#i had a little chat with him that i tried to keep Light and Friendly rather than coming across as like. telling him off

[ilys00ga]

𝗢𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗨𝗣𝗢𝗡 𝗔 𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡.

PAIR: yoongi x f reader

TAGS/WARNINGS: strangers to lovers, 'love at first sight' (I tried, okay?), producer!yoongi, producer!reader, fluff, I don't really know how to tag anymore, oh yeah no warnings just smoking ig, cats <3 this is very cheesy but op requested that sooo!!

A/N: requested <333 this is not my proudest work. and to be honest, I don't think I like it that much. but this is the best I can provide atm :,) I hope yall like it. don't forget yo leave ur feedback and comments! lots of love <333

SYNOPSIS: the one where yoongi falls in love at first sight on the streets of his city.

PS. ignore all mistakes people, thank u. I can't believe I even managed to finish and post this !

It all started one breezy Tuesday night—The first time Yoongi felt his heart leap in his chest because of a complete stranger.

The tune he had been stuck dealing with for the previous couple of hours was an endless loop echoing in his head, a desperate effort of his brain to solve his headaches for himself.

Being a significant producer-songwriter for many, he was often locked up in his studio for entire days, sometimes even weeks, but that's when he can tell he's on the verge of plunging into insanity—the irony of choosing to do the one thing he loved the most in this world—if he didn’t pick up his keys and his phone, headed towards the door and walked the tension between his bones away.

On his way back home that night, he let his legs bring him to a park by the edge of a vast river. It was fairly late into the night, but some humans lingered there and about.

He sat on a lonely bench, drawing some of the fresh air into his lungs before leaning back and making himself comfortable against his seat. Usually, he’d go for less crowded places, places where solitude spoke to his mind and put it to rest in the middle of the chaos his life was. That night, he found himself watching people existing on the edge of that river, where the water spoke the language of the sky and painted an image of the bright moon and city lights.

On their little picnic mats were couples sharing delicate intimacy and friend groups laughing and chatting amongst themselves, while cyclists drifted by. A perfect picture of humans basking in the moment.

And Yoongi? He had a cigarette burning between his fingers to keep him company.

His thoughts ran with a mind of their very own, he almost didn't notice her.

The stranger passed by him like the gentle whispers of breeze that played with his hair strands. A nearby cat caught her attention, she crouched down and petted it.

“You're hungry, aren't you? Me too, me too. I only had lunch today. Coffee for breakfast. I'm working on a new project these days. It's always hectic, you know? You probably don't. You're just a cute fluff ball. Wandering around. Surviving.”

Such were the soft words he heard the human say. It seemed like a natural conversation to any passing-by ear. He wouldn't have guessed a cat was at the receiving end if he weren't at a short proximity from them, but the simple interaction painted a faint smile on his face. It was endearingly pleasant.

Shifting his gaze to the scenery ahead of himself, he took long, thorough drags of his cigarette, and let his thoughts consume him.

“Hey, can I sit here?” He heard her voice again. Yoongi looked up, almost startled. The first thought that came to his mind was that her friendly smile reminded him of Sakura leaves dripping from the sky.

She pointed to the other end of the bench he sat on, waiting for his response.

“Yes, of course.” He replied, ignoring the way his heart dramatically skipped a beat in his chest, and the way the sound of the world existing around him faded into a blissful quiet once their gazes met.

She sat down quietly, her smell lingered in the air between them, and spoke again, “Cats hate the smell of cigarettes, you know.”

He looked at her again, the warm streetlamps kissed all over her features, giving him a better view of her face.

Her eyes, Yoongi thought he finally found something new to write a song about.

Regardless of the gentleness of her voice—almost as soft as the distant sound of the waves dancing across the shore—he glanced down at the cigarette in his hand with a weird sense of embarrassment.

“My bad.” He muttered, doing a quick job of pressing the burning cigarette to the sole of his shoe. Its once alive flame slowly died into a lifeless gray dust, before being tossed into a trash bin nearby.

She smiled, “It's okay. Have you ever owned a cat?”

He shifted awkwardly in his seat and answered with a short ‘yes’.

“Then you should know they don't appreciate it when people ruin their lungs like that.” She added, her tone light-hearted.

That made him release a soft chuckle into the air. His heart fluttered in his chest when she chuckled along, and then she proceeded to tell him that she too, although rarely, smoked as well.

“I always keep cat food in my bag just in case.” She said, bringing out a pack of cat food from her bag and showing it to him.

“Why?” He asked. He knew why, of course he did, but he'd never felt so at ease with a stranger before. He had the urge to initiate any form of conversation with the stranger to hear pieces of her mind for some longer.

“Because all cats deserve food and love. Especially the stray ones.” It was not hard to pick up on the shift that happened to her tone. The lightness that was once present on her features quickly faded into faint dullness. It almost made a frown of his own appear on his face.

She added, “Sadly, that's not common in the world we live in.”

“Keep doing that.” He said. “The thing you said you always do, keep doing it. Maybe one day you'll influence someone, and that someone will influence another someone. More cats will be fed and taken care of..”

The words floated in the air for a while. She smiled, a genuine, grateful one that gave him a sense of satisfaction.

The pair sat in silence following that. Neither of them deemed the need to fill the comfortable quiet that sat on the bench between them to be necessary.

An ‘Oh!’ from between her lips broke the silence between them. The stranger's brows tugged together as she checked her watch, and she muttered something about the time going so fast and her being late for something.

He never liked to admit it to himself, but he felt a tinge of disappointment pop inside his chest at the thought of her leaving.

He silently watched as she stood up and hoisted her bag’s strap onto her shoulder, then asked about his name. He answered as casually as he could muster.

“Yoongi..” She repeated, as if savoring the name on her own tongue, and smiled, “I'm _. It was really nice meeting you.”

And just like that, she was gone, fading into the faint chatter of the people surrounding him, and he was left in the park with a cat rubbing its body against his legs. It reminded him of her, the only thing that he had left of someone he thought he would never see again.

He made sure to feed and pet the creature some more, before scooping it up in his arms and taking them home. His mother would take good care of him, he thought.

The next day, he spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering if he'd find her warm smile and affection towards strays if he were to go to that park again. He missed her eyes, her smile, the way she'd spoken to him so naturally and so easily.

He was trying to push those thoughts off his plate and focus on his work, when she walked into his studio and introduced herself as his new, awaited co-producer.

The best part of it all was the excitement she displayed upon seeing him. It felt like he was reencountered with an old friend, except that an old friend wasn't supposed to make you feel like a teenager catching the glimpse of their crush in the distance.

“Hi! It’s you again! Sorry for being late. I had a crazy morning and just when I thought I was making it I-” She proceeded to talk, but he cut her little rant off with a gentle question.

“You met another cat?”

The small but amused smile on his lips grew a little bigger when the faint blush on her cheeks became more apparent.

“Well, yeah, I kind of did..” she trailed off, tilting her head to the side in embarrassment.

It wasn't hard for them to find a common ground to stand on after that. She liked to talk, the words kept coming naturally out of her mouth, and Yoongi, he liked to listen, and he didn't mind her talking his ears off one bit.

One day after another, hours spent in the studio together. It slowly became something very familiar to him, the feelings her presence gave him. They shared takeout meals on his uncomfortable studio couch and many cups of coffee at late hours of the night. The project they worked on continued to link his heart to hers. On days she would walk in with a deep frown on her face or tears staining her cheeks, she would sit on that couch and mope, and he would wordlessly open a can of beer and put it in front of her, then sit to work next to her until she decided life was worth living again.

From a stranger, to a ‘friend’, to someone he couldn’t stop thinking about. She was not only a good hearted person, but an incredibly smart and talented producer.

If feeding cats together did not push him over the edge of what he thought he would never come to experience again, then working with her surely did.

Sure, he didn’t have his answers. He didn’t know if it was going to be a long lasting thing, or just one more of those phases where his lonesome heart clung onto something other than the thing he loves the most, music, before deciding it had enough. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings that kept growing in his chest and the stupid butterflies he felt in his guts every time she so much as smiled at him. But he knew that spending hours at work and feeding stray cats became things he looked up to every single morning.

More importantly, he had a feeling that whatever he was feeling didn't come from his part alone, but it was all left unsaid for the sake of keeping a fine line between work and personal emotions.

And then it happened, their first, tipsy kiss. When they shared a bottle of liquor and celebrated the wrap-up of their project. The faint blush on her cheeks every time their eyes met made him feel like screaming at the top of his lungs.

He tasted the alcohol on her cherry lips, and oh, how he loved the taste on his tongue.

He thought he'd reached the peak of helplessness when he wrote poems for her eyes, but then he wrote some more for her lips, then her smile, then her hair, then her hands… and then there was no going back.

[libingan]

im literally writing this in the middle of an online meeting LMFAO your bitch is in college, yall!!!!!!! and i'll be on this laptop until 8:30PM hahaha..... anw this is abt reader who wants kyle to be rougher in bed so she deliberately riles him up by getting him jealous there is no sex sorry guys

sex with kyle has always been good—better than good, in fact. he’s gentle, considerate, and utterly devoted to making sure you unravel with pleasure under his touch. every time, he focuses on you, putting your needs above his, ensuring you’re satisfied before he even considers his own desires. it’s sweet, thoughtful, and exactly what you’ve always wanted. but sometimes… sometimes, you crave something different.

you can’t help but fantasize about kyle taking what he wants from you, losing control, fucking into you like you’re just a toy for him to use. you want him to be rough and domineering, to show you a side of him you’ve never seen in the bedroom. you’ve tried everything—being bratty, sassing him out, sometimes even deliberately annoying him in hopes of pushing him over the edge. but it never works. he always brushes you off with a patient smile, calm as ever, as if he’s completely immune to your provocations.

that’s when you get the idea to flirt with another man during one of your shopping trips.

the market is bustling with activity, people moving around, chatting, haggling with vendors. kyle had just excused himself to the restroom, leaving you alone to browse. it’s then that you see your opportunity.

a man about your age, maybe a bit older, with a friendly smile and an easygoing manner, starts a conversation with you as you look over a display of fresh produce.

“hey there,” he says, giving you a once-over before focusing on the vegetables in front of you. “you new around here? don’t think i’ve seen you before.”

you smile back, trying to put just enough charm into it. “yeah, just passing through with a friend. figured we’d stop by and pick up a few things.”

he nods, leaning a little closer. “well, you’re in for a treat. this market has the best stuff. need any recommendations?”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “i wouldn’t mind some suggestions. maybe you could help me find something good?”

the man grins, clearly pleased with the attention. “sure thing. name’s mike, by the way.”

you introduce yourself, and the two of you chat for a bit longer. he’s friendly, flirty in a harmless kind of way, but you notice the way he keeps inching closer, his eyes lingering on you. it’s exactly what you were hoping for.

then kyle returns. you spot him out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. but you push it aside, determined to see this through. mike suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer in a way that’s casual but undeniably possessive.

kyle’s expression shifts as he watches, his brows furrowing in confusion, then anger when you do nothing to stop the man’s touch. you can see it in the way his jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as he approaches.

“hey, love,” kyle says as he comes up to you both, his voice cool but with an edge to it.

you look up at him with a smile, but before you can introduce him, mike speaks first. “oh, hey there. you must be the friend they mentioned.”

kyle’s eyes flicker with something dark, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him. “friend?” he echoes, his voice a low rumble.

you nod, trying to keep the situation light. “yeah, this is kyle. we’re just out doing some shopping.”

kyle’s gaze locks onto yours, his eyes narrowing slightly. “right. just shopping.”

there’s a moment of silence, the air between the three of you heavy with unspoken tension. mike, seemingly oblivious, starts talking again, but you barely register his words. all you can focus on is kyle, the way his usually warm eyes have gone cold.

“let’s go,” kyle finally says, cutting mike off mid-sentence. his hand wraps around your wrist, not harshly but with enough force to make it clear he’s done playing along.

you barely manage a goodbye to mike as kyle pulls you away, his grip on your wrist firm as he leads you out of the market and towards home. the silence between you is deafening, and your heart pounds in your chest, but it’s not the thrill of anticipation you’d been hoping for. it’s something else—something almost like fear.

when you finally reach the apartment, kyle lets go of your wrist, taking a step back as he runs a hand over his face. but he says nothing. he doesn’t even look at you, just stands there, his back to you, the silence hanging heavy in the air.

“kyle…” you begin, your voice trembling as you take a step toward him. “say something, please.”

but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn around. the stillness is unbearable, his silence so intense it’s like a physical presence in the room. you feel your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach twisting into knots as you wait for him to react in some way—any way.

“kyle,” you try again, desperation creeping into your voice. “please, talk to me.”

still, nothing. he’s like a statue, immobile and eerily silent, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched at his sides. tears prick at your eyes as the guilt and fear overwhelm you. this isn’t how it was supposed to go. you wanted to push him, to see a different side of him, but now… now you just want him to speak, to tell you everything’s going to be okay.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you move closer to him. “i’m so, so sorry.”

finally, kyle turns to face you, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and troubled. he’s still silent, his gaze piercing as he looks at you, waiting.

you can’t take it anymore. the words tumble out of you in a rush, your voice shaky and filled with regret. “i just wanted to rile you up. i wanted you to be rougher in bed, and i didn’t know how else to tell you. i thought if i pushed you, maybe you’d… i don’t know… take control or something.”

for a long moment, he just stares at you, and you feel yourself crumbling under the weight of his silence. then, finally, he speaks, his voice calm but laced with frustration. “you should’ve told me that. communicated instead of pulling this little stunt.”

his words cut through you, the calmness of his tone almost worse than if he’d yelled at you. there’s no anger, no shouting, just a quiet, controlled disappointment that makes you feel small.

“kyle, i didn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

“you didn’t think,” he finishes for you, his voice still infuriatingly calm. “i get it, i do. but this? what you did? it wasn’t the way to go about it.”

you bite your lip, tears slipping down your cheeks. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean for it to go this far. i just didn’t know how to ask for what i wanted.”

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. “you could’ve just asked,” he says softly. “i would’ve listened. i’m willing to try it for you, but not like this. not when you’re trying to push me into something i’m not prepared for.”

you nod, wiping at your eyes, feeling utterly ashamed of yourself. “i know. i was stupid, and i’m so, so sorry.”

kyle steps closer, his hands gentle as he cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “we’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the tension easing slightly from his frame. “but you have to talk to me. no more games, alright?”

“alright,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, relieved beyond words that he’s still here, still willing to work through this with you.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “i love you,” he says quietly, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice, the emotional toll this has taken on him.

“i love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion as you cling to him, vowing to never put him—or yourself—through something like this again.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 2 -Feet on the ground

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

No specific warnings in this one (apart from Biker!Bucky of course). Some brief references to grief. Sorry it's on the shorter side, just need to set up our story. Thanks to all who have reblogged/commented, it means a lot!

You sipped your drink as you told Bucky all about granny and moving into her house. He nodded solemnly as he leaned on the bar and listened intently, the depth of his attention surprising you. You didn’t expect him to be so easy to talk to. Behind you, Wanda and Vis were very obviously pretending to be chatting, while clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Oh yeah, she was a nice lady. I’m sorry for your loss,” Bucky told you with sincerity after you’d finish the whole tale. “She was a tough old gal”.

“Uh, thanks,” you replied quietly, not realising until now what an emotional gut punch it still was to talk about her. “And yeah…she was”.

You cleared your throat and changed the subject. You cocked an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.

“So…what’s your deal?”

He grinned, “What’d you mean?”

“You know,” you pointed to his kutte, “all this. You’re one of the top guys, I guess? I’m sorry, I don’t really know the lingo…”

“I’m the President” he smirked and pointed to one of his patches, clearly a little amused by your ignorance.

You peered over at the fabric square. “Mm. So, what, you drive around town on your bikes causing mayhem and throwing darts at women’s butts?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he laughed. “But mostly we’re here, or at the auto shop across town”.

“Busy, busy” you teased. “I’m sure its all legitimate and above board…”

He winked. God, what a dangerous wink. You instinctively knew that wink had ruined lives.

You both exchanged a small smile.

“You’re not afraid of me, huh?” Bucky teased.

“Should I be?” you boldly shot back.

He grinned. “No. But a lot of people are”.

“Well…your aesthetics aren’t super warm and fuzzy”.

“No…guess not”.

You continued to sip your drink as you tried to fight off the nagging voice telling you to back off. God only knows what he gets up to when he’s not at the bar or fixing cars or at whatever other business fronts they had. You didn’t need another dangerous, no-good man in your life…You were only supposed to sort the house out, live quietly for a little while and then leave. Not get embroiled with the locals, and certainly not with the President of a probably criminal motorcycle club…

…and yet…

“So…you working while you’re staying here?” he asked curiously.

“Mm. Maybe. I have some savings. And thankfully the mortgage at my grandmother’s place is paid off, so at least that’s one less thing. But I might get something part time to keep the lights on”.

Bucky smirked and held his arm up to the bar behind you. “Work here”.

You laughed. “What? Yeah, good one…”

“I’m serious. You need extra cash. We apparently need some help here after you tore my poor bartender apart. So why not? Sounds like you have some experience…”

“I do yeah…but…”

“But what?” he asked, a hint of interrogation in his voice.

“Well, I was thinking more like a coffee shop or delivering pamphlets or something. Not working nights with drunks…”

“Oh, but we’re friendly drunks. Plus, the regulars tip well,” he pushed. “You can spend the days working on the house and then do a few evenings here until you move on. It’s perfect”.

You frowned. It was pretty perfect, actually. You thought about protesting, but as you looked back at Bucky’s expression you immediately understood that this was someone who was very used to getting his own way.

“You’re not gonna drop this, are you?” you asked.

“Nope” he responded, popping the ‘p’ and shaking his head.

You sighed, chewing your lip with hesitation.

“Will your club mind? I mean…they don’t know me. All they know is I yelled at one of them”.

“Eh. Everyone yells at Parker”, he shrugged. “You’ll fit right in”.

You frowned, then looked back at him suspiciously.

“But…Why are you doing this? You barely know me. I might be a serial killer for all you know…”

He chuckled. “Well, I’ve met a lot of bad guys in my time, Sugar, and trust me, you get pretty good at figuring people out. Plus, I get it, grief is tough, and your grandmother lived here all her life and was a big part of the community. And you’re her family. We do look out for one another here; this is our home after all”.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that answer. Your sceptical side half believed he just wanted to get in your pants, but he sounded sincere regardless.

You looked over at his group who were laughing and drinking jovially, then across the room at the wide range of clientele. You’d certainly had worked at worse places.

Sighing, you turned back to Bucky. “Well…fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not wearing booty shorts or anything ridiculous for a uniform”.

This coaxed a belly laugh from him. “No…only the male bartenders wear those,” he quipped. “Jeans and tees are fine. Maybe a flannel if you really wanna mix it up”.

You nodded. “Okay, I can do that”.

He smiled back at you sweetly, but a hint of something edgier lay beneath. The way he eyed you made you feel…exposed. Like you were a doe caught in the crosshairs. It wasn’t unpleasant, no, in fact it made your lower belly surge, sending a wave of butterflies through you.

“Welcome aboard, Sugar” he grinned.

You smiled back, once again knowing full well you were treading into dangerous territory...but unable to stop yourself.

[icycoldninja]

Hey it's me again, how are you?

