable state, and that the last we saw of him in TFP is also true in universe. And for some reason, SW wants to go back. And for some reason, they've run into each other.

The last we saw of Megatron in TFP, iirc, he'd just been freed from subjugation under Galvatron, and he stated that he never wanted to feel like that again, and he would not do it to anyone else ever again.

So disregarding RiD2015 as any possible source of further characterization...

...I feel like this Megatron would avoid Soundwave and the other Decepticons for a long time. He really sounded like he wanted a Very Long Time Out. His character change was stark, in those last few on screen moments, and there isn't much to go off of, regarding what New Directions he would head down.

He had a very calm air about him when he said it... but he's not an innately calm character. He's been driven by anger for a long time. He had expectations of being fully obeyed for a long time. He has just been handed the reveal of his life: that everything he did was extremely awful and he's only learned that because it happened to him.

So we have a character in an unknown state. How much growth will there actually be? Or will there be a backlash, a backslide into something similar to what he was before? There are no real answers (as far as I know of, in canon), so this becomes the domain of the fic writer.

And that's what I mean when I say this sounds like Too Much Work xD How do I proceed with an arc that feels Megatron-y, doesn't copy any other arcs we've seen, feels authentic to the character and world... what happens when you push a character to the destruction of their core values? How do they build themselves up again?

I don't know :D I'd have to rewatch TFP and then sit and think about it for a long time, and I'm not interested in doing that. I see several courses his arc could take, but I'm not sure which one is the most 'authentic.'

But, okay, people keep asking me.

Let's say TFP Megatron has been scrounging around, somewhat pathetically, on Cybertron (I honestly don't remember what state Cybertron was left in, at the end of TFP, but we're far into the future so uhhhhhh idk it's rebuilding), and our main characters meet because SW has returned to his home dimension for supplies. I assume SW would be accompanied by a few friends, probably including Rodimus.

There'd be some kind of first contact scene, but the thing the readers most want to see is SW and Megatron alone, so we'd have to plot for Rodimus & friends to go somewhere else (be amenable to giving them alone time, or get distracted by something, etc). So now we have SW and Megatron. And they're staring at each other.

SW is looking at the mech who destroyed him, rebuilt him, and then used him for millions of years.

Megatron is looking at the ultimate example of his tyrannic rule: a mech he shaped into a perfect servant.

SW sees Megatron as a pitiful thing, obviously living off scraps [since in this character arc branch we won't let him backslide into dark energon use or his tyrannical tendencies], obviously alone and doing terribly.

Megatron sees SW as a faded and scratched up, but obviously healthy mech, who initially arrived with allies. Allies who wear the Autobrand.

What next?

Well... I don't know. I'm going to give you some possible reactions Megatron has to this:

-immediately starts calculating how he can use Soundwave to his advantage. this Megatron IS clever enough, in my opinion, to possibly recognize that SW's associates are not Of This Universe. perhaps, he thinks, he can appeal to SW's loyal nature

-truly feels sorry for what he did to SW: either does or does not know how to apologize for it

-"Even you, Soundwave?" though Megatron has sworn off his old ways, he's still disappointed that his most loyal soldier has switched sides. it's a reminder of his own weakness and failure. he couldn't even keep Soundwave loyal

Some possible reactions SW has to seeing Megatron:

-!!!

-correctly recognizing him as the pitiful figure he is, and perhaps even going so far as to identify with the long process Megatron has ahead of him for healing, should Megatron even be able to find people to help him through it

-anger. despite the pitiful appearance, Megatron still did bad things, and unlike 0001 Megatron, never apologized or made any amends

-perhaps the most biting response: SW could look at Megatron for a moment and then just walk away. maybe Megatron calls out to him, but he keeps going. he lets Megatron see that he's healthy and thriving, and that he doesn't need Megatron, and that he doesn't care about him. he doesn't even need or want an apology, or any kind of response. he assesses and moves on, like Megatron is just another piece of scrap

or, of course

-some kind of hilariously inappropriate troll response, lol.

so yeah. as you can see, anon, there are quite a few ways things could go. there's an infinite number of ways things could go!

the way you choose which thing to do would depend on what you want the story to say. is there some kind of message about forgiveness? or is the message that there are some things you just can't forgive, and so you must move on for your own sense of self and preservation? cut ties, and so forth

and so that's the answer: there are too many answers and I'm not particularly interested, at this time, in figuring out which one is the best. I always say, hey, you never know: if I ever do feel like writing out this scene, I will

hope you enjoyed ✨

[cringefailvox]

Me, gnawing on the Al/Vox/Val/Angel situationship quadrangle

I wonder sometimes if Alastor looks at Angel and his relationship with Val and sees Angel as the perfect example of WHY you shouldnt ever become emotionally involved with anyone - your feelings for someone can always be used by that person to manipulate and eventually entrap you.

Maybe Al sees something like the scenario he feared he’d end up in with Vox if he ever actually trusted him or felt affection for him. He could never really believe Vox wouldnt turn on him at some point

I’m just…very curious about the potential parallels between VoxAl and ValAngel

preaching to the choir, anon, i also desperately want to know more about this fucked up relationship square. thinking from the angle of like, vox always wanting more than alastor is willing to give / valentino always wanting more that angel is willing to give, and what he isn't val will take from him anyway, and then ALSO of course vox & val being obsessed with alastor & angel, who ostensibly don't want anything to do with voxval but keep coming back anyhow, addicted to the other's attention and the rush that no one else can give them. vox seeming like he mildly resents angel's existence bc he makes val a liability vs valentino delighting in how much alastor destabilizes vox. angel not even knowing who alastor was before the pilot, alastor acknowledging him maybe once in the entirety of s1. valentino possibly playing a role in the radiostatic situationship?? "someone who owes us much more than money"?? i'm clawing at the walls of my enclosure