So ....if you're free a request on how Dante/Vergil will react to their rather reserve and prude s/o saying that they meet a guy who she thinks is Dante/Vergil level attractive, as for s/o they were the epitome of handsomeness. And if even the guy tries to hit the reader under the guise of friendliness

I'm doing great, thanks, what about you? 😄 About your request, I chose to do a separate fic for each boy cause they deserve it. Vergil's will be out later--enjoy! 💜

Hot (Dante x Reader)

Warning: Light Yandere-ish behavior towards the end.

The one thing in the world that Dante aspired to obtain, more than anything else, was your admiration.

Getting it wasn't easy; you were very quiet and preferred not to make remarks on people's physical attributes. You liked to silently judge them from afar, noting everything about them and locking these observations away into the secure safebox that was your mind.

Only on incredibly rare occasions would you voice your opinions on someone's look aloud--and even then, you used your words sparingly.

So when you complimented Dante on his new haircut one day, he was absolutely flabbergasted. Finally, after all this time, he had earned your recognition.

From that point on, you were a little more open with him, and soon, chatting became more relaxed and natural. You began to disclose your true thoughts about him, which soon led to you admitting (though somewhat nervously) that you had a crush on him.

Dante was shocked, not expecting you of all people to be interested in him. He wasn't complaining though--this was great! He'd had hidden feelings for you as well; your reticent behavior was quite attractive to him, as he needed a stoic rock upon which he, the wild card goofball, could lean upon.

With confessions finally out of the way, you found it easier to inform Dante of just how highly you thought of him--something that sent his ego to the moon.

"You're hot, Dante."

"I'm hot?"

"Very hot."

"How hot?"

"The hottest."

"Well I'll be damned, you finally admitted it. I'm just kidding, thank you for your compliments. Love ya."

Though rare, compliments like that from you made Dante's day. There was nothing more meaningful to him than your praise and the knowledge that you considered him the greatest and most attractive person in the world.

Imagine the devil hunter's absolute astonishment when you came home one day and told him about this random guy you met who was supposedly as hot as him. He was unable to believe his ears--you, a normally quiet and reserved person, was now gushing about this man! Gushing! Praises were flowing from your mouth like water from the bathtub faucet, something that was not only rare, but unacceptable!

"He's really good looking," You continued, as you had been for the last hour or so, while toying with the hem of your top. Dante shifted boredom in his seat, resting his chin against his palm. It was obvious he didn't like this conversation, but you were too busy talking to notice. "I don't even have words to describe it...he's hot on your level. Yeah, that's it, he's Dante level hot."

At that moment, something within Dante snapped. It was like a light switch had been flipped on, except instead of turning on a light, it activated a quiet, hidden rage. Thankfully, you didn't notice; you were too busy rambling on about your newest obsession. "Say, babe, what's this dude's name?" Dante asked, careful to keep his tone casual. You replied without a second thought, not bothering to second guess Dante's reasons for wanting to know this.

Satisfied that he'd gotten the information he needed, Dante patiently endured the rest of your overly exuberant conversation, taking comfort in the fact that once you were tired of talking, he could go out, track this guy down, and make sure that he would never steal your attention ever again.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Slowly But Surely

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader, BRIEF!Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 Masterlist

The dimly lit bar buzzed with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses as I mingled with my coworkers. It was one of those rare nights when we all managed to gather outside of work, and the atmosphere was light and jovial. Steven, Marc, and Jake had all been supportive of this social outing, and I had assured them I’d be okay on my own. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a chance to unwind and let go.

I glanced around the room, spotting a few familiar faces—friends from work chatting with their partners, laughter echoing over the music. I was caught in an animated conversation with a colleague, Dan, who had always been friendly but seemed a bit too forward tonight.

“You know, you really light up the room,” Dan said with a grin, his eyes lingering a bit too long on me. “It’s amazing how you manage to stay so upbeat all the time.”

I laughed it off, trying to maintain a friendly but professional demeanor. “Thanks, Dan. Just trying to keep things positive!”

Despite my attempts to keep the interaction platonic, I could sense a shift in the air. Dan’s gestures were a little too lingering, his compliments more frequent. I glanced around, searching for a familiar face to anchor me in this situation.

That’s when I felt a presence behind me—powerful and intense. I turned to see my boyfriend, Jake Lockley, his expression tight with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Hey,” I greeted him, hoping for a familiar anchor amidst the growing discomfort. “Did you have a good time?”

Jake didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Dan, his jaw clenched. It was only then I realized something was off. His eyes were dark, his posture rigid, and there was a dangerous edge to his silence.

Before I could process what was happening, Jake’s hand closed around my arm, gripping it firmly. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I blinked, trying to read the situation. “Jake, what’s wrong? We’re just having fun.”

He didn’t answer, his grip tightening as he began to lead me toward the exit. I tried to pull away gently. “Jake, please, what’s going on?”

He ignored my protests, guiding me out of the bar with a determined stride. The cool night air hit us as we stepped outside, and I felt a mix of confusion and unease.

Once we were home, Jake’s demeanor shifted dramatically. The moment we walked through the door, his anger exploded. He paced the living room, his hands balled into fists, his face red with frustration.

“Why did you have to flirt with him?” Jake shouted, his voice echoing through the house. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?”

“Flirt?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I was just being friendly. He’s a coworker, Jake!”

“You think I don’t see what’s happening?” Jake roared. “You’re not just being friendly! You’re betraying me! You’re betraying Marc and Steven, too!”

My heart raced, my emotions swirling in a storm of confusion and hurt. “Jake, I don’t understand. Why are you saying these things? I love you. I’m here with you.”

“Love me?” Jake spat, his eyes wild. “You don’t love me! You’re just playing games! If you loved me, you wouldn’t be so easily swayed by some flirty guy at a bar!”

I felt a sharp pain in my chest as his words cut deep. “Jake, stop it. You’re scaring me.”

“You know what?” Jake continued, his voice rising to a shout. “Just stop pretending. If you’re cheating, just leave! Get out! You’re just a slut who can’t be trusted!”

The insult hit me like a physical blow, and I could no longer hold back the tears. I collapsed onto the couch, sobbing uncontrollably. The man I loved, the one who I thought understood me, had just shattered my heart with his cruel accusations.

Just then, Steven’s presence shifted into the room, his face softening with concern. He sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry, love,” he murmured. “Jake is just… he’s scared. You’re the only person he’s ever let get close to him. He’s terrified of losing you.”

Through my tears, I looked up at Steven, struggling to speak. “I don’t know if I can forgive him… I don’t know if I can trust him again.”

Steven’s eyes were full of sadness. “I understand. But Jake’s actions come from a place of fear and insecurity. He loves you more than anything, and he’s afraid of losing you.”

Steven held me tightly until I eventually fell asleep, the weight of the evening finally catching up with me. As I slept, I could hear muffled voices, and though I couldn’t make out the words, I sensed the intensity of the argument.

When I woke up the next morning, I was greeted by the smell of breakfast wafting through the house. Groggily, I made my way to the kitchen to find Jake standing there, his face etched with regret.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his hands shaking slightly as he set down a plate of pancakes. “I… I wanted to make breakfast for you. I’m so sorry about last night.”

I hesitated, feeling a mix of anger and apprehension. “Jake, I’m not sure I can just… move past what happened.”

Jake’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, Y/N. I regret everything I said. I was scared, and I let my fear take over. I love you more than life itself, and I’m terrified of losing you. You mean everything to me.”

His vulnerability was painful to witness, and I saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You’ve hurt me deeply, Jake. I need to see that you can change, that you can control your jealousy and anger.”

Jake nodded, his face a mask of anguish. “I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Just please don’t leave me.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the heaviness of the situation. “I’m willing to work through this, but it will take time. You have to show me that you can handle your fears without hurting me.”

Jake looked relieved, though his face remained etched with remorse. “Thank you. I’ll prove to you that I can change. I promise.”

As the days went on, Jake made a concerted effort to address his jealousy and anger. He attended therapy and worked on managing his emotions. It was a long and difficult journey, but with Steven and Marc’s support, he slowly began to make progress.

I remained cautious, but I saw glimpses of the man I had fallen in love with beneath the layers of insecurity and fear. It wasn’t easy to rebuild trust, but we were both committed to making our relationship work.

Jake’s apology breakfast was a small but significant step toward healing. It wasn’t the end of our struggles, but it was a beginning—a chance for us to rebuild and grow stronger together. The road ahead was uncertain, but I was willing to walk it with him, hopeful that our love could overcome even the deepest wounds.

[detydia]

Imagine Dean Winchester x You

Dean is being jealous.

The night was lively at the Roadhouse, a cacophony of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of conversations. Dean and Sam were sharing a drink at the bar. You sat a few stools away, chatting animatedly with a fellow hunter named Ethan.

As the night progressed, Dean found it increasingly difficult to focus on his conversation with Sam. His eyes kept drifting back to you, your laughter ringing in his ears, your smile lighting up the dimly lit room. He felt a growing knot of jealousy building within him.

"Hey, you alright there?" Sam asked, noticing his brother's distracted demeanor.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But inside, he was seething. He couldn't quite pinpoint why Ethan's presence grated on him so much. Was it the way he leaned in a little too close to you, or the laughter that seemed a tad too friendly?

As the night wore on, the jealousy gnawed at Dean like a persistent ache. He knew you were loyal and he trusted you completely, but the thought of another man even attempting to encroach on what was his infuriated him.

You finally joined them at the bar, your face beaming with excitement. "You won't believe the story Ethan just shared! It's wild."

Dean clenched his jaw, forcing a smile. "Oh yeah? I can't wait to hear it."

Ethan launched into his story, but Dean struggled to pay attention. He stole glances at you, your attention fully captivated by Ethan's narrative. Every chuckle, every shared moment, stoked the fire of jealousy within him.

In an attempt to ease the growing tension inside him, Dean excused himself to the restroom. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to shake off the irrational anger. "Calm down, man. She's with you," he whispered to his reflection.

When he returned to the bar, he found you engrossed in another animated conversation with Ethan. His jaw clenched again, frustration bubbling at the surface. He approached you, trying to put on a casual facade.

"Everything okay, babe?" he asked, though his voice carried a hint of possessiveness.

You looked up, surprised by the sudden intensity in his eyes. "Yeah, just enjoying the stories. Ethan has been all over the place!"

Dean nodded, trying to temper his jealousy. "Well, maybe we should get going. Early day tomorrow."

"Sure," you agreed, though a touch of disappointment flashed across your face.

As you left the Roadhouse, the cool night air did little to quell Dean's agitation. He opened the car door for you, a silent gesture that was usually comforting. But tonight, it was more about claiming what was his than a show of chivalry.

On the drive back to the motel, you tried to make conversation, but Dean's answers were curt and distracted. He was consumed by thoughts of Ethan, irritated that you seemed to enjoy his company so much.

"Dean, is something bothering you?"you finally asked, your voice tinged with concern.

He sighed, realizing he couldn't keep his jealousy bottled up any longer. "Look, it's just... I saw how you were with Ethan back there. It bothered me."

You furrowed your brow, perplexed. "Bothered you? Why?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, his frustration now tinged with vulnerability. "He's just... too friendly, I guess."

You chuckled softly, reaching over to hold his hand. "Dean, you're the only one I'm interested in. Ethan is just a friend."

"I know that," Dean replied, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing slightly. "But I can't help feeling... possessive sometimes."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "I love that you care so much about me. But you have to trust that I know where to draw the line."

Dean exhaled, feeling some of the tension dissipate. He knew he had to work on controlling his jealousy, but having you understand and reassure him helped immensely. You drove in a comfortable silence, the weight of jealousy lifted.

[captjprice]

John Price x Medic!Reader

a/n: this fic sucks honestly. i had to rewrite it THREE times. its so rushed im sorry. next smut WILL be better.

warnings: smut, p in v sex, fingering, quickie, on the desk, poor desk, exhibitionism??, light dom/sub, Price is so sweet,

When Price saw you for the first time, he could barely get the words out of his mouth to greet you. He was in total awe of you, your pretty face and your cute figure. How had such a sweetheart been assigned to treat him? He couldn't help but smile as you spoke sweetly to him. "Please, sit down, Captain."

Price knew the way you acted and spoke wasn't meant to elicit such a reaction from him— You were simply a bubbly personality. Yet, something nagged him with the thought that you knew exactly what you were doing. He tried to push those thoughts, (and many others), aside. Especially in moments like when you tended to the wound on his bare chest, and he could see your cheeks flushing from the close proximity. It made him grin, and shift his position to hide the hard-on growing in his pants.

He knew he had to do something about it, because the mutual attraction between the both of you made every room hot and humid. And he couldn't just keep satisfying himself with a quick palming under the desk.

---------------------------------------------------------

You sat in the treatment facility, chatting around with Tara, one of the other medics on base. It wasn't often you had time to chat, but the business had died down. Just when the topic of the Captain came up, he walked through the door. He usually did so daily around the same time, claiming he had 'orders' to check up on you, but you knew better.

You also knew that the way he looked at you wasn't just friendly. Couldn't have been. Tara watched with a sneaky smile, then headed off to treat one of the soldiers, Antonio, in the next room. Tara obviously knew about the two of you, you could cut the tension with a knife.

Price walks in, obviously trying to look casual as he stepped closer to you. You bat your lashes at him, and he quirks up a brow in amusement. "What's with you, love? Lookin' at me like that?" He muses, brushing a piece of stray hair behind you ear. "What? Like what?" You tease, tilting your head. "Little devil," He mutters under his breath before clearing his throat. "Listen, sweetheart. Gotta talk to you. In my office, it's important."

The way he says it makes you worry, like you've done something wrong. "Oh, everything okay?" You ask, furrowing your brows together. He nods, just making a motion for you to follow him, and you do just that. "Everything's alright, just wanted to have a talk, yeah?" He says, and you answer with a hum. He lets you into his office with a mutter of 'lady's first,' then sits down at his desk with a groan.

"Alright, love. I know there's no beating around the bush about it, so i'll say it. You're.. distracting." His words cause your eyes to widen, and you clear your throat. "What?" You blurt. "I don't know if you even realize it, but you drive me up the wall sometimes, touching me and talking all sweet." He mutters, light frustration lacing his tone. Your cheeks turn red, and you just stare at him. You were flirting with him, obviously. But you didn't think he'd get so.. bothered by it.

"I mean it. And i'd like to take you out sometime, if you'll have me." He finished, standing up and walking over to you. "Hm?" He hummed. You snapped out of your daze, nodding along. "Oh, yeah. Yes. I'd love that." You mumbled, mind totally elsewhere as his hand cupped your chin. "You're such a pretty lass," He mused, leaning closer. His gaze flickered to the door, making sure it was fully closed. You practically melted into his grip, whispering a shy "Thank you," back to him.

He finally decided to make a move if you wouldn't, leaning closer and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was sloppy and needy, like he didn't care about taking his time. He pulls back for a moment to catch his breath, staring at you lovingly. "You do want this? Right?" He whispered, making sure he wasn't acting out on a whim here. You nod, cheeks flush. He also nods, his lips pecking yours chastely before moving down your jaw, all the way to your collarbone.

His hands fiddled with the top of the nurse uniform, unbuttoning it and sliding it off as quickly as he could. He needed you, and he was making it real obvious. You whine as he kisses down your cleavage, sucking a dark mark right between your breasts. The noise makes him grin, and he pulls back to hoist you up, placing you on the desk. His lips are back on your skin, his hands absently fiddling to unclip your bra. When he's finally able to toss it to the side, he groans. You were so beautiful, and he was going to absolutely ruin you. "You're perfect, love. Absolutely perfect, and all for me." He says quietly, his mouth running over your breast and toying with your nipple.

A whimper leaves your mouth, and your thighs press together as a shameful reminder of your arousal. "Someone will hear," You manage to say as John continues to grope you. "So?" He says lowly, pushing you further back on the desk, not even turning his gaze when one of the photographs fall to the floor. His hands pull down your skirt and panties at the same time, leaving them hanging at your ankles. His hands trail over your bare thighs, making it's way to your dripping cunt. "Mmh," You whimper as he pushes your legs open, letting his fingers tease across your inner thighs. 'You're sure, right?" He asks again, and you nod. "Please," You mumble, and he obliges, letting his fingers slide across your folds. He whispers out a curse as he feels just how wet you are, and his thumb flicks across your clit. You squirm, your legs jolting a little from the sudden touch. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside of you.

You let out a shameful moan, and you hope to god nobody is outside of his office right now. "John," You whisper absentmindedly, squirming as he begins to pump his fingers into you. "Fuuuck, you're tight. Can't wait to have you clench around me like that." He whispers, his free hand squeezing your breast. You don't reply— You're too lost in the feeling of his fingers inside of you, holding onto the desk like your life depends on it. The pressure and arousal builds, and you throw your head back, trying to grab onto Price's wrist so maybe he'll slow down, but he just slaps your hand away.

"Mmh, close, I.." You whine, and he just shushes you. "I know, love. You're doing so well, aren't you?" He whispers, only speeding up. The pitch of your moans get higher, and his hand comes up to caress your cheek. He can tell you're about to come undone— His hand places itself over your mouth to muffle the loud noise when you do. Your legs tremble, and he continues to pump his fingers through your orgasm. He removes his hand when you've quieted down, placing a little kiss to your forehead. "You did so good, sweetheart. That was only to get you ready." He mumbles, unbuckling his belt.

Despite how quick it all was, he was so caring. "You okay, love? Think we can continue?" He asked sweetly, caressing your knee. After a moment of heavy panting, you nod. He unzips his pants, stepping closer and pulling himself out of his pants. Fuck, he was huge. He took his cock in his hand, pumping himself a few times. "Oh, am I gonna enjoy this.." He mused, letting his tip slide along your folds. You whimpered, sick of the teasing. "John, please.." You whispers. He grins lazily, placing his tip at your entrance. Slowly, Price pushes himself inside of you, careful to not hurt you. "You're doing so good, lovely." He cooed, his thumb rubbing circles onto your hips.

He stopped when almost fully in, giving you a moment to adjust. "You just let me know when you're alright, hm?" He hums, staring down at you. You nod after a minute, and he slowly starts moving. You've never felt so full, you're sure of it. Your eyes flutter closed as you take in the sensation, and his thumb continues to rub circles onto your hips. "You feel even better than I expected, love." He groans, speeding up a little. You know you should be quiet— It's his office and if you get caught you'll both have a big problem. But he's so big, and you can't help but let a few moans spill from your mouth. "F-.. Oh, fuck, John, faster..-" You whine out, your hand finding his shirt and trying to pull him closer.

"Mmh, you'll have to be quiet." He grunts, speeding up to a pace that's almost animalistic— The hand that was rubbing your hips are gripping now, his fingers digging into your plush skin as he thrusts into you. Your noises only get louder along with the sound of skin slapping on skin. "Fuck," He moans, reaching forward to place his hand over your mouth again when you get too loud for his liking. You're close, you can feel that same pleasure building in your lower abdomen. When Price leans forward to bite into your shoulder to stifle his own sounds, you come undone, your legs wrapping around his waist as you practically see stars.

It doesn't take him long to come after that, lazily thrusting into you a few more times before he bottoms out in you, coming inside. Your legs twitch, and you let out a soft whine. "John.." He pulls out, panting heavily. "Fuck, you're amazing. Heavensent, love." He whispers to you, leaning forward to give you a chaste kiss. "You alright?" Price asks, noticing you just hazily looking at him. You nod, and he grins. "Mmh, how about you head to my quarters and step into the shower, yeah? I'll join you in a moment." He says sweetly, and you nod again, pulling up your panties and skirt on wobbly knees.

[hiskillingjar]

Glory Hole (Strade/MC)

*into a megaphone* my fetish for german men strikes again

i’m going to berlin in like three weeks and if i don’t get my dick sucked in a gay club, i’m gonna be mad as HELL.

day 21: glory hole second person. gay male reader. early 20s strade and takes place in the early 2000s.

"I'll only be gone for an hour!"

You had told your friends back at the hostel, while they were all relaxing after a heavy meal and too many glasses of beer, all getting ready for the guided tour tomorrow morning. 

It was probably the sensible choice, you knew that much, but it didn't feel right to have an early night on a Friday, especially not when you were in Berlin, one of the most famous "nightlife" cities in the world. You almost couldn’t believe that they were all passing that up to get an early night for a walk amongst the gravestones, or something equally boring like that.

You might have been a lame faggot who enjoyed all that historical shit too, but you weren't lame enough to let it completely derail your capacity to have a good time.

Just for an hour, you kept in your mind, as you left the hostel with the "Best Gay Clubs in Berlin" street map you had printed out back at home, several big ones close by circled in red - a 'must-attend’ sort of place, the blog post had stressed in bold typeface.

"Lachmannstraße," You murmured to yourself, a hand in your (freshly dyed, thank you very much) hair, peering from the map to the street signs you approached and doing your best not to be distracted by the students and rowdy tourists pouring out of theatres and bars to chase a similar high as you. "And then...mm, Urbanstraße. Yep, that's right."

'Keep your eyes out for the rainbow flag over the door', you had written on the map, and you squinted your eyes in the darkness to assess the row of doors and shops, lighting up when you spotted the rainbow flag in question.

You probably could have guessed that it was a gay bar, though, even without the pride paraphernalia. 

Pounding techno could be heard from where you were standing across the street, thumping loudly as a line stagnated outside to get in. One bouncer, a tall guy with a beard and gauges, was chatting and joking around with the more attractive types that tried to get into the club, most pretty bachelorettes that could charm their way in, while the other seemed a little less chill, keeping the… less appealing away with a firm hand.

That was fine, though.

You were good at chatting up bouncers back home (though your friends blamed your luck on your ���twinkish good looks’ as opposed to being especially charming or good at conversation), and you had studied enough German in the previous semester to schmooze yourself through most conversations.

“Hello!” You greeted, a little too eager this late at night. “Price for…um, ticket, please!”

The stricter looking bouncer had spotted you approaching, crossing his arms and looking terse as he looked you up and down, seemingly ready to turn you away...until, he noticed the slight struggle you were having to speak German.

Shit. Maybe you weren’t as good at this as you expected.

"English, ja?" He asked, his tone and demeanour completely changed as he switched to a different language, smiling politely and seeming almost friendly now.

"Is it obvious?" You asked with a self-concious chuckle, in...okay, decent-ish German. Your accent could have used some work. "Busy tonight?"

He just chuckled and shook his head, waving you down to join him away from the long line.

"I could tell. I've become quite the expert at spotting tourists." He swapped back over to German, perhaps just to humour you (you had done all that practice, after all). "But...yes, busy tonight, as always. Though,” He gave you a quick once over with another smile. “I could possibly spare a spot inside for you, if you want. Skip the line, as it were. You here alone?"

"Alone," You nodded, beaming at his offer. "Nobody wanted to come out with me, hah. I’m in the hostel back on, mm, Lachmannstraße, so-"

"Hah! Well, their loss, I say." He laughed and shrugged, before putting a hand on your back and escorting you past the long line. "Sometimes it is better to go out alone. No limits that way, no?"

You barely suppressed a slight shiver at the hand on your back as he guided you into the club, into the cave of red light and pounding music that always made your head pulse. You couldn’t help it though, that’s what you told yourself, you were in a different country, experiencing new things, speaking a new language, and…well, the bouncer was a really good-looking guy. 

Built and an inch or two taller than you, dark features, hair past his shoulders, and a piercing through his nose. 

The kind of guy you always went crazy for.

"Thank you," You kept smiling, speaking over the music. "Um, ah...have an hour?” You said, your German becoming much worse all of a sudden. "Dance with me?"

He turned to look at you, his hand still on your back (drifting down the crease of it, where your shirt was slightly riding up) as he leaned in to speak directly in your ear.

"I have a better idea. Come with me," He murmured, his low voice sending another lovely shiver through your body and his hand moving to your hip, as he led you past the dance floor, through the throngs of people there. “I’ll show you a good time.”

You were almost starstruck as he pushed you ahead through the mass of grinding, dancing bodies, silently ecstatic that you were really hooking up with someone on a college vacation (like all the movies and books had spoken about, a real vacation romance!), before noticing that he was pushing you towards an LED 'WC' sign.

Okay, not exactly romantic. But still, pretty exciting.

He idly led you through to one of the stalls at the very end of the heavily graffitied bathroom (the only other attendees pissing in a urinal and making out against the sinks), nudging the door open with a kick of his boot and pushing you inside roughly, quickly shutting the door behind him, and locking it.

"Nhh!" You grunted as you stumbled back against the toilet, your body forced to straddle as your back hit the tile and piping roughly, painfully. “H-Hold on, can we just-”

"Relax, relax, don’t make so much noise, hm?" He murmured in a raspy whisper, a darker look crossing his eyes as he moved to pin you against the wall by your wrists, his larger body pressing against yours. "I'm sure there's better things you could be doing with that mouth, ja?"

"O-Oh," You stammered, eyes widening as you struggled against him. "N-No, I, uh...I'm sorry, I wasn't, um," You swallowed hard. "Ah, 'arbitten'? Soliciting?"

He just laughed at your attempts to struggle, his grip on your wrists tightening.

"Nein, you were not. You’re not wetlos enough to be doing that," He leaned down to speak in your ear again, his breath hot on your neck, making goose bumps rise on your skin as he said words you didn’t understand. "But you were certainly…mm, flirting, just a moment ago, outside, hm?"

"I wasn't...hah," You breathed out as his hips pressed against yours, trembling even more.

"No? So I must have...misheard you, then, ja?" He shrugged with an easy smile, before he forcefully moved your wrists above your head, holding them still with one hand as the other curled into the back of your hair, pulling it tightly as he pushed your body down onto your knees, expensive denim colliding with the wet ground. “Easy mistake to make. Don’t worry, I forgive you~”

God, you hoped that was just water.

"Ngh!" You grunted as he kept your head raised upwards and your wrists aloft. "E-Easy!"

He may have been about to speak, but you were both interrupted, however, by an idle knock on the (only) other side of the bathroom cubicle and your head strained against his firm grip to peer towards...a hole in the wall.

Well. This was a gay club, after all.

"Well…”

His attention turned, too, as he looked towards the knock and the telltale hole in the wall, before looking back down at you, a filthy chuckle escaping his smirking lips.

“It looks like we have some...company, don’t we?"

Your eyes widened slightly as he forced your head against the wall, the knock hard enough to rattle your brains in your skull, watching helplessly, through the hole, as the stanger on the other side started to unbutton his jeans.

"Couple?" The guy in the other cubicle asked, his accent thick but neither English or German.

"Yeah," The bouncer responded with an unseen nod, tightening his grip on your hair as he spoke, forcing your head to stay straight and his gaze remaining fixed on you. "Care to...ah, join us, ja?"

"He clean?" The guy asked gruffly.

"Mm, he looks it," He responded with an idle shrug, looking you over for a moment with a wry smirk, before looking back at the hole in the wall, like he was talking to the guy’s face. "Want to see for yourself, though?" He then asked as he pushed your still-pinned body closer to it.

His hand curled tighter in the back of your hair, forcing you closer towards the glory hole as the guy shoved his half flacid cock through it, dripping with coagulated pre-cum and grime.

This guy was a real fucking hypocrite, asking if you were clean.

"Go on...show him what that mouth can really do~"

Stuck between a rock and a hard place (figuratively and, somewhat, literally), you swallowed down your complaints and pride with a silent grimace and opened your mouth obediently, sticking your tongue out and idly smoothing it down the wrinkled head of the guy’s cock and foreskin.

"Upff," You groaned at the taste, eyes watering as you struggled not to gag, all while the guy moaned and groaned himself, and braced himself against the cubicle wall, pushing himself further into your mouth and down your throat.

"Take well at both ends?” The guy murmured through a groan. “Might need to test...make sure..."

You squeezed your eyes shut at the lewd suggestion (and the grody taste of aged semen rubbing into your tongue, there was no way in hell you would ever let this guy fuck you, not in a million years), your thighs tensing together as the bouncer held your head still, snickering to himself.

“You know Americans,” He murmured, letting go of your wrists (he didn’t need to hold you still when he was standing in front of the only exit) to rub at his own growing bulge, idly squeezing himself as you bobbed your head up and down, your forehead and nose bumping against the cubicle wall. “They act like prudes but they’re desperate for it, ja?”

You moaned your complaints against the soft flesh between your lips, but you could feel a worrying heat begin to pool at your core and your own cock twitch in your jeans.

Fuck. How were you getting turned on by this?

The older man’s eyes flickered from your gagging lips and down to your thighs, tensing and squirming as you planted your hands against the cubicle wall and started to work your mouth up and down the other guy’s cock…barely with any help at all. “Mm, I knew you’d be the deseprate sort,” He murmured, his voice giving away a deep amount of praise as he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his own cock, dark and thick and fuck, you would have much prefered going down on him than some grimy stranger. “You liiike iiiit~ How cute!”

You moaned again, your eyes locked on his hand, idly jerking up and down his length, as you forced yourself to move quicker against the glory hole, just wanting this all to be over with.

“Ah ah, not too fast, mein herr…let yourself savour it, hm?”

[jettingtothemoon]

Daughter of the Spirits; chapter 14

➳ pairing: zuko x f!reader ➳ genre: a retelling of the show from season 2 onwards with a heavy focus and expansion on zuko’s story (canon divergent) ➳ warnings: violence, swearing, smut (underaged if your age of consent is above 16), spoilers for anyone who hasn’t seen the show ➳ word count: 2840 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n comes across the fire nation prince during her stay in Ba Sing Se. ➳ tags: @harmlessoffering @lammello @hannahdinse8 @ok-boke @stranger-chan @nekee-lilac02 @inutheangel @kalea-gooch @meiraloves2dmen @cozy-fantasy-corner @urmomlikeslinotoo @brain-has-left @iluvme547 @nadlx33333 @savannah0111 @browneyedgirl22 @swoon-for-joon @vyliie (i’m sorry if i’m forgetting anyone, lmk if i am or if you want to be added)

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14,

Inner Conflict

The very next day Zuko set out to teach Aang. He asked you to take part, nervous to teach the Avatar on his own, but you reminded him that this was something he and Aang needed to do alone. At least, until they had some time to bond. You weren’t sure if or when that would happen but you wanted more than anything for the pair to truly reconcile and put old grudges behind them.

So while he taught the Avatar, you decided to spend your time getting to know the others in the group better. You wandered through the camp and found Toph sitting on a rock, casually bending small rocks into intricate shapes to pass the time. You admired her skill and approached her with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Toph. Mind if I join you?" you asked.

The young girl shrugged. "Sure, if you can keep up."

You sat down next to her and tried to mimic her movements, but your rocks crumbled to dust. Toph laughed, and you joined in, enjoying the moment of camaraderie.

“It’s your Waterbender energy, you need to stop following the flow and stiffen up. Throwing boulders and making walls is one thing but something smaller,” she rock in front of her began to take shape, morphing into a small figurine of the Avatar’s flying bison, “requires more thought and precision.”

For someone so young, she was insanely skilled. A more than worthy companion of the avatar. You could learn a lot from her, just as you knew you could learn a lot from everyone, if they just gave you and Zuko a chance.

You both chatted for a while, talking about your journeys and experiences. You spoke of your home back in Omashu and of your parents, whom you missed so dearly, and she told you a little of her upbringing and how she left her parents behind to join the avatar on his journey. Toph was tough but honest, and you found her perspective refreshing.

After some time, you noticed Sokka nearby, practising with his boomerang. Toph nudged you, urging you to go and speak to the boy, and you realised she was helping you. You needed to prove that you were on their side, that you were more than Zuko’s girlfriend. That you wanted to be a part of this team. "Looks like Sokka could use some company. Go on, give him a hand."

You walked over to Sokka, who was deeply focused on his drills. "Hey, Sokka, need a sparring partner?"

Sokka paused and looked at you, a bit surprised but then grinned. "Why not? Just don't go easy on me."

The two of you moved to a more open space and readied your stances, preparing for hand-to-hand combat. Sokka grinned as he twirled his boomerang before tossing it aside. "Alright y/n, let's see what you've got."

You both started slowly, testing each other's reflexes. Sokka was the first to throw a punch, which you blocked with ease and responded with a blow of your own that he quickly dodged. The match was intense as you each gave as good as you got but trying to fight without your bending felt almost foreign now, even after so many years of hiding what you could really do. Sokka, despite his appearance and light-hearted demeanour, was a skilled fighter. His strategic mind shined through in his every move, always a step ahead as he predicted your actions and countered them with precision.

"You've got to be faster," Sokka teased, ducking under your strike and tapping your shoulder lightly as he rolled away. "Imagine you're facing a Fire Nation soldier, not a friend."

You grinned back, trying to keep up with his quick movements. "I think I can handle a few soldiers, Sokka."

The fight escalated, your strikes becoming more powerful and focused. You threw a series of punches, each aimed with intent, but Sokka blocked them with surprising ease. Before you knew what was happening, he swept your legs out from under you, and you hit the ground with a thud. Your chest rose and fell in haste as you regained your breath and soon, Sokka was there to offer you a hand in getting back up.

"You're relying too much on your bending," he said, helping you to your feet. "You need to learn how to fight without it. Our enemies have a chi-blocker, and if you can't bend, you'll be vulnerable."

You dusted yourself off, nodding thoughtfully. "I know Ty Lee. We were friends before we left. I hope we don't find ourselves against each other on the battlefield."

Sokka's expression softened for a moment. "I hope so too. But just in case, you need to be prepared. Chi-blockers are no joke."

You sighed, the weight of the situation settling over you. "You're right. I can't rely solely on my bending. I'll train harder."

Sokka clapped you on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. And don't worry, we've got each other's backs out there."

You chatted together as you headed back to the camp, laughing and joking as you walked along. You felt closer now, which was a relief. But opening up to you was one thing, putting their faith in Zuko was another entirely.

Just as you made your way back into camp, Katara came wandering over with a look in her eye that told you she had something she wanted to say. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, her tone leaving little room for refusal.

You nodded, sensing that this conversation had been a long time coming. You and Katara walked a little away from the others, finding a quiet spot near the river, and you couldn’t quell your nerves.

"I need to understand something," Katara began, her voice tense. "Why are you still with Zuko? After everything he's done, how can you still stand by his side?"

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "I know Zuko has made mistakes, Katara. But I've seen the light inside him. He's trying to change, really. I've seen him struggle with this for so long, always questioning his choices, wondering if he’s doing the right thing. He’s trying to be better, to be good. That's why he’s here, to finally make the right choice."

Katara's eyes flashed with anger. "But he's hurt so many people! He betrayed us, tried to capture Aang so many times. How can you trust him after all that?"

"I understand your anger, Katara," you replied softly. "I really do. But people can change. I know you've seen it too. Zuko's not the same person he was. He finally wants to do some good and sees the damage the Fire Nation has done. Do you know how hard it was for him to leave everything he’s ever known behind? To turn his back on his own nation? His friends? His family? He needs our support, Katara, not our hatred. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Katara crossed her arms, her expression softening slightly but still guarded. "It's not as simple as that. Even if I wanted to believe in him, it's hard to forget everything he's done."

"Please, just give him a chance to prove himself," you urged. "I believe in him, and I think, deep down, you do too. So please, help me help him become the person he wants to be."

Katara looked down, her resolve wavering. "Maybe you're right, but I can’t so easily trust him. I’ve been betrayed by him enough times, we all have. He can’t keep changing his mind, what’s to say he won’t do so again? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust, not after everything he’s done."

"That's fair," you agreed. "I know right now you can only see what he has done and not what he wants to do going forward. If you can’t trust him, then trust in me. He won’t turn his back on any of us again. Please, give him a chance."

Katara nodded slowly. "I'll try. For Aang's sake, and for yours. But he better not mess this up."

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief. "Thank you, Katara. It means a lot."

As you returned to the camp, you felt hopeful. The path to reconciliation was never easy, but with patience and understanding, you believed that Zuko could truly become a valued member of the team.

When the sun began its descent from the sky, Zuko came to pull you aside. Without a word you followed him, allowing him to quietly lead you along with in hand wrapped snugly around your own.

“I can’t teach him,” he said when you finally reached your room, a place away from prying eyes and ears.

You frowned. “You can’t teach Aang? Why?”

Zuko sighed and slumped down onto the bed. “It’s my bending… It’s gone. How am I supposed to teach the avatar, or even fight, when I can only muster a small flame?”

Moving to sit beside him, you took his hand again. For the first time since you’d known him, he felt cold. The tips of his fingers chilled you to touch, even as you encased them with your own warmth.

“Maybe I can help with that…”

He raised an eyebrow as you turned towards him, resting a gentle hand to his cheek as your lips met. He followed your lead as you climbed over him, deepening your kiss, and only pulled away when your hands started to tug at his clothes.

“Look,” he spoke softly, “it’s not that I’m not enjoying this, but how will it help bring my bending back?”

You kissed his cheek softly, letting your lips linger for a moment before trailing them down to his jawline, each kiss deliberate and tender. As your lips brushed against the curve of his neck, you felt his pulse quicken beneath the surface. Smiling against his skin, you murmured, "Maybe a little bit of passion will reignite your fire."

Zuko chuckled and hummed, signalling that there would be no protest from him. His arms moved to hold you, one of his hands slipping into your hair as he kissed you again. It was a silly idea and you both knew it but, if anything, a distraction might be exactly what he needed.

You shifted slightly, pressing your body closer to his as your lips met once more. This kiss was slower, deeper, and filled with all the reassurance and affection you could muster. Zuko's initial hesitancy melted away as he responded, his lips moving in sync with yours. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer.

You could feel the tension in his body slowly easing away and hoped more than anything to soothe him in this moment of uncertainty. He let out a contented sigh, the warmth between you gradually spreading.

Zuko's fingers threaded through your hair, his touch both gentle and urgent. He tilted his head back slightly, giving you better access as you continued to kiss along his neck and collarbone. Your hands slid beneath his robes, sliding it free of his shoulders and your lips followed the path of untouched skin. The feeling of your lips against him seemed to bring a faint, reassuring warmth back into him.

He rolled over, guiding you beneath him, his lips finding yours again in a series of passionate, lingering kisses. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close to savour the closeness and comfort it brought.

“I love you,” you spoke as you began to slip free of your own clothes, feeling your skin bare against his own. “I love you so much.”

He grinned into your kiss, his hands too working to rid you of the fabric that kept you from him. He seemed more confident than he had before, as though your words made him feel like he could take on the world so long as you were at his side.

“I…” he muttered, “I don’t know what to do.”

You could feel the flush of his cheeks in your hands as you kissed him again, offering a gentle smile against his lips. "It's alright," you whispered, your voice a soothing balm. "We don't need to rush this."

His uncertainty melted away bit by bit as your hands traced the contours of his face, guiding him with patient tenderness. He followed your lead, his touches growing more assured as he explored the warmth and comfort you offered.

His hands roamed over your skin, each caress imbued with a newfound confidence. He marvelled at the way your bodies fit together, the way your breath mingled as your kisses deepened. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of shared heat and intimacy.

“I want to…” his breath was hot against your lips, his forehead gently learning against your own. “I really want to… but this,” your kisses grew languid and his brows furrowed, frustration seeping back in, and before you knew what was happening he was pulling away, “...this isn’t working.”

Although you understood his annoyance with himself, you couldn’t help but feel the ache in your heart as Zuko pulled away, his words hanging heavily in the air. The warmth that had been building between you dissipated, leaving a cold chill in its wake. His kiss he pressed to your cheek felt more like a farewell as he swiftly pulled his robes back on.

Silence settled in the room, broken only by the rustle of fabric and the sound of Zuko pacing restlessly while he thought, now possibly more frustrated than he was before. Slowly, you sat up and wrapped your arms around yourself, all of a sudden feeling exposed and vulnerable. The intimacy shared between you moments ago already felt like a distant memory, replaced by the reality of Zuko's frustration and the conflict within himself.

"I... I'm sorry," you whispered, the words catching in your throat. You wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him and hold him and make all his worries go away, but you knew he needed space.

Zuko ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, his back turned to you. "It's not your fault," he said quietly, his voice soft and fatigued. "I appreciate what you were trying to do. But... I can't... I need my bending, y/n. What use am I to the avatar without it?"

You pulled the blankets around you, disappointed that things hadn’t gone further and acutely aware of the ache that was left behind in the remnants of his touch. “It’ll be alright, I promise.”

With a deep breath, Zuko turned to look at you. His eyes were soft, conveying all the love and gratitude he had for you, but within them lingered a persistent trace of doubt. Not in you, but in himself. "I need time to figure things out," he admitted, his voice vulnerably raw. "Alone."

You nodded again, knowing there was nothing else you could say to comfort him now. You had done your part and it hadn’t helped. It was up to him now to figure this out. You wanted to be strong for him, to show him that you could support him even in moments like this, but you didn’t know what to do. How could you sit by and watch him suffer through something knowing there was nothing you could do to help?

Zuko approached you cautiously, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His touch was tender but fleeting, both a silent apology and farewell. "I... I'll be back," he promised softly, though the uncertainty in his eyes mirrored the ache in your heart.

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet room. Your arms tightened around yourself, trying to hold onto the warmth that had left with him, and you smiled. Not because you were happy but because he was trying. He wanted to do the right thing and maybe his issues with his bending had something to do with that. Whatever it was, you were certain he would figure it out.

The room felt emptier now, colder despite the lingering heat of your shared intimacy. You buried your face in your hands, letting the weight of the moment wash over you. All you could do now was wait and hope that Zuko would find solace in the stars if he could not find it in you.

It was then that you realised just how deeply your love for him had carved into your beating heart because when he was suffering, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the constant void of being so far from your home and family. None of it mattered because he was in pain. What a dangerous love that is, to love someone so completely that they become all that matters to you in the world. You’d bring down the very sky for him if it would make him smile and you hoped that someday he would do the same for you.

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14,

[half-dead-writer]

Read this introduction first

Gordon Goose vs 7 Minutes In Heaven

character: Gideon Graves words: 1,6k reader: gender neutral warnings: making out, Goose being cringe

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

...Of course it had to be Gordon Goose.

Your history with Gordon wasn't extensive, you only briefly interacted with him during the break periods at school. He wasn't your classmate, Gordon was a year older than you. Everyone knew him by the nickname Fearless, you guessed it was due to his choice of clothing - wearing wifebeater with the text NO FEAR on it everyday. You thought it was a weird choice, but you couldn't deny he was certainly... popular because of it.

He appeared at your school in his dweeby nerd phase - not to say he wasn't still a nerd, but in the time you met him, he began to glow up. His hair almost fully covered one side of his face, he finally got a pair of glasses that fit the shape of his face, he started dressing better. He still wore his Fearless brand, though. He evolved from being a loser to an actually popular kid. Well, he was still kind of a loser, but his courage only grew with time, making him even cockier. His relationships with peers seemed shallow, but that didn't seem to bother him.

You and Gordon had a confusing, on and off... friendship, hostage situation? You didn't really know how to call it. One time he just decided to randomly approach you. He would introduce himself, "breaking the ice" with some ramblings about anime, just to then throw random flirt attempts at you at the worst time. At least you thought that's what they were. He mostly spoke about himself with thinly veiled arrogance.

First time it happened, it took you off guard. You were not about to be rude, but you didn't really... know this guy. You tried to gently push him into the right direction by not really being receptive to his remarks, but he persisted. Until one time when you were a bit more blunt, plainly pointing out how his fixation on you was getting a bit annoying.

"Don't you have other people to talk to?" Gordon only briefly scoffed, as if to dismiss your question.

"Why?" The confident smirk presented itself on his face. "Don't you enjoy being in my company?" Placing his hand on the wall next to you, he partially pinned you to the wall.

It would be more intimidating if anyone other than Gordon acted this way when you were clearly not interested, but his short stature combined with your bit of knowledge about him made the situation less threatening. If you had to describe him, you'd say he seemed kind of- pathetic. He tried way too hard. But his antics also mildly entertained you. He probably learned this move from an anime, you thought, judging by how dramatic his movements turned.

"Not really," you bluffed, partially. His smirk didn't falter, although it became a bit disappointed.

"Aw, why is that?" He tilted his head.

"...Because you keep... flirting?? with me?"

"And why would that be a bad thing?" He continued, not taking a break from his amazing getting-game abilities.

"Because- I don't," you tried to put your thoughts into words, "I don't reciprocate?"

"Well then, let's just call it a casual, friendly chat?" He flashed you his braces in a smug grin.

And similar situations happened time and time again.

You weren't fully off put by Gordon, somehow managing to find a bit of charm in him. He wasn't totally ugly, unlike other people at your school, he looked well groomed, and he gave you attention. You lacked any other suitors than him, so in the end, you briefly considered giving him a chance one day.

Gordon was thrilled realizing you're gonna be stuck with him for the next 7 minutes! His glasses reflected the light in the dimly lit room as he stood up to step into the cramped space. He got there first, sliding along the wall of the closet to lazily sit on the floor. He made little effort to move his legs as you tried to fit in. You decided it would be better to just ignore the lack of distance between him and you than to speak up. You halfly expected him to start complaining if you did. Thankfully, aside your legs touching, he made no other attempts at touching you any further.

The doors of the closet shut off the light, trapping you in the darkness. Even though you couldn't see anything, you could sense the giddiness radiating off of him.

After a moment of silence, he got straight to the point post clearing his throat. "...So?"

"...So, what?" You asked, covering up your halfly amused tone and preparing for his response.

"How do you wanna spend the next 7 minutes in my presence?" He hovered closer. You could only imagine the way his face looked, a big, stupid smirk was probably plastered on it. "Wanna... talk, maybe get to know each other better?"

You tried to judge if the undertone of his response had a double meaning. The faint sound of Gordon's back leaning on the wood calmed you down a little, you were not being pushed to the wall anymore. He eased his eagerness, deciding to patiently wait for your input. Before you could reply, he added,

"Of course, if you just wanna spend the seven minutes in silence, that's fine too." He spoke almost too considerate. "It might be a bit... boring, though." He added, nonchalant.

"That's very mindful of you," you said, not bothering to fully cover up your sarcasm.

"Oh, don't mention it." You took his cocky comment with a grain of salt. You thought- You hoped he was at least self aware of his behavior, that he used his arrogance in a joking way.

You briefly shifted your sitting position, feeling Gideon's stare on you. Taking a few seconds to evaluate your options, Gideon heard nothing but silence. He could probably take it as your answer, to just stay silent until the doors open again, but that would disappoint too much. So he waited, hopeful for your response.

You felt as if it was a decision that could end up in a big failure. What if you shouldn't actually give him a chance? What if your negative thoughts would get validated, and you'd get hurt, or worse, cringe to death?

In the end, you sighed. Okay. It's probably the only situation you'll ever find yourself in where it would be the perfect time to start granting Gideon some reciprocation. No way would you be kissing him for the first time in like, a school bathroom. Or in the corridor, with all of the students eyes on you. The closet seemed like the best place you could find yourself in given your circumstances.

"...Fine," you hesitantly gave in, "we can ...make out- or whatever..." Ironically, you didn't wanna sound like a stereotypical "tsundere", but it was hard for you to push this stupid sentence out. Not like you were accustomed to even being hit on.

You only briefly managed to process Gordon's hitched breath before he quickly covered it by clearing his throat. He pushed his body closer to you, to the point you could feel his warm breath against your skin. It smelled of mint. Even though it was kinda cheap, you were positively surprised. It all happened so quickly, you got kind of shy.

His fingers gently cradled your cheek, giving you the weirdest sensations. Prepared for his mouth landing on yours, you meekly leaned into his touch. He had no idea how much time left from the seven minutes the fate granted him, so he had to use it well. Soon enough, his lips (which, surprisingly, had chapstick on them?) pressed into you. The technique he used didn't convey lots of experience.

Coaxed into the kiss with the deceitfully slow pace, he soon took it a step further, snaking his tongue into your mouth. It was sloppy and a bit unexpected, but you didn't tell him to stop. You granted him the access when you felt the lick on your lower lip, so you partially shared the blame.

His hand crawled to your knee, travelling down onto your thigh. His touch seemed almost desperate. He respected your boundaries by not going any lower, thankfully. Instead, he moved it up your side. You weakly bent under his touch, not used to being treated this way. Even though it wasn't the best kissing of your life, the experience had you feeling pretty electric. You even found yourself missing the feeling after your makeout session was abruptly stopped.

Your tongue fell out of his mouth right after you heard the creak of the doors opening. You didn't want the attention of the whole room on you, doing your best at a nonchalant bee-line out of the closet. Gordon followed behind you, just waiting for a chance to exchange more words with you. You did not see his expression.

You ended up going into the kitchen of the house, with only a few people around, already occupied with conversation with one another. Leaning onto the counter with your back, you turned and raised your brow at Gordon, giving him a pass to speak up.

"Well?" He took the same stance near you. "Was it really as bad as you expected?" He almost beckoned you to say something negative. He was so convinced he did good.

Was it actually as bad? You took a moment to mull over your response, finally returning the stare with ambiguity.

"...Mm, dunno," you shrugged, gaining more of his attention. "...I need a bit more demonstration than that to judge."

[kat-thepoet]

Invisible string

CHAPTER TWO

A/N: Enjoy!

Previous chapter: CHAPTER ONE

Word count: 4300

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm golden hue over the campus as I stared out of my window. The grounds were quieter now, with students scattered around in smaller groups, eating dinner outside or just relaxing. The soft hum of conversation and laughter drifted through the open window. It was peaceful, but I couldn't shake the nerves building up in my stomach.

I had spent most of the afternoon exploring the grounds, trying to familiarize myself with this new place. But as the day wore on, the reality of what lay ahead started to sink in. I was going to be part of this community, part of something so much bigger than anything I had known before.

Just as I was lost in thought, a soft knock on my door snapped me back to the present. I turned, and the door creaked open slightly as Raven peeked inside, a friendly smile on her face.

"Dinner time," she said casually. "Come join us."

I hesitated, smoothing down my clothes nervously. "Uh... are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

Raven stepped into the room, her expression reassuring. "You're part of the team now. No intruding, I promise. Plus, the others are curious to meet you. Well, most of them."

The mention of "most of them" made me think of Erik. My stomach tightened again, but I gave Raven a small nod. "Alright, I'll be there."

She flashed me a smile and gestured for me to follow her. As we walked down the long hallway, Raven chatted easily, telling me a little more about the daily routines here. Her calm energy helped settle some of my nerves, but the thought of sitting down at a table with people I barely knew—especially one particular person—kept me on edge.

We made our way through the school and finally entered a large dining area. The room was bright and inviting, with a long table at the center where the X-Men sat, while students ate outside or in smaller groups around the campus. The sound of clinking dishes and light chatter filled the air.

As soon as we walked in, several pairs of eyes turned in our direction. I tried to resist the instinct to shrink back, instead forcing myself to smile politely.

"Flora!" Scott called out, waving me over to a seat near him and red head. "There you are. How was your first day?"

I smiled as I sat down across from him, feeling a little more at ease. "It's been... a lot. Still trying to take everything in."

"You did great today," Storm said with a smile from beside Scott. "It takes time to adjust, but I think you're settling in just fine."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, grinning. "You should've seen how lost I was on my first day here. And I practically grew up in this place."

I chuckled, feeling some of the tension in my chest loosen. "That makes me feel a little better."

The red hair girl next to him smiled warmly at me. "Hi, I'm Jean."

I looked at her and smiled politely, " Hi Jean, it's nice to meet you." 

She smiled back and said, "Don't worry, you'll find your rhythm soon enough, Flora. And we're all here to help you along the way."

It felt nice that they were so supportive. A thank you fell from my lips and I started to fill my plate with a delicious smelling pasta.

I noticed the others at the table—Charles, sitting at the head, offering me an encouraging nod; Hank, across from me, looking a little shy but friendly nonetheless. He gave me a small smile, and I returned it, feeling a bit more at ease.

The conversation around the table was easy, everyone catching up on their day. Jean and Scott chatted about the students' progress, while Hank quietly listened, occasionally chiming in about his latest research. Raven sat next to me, keeping the conversation light, helping me feel like I was slowly becoming part of the group.

But despite the warm welcome from everyone else, I couldn't ignore Erik's presence further down the table. His posture was tense, and he was focused on his plate, barely acknowledging anyone. Every now and then, I would catch his gaze flickering toward me, only for him to quickly look away, disinterest painted on his face.

I swallowed, trying not to let his cold demeanor get under my skin, but it was hard. As welcoming as the others were, Erik's attitude felt like a thorn in my side. He hadn't even said a word to me, yet somehow, I felt judged.

"Don't mind him," Storm said softly, leaning toward me. "He's always been a bit... intense. But he'll come around eventually."

"Yeah, give it time," Scott added with a reassuring nod. "He's not easy to get along with, but once he warms up to you, he's not so bad."

I nodded, though I wasn't entirely convinced. "I'll just... stay out of his way for now."

"Smart move," Raven said with a playful grin as she nudged me. "He'll thaw out. Maybe."

The others laughed lightly, but I couldn't shake the lingering tension between me and Erik. I kept my focus on the conversation around me, smiling and nodding as Jean shared a story about one of the students' powers acting up earlier. The lighthearted chatter helped distract me, but every now and then, I felt Erik's gaze shift in my direction, as if he were sizing me up from a distance.

Whatever his problem was, I wasn't going to let it get in the way of finding my place here. I had enough to worry about without adding him to the list.

Dinner carried on, and I found myself growing more comfortable with each passing minute, despite Erik's presence at the table. Jean, Scott, and Storm kept the conversation light and easy, sharing stories about their experiences at the school, the challenges they faced, and the funny moments with the students. Even Hank chimed in occasionally, his shyness easing as the conversation flowed.

I hadn't realized how much I had been smiling until Raven leaned over with a playful grin. "See? Not so bad, right?"

I smiled back, nodding. "You were right. It's... nice to feel like I'm already part of the group."

"And you are," Jean added, her warm tone as soothing as ever. "We're glad to have you here."

Charles, who had been quietly observing the table, finally spoke, his voice calm and thoughtful. "Flora, I want to emphasize again that your abilities will be a great asset here. Both in the classroom and beyond."

I swallowed, the attention shifting back to me. "Thank you, Professor. I'm still... adjusting to the idea, but I'll do my best."

Charles smiled knowingly. "That's all anyone can ask."

As the conversation began to turn back to other matters, I allowed myself to relax a bit more. Everyone was being kind, making sure I didn't feel like an outsider. Well, almost everyone. Erik hadn't said a word the entire time, and despite the growing ease I felt with the others, his silence hung over me like a cloud.

Just when I thought the meal was coming to a close, Erik's voice cut through the chatter, sharp and direct.

"And what exactly do you plan to do here, Flora?"

The table fell quiet. All eyes turned toward Erik, whose gaze was now fixed on me. His tone wasn't kind, and I could feel the tension rising again.

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. "I... I'll be teaching, just like the others."

His lips curled slightly, but it wasn't a smile. "Teaching, right. And what experience do you have with that?"

I felt the flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. He probably knew I didn't have much life experience outside of the orphanage, and he was using that to his advantage. Before I could reply, Raven jumped in.

"She's plenty qualified, Erik," Raven said, her tone sharp with irritation. "Charles wouldn't have brought her here if he didn't believe she could handle it."

Erik's gaze didn't waver from me. "Is that so?" His tone was still cold, disbelieving. "Teaching a few kids is one thing, but becoming an X-Man? That's something I know you won't be able to handle."

I clenched my jaw, feeling my frustration rise. "You don't even know anything about me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I wouldn't be here if I didn't think I could contribute."

Erik's eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could say anything else, Charles spoke, his voice firm but calm. "Flora is here because she has something unique to offer, Erik. Just as all of you did when you first arrived."

Erik's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. He simply pushed back his chair and stood up, casting one last glance in my direction before turning away from the table.

"Enjoy your dinner," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, before he walked out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

I stared after him, my heart pounding in my chest. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over, and I wasn't sure how to feel—angry, embarrassed, or just... exhausted.

Storm reached over, placing a comforting hand on my arm. "Don't let him get to you. He's like that with everyone at first."

"Yeah," Scott added with a sigh. "You just happened to catch him on a particularly bad day."

I forced a small smile, though I still felt rattled. "It's fine. I'll just... avoid him."

Jean shook her head, her voice soft. "He'll come around, Flora. It just takes time."

Raven, on the other hand, wasn't so forgiving. "Or he could try not being a complete ass for once. But that's Erik for you." 

The others chuckled lightly, but I couldn't shake the heavy feeling in my chest. I didn't want to cause friction, but it seemed like Erik had already made up his mind about me—and I had no idea how to change it. 

After dinner, the weight of the evening still lingered with me, but I tried to shake it off as everyone began to disperse. Just as I was about to head back to my room, Charles caught my attention from across the room.

"Flora, may I have a word before you retire for the night?" he asked, his voice gentle but direct.

I nodded, giving a quick smile to the others as they left before walking over to where Charles sat, still at the head of the table. The soft glow of the lights in the dining room felt warm, but I could still feel the tension from my interaction with Erik buzzing under my skin.

Charles motioned to a chair beside him. "Please, sit."

I sat down, trying to push aside the frustration and focus on what Charles might need to talk about.

"I know tonight didn't go quite as smoothly as we'd hoped," Charles began, his calm tone easing some of the tension I felt. "But I don't want you to be discouraged. You handled yourself well."

I smiled faintly. "Thank you, Professor. It's just... I didn't expect things to be so tense so quickly."

Charles nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Erik can be... difficult. His past experiences have shaped him in ways that make it hard for him to trust new people, especially those who haven't yet proven themselves. But don't worry. He will come around."

I nodded, though a part of me wasn't entirely convinced. "I'll do my best not to let it get to me."

Charles smiled softly, as if he understood exactly what I was feeling. "Good. You'll have plenty of opportunities to prove yourself. In fact, tomorrow, we'll sit down and talk about the course you'll be teaching. I want you to start thinking about how you'd like to approach your lessons."

I blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of that responsibility. "Right, the course. Do you have any guidelines for what I'll be teaching?"

"We'll go over the details tomorrow," Charles said reassuringly. "Like I said at the orphanage, the students you'll be teaching are between the ages of five and ten. They need guidance and teaching, of course, but they also need compassion, patience, and love. I know you have plenty to offer."

I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness rising in my chest. "I'll start thinking about it tonight. It sounds... amazing, honestly."

Charles smiled warmly. "I'm glad to hear that. I think you'll find teaching here to be incredibly rewarding."

He paused for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. "To help you get comfortable with the teaching environment here, I'd like you to shadow Jean tomorrow. She has a class in the morning, and it will give you a chance to observe how we work with the students."

I nodded, grateful for the guidance. "I think that'll really help."

"Jean is an excellent teacher," Charles said with confidence. "You'll learn a lot from her."

A soft silence fell between us for a moment before Charles added, "Flora, you belong here. Remember that, no matter how challenging things may seem at first."

I gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Professor. I'll do my best."

He nodded, his expression warm and encouraging. "I have no doubt that you will. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow will be a full day."

I stood, feeling a little lighter despite the long evening. "Goodnight, Charles."

"Goodnight, Flora," Charles replied, his calm voice following me as I made my way out of the dining room.

The next morning came quicker than I expected. Sunlight streamed through the curtains as I woke up, the soft sounds of birds chirping outside my window. Despite the peaceful morning, my mind buzzed with thoughts about the day ahead. Today was my first real step into this new life, and I wasn't sure if I was more nervous or excited.

After getting dressed, I took a deep breath, reminding myself of Charles's reassuring words the night before. He believed in me, and I had to believe in myself, too.

A soft knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. I opened it to find Jean standing there, looking as calm and composed as always.

"Good morning," she greeted with a warm smile. "Ready for your first day?"

I nodded, smiling back. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Don't worry," she said with a soft chuckle. "You'll do great. Today, you'll just get a chance to observe. It's pretty informal, so no pressure."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "That helps. I was worried it might be too structured."

Jean gestured for me to follow her as we made our way through the halls of the school. "It's structured in some ways, but every class is different. It depends on the students' abilities and their needs. We try to make sure the environment is encouraging and flexible. You'll see soon enough."

We stepped outside into the crisp morning air, heading toward one of the classrooms at the edge of the campus. As we walked, I couldn't help but glance around, taking in the beauty of the place—the way the trees swayed gently in the breeze, the way the sunlight danced through the branches. It felt alive, like the entire school was in harmony with nature.

When we entered the classroom, several students were already seated, waiting eagerly for Jean to start. Their ages varied, but they all had that same look in their eyes—the curiosity and excitement that came with discovering new things about themselves and their abilities.

Jean turned to me and whispered, "Just sit in the back for now, watch how they engage, and observe how I handle the class."

I nodded and took a seat at the back, grateful for the chance to watch her in action.

Jean started the lesson by introducing the day's topic: learning how to control their powers in real-world situations. The students were attentive, asking questions and participating eagerly. I could see why Jean was such a good teacher—she had a way of making everything feel accessible and engaging. She didn't just teach them; she guided them, encouraging their strengths while helping them overcome their weaknesses.

As the lesson continued, I felt a sense of awe. These kids were so much like me when I was younger—full of potential but unsure of how to harness it. Watching them learn made me realize how important this role could be, not just for them, but for me, too.

About halfway through the class, Jean called on a student named Mia, a young girl with short, curly hair and wide, expressive eyes. Mia stood nervously at the front of the class, her hands fidgeting.

"Okay, Mia," Jean said gently. "Show us how you've been working on your power. Remember what we practiced."

Mia nodded, taking a deep breath. A moment later, her hands began to glow faintly, and with a soft flick of her wrist, she summoned a small gust of wind, causing the papers on the desk to flutter.

The class clapped lightly, and I smiled, impressed by the control Mia had over her abilities.

Jean smiled warmly at her. "Very good, Mia. You've made great progress."

I watched in admiration as Jean continued the lesson, guiding the students with patience and encouragement. It was inspiring, seeing how much she cared for each one of them, and it made me eager to step into my own role as a teacher here.

As the class wrapped up, Jean turned to the students. "That's all for today. Keep practicing, and remember, don't be afraid to make mistakes. That's how you learn."

The students gathered their things, chatting among themselves as they filed out of the classroom. As soon as they were gone, Jean walked over to me, her smile still in place.

"So, what did you think?" she asked, her tone light and friendly.

I stood up, feeling a little more confident. "It was amazing. You make it look so easy."

Jean laughed softly. "It's not as easy as it seems, but you'll get the hang of it. You already have the most important part down."

"What's that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Compassion," she replied. "The kids can feel when you care. That's what makes them trust you."

I smiled, feeling that same warmth spread through me. "Thanks, Jean. I'm excited to get started."

She nodded, her eyes twinkling. "And you will."

I thanked her for the opportunity to shadow her today. As I stepped outside, I felt lighter—more at ease. Maybe I was finding my place here after all.

The morning air was refreshing, and I decided to take a walk. I wandered around the campus, watching students train or work on their powers. There was a sense of community here, a place where everyone belonged, even with their differences.

As I walked through the grounds, feeling more at ease after observing Jean's class, I almost didn't notice the figure leaning against a nearby tree until I was right in front of him.

Erik.

My breath caught, and for a moment, I considered turning around and heading in the opposite direction. He was standing there, arms crossed, watching the students train from a distance, his expression unreadable but distinctly cold.

I hesitated, unsure of whether I should approach him or just keep walking. After last night's dinner, the last thing I wanted was another tense encounter with him.

Just as I was about to slip away quietly, Erik's voice cut through the stillness.

"Running away already?"

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. "I wasn't running away," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady.

Erik didn't even look at me, his eyes still fixed on the students ahead. "Could've fooled me."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stand my ground. "I'm just giving you space. That's what you seem to want."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze still trained on the students. "Smart."

The silence between us felt heavy, every second more uncomfortable than the last. Erik didn't seem interested in talking, and I didn't know how to break the awkwardness. I remembered what Storm and Raven had said—how Erik would eventually warm up, how he just needed time. But standing here now, with him clearly uninterested in anything I had to say, I couldn't help but wonder if they were wrong.

I shifted awkwardly, unsure of whether to leave or say something. "Look," I began hesitantly, "I know you don't like me. But I'm not here to cause problems. I'm just trying to find my place, like everyone else."

For a moment, it seemed like Erik wasn't even going to acknowledge me. He stayed silent, his face hard, and I could feel the tension building again, just like at dinner.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dismissive. "If you think this is about finding your place, you don't belong here at all."

His words stung, sharp and cutting. I opened my mouth to respond, to defend myself, but nothing came out. I felt small, like I had no right to be here, standing in front of him.

Erik gave me one last, cold glance before turning and walking away without another word, leaving me standing there, the weight of his rejection sinking deep into my chest.

I watched him go, my mind racing with questions. Everyone kept telling me that Erik would warm up, that he was just closed off and difficult at first, but standing there, all I felt was doubt. Would he ever come around? Or had they all been wrong?

As I continued walking, trying to shake off the icy encounter, Erik's harsh words echoed in my mind. I didn't understand him. I didn't understand why he disliked me so much, and no matter what the others said, it seemed like nothing I did was going to change his mind.

Frustration gnawed at me. Storm, Raven, Scott—they all seemed convinced that Erik just needed time, but how much time was I supposed to give him? How long could I keep waiting for him to "warm up" when every interaction with him left me feeling like I didn't belong here?

After my encounter with Erik, I made my way back inside, trying to shake off the lingering tension. I reminded myself that I had more important things to focus on—like the students and the course I'd be teaching. As soon as I stepped through the door, I saw Charles waiting for me near the entrance, his usual calm expression in place.

"Flora," he greeted warmly. "Shall we take a walk? I thought it might be a good time to show you your classroom."

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. "That sounds great."

As we walked through the quiet hallways, the energy from outside seemed to melt away, leaving behind only the soft echo of my footsteps and his wheels. Charles guided me toward a part of the building I hadn't yet explored. The air smelled of books and fresh wood, making it feel like stepping into a different world.

"I'm sure you're still settling in," Charles began, his voice gentle. "But I wanted to talk to you about the course you'll be teaching. I believe it's important for you to shape it in a way that feels natural to you."

We turned a corner, and I noticed the doors to classrooms, each marked with the names of various subjects and instructors. Charles paused in front of a door that stood slightly ajar, his hand resting on the frame as he gestured for me to step inside.

I walked in, taking in the room. It was cozy, with large windows that let in plenty of light, and shelves lined with books, supplies, and materials for teaching. Desks were arranged in small clusters, and I could already imagine the younger students filling the space.

"This will be your classroom," Charles said, following me inside. "I wanted you to have a comfortable, flexible space where you can tailor your lessons to the students' needs."

I smiled, feeling a rush of excitement. "It's perfect."

Charles nodded, rolling further into the room. "As for the course itself, I'll provide you with a general template on how to structure your lessons, but the content will be entirely up to you. You can teach anything you choose since the older kids are already taking their core subjects. Think of this as an elective, where students can come in without feeling the pressure of being demanded something."

A warmth spread through me at his words. This was exactly what I wanted—a chance to connect with the students and help them find their way, just as I had with the kids back at the orphanage.

He handed me a small folder containing the basics on how to organize the class—suggested schedules, learning outcomes, and other useful guidelines. I glanced through it, already imagining how I might introduce the students to concepts I knew best.

"I think I can handle that," I said, my voice more confident than I expected.

"I have no doubt that you will," Charles replied, his expression kind. "You'll start small, of course, easing them into the lessons. You have the freedom to design your course around your strengths, and I'll be here to offer guidance whenever you need it."

I nodded, already picturing how I might structure the lessons—introducing the students to animals, explaining how the natural world could help them understand their powers, and encouraging them to connect with the environment around them.

Charles continued, "Tomorrow, your first class starts in the morning and ill be here to officially introduce you to the students, and you'll begin with a brief lesson. Nothing too overwhelming—just a way for them to get to know you and for you to see how they respond."

"That sounds perfect," I said, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm looking forward to it."

Charles gave me a final encouraging nod before making his way to the door. "I'll leave you to familiarize yourself with the space. Take your time, and remember, this is your classroom. Make it your own."

As he left, I looked around the room again, a sense of purpose filling me. This was my chance to create something meaningful for these students, to help them in ways I hadn't imagined before.

And as much as Erik's words still echoed in my mind, I pushed them aside. This was about the students, about the chance to help them grow. I was ready.

TAG LIST: @maximumchilddreamland @mostlymarvelgirl

Chapter: THREE

[duckies27]

I'm not one to normally interact with drama, but at this point, I have waited way too long to just sit here in silence. There is a creator on this platform named Hamlet Unfortunately, also known as Kenny, and I can’t just stay sitting on this.

I despise this man for multiple reasons, and I'll get into all of them here. In my opinion, it's not fair that he continues to do this sort of thing and just gets away with it, getting love and attention while doing so. All while other people similar to me get 5 to 10 likes on some of our work. I don't want to spend this entire time just completely thrashing him. However, there’s too much evidence to just ignore.

My friend Dork (@zestfeast ) and I are on a server with another Discord friend (who I won't name for their own sake, I don't want to drag them into this whole thing). I met the two of them on the fan-made Stinky Dragon discord, and we bonded pretty quickly over our love of the characters and our love of the cast. The show was something we bonded over and we wanted to spend as much time together by talking about it, without other people getting in the way. So the third party made a server and invited the two of us. We had a great time for the first two and a half weeks. It was a safe space with all the people that I trusted. We are all afab and personally, that makes me more comfortable as someone who is a cis woman. We talked about all sorts of things mainly relating to our enjoyment of the characters, coming up with AUs, and coming up with stories, all of which were pretty fun. At the time of the start of the server, I was personally barely baby 18, while the other two were and are still minors. This may not seem like a problem, but the problem came when. Kenny or Hamlet Unfortunately, as you know him, joined the server.

He was a friend with the third party and both me and Dork were completely comfortable with him joining. It wasn't our place to choose considering it is the third party's actual server. We sat and talked for a little bit, but after joining he didn't say anything. I didn't think anything of it, I'm also pretty shy but he was just awkward. Once again, I didn't think anything of it but then we started talking more. He started talking more. I wasn't a part of this conversation simply because I was at work at the times he was more vocal. I'm super busy, I work from 3:00 to 7:00 every single day right after school and it's too much hands-on work for me to come and check Discord all the time. A lot of the big conversations would happen when I wasn't there, and while I was currently doing things that took my full attention. I am a custodian worker at a middle school, I'm constantly working around kids, I'm constantly working around other people and it makes it hard to be on my phone. I missed the majority of these conversations, but to make sure that this was fully correct, I made sure to read back to all of the things that he said. It's not fair to judge a book by its cover without fully reading the contents. I read over 600 messages all sent over the course of a few weeks and I'll be dead honest, they were pretty terrifying to read back. Especially someone who has been around victims of the jokes he was mentioning. These included sexual content, drug jokes, and stuff that no person should ever joke about, especially not with minors.

It started simple enough. We just were talking about art relating to the characters and I'll be honest, some things weren't exactly always super family-friendly. We try to keep it light and airy the majority of the time within the server, but we had a few dedicated chats for the not-so-family-friendly stuff that includes some maybe more suggestive fan art. Most of the time it was and is pretty clean. We tried our best to censor what wasn't, especially because we had two minors on the server and people could always glance over our shoulders. I was in, particular, very aware of this and made sure that I didn't post anything without censoring first. One of the first things Kenny said to one of our minors on the server was "I'll suck your dick", when talking about fan art that Dork had done. Dork is very young compared to me or possibly him. I don't know how old he is but I just know that this comment made me uncomfortable reading back on it, especially because Dork is like a brother to me. I would protect him with my life if I could. I love this kid and would unironically do anything for him. They continued talking and he was incredibly mean to Dork, often calling him stupid and often acting as if his actions were childish and not as important as Kenny’s actions. When Dork tried to bring up another subject, relating to theater, not only did Kenny call him a fool, but he also said “I don't want to suck your dick anymore" continuing the uncomfortable, NSFW environment that he was starting to form.

As many of you who've read my page know, I like writing angst but I also enjoy writing stuff that's not so family friendly. I like pushing my boundaries and learning how to write, as an adult now, because it's a way of expressing myself that people don't need to see. It was a personal server thing that I kept it censored to protect people who didn't want to see it at that time. At one point I put out a request question saying I would write anything anyone wanted smut, angst, or fluff. I like writing requests and I like writing gifts for friends. It's a personal love language of mine. Kenny stumbled around for a bit, trying to come up with an idea before eventually asking me for Sliqueborg smut. I don't like the ship. It's not my thing, I'm more into BrinkBorg or the canon Lynn Mer and Kyborg. So I asked, “what are your headcanons?” I might as well be proper when I write this story. I don't want to come up with some idea that he didn’t agree with. He went to the headcanon channel and gave me one of the most inappropriate and jarring strings of sentences I have ever heard. Not only did he make our beloved wood elf incredibly abusive, but he also took Slique’s character and destroyed it. It was horrible to listen to and even more horrible to read back. I am 18, a barely illegal adult and the other two are minors on this server. I was terrified to see that he willingly put this down on paper for anyone to see. He only censored the thing because I had personally asked him earlier on.

I already was feeling uncomfortable with this guy. He was being pushy and mean and a lot of his headcanons were hard to swallow, and more and more times he brought up sexual things. I have a personal headcanon for the Groethe crew that relates to the musical instruments they would play. Ella plays violin, Mathilde sings, Barney plays flute, and Chip plays French horn. I thought it was a cute thing because of how Ella and Chip would very well complement each other, but Kenny took the opportunity to make a very inappropriate joke. That made me very uncomfortable because it was about Chip, who I see as a close similarity to my father. Chip acts and says things like my father would, so hearing this very sexual joke automatically took me out of the conversation. I hated it. I hated the idea of it. Not only that but there was one point in time when Dork was opening up about something very personal (which I won't share here) However, I came in at the worst possible time because I was on break. It happened to be insanely out of context, so of course I was like “What the hell?” But I didn't say it in a mean way. I meant it in a kind, confused way, similar to how an older sibling would walk into a conversation that you're having, that happens to be weird. Kenny continued to then look down at Dork, calling them dear and darling as if they didn't understand what I was saying. I came in and I was like “Wow this is kind of weird”, but that was it. I didn't push or prod. I didn't judge them beyond just that it was a weird message to get out of context and went back to work. Kenny belittled Dork for another 20 minutes after I went back to work.

Dork came to me the next day or so, in tears. They were terrified. They felt horrible. Kenny was being such an asshole to him and he couldn't do anything about it. It's a third party’s server and Kenny was a friend to the third party member. We didn't feel comfortable talking right to her right away. So instead the two of us hopped on a 2-hour long call on Discord to talk about our grievances. I helped Dork write a message to Kenny but instead of apologizing in response, he just said that it was his humor, a mask to protect himself. As someone who uses a mask constantly to protect myself from trauma, this pissed me off. His mask was being a jerk, his mask was being mean, and most importantly his mask was being overly sexual when it wasn't required.

Another thing that he often did was make fun of drug culture. Make fun of the “druggies”, including snorting pain pills and other issues that should not be joked about, while talking about his headcanons relating to Slique and Kyborg. He also mentioned rape, which I am completely uncomfortable with as a cis woman who has dealt with uncomfortable situations that deal with my body. I hated this. He came in as a cis male (based on what he said himself) completely invading a comfortable and safe space. Kenny is not the type of person I would leave my drink with at a party. I felt uncomfortable talking to him the majority of the time but I didn't want to bring it up because I didn't want to hurt the third party's feelings. After Dork came to me in tears, I said enough is enough and I reached out to her anyway. Thankfully the third party was kind, kicked him out of the server and I haven't had to interact with him since.

However, I've seen issues within the Tumblr fandom, the fandom that's taken me so warmly and held me to a higher standard than I've held myself for years. I love to see the community interacting with my posts and I love seeing my moots talk to me in such a kind and happy way. However, I know there are multiple people within the community, one who I talked to and wishes not to be named, has had issues with him. Most people see SliqueBorg as a very abusive and toxic ship due to his headcanons. He's ruined a ship, that though I don't agree with, is valid. Not only that, but he also still ships Mudd with multiple characters including Gum Gum (This is just vague posting and suggestive tagging, but it's very easy to see him doing something like this). which is a huge issue on its own. He doesn't care about if someone is a minor and if they would even want to be in a relationship.

During the whole “Mudd Gate '', which is what I'm calling the one actual problem we've ever had within this community, when actual Aro ace people were coming out and talking about how they didn't like how Mudd was being shipped with characters. A lot of people agreed, including me, but Kenny came onto the server and started complaining along with the third party (who will again, stay unnamed). Both of them came with swinging swords, dragging down the entire Tumblr community saying it was unfair for them to completely block out a ship component just because of a canon sexuality given by Jon himself. It took me a little bit to feel comfortable within it as someone who's Demi who was personally was seeing Mudd as Demi. But now I see the issues of my ways. How little aro ace representation there really is in the world, that is untouched by fandoms. Just look at Alstor from Hazbin Hotel. He's constantly shipped with people despite being a canon Aro ace character.

Through this all, I just want to say that we should stop supporting him. We should stop giving him a platform. Not only is he a fake fan just with how he characterizes Kyborg but he also has issues with sensitive topics that he will continue to joke about until the very day that he dies. I can tell that he thinks a lot of people are sensitive. Just saying things are offensive for clout or some other reasons, but a lot of the things that he actually says are very offensive and very inappropriate around the people he's been around. His actions almost took Dork away from this fandom. It isn't as bad as some other things that have come up in the past relating to other communities (*cough cough* Wilbur *cough cough*) If you hate me for making this post then I'll just say I don't care. I am planning on blocking him after I finish this post or at least until after he can react. I don't want to just completely block him from seeing his criticism but I will stop supporting any posts I have seen. I will make sure that he is no longer on my dash because he has done things that I am severely uncomfortable with. He does not bring good vibes to this community and he especially should not be allowed to continue being in the fandom if he's going to spread such hate. This is a kind and loving fandom that has taken me and others with open arms in times of struggle and times of pain. He has made it uncomfortable to be in. I cannot support him and I implore the rest of you to do the same after his actions.

[professional-demon-master]

Cutting you off pt. 5

Asmodeus

Light Angst/comfort good ending!

Asmo x MC! GN pronouns.

* Right off the bat you learned how emotionally open asmodeus was.

* Not only when it came to show lust related feelings. He was so open all the time, and you kinda guessed that plays a big part when it came to him being extremely liked everywhere.

* It didn’t matter where you were, Asmo was the center of attention, he had everybody at his feet and trying to get his attention.

* Which was kinda uncomfortable to you when you two were out trying to spend some quality time together.

* Like right now, you both were out in the fall, dancing and drinking, just the two of you.

* … the two of you and the demons that kept stealing Asmo's attention by the minute.

* First it was the one who came with two shots (for him and Asmo) and entangled Asmo's arm with his so they could drink it together. Then the demon who stole his attention with some idle chatting right in the middle of your own conversation, and don’t even get him started in the ones who kept asking him to dance.

“Asmo!” You touched his shoulder and he looked at you, interrupting the demon that was whispering by his ear. “Darling! I was looking for you!”

“Really? Cause I was waiting for you by the bathroom, where you said you’ll be!” You almost yelled due to the volume inside the club. “Sorry dear! I got a little bit distracted in the way” he chuckled, turned to the other demon and said something to him before returning to you. “Let’s go get another drink! You took so long I finished my cocktail!” You suppressed the need of telling him it wasn’t your fault, he wouldn’t even listen anyway and you didn’t wanted to spoil the night before it even began.

* The night kept on going and you really tried to not feel bad everytime Asmo left you to go hang out with literally anybody else.

* Your last straw happened at the dance floor. You were both dancing together, and then another demon got behind Asmo to dance with him, then another one appeared at his side.

* After another one completely blocked you from his view and Asmo didn’t even noticed, you slowly made your way to an empty table.

* You kept looking at him tho, hoping to see him looking at you, but it didn’t happened.

“What’s wrong love? You were there one moment and the next one I couldn’t find you!” Asmo grabbed your arm in a friendly manner while he got a little too close to you. “30 minutes ago” “what?” I left the dance floor 30 minutes ago and you just noticed” you crossed your arms looking at him.

Asmo rolled his eyes at you, looking annoyed. This happened everytime he drank enough, or when he was too drunk in self love, luckily for you both were happening tonight! He tended to be a little bit more irritable and acted without thinking.

He took a sip of a drink the demon by his side offered him. He smiled at you drastically changing his demeanor “Stop crying! Are you coming back to dance or what?”

“No, Asmo. I wanna leave” you admired a little bit nervous and irritated with the whole situation. “What? No! Why would we do that? Just come back with us, it’s still early!” He grabbed your hand trying to make you stand up. “It’s 3 am and I’m tired, please, let’s just come back.”

“Ugh, why are acting like such a baby? You just wanna ruin my fun!” He frowned a little bit mad, talking a little bit louder this time. “Me? You ruined my fun! You haven’t even looked at me since we got here.” “Oh, so that’s the problem! You’re just jealous! You want to be by my side always and it’s tiring!” You gulped, a little bit hurt, trying to excuse him. Asmo is always a little bit emotional and flirty, but with a couple of drinks in him he tended to let his sin override his better judgement. “Asmo, it’s time to go back…” “No! I’m sick of it! I’m Asmo! Avatar or lust! jewel of the heavens! I could have fun with everyone I could ever want but you keep trying to be by my side always, spoiling my fun!” This time a couple of demons started looking your way; Asmo got closer to your face and almost fell trying to take a step back, “You’re not good enough to be with me all of the time, get over it.” He spoke with a lower voice, his nose almost touching yours and his index finger poking near your clavicle. He pulled back, now letting you watch his face as he grabbed the other demons hand and a drink that another person offered him. “I’ll go home when I feel like it” he spoke loudly, but not quite yelling. You felt ashamed, demons were now returning to their own conversations but that didn’t stopped a few of them from looking at you mockingly, another couple of them with pity.

You almost ran out of the club, trying to get home before you started ugly crying in the street.

* By the next morning you woke up with puffy eyes and a sore throat.

* You did your best to make your eyes look normal before getting breakfast.

* When you arrived there you were thankful to notice Asmo wasn’t there. It wasn’t abnormal, almost every time he went out, he would wake up later than usual.

“We didn’t expected you here this early” Lucifer’s voice made you snap out of your own thoughts. When you looked confused he explained, “You went out with Asmo last night, didn’t you? You must have returned pretty late.”

“Oh” your stomach hurt, of course you weren’t going to tell him about Asmo's actions from last night and how you ended up coming back on your own way earlier than he did. “I just… came back earlier, he ran into some friends and I was too tired to keep partying”. When the whole table looked convinced at your story, you silently exhaled and went back to looking at your plate, trying to concentrate in what the brothers were talking about instead of what was going on in your head.

* Your efforts to avoid Asmo during the weekend worked. Whenever you were at HoL you tried to stay in hidden in whatever room the brothers were at, and when it was time to eat you’ll convince Beel to go out.

* It wasn’t just your work either. Asmo had also restrained himself from spending time with you.

* He didn’t actually remember all of the fight from the day prior - not as intense as it actually was anyways - but it was pretty common for you to be mad the day after a big party.

* Whatever reason it was, he always knew you would probably be mad at him after partying and kinda ignored you the day after that, but never actually apologized

* The firsts times this happened, you didn’t think much of it. He was drunk so he probably didn’t remembered, and you were also drinking so maaaaybe you overreacted, right?

* Of course as time passed, you started getting this feeling that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Why didn’t he talked to you? Why didn’t he apologized? Didn’t he wanted to knew what he did to make you upset?

* So when this whole situation happened at The Fall, it was your breaking point.

* Not talking to you? Fine! See what I care. This time you weren’t gonna come back like nothing had happened, he embarrassed you! And in front of a really good amount of demons, nonetheless!

* So when Monday rolled around and you didn’t answered Asmo's singsongy ‘good morning’, he found it weird.

* And it wasn’t just that. The whole breakfast you would talk to his brothers pretty normally, but whenever he started talking too, you would go completely silent. His brothers didn’t seem to notice it but he did! And it was making him upset.

* You didn’t sit with him in the class you both shared today, nor did you pass notes during the lesson.

* And don’t even get him started on the way you also ignored him during diner.

* He was so mad he had the fight himself to avoid frowning all day long. A little misunderstanding like this wasn’t going to give him a wrinkle

* The next day he was hopeful you would have time to talk it out, you both use to walk together on Tuesdays since you two had an early class together.

* But when you left as soon as he was joining breakfast with the excuse that Solomon and you were going to meet up to study before class started, all his hopes deflated and he started to felt a disgusting feeling growing in his stomach.

* He wasn’t going to give up that easily, oh no. He actually got to class early and made sure that everybody was sitting anywhere but beside him, so you two would have to sit together.

* And so you did. He had a relaxed smile while he watched you writing notes as the lesson began.

* “Hey Mc ~ want to meet up in my room before dinner so we can do homework together? We can also try this new face mask that I bought. It’s supposed to be amaziiing” he whispered, or tried at least, while leaning in to you. “No, thank you. Satan is helping me with homework today.” You answer was so harsh he felt shocked for a second. “O-Oh, that’s okay darling” he tried to sound as okay as he could, since when did you declined an offer to be with him?

* He tried talking to you again after the lesson ended but you practically ran out of class. He did his best to catch you and your last class of the day, waiting patiently next to your locker.

* You were too concentrated in your DDD to actually look at him before you arrived, leaving you unable to escape him this time.

* “Hello Mc~, I was looking for you all day!” You looked at him briefly before returning your eyes to your locker, opening it and changing some of the books you were holding. Asmo took your silence as a sign to continue, “Wanna walk home together? I saw this cute ice cream stand on the way here, we could go there and take some photos together for my feed too!” You closed your locker, finally looking at him, “No, I’m okay” Asmo frowned, “what do you mean you’re okay?” “I just don’t want to” you tried to leave the conversation there, but Asmo grabbed your wrist before you could escape. “Why… have you been avoiding me?” It was your time to frown, having to fight to keep your mouth closed instead of letting it hang open due to the surprise. Really? “Are you serious, Asmo? You don’t remember how shitty you were with me?” “Ugh, is this about the Saturday thing? Seriously?” “Yes seriously! You embarrassed me and you were extremely rude to me. It was completely uncalled for!” Asmo rolled his eyes “ugh, okay. I didn’t knew it meant so much to you. Im sorry, okay?” He exhaled “Now can we move forward?” You kept your lips in a thin line, feeling anger and sadness mix in your chests making you feel like you were about to slap him and cry in any second. “No. I’m done with this endless loop of you being mean to me whenever you want and me just letting it slide without even getting an apology. Forget it.” You jerked your wrist out from his hand. “I don’t want to be around you, Asmo. You hurt me and you don’t even seem to notice or care” you spoke calmer this time looking at him. His expression was hard to read, was he annoyed? Or just indifferent? “Goodbye, I’ll walk myself home” you practically ran down the stairs while Asmo stood in place. Hurt them? He knew he was a little bit more blunt than usual when he had a some cocktails on him but still, he didn’t said anything that bad, did he? It was probably just that you were touchy and emotional whenever you had alcohol in. It had to be that.

* “Ugh, whatever” he muttered while trying to avoid his shocked expression show. He didn’t needed this, he could get any friend he wanted. If MC wanted to act like a child, so be it.

* Asmo was doing good. Great, actually.

* He used to spend so much time with MC he almost forgot how many people wanted to be with him!

* He had a different companion every lunch, a group of demons following him around when he went out shopping and don’t even get him started about the invitations to go out he had almost every night.

* Wanted to do his skincare routine with someone? No problem, a demon is arriving before he could even begin to ask him. Asmo wanted to have a shopping spree and needed someone to ask for opinion? The demon that was in his history class was there.

* He didn’t even thought about your fight for days!

* Until he saw you eating near the fountain with the twins and Mammon.

* He was on his way to meet another group of demons who asked him to eat together that day. Too into his own mind to realize you were there before seeing you foreground.

* It was… weird. The way you were hanging with his brothers felt different than his recent lunch dates.

* You were sitting in the grass, Beel by your side, eating a burger and fries at the same time, Mammon in front of you talking about something he ignored and Belphie laying in your lap, falling asleep with a smile in his face while he commented something he couldn’t decipher either. You laughed and started caressing Belphie's hair. You started talking with a smile plastered in your face, one that made Asmo feel strange.

* When was the last time he had any meaningful conversation with the people he had been hanging out with? He tried to ignore it, but most of the time they wouldn’t talk or would just praise whatever he would say.

* He hated the upsetting feeling that was settling in his stomach. He hated even more that he j ew how he could fix it.

* That day he ate alone.

* And his after school meetings didn’t went very well either. He had a couple of demons getting a spa treatment with him, in a salon full of people, but he never felt more alone.

* After 30 minutes of demons listening to him bickering about nothing in particular, he decided to try to recreate the kind of atmosphere he had when hanging out with the MC.

* “So… have any of you done anything interesting lately?” The demons looked at him, confused “Nothing as interesting as the things you do everyday, Asmodeus.” One of them answered with a smile plastered on their face. “Well, but like, none of you do anything outside of waiting to hang out with me?” They looked at each other and shook their heads “you don’t have any good stories to chit chat about? A new series you started watching? A weird fixation you know way too much about?” “Do you want us to have some of those? We could create something right now!” Asmo fought to keep his sadness hidden. “Ugh… no, forget it. It’s not the same” he let out a sigh, “let’s just get this over with.”

* That night Asmo felt lonelier than he did before. It wasn’t just the fact that he noticed how empty those demons were, it was the fact that none of them was as interesting and comfortable to hand around as you, MC.

* And whats even worse, none of them stay around enough. They like Asmo for what he has and gets, not for who he is and what he has to offer outside of his lust and social position.

* Yes, a lot of people want to hangout with Asmodeus, avatar of lust, but not a lot of them want to stay with Asmo. And even if they did, none of them are you, MC.

* The next day Asmo convinced himself that he needed to get back his situationship with you.

* Even if he had to accept he fucked up and needed to apologize.

* He tried, he really tried to work up the courage to go and talk to you, but, weirdly, he felt nervous.

* What if you realized you actually were better without him? What if you had actually replaced him with his brothers? You did look happy these last days.

* And what’s even worse, he could never catch you alone!

* He tried to talk to you before the first period, but you were too busy hanging around Satans locker, helping him carry some books back to the library.

* During lunch Diavolo and Bsrbatos were all over you, talking about some human realm festival that was happening next month.

* And in the classes you were together, you had already found other partners for every activity. It was frustrating and infuriating. What did everyone else had that he didn’t?

* “… so this is how Levi feels, uh?”

* But finally, and after waiting for a long time, he caught you alone reading in a bench while waiting for Mammon to walk home together after class.

* He took a big breath before walking to you, hands in his side and lips pursed

“Hey, Mc. Can we… talk?”

You raised your face yo look at him and he felt nervous for a minute. This was so unlike him it was making his tummy feel weird. “I suppose.”

Asmo sat down in the bench, letting a small silence cover your conversation. “I’ve missed you, MC” “really? Didn’t seemed like it” Asmo intertwined his fingers, “yeah, I know. I’ve spent all week looking for ways to avoid thinking about you, but I’ve failed, clearly.”

You looked at him before turning your face back to your book. Asmo felt frustrated, too many feelings in his chest but only so much he could express with words. “I’m sorry Mc, I really do. And I’m sorry it took me this long to say it, and to realize that I could never replace, not even if I tried” You turned the book back down and he took that as a sign to keep going. “I really thought about everything I do remember from that day and even though it’s not much, I know I can be a little difficult to deal with when partying and I’m sorry, I must’ve gutted you pretty bad, but I don’t want yo be that person again, I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Asmo exhaled and kept going this time getting a little closer, “It’s completely okay if you don’t want to forgive me, really. I hurt you, and I never want to be that person again. I swear, if you give me another chance, this won’t ever happen again. I don’t want you to feel unappreciated ever again.” He took your hand, slowly, trying to see if there were any signs of resistance. “And I just… I wanted you to know that you are important to me and nothing could ever replace you. I want to do better for you because you’re worth it.”

You looked at Asmo for a really long time before actually breaking a little smile, tears gathering in your eyes. “Oh Asmo.” You went in for a hug, that Asmo quickly deepened, pulling you as close as he could. “That’s all I wanted. For you to say you’re sorry and to acknowledge my feelings. I don’t want us to grow apart.” “Me neither! Do you know how boring and sad my days were without you around?” You laughed a little, your face buried in Asmo's neck “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” “Hey Asmo, it’s okay. We’ll work on it together, okay?” “Yes, please. I don’t want us to fight ever again”

Asmo let you go after a while, holding you by the shoulders. “So, spa day to celebrate?”

Asmo has really grown on my these past months

[yuyu1024]

Jealous

Pairings: Seonghwa × y/n & Wooyoung [ex bf]

Genre/tags: fake relationship, jealousy, maybe a little smut? Angst? A bit slow

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 cursing, smut, making out, pet names, fighting, smoking and alcohol drinking, unprotected sex, semi public [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 3.0k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: this is a repost. Check pinned post ♥️

******

Break ups sucks! Especially if your the one that got dumped and you have no choice but to see the other person every fucking day because you go to the same university and have the same circle of friends. This is what they mean by dating your friend will ruin your life. I should've just not tried dating him. Because if I didn't, I would've not have gotten to know him more and fell in love. Yes, I regret it now but what can I do now?

Yes, Wooyoung is a nice person. He's sweet, understanding and all the shit things girls like. Add that he's good looking, sexy and had this bad boy charisma in him. But now, I don't have him. He let me go. He let me go because I am too much for him now. He wants to focus on studying and does not want any distraction right now. He said he won't have time now to date or even think about anything else. Psssh. Who is he kidding? He can't be in a relationship with me but when we all have nights out with friends he's always present and enjoying? Whats the difference? It's not like we go on dates every fucking day! To be honest, we only meet when we were in school.

I am not that demanding for dates. Coz i understand he's busy.

Ugh. Fuck him. I am a distraction for him? Maybe our relationship was just nothing at all for him. Maybe... the more than one year we were together is just nothing for him. I don't know anymore. Maybe I'm just not his type. And he just realized it late. I'm different from all the other girls he dated before. Maybe I'm that boring for him.

"Stop staring..." a hand appears in front of my face, handing me a strawberry milk shake. "You'll poke a whole through the glass window if you keep looking at him."

It's Seonghwa. Wooyoung's best friend. They've been friends even before university. Seonghwa is like Wooyoung. Charismatic, bad boy image, a nice and kind person and all. The only difference is Woo is the text book extrovert that you can imagine. He gets along with everyone. Talks to everyone. He can get friendly to a lot of people even to those who are a bit questionable. He is that nice. He does not want to judge people that easily so he tries. While Seonghwa is more of the quiet and reserved person. He can get along with people easily especially if you guys are close and friends but he's acts a bit more cold to strangers or in general people who he does not vibe with.

"Thanks..." I take the drink from him. "Why are you here outside? The boys are all in there?"

He pulls out a cigarette from his leather jacket and takes one out from the pack using his lips. "They invited a few freshmen girls..." he lights it up and scrunches his noise with annoyance

"Men." I roll my eyes, shaking my head

"Not all men..." he puffs smoke off, "I'm here."

"Jeez, sorry..." I smile

"How are you doing?"

"Good... I guess..."

"How long has it been?"

"A month..."

"Hmm..."

Seonghwa and I, are not THAT close. We do share a few likes and interest like photography and painting as both of us have those as hobbies. But we never really talked about personal stuffs about each other besides things that are related to Wooyoung.

"Is Wooyoung still talking to you?"

"Well..." I take a sip of my drink and look at the sunset that is happening in front of us. "I asked him... to give me time... like to slowly let him off my system... meet me, chat a little.. text me good morning and goodnight... still... and then slowly lessen the communication..."

"Is it working?"

"I hope it is..." I look back inside the coffee shop and see him being friendly with the girl. "Because fuck it still hurts." I whirl my head back and try to fight the tears in my eyes. "If only there's a quick remedy for me to move on and forget."

"There is."

I gaze at him, "there is?"

The corner of his lips slowly curves up, "date again."

"What? I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not ready to be in a relationship again! Besides... I'm not..."

"Not what?"

"I'm not the usual girl... guys likes..."

"What do you mean by that?"

I put my drink on the table. "Look at me..." I point out to Seonghwa my appearance, "and then look at the freshmen girls in there."

He looks confused as he glances at both direction. "I don't get what you mean... for me, you and the girls are the same. Both beautiful women."

"Oh."

He looks stunned on how I reacted. "Don't Wooyoung ever tell you how beautiful you are...?"

I look down at the floor. "He does actually..."

"Hmm...I see."

We were both silent for quiet sometime.

Yes. Wooyoung always tells me or rather reassures me that I am beautiful which makes me glad and happy. He always says it but I don't feel it when we are both together and with other people. I gave an effort to always look presentable when I am with him. I learn how to put make up more than the casual look I know and even grew my hair so I can curl it or tie it nicely every once in a while. But there were moments that all my efforts were not noticed because he was busy.

"Stop doing that." Seonghwa makes me look at him, tilting my head up his hand on my chin. He then puff smoke off one last time before dumping his stick on the ashtray. He's forehead is wrinkled. He looks sort of irritated.

"What?"

"Come with me."

"Huh?"

He jolts up and pulls me with him, taking me by my wrist.

We go back inside the coffee shop where the rest of our circle of friends are in. He puts his arm around me and guides me where to go. I am so lost on what is he doing but I am not complaining because it's Seonghwa

"We'll get going..." he says as we reach the pack.

"Going?" Wooyoung asks him before his eyes goes to me. "You two?"

"We decided to hang out." Seonghwa answers, looking straight at Woo

"Ah... I see... where?" He ask

"It's a secret." Seonghwa then turns me around to make me walk first. "See you guys on monday.

His hand is still on my back, guiding me where to walk like I don't know where the exit door is.

"What was that?" I ask him as we start to walk along the sidewalk.

He drops his hand and then both place it inside his jackets pockets. "Helping you..."

"Helping me? W-what do you mean?"

"I am friends with Wooyoung for a long time now...and I know it when he's being a jerk."

"I'm not sure about...what you're saying..."

He stops walking and faces me. I replicate. "I'm sorry to break it to you... but the girl... with the short hair... Woo has been eyeing here for a few months now..."

"W-what?"

"He's a good person in general... but he sucks at being a boyfriend."

I felt my heart broke into a million pieces. "What the fuck?!?" I am shaking. I am mad. "So he break up with me, saying he's going to focus on 'studies' as we're graduating is a fucking lie??"

He takes my hand and pulls me to walk again but I jerk my hand off.

"Where are you taking me?" I am basically yelling now. "You knew this????"

He's face is still calm even though I'm throwing all my anger at him right now.

"Let's talk. But not here." He tried to make me walk again with him but I am not letting him. He's calm persona break as he got a little irritated on how hard headed I am. "When I tell you to shut up first and come with me, do it okay?" He then lifts me up over his shoulder making me squeal. "Keep quiet." He hushes me.

"Okay! Okay! I will! Just put me down! This is embarassing."

My feet touches the floor again, my face is red and hot.

"You will listen to me now?" He asks

I nod.

"Good." He walks and I follow.

**

We reach the parking lot and got into his car. I slightly calmed down now after that long walk from the coffee shop to his car.

"Here." He hands me his leather jacket. "You're shaking like a twig when we're walking."

"Thanks."

Seonghwa then starts to explain to me what he noticed and what he knew. He said, Our break up he had no idea about that. It was a shocker for him too but then again after, he starts to notice little by little how Wooyoung acted a little different. New clothes, new perfume and a change in schedule of the times he goes home. They usually go home together as Wooyoung rides with him. But now, he brings his car and he has no idea where Woo goes.

"So, seeing the girls today..."

"Confirms my suspicion..."

"Fuck!" I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated. "So, I was nothing to him...? Just a fling?"

"He liked you..."

"Yeah... right..." I snort, in disbelief

"Do you want to get back to him?"

"I want to! Of course! But... I'm not a violent person... I can't do cat fights or physically hurt Woo..." I sound so frustrated.

I can't believe it! So the Good Wooyoung I knew, my friend, really did cheat on me in a way. He broke up with me just to hit on another girl! What a jerk! I never thought the guy who I liked, I was serious on and loved just saw a random chick and suddenly forgot about me. The nerves! What's wrong with men?

"Use me then."

My eyes widens, "E-excuse me? W-what did you say?"

Seonghwa is looking straight at me, back to his calm and collective state. "Use me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Simple. Pretend you're dating me."

"Huh?"

"One thing about Wooyoung is... he gets jealous. For him, what his is his. Even he already threw it away."

"I don't..."

"Do you want it or not?"

"But... Why... I mean... why are you doing this?"

"To help you..."

"He's your friend..." I ask

"So? That doesn't mean I agree and support him to everything he does. Besides, dumping you is... his mistake."

I try to process everything that's happening. Earlier I'm just being sukly and pouty about our break up, now I am all angry and defeated. Then I have Seonghwa here, Woo's hot best friend, asking me to use him. I mean, USE HIM AND PRETEND TO BE MY BOYFRIEND TO GET BACK TO WOOYOUNG.

"Oh gosh." I massage the temples of my head. "I'm getting dizzy by just thinking."

"Decide now."

"Wait. Why are you rushing? Can't you give me time to think first?"

"No, decide now. Before it's too late."

"Too late for what?"

"I can see him from afar, coming... looking for my car."

I was about to look back but then Seonghwa grab my face and ask me to look at him, only him. "Just agree and then our deal starts now."

"W-what. Wait.. I am..."

"Say yes."

"B-but... what are we going to do... if I agree...?"

"Everything...." his face moves closer, "Date...kiss... touch... and... more..." his eyes goes to my eyes to down my body. "As long as you want it."

Fuck. Why is he saying it like that? I could hear my breathing and my head throbbing. Like my heart is about to explode! I don't know what to think now. But maybe because I am bitter and angry at the moment, I agreed to him "Okay... fine... let's do it."

Seonghwa smirks, "Good girl..."

He leans forward and crashes his lips to mine. His hands on my jaw, guiding me again, tilting my head to the side so he can push in further into the kiss. I can slightly taste the cigarette from earlier. But that taste slowly fades away as the kiss deepens. And I don't have an explanation how and why. But the kiss becomes sweet all of a sudden.

I don't want him to stop. I want his tongue in my mouth more. I want this. This is so sexy. It's so... darn good and delicious!

Unconciously, my hands goes to around his neck. My body is finding a comfy way for me to kiss him back. Then his hand, slowly goes to my neck, to my shoulder then down my chest area. He cups one of my breast getting a quiet moan out of me.

I felt a smile from his lips while we are kissing. "You... sound... so sexy" he utters in between kisses

We are getting intense as minutes goes by. I am already climbing on top of him. His hands are all over my body, touching my skin under my clothes and shending wild shivers all over me. This is so intense. I've never experienced a make out like this before.

Like I said, Wooyoung must've found me boring because I've never been like this in public or semi public. But with Seonghwa, out of nowhere, I am like this. And we just had our deal like 10minutes ago. Why am I so at ease with him?

He grunts as his hands reaches my hips, gently eases me down. I could feel his erection. Hard.

"Fuck..." he hisses smiling, throwing his head back, as we both pull away from the kiss catching our breathes in rythm. "Y/n, you're driving me insane."

I lean forward, my head resting on his chest. I could hear his heart beating as fast as mine "what if someone sees us?" I ask

"Then let them see..." he tilts my head up so he could kiss me again. "You're one heck of a kisser."

I blush, "I'm not..." I back away a little. "You are..."

"Y/n, you can feel my erection from my pants. Believe me, it's you."

I bite my lip, nervously. "I don't know what to say..."

He arches a brow, "Well, what do you want us to do next?"

Fuck me! Just freakin' fuck me. Make me scream. Make me want you. That's what my brain is screaming but my lips can't say it.

"Y/n, it's okay.... it's okay to want sex... trust me... I'm okay with it." He pulls me in his embrace and kisses me again. But this time, it's more intimate and soft. "So, tell me..." he nuzzles his face onto my neck. "Tell me what you want..."

Oh what the heck! Let's do this!

I begin stripping for him. First I untie my hair. Revealing my long wavy dark hair up to my breast. Then I take blouse off and my bra next.

"I want you..."

He take his shirt off and unbuckles his belt to reveal all of him to me. His lean muscle, toned abs and his...

"Shit." I hiss as I see his length.

"You like what you see, darling?" He adjust his position carrying me along. I felt the tip of his length brush over my core and it already made me shiver. "If it's too much, tell me and I'll stop... okay?"

I hug him and nodded, "please..." I beg

One subtle thrust, he's in.

"Ahh, f-fuck!" I gasp.

"Okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay."

He searches for my face, clearing all the hair covering my face. "Look at me... I want to see your face when I fuck you..."

Every push and pull is driving my crazy. I've never felt this aroused, excited and thirsty while doing it. It's so addicting how he kisses me, how he touches me and how he pleases me. This is just our first time doing it out of spite. A deal just to make your ex jealous who probably just saw you two kissed for like 10 seconds and left but here you are having fun, naked and volnurable in the parking lot.

"You're blushing..." he says. He runs his knuckles lightly on your cheek.

"Ah!" I cry, gripping to hard on his shoulders. "S-so, g-good!" I'm breathing so hard

The more I move my hips with his rythm the more I could feel the sensation in me. I'm almost there!

"Where do you want me to... come...?" He grunts. He's also about to hit his climax.

"Please... in me..." I lean forward to kiss him, "I'm taking pills... It's okay."

Holy crap! This is it! I lost my shits the moment both of us came just seconds apart. I never felt a relieved when he continously hit the spot for me, letting me enjoy it and made me come first. And then when I felt him fill me up, the warm sensation, its beautiful. I know it's not a sexy word to describe it but... it is.

Laughing quietly, "This is just in the car... limited time and space... I'm curious how wonderful our tandem would be in bed..."

I kiss his chest and lick him from there till I reach the neck, "We can find out... next time..."

"Love that..."

We start to get dress, giggling on how on earth did we accomplished ourselves without anyone reporting us. Seonghwa said, yes his car is tinted but he's sure a few people saw the rocking car.

"That would be hilarious and embarassing if... we got caught naked and linked." I says while I clasping my bra.

Seonghwa let's me get dressed at the back so I have more space. He know how complicated girls' outfits are.

"Y/n... has anyone told you before... how cute you are... blushing?"

"I don't think... anyone ever mentioned that..."

"If so... let me do the honor... Y/n, You are so cute blushing... like earlier... I will never forget how cute you looked."

"Stop... I am getting embarassed. Let's just go... please?"

"Okay..." he smiles. Then he bends down to pick his bag. "Before we go, can I take a photo of you?"

"Huh? Why?"

"Because... your fucking sexy."

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Between the Ropes.. Jey x Rhea Ripley Fanfic

Chapter 2: Empathy

Jey sat in the lavish lobby of the Ritz-Carlton, still reeling from his brief conversation with Sami Zayn. Sami had always been perceptive, too good at reading people. His seemingly innocent questions had left Jey feeling exposed. The encounter gnawed at him, making the guilt he had been pushing down bubble back up to the surface.

He tried to shake it off, leaning back in the chair and staring up at the opulent chandeliers overhead. The hotel was a world away from the chaos of the ring—a reminder that there were two sides to his life. The professional and the personal, but both were starting to feel like battlefields.

As if on cue, the hotel doors swung open, and Damian Priest and Rhea Ripley strode into the lobby. Damian spotted Jey first and waved, his broad grin and confident stride a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside Jey. Rhea followed, her eyes already locked onto Jey’s, her expression unreadable but intense.

“There he is!” Damian called out, crossing the room to clasp Jey’s shoulder in a firm grip. “You all settled in? You’re gonna love this place.”

Jey forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s nice. Haven’t had a chance to get comfortable yet.”

Damian nodded, oblivious to the tension Jey was trying to mask. “Well, let’s fix that. We’ve got the suite ready, and it’s something else. C’mon, let’s head up.” He gestured for Jey to follow as he and Rhea headed for the elevator. Rhea shot Jey a look over her shoulder, something knowing and electric passing between them that made Jey’s pulse quicken.

The ride up to the suite was quick but felt longer with the weight of the unspoken tension. Damian chatted easily about the upcoming shows, throwing out ideas about future matches and possibilities, but Jey was only half-listening. His mind was on Rhea, who stood quietly next to Damian, her gaze occasionally flicking to Jey in the reflection of the elevator doors.

When the doors finally slid open, Damian led the way into the suite, pushing open the door to reveal a sprawling space with a breathtaking view of the Portland skyline. The place was pure luxury—sleek, modern furniture, soft lighting, and a fully stocked bar that practically invited indulgence.

“Now this is living,” Damian said, tossing his bag onto one of the couches and making a beeline for the bar. “What do you guys want to drink? Everything’s top-shelf.”

Rhea moved to the large window, her silhouette framed by the city lights, while Jey lingered near the entrance, his unease growing. He had been here before—this place where desire and guilt crashed into each other, and it never ended well.

“Whiskey’s good for me,” Jey finally said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Damian nodded, pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing one to Jey. “To the future Intercontinental Champion,” Damian toasted, raising his glass.

Jey clinked his glass against Damian’s and Rhea’s, who had silently joined them. “To the champ,” Rhea said softly, her gaze never leaving Jey’s. There was a challenge in her eyes, a daring that made Jey’s pulse quicken even more.

The drinks flowed easily, the conversation light and filled with laughter. But Jey felt the current underneath it all, the tension between him and Rhea pulling tighter with every glance, every accidental brush of hands.

After a while, Damian glanced at his phone and stood up. “Gotta take care of something real quick. Shouldn’t be too long.” He gave Jey a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You two chill. Be right back.”

As Damian disappeared into one of the adjoining rooms, the air in the suite shifted. Jey stood by the bar, gripping his drink a little too tightly as Rhea moved closer, her presence pulling him in like it always did.

“So,” Rhea said, her voice low, teasing, “you couldn’t say no to Damian, huh?”

Jey exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he looked at her. “Maybe it wasn’t just Damian I couldn’t say no to.”

Rhea’s lips curved into a smirk, but there was something more behind her eyes—something dangerous. “Is that right?”

Jey didn’t answer right away, the weight of his conflicting feelings settling heavy on his chest. “Rhea, you know what this is. It’s getting complicated. I don’t want… I can’t mess things up.”

Her expression softened, but the intensity in her eyes didn’t waver. “You think I don’t know that? You think this is easy for me?”

Jey frowned, surprised by her vulnerability. Rhea rarely showed her cards, but now there was something raw in her tone that he hadn’t expected.

“I never said it was easy,” he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we both know it’s dangerous.”

“Everything worth having is dangerous,” Rhea shot back, stepping closer, her eyes locking onto his. “You think I don’t feel it too? You think I don’t feel the pull between us every time we’re in the same room?”

Jey swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his chest. He knew exactly what she meant. Every time they were together, it was like a fuse being lit—ready to explode at any moment. But what would happen when it did? What would be left of his life, his family, his career?

“You’re not the only one with something to lose,” Rhea continued, her voice softer now. “But I can’t help it, Jey. I can’t stop wanting this… wanting you.”

Her words hit him harder than any punch he’d ever taken in the ring. Jey’s heart raced, his mind spinning with the weight of her confession. He had been telling himself that this was just a fling, just something he could walk away from. But hearing her say it—that she was just as conflicted, just as caught up in this as he was—made it all too real.

“I can’t lose everything over this,” Jey said, his voice strained.

Rhea’s expression softened, but her eyes were still intense, still burning with that familiar fire. “We’re already in too deep,” she whispered, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm. “There’s no turning back now.”

Jey’s breath caught, the electricity between them crackling in the silence of the suite. Every fiber of his being told him to pull away, to stop this before it went any further, but he was frozen, trapped between the life he wanted and the one he knew he should be living.

Before he could say anything, the door to the suite opened, and Damian stepped back into the room, his phone still in hand. “Everything alright out here?” he asked, glancing between them, completely unaware of the storm that had been building.

Rhea stepped back, her expression unreadable as she quickly shifted her focus back to the conversation. “Yeah, we’re good,” she said smoothly. “Just catching up.”

Damian smiled, oblivious. “Good stuff. Looks like we’re in for a great weekend.”

Jey forced a smile, but inside, the weight of his choices was heavier than ever. Every moment with Rhea felt like stepping closer to the edge, and sooner or later, he knew he’d have to face the consequences.

-

Jey woke with a start, his throat dry and head slightly buzzing from the night’s drinks. The suite was dark, save for the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the large windows. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was just past three in the morning. He shifted in the bed, trying not to disturb Damian, who was fast asleep in the other room, and quietly made his way to the kitchenette, searching for something to quench his thirst.

As he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. His gaze drifted toward the balcony, and there she was—Rhea. Standing with her back to the glass door, illuminated by the glow of the city, her figure was silhouetted against the night.

Jey froze, gripping the bottle tightly in his hand. His pulse quickened as he watched her, the breeze gently stirring her hair, her posture relaxed but commanding, like she belonged there. Part of him wanted to turn away, head back to bed, and let the moment pass. He knew if he went out there, things could spiral. He had felt the pull between them all night—intense, dangerous, and exhilarating.

But the excitement was addicting. The way she made him feel, the edge she pushed him toward—it was like nothing else. And despite knowing better, despite the voice in his head telling him to let it go, he found himself drawn to her.

His heart hammered as he debated with himself, standing there with the cold water bottle pressed against his palm. He could turn back. He should turn back. But the thrill… the thrill of it was too hard to resist.

Jey exhaled slowly, his body moving before his mind could catch up. He stepped toward the glass door, silently sliding it open. The cool night air greeted him as he stepped out onto the balcony, the city stretching out below them like a blanket of stars.

Rhea didn’t turn right away, but Jey knew she was aware of his presence. He stood there for a moment, watching her, his heart racing as he tried to gauge what he was doing—what they were doing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rhea turned her head slightly, her lips curving into a subtle, knowing smile. She didn’t speak. Instead, she slowly turned around to face him, her body barely illuminated by the city lights. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed what she was wearing—or rather, what she wasn’t wearing.

Her figure was draped in nothing but the sheerest lingerie, a barely-there fabric that left little to the imagination. The moonlight played across her skin, casting soft shadows that only enhanced the riskiness of her outfit. It was intimate, seductive, and deliberate.

Jey’s eyes lingered on her, his throat tightening as his body reacted, the heat of the moment intensifying with every second. He knew he shouldn’t be here, not like this. But there was something in the way she moved, in the way her eyes locked onto his, that made it impossible to turn away.

Rhea took a step closer, her smirk deepening. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, her voice low and smooth, like a whisper meant only for him.

Jey swallowed hard, feeling the tension coil tighter in his chest. “Just getting some water,” he said, though his voice sounded hoarse, betraying the emotions coursing through him.

She didn’t respond right away, her eyes scanning him slowly, taking in every detail. There was something predatory in her gaze, like she knew exactly what she was doing—what she was stirring in him.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she finally said, her voice barely above a murmur. She stepped closer again, the soft fabric of her lingerie brushing against her skin as she moved.

Jey shifted, trying to keep himself in check, but the pull between them was undeniable. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” he lied, knowing full well that he had been trying to create distance all night. But now, here on this balcony, with her standing so close, it felt like the walls were closing in on him.

Rhea tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his. “You can’t lie to me, Jey. I know you feel it. This…” She gestured between them, her fingers lightly brushing his arm. “This thing between us. You can’t just walk away from it.”

Her touch sent a shiver through him, and Jey felt his control slipping. The excitement, the danger—it all fueled him, made it impossible to think straight. He wanted to resist, wanted to be strong, but the way she looked at him, the way her body seemed to call to him, it was more than he could handle.

He took a step closer, closing the gap between them, his eyes locking onto hers. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said quietly, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—her or himself.

Rhea’s smirk deepened as she leaned in, her lips just inches from his ear. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” she whispered.

Jey’s breath hitched, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand finding her waist, his fingers brushing the delicate fabric of her lingerie. The sensation sent a jolt through him, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. It was just them—the city below, the night surrounding them, and the undeniable attraction pulling them together.

But in the back of his mind, the guilt was already starting to creep in, the reminder of everything he stood to lose if he let this go any further. Yet, standing there, with Rhea in his arms, the excitement was intoxicating. He knew he was walking a dangerous line, but in that moment, the thrill was too strong to ignore.

---

Damian jolted awake, a sharp discomfort in his bladder pulling him from his deep sleep. Groaning softly, he glanced at the clock: 4:49 a.m. He dragged himself out of bed, trying to shake off the drowsiness that clung to him. The suite was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside. He shuffled toward the bathroom, hoping to relieve the pressure that had awoken him.

As he reached the bathroom door, he heard it—a faint, unmistakable sound. Moans. Soft and intimate. Damian froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His heart skipped a beat. What was that? He strained to listen, the sound growing more distinct with each passing second. It was coming from Jey’s room.

A cold wave of unease washed over him. The night was silent, and the moans seemed almost too clear, too deliberate. He moved quietly toward the guest room, his breath quickening. He needed to know what was happening, but fear and confusion gripped him tightly.

The door to Jey's room was slightly ajar. Damian’s heart pounded as he gently pushed it open, peering through the crack. What he saw left him utterly stunned.

Rhea was in the bed with Jey, their bodies tangled together. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast their silhouettes in stark relief. Rhea’s lingerie was barely visible, adding to the intense intimacy of the moment. The soft sounds of their breaths and murmured words reached Damian’s ears.

“Jey… I love you,” Rhea’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"Rhea.... fuck keep goin.."

"I don't want to stop..."

Damian’s heart dropped into his stomach. The words echoed in his mind, reverberating with a cold, sharp edge. I love you. It was a betrayal so profound it felt like a physical blow. Jey, who had always spoken so lovingly about his wife, was now confessing his love to someone else. Rhea, who had recently promised her life to Matthew, was here, engaged in this forbidden affair.

Damian stood frozen, his mind spinning. How could this be happening? He had thought he knew these people, had considered them friends. But now, everything he believed was unraveling before him. He felt sick, his body trembling with the weight of the realization. His trust, his friendship, all of it felt like it was being shattered in an instant.

The soft murmur of Jey’s voice and Rhea’s breathless replies were like knives twisting in his gut. He wanted to scream, confront them, demand answers, but he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed by the shock of what he was witnessing. The image of them together was burned into his mind, a painful reminder of the deceit and betrayal.

As the minutes ticked by, Damian managed to pull himself together enough to retreat from the doorway. He closed it gently, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. His mind was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions—anger, confusion, sadness. He felt betrayed, not just by Rhea and Jey, but by his own naivety.

He stumbled back to his room, the need to use the bathroom now forgotten in the face of the emotional turmoil. His heart was racing, and he felt a heavy weight on his chest, like a suffocating shroud.

Damian sat on the edge of his bed, trying to steady himself. He wished desperately that this was a nightmare, that he would wake up and find everything was just a figment of his imagination. But the pain and the betrayal felt all too real. He buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the haunting image of Rhea and Jey.

The minutes dragged on, and despite the urgent need to pee, Damian felt utterly exhausted. He knew he wouldn’t find any answers tonight, that confronting them would only add to the chaos. In the quiet of the room, he fought to calm his racing thoughts, hoping that sleep would offer some escape from the crushing weight of his discovery.

Finally, with a heavy heart and a mind too troubled for sleep, Damian lay back down, pulling the covers over himself. He tried to convince himself it was all just a bad dream, but deep down, he knew the truth. Nothing would be the same again. As he closed his eyes, he wished desperately for the comfort of sleep, hoping that when he awoke, the nightmare would be over.

[strixcattus]

Chapter III: Fight/Flight

Everything goes dark, and he dies.

History

It takes a few minutes of waiting to realize that no one is there.

He can’t blame himself for not making the connection, really. Sure, they could easily chat up a storm even when there’s only three of them, but he’s seen moments of silence before. Maybe the big guy was just taking a moment to assess the situation.

But he isn’t, and when Opportunist finally caves and tries to take a look around, his head turns at his own command.

The cabin is a… bit of a fixer-upper, to be sure. Its doorway is sagging into the ground, and the ceiling doesn’t seem to be the most stable, and the door itself is ragged at the edges and looks as though it might swing inward at any moment. It doesn’t even have a latch. That’s to say nothing of the lopsided, gaping windows that let in a breeze from outside, or the gaps between the logs making up its walls that he can tell are there even though he can’t see them all.

Still, it’s not a lost cause or anything. Log cabins are nice! They’re classic! And old homes are all the rage. With a bit of work to seal up the cracks and some glass in the windows and some insurance that the ceiling wouldn’t cave in and a new door and maybe replacing all the creaking floorboards that feel a moment away from snapping beneath his feet, this place could be a perfectly cozy woodland retreat!

He wonders what sort of Princess lives here. Maybe he should go down and talk to her about the real estate potential.

The blade is perched, as it occasionally is, on the edge of a table which wobbles as he lifts the blade from it. That’ll have to be looked at.

He keeps the blade hidden behind his back as he descends the clearly-aging staircase. If it comes to a fight, he’ll be glad to have it, but there’s no reason to put her off before they’ve even had a chance to speak.

The Princess’s voice, loud and low, reaches him before he can see the basement. “I can smell you,” she growls.

Well! She seems like she’s a very straightforward person. He’s sure they’ll be able to cooperate.

The basement itself is unusually dark, the only light coming from a grate in the ceiling. Even that root cavern, without a window at all, didn’t have shadows like these. Despite the darkness, thick plants press in from the sides of the room, providing a touch of life to the otherwise empty space.

Before his eyes can fully adjust to the lack of light, a shape rises in front of the far wall and disappears into the jungle. That must be the Princess!

“Hello,” he calls out before she can say anything. “Lovely place you’ve got down here!” She doesn’t answer, so he presses on. “The name’s—Broken. And you would be?”

She chuckles from somewhere he can’t see. “We have no need for names here, fledgeling. You’ll never survive if you keep stalling.” Her eyes appear between the leaves, glinting in what little light can reach them. The rest of her is still immersed in shadow.

“Oh, come on. I’m just trying to get things off to a friendly start here!” Opportunist squints, trying to pick out her silhouette. “I’m sure we can cooperate, yeah? You want out, right? I can get you out.”

“You’re right. You can.”

The Princess’s form vanishes, and Opportunist leans further into the darkness. His eyes should adjust soon enough, right? She’s clearly able to see just fine.

Then jaws appear, blotting out his vision, and everything goes dark.

…And he doesn’t die.

He wrenches one eye open to see stomach lining pressing in on all sides, every touch of it stinging his skin. How he’s getting enough light to tell this, he isn’t sure, and he’d rather not think about it too hard.

“I told you you wouldn’t survive if you stalled.” He can hear muffled footsteps through the walls of the Princess’s stomach. “You should have listened.”

He turns on instinct, arm rubbing against the wall of her stomach with a sting that can only mean it’s begun to eat through his sleeve. “Come on, now, I was just trying to start a rapport! I was perfectly happy to work with you. Actually, tell you what—you spit me out, and I still can.”

The Princess laughs, the sound echoing around him. “You are working with me. You’re going to let me out of here.”

“I can’t do that while I’m in your stomach, can I?” Maybe he can still talk his way out of this. Surely she has to listen to reason, right?

“No. But I can.” There’s a pause in the Princess’s movement, before it starts again with the sound of clanging metal. She must have broken the chain.

She does want to escape with him. By eating him.

Well. This may be a lost cause, but it always looks better if you go down fighting.

He digs into the inside of the Princess’s stomach with the blade, flesh parting easily even as his own screams in protest. The skin of his hands is raw and red by now, with most of the feathers on his arms absent. He tries not to look at them.

Gravity pulls him away from his work, and he struggles to regain his footing as all sensation from his legs is replaced by a monotone pain. She’s ascending the staircase.

Little by little, her stomach lining parts, and his hands grow weaker. He can almost see the motion of her heartbeat now. This is his chance to go out a hero.

And wake up in a new, weirder cabin, but that’s just another pro.

He almost swears this process feels familiar.

There’s a slam, jolting him as far as he can be jolted in such a confined space. No doubt the Princess is trying to break down the door. Why not just climb through the window? Surely it’s large enough.

Only seconds left, probably. He’ll have to make this count.

He plunges the blade into the Princess’s heart as sensation cuts out.

He wakes up in a cabin. Time clearly hasn’t treated it as well as it deserves—the ceiling and floor are both sagging, and the door doesn’t look like it latches. The windows are completely devoid of glass, and the logs making up its walls—

This is the same cabin. What’s up with that?

Oh well. A second chance is a second chance, and he’s not about to argue against whatever forces decided he deserved one.

He scoops the blade from the table on his way down. After meeting that Princess, he definitely wants a backup plan if negotiations go sour a second time.

“Back for more?” the Princess taunts, already invisible in the jungle. Her voice sounds as though it’s coming from deep in the basement.

“Now, I want you to know I hold absolutely no grudges.” He holds up his empty hand. “I’m more than willing to work with you. You don’t have to worry about fighting me.”

The Princess’s eyes appear between the leaves. “Why would I need to work with you? I already know how to leave.”

This is going to take more than a little convincing. “Yes, but wouldn’t it be easier if we came to some sort of mutual understanding? I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you out of here.”

Her eyes flash. “Then hold still.”

No, he doesn’t think he will.

He dives out of the way as something immense hurtles past him, landing heavily behind him—or, behind most of him.

One of his legs crunches as some load-bearing part of the Princess comes down upon it, sending him to the floor. He doesn’t even get the chance to look up before he’s enveloped by her maw again.

“I can just dig my way out again, you know,” he calls to the Princess. “It’s not too late for us to reach a peaceful resolution!”

She chuckles. “It was always too late for that, fledgeling. If you want to dig your way out, then start digging.”

Hard to please, isn’t she? Ah well. He’ll just have to try again with whatever comes after this.

He doesn’t hesitate to dig with the blade, this time knowing exactly where to find the Princess’s heart. It’s exposed almost before sensation begins to drain from his hands.

“Just thought I’d let you know, this is your last chance!” he calls. The only response from the Princess is the jostle of her passing the threshold of the stairs.

Oh well. Third time’s the charm.

He plunges the blade into the Princess’s heart, and everything goes dark.

He wakes up in a cabin. The roof and floor are constructed from aging wooden planks, and the walls are formed from logs, framing a set of empty windows and a door that hangs loosely on its hinges. The corners of the room have dirt building up in them.

It’s the same cabin. He’s getting a third chance? Someone up there must really like him.

The routine continues with him picking up the blade as he steps over the threshold. Can’t have her eating him without an escape route at hand, not that he intends to be eaten a third time.

She is waiting, of course, the outline of her head just visible over the top of a bush.

“If you eat me again, it’s only going to go the same way,” he says.

The Princess’s silhouette vanishes only to reappear a moment later in a slightly different patch of jungle. She’s nearing the stairs, no doubt trying to cut off his escape. “I can accept that. Can you?”

What? “I’d like to think I’m the sort of person who follows through on his promises. And this is a promise.”

“So you kill me. And we wake up again. And then I eat you again, and you kill me again. And we wake up again.” The Princess vanishes again. “How many times will it take for you to give up on the cycle?”

“I think—” Opportunist begins, but the sound of pounding feet cuts him off and he dives out of the way, just in time for the Princess to catch nothing more than his shoulder. A set of gashes cut through his sleeve, bleeding red. She has claws, and they’re long.

His sunglasses clatter to the floor.

He turns to see the Princess—or what little of her form he can make out in the gloom—looming over him, directly next to the staircase.

“I can last a while,” he says, tightening his grip on the blade. There’s not much sense in keeping it behind his back now that she clearly knows he has it. “I’m pretty patient.”

“Pretty patient?” The Princess rises, looming over him. “If you are pretty patient, I am very patient. Incredibly patient. More patient than you can comprehend. Swallowing you three times is nothing. Ten times will be nothing. When we are down here for the fiftieth time, will you still have the will to stand against me?”

Opportunist blinks. The Princess is gone by the time his eyes reopen.

Then her claws—and he can see them this time, and they are very impressive—bear down on him, rending his blade arm open, and her jaws unfold into a cavern that swallows him whole. Again.

He swims around in her stomach, trying to ignore how he can feel the precise edge of every wound she inflicted on him. Maybe the blade is still here. He still has one working arm. He can still fight back.

The Princess shifts, motion once again catching before the chain breaks. It must have been repaired every time things reset. That’s good to know. Maybe he can use it on the fourth go-around.

She begins her journey up the stairs. The blade is nowhere to be found.

Time to bluff. He’s great at bluffing. “Better spit me out if you don’t want a repeat of the first two times!” he sings. The Princess doesn’t even slow down.

“You cannot tell me what happens and expect me to believe you, fledgeling,” she says. “Prove it or be proven a liar.”

…Rude. But fine. He can at least try his best.

He digs into the stomach lining with his sizzling hand, trying not to pay attention to how it bites at his fingertips and catches under his claws with every scratch he inflicts. Without the blade, it’s much slower going, and he’s jolted away from his work by the Princess slamming herself against the door before he can even inflict a respectable wound.

“It still won’t open,” she growls. “Let me out, fledgeling.”

No way. Not on her terms. “Only if you give me a trade. Spit me out, and we’ll leave. Deal?” It’s getting harder and harder to tell if he’s breathing deeply enough.

The Princess pauses for a moment. Coiling to batter down the door? Or considering his bargain?

“No.”

Everything goes red, then it goes dark, and then he dies.

He wakes up in a cabin, greeted with the by-now familiar sight of wooden planks doing their level best to hold themselves together when time failed them. It is chilly in here.

The Princess isn’t interested in negotiating while he’s in her stomach. Which means the only way to negotiate is to remain outside her stomach for long enough to do so.

He needs to channel that one flighty voice. Until he finds a way to win over the Princess, his motto is now WWHD: What Would Hunted Do?

He can almost hear his voice… just needs to get into the proper mindset and manifest him…

“Dodge her.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. Great advice, imaginary Hunted.

The Princess is waiting in the gloom when he arrives at the basement, her shape still just as hard to make out as it was the first time. “Are you ready to give up?” she asks.

“You know, I was really hoping you’d think more highly of me than that,” Opportunist says, straining to pick out any motion. If he can tell when she’s about to strike, then he can keep dodging, and talking, and eventually he’ll have to wear her down.

There. She’s disappeared from sight. That means she’s about to—

He leaps out of the way and rolls across the dirt floor as the Princess hurtles past him, bracing for the sting of her claws catching his arm or the snap of her weight hitting his leg. It… doesn’t come. The only pain is a slight scrape in his knee from where he landed.

He’s getting better at this!

The Princess coils by the staircase, cutting off his exit. That’s all right. He doesn’t need a way out when he can talk. “I know you think you can wait, but do you really want to?” he asks. “We could leave right now if we could just come to a mutually-agreeable conclusion.”

“I’ve waited for longer than you can imagine, fledgeling.” Her teeth glint in the darkness, the only features visible besides her eyes. “You cannot threaten me with time in a way that matters.”

He watches her. She does not move. “I’m not threatening you,” he begins. “Quite the opposite, in fact! I’m offering you the chance to cut out the long, arduous process of killing me over and over again until I give… up…”

Some time in the middle of his speech, she’s vanished. Any moment now, she’ll strike, and he’ll have to—

The air comes crashing down on him as he scrambles away, as do a set of needles digging into his back before the pressure is relieved. She’s mauled him. Badly. He needs to get away and regroup, before she can swallow him whole—

His legs fail to respond to his commands, and he hazards a glance behind him.

The edge of his jacket is frayed, blood and viscera seeping through it to the point that he can’t tell where it ends and the nothing begins. A shining trail leads from where the end of his spine should be, before it rises up into the Princess’s jaws.

Oh.

His intestines fall from the Princess’s mouth with a plap, leaving only a disappointed expression and a bloodstain on her face. She stares down at him in silence, viscera dripping from her chin.

Now would be a great time to say something, probably.

He doesn’t.

He wakes up in a cabin whose wooden ceiling looks about ready to give in. The logs framing the empty windows sag in defeat, and the floor is covered in a thin layer of soil. It was mostly-clean planks the first time around, wasn’t it?

It’s odd, but the cabin almost seems… tired. He can’t imagine why, given he isn’t.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the Princess is nowhere to be seen. “Hello?” he calls out, scanning the room for her form. “Nice chat we had last time! I’d like to continue it.”

She doesn’t make a sound save for the rustling of her darting through a patch of underbrush. He knows where she is, now, or at least where she was.

“Again, I’m not trying to coerce you into anything.” Where is she? “I just want you to know that you have more options than you think. We want the same thing, you know.”

The feathers on the back of Opportunist’s neck prickle, and he whirls around. Nothing.

The Princess’s voice comes from behind him. “You cannot reason with me, fledgeling. I am so much more than you will ever be.”

She’s going to pounce. He has to move.

Air collides with him as he leaps away, Princess landing precisely where he stood a moment ago. Her chain clatters on the ground as she vanishes again.

That’s one.

“Yes, well, no man is an island.” It doesn’t sound like she’s moving. “And besides, more than me or not, you still can’t escape on your own. Which means, hate to break it to you, but I do have the bargaining chip here.”

The air shifts, and Opportunist finds himself diving on instinct, the Princess soaring past him. That’s two. That’s the first time he’s managed two. Thank you, imaginary Hunted.

He turns, trying to figure out where the Princess has disappeared to this time. “Just say the word, and I’ll march the two of us right up to that door and let you out,” he calls. “This can all end any time you want it to.”

Something in him screams to move, and move he does, but fangs clash on his arm all the same. It’s his blade arm. She’s taken his only weapon.

He scrambles backwards, gripping the stump of his former arm as though it will do anything to stop the bleeding. The Princess looms over him, in full view for the first time.

Her face is somewhere between human and animal, crown replaced with a horn in the center of her forehead, two buds flanking it as though about to emerge into its reflections. Her ears are pointed, and her hair—more like a mane now, really—hangs from her long neck.

Opportunist traces his eyes further down as he continues to crawl away from her. Despite her beastlike form, she’s still wearing a dress, formed from a strip of fabric that wraps around her torso. Her back half disappears into the shadows, the tip of a long tail emerging back into view.

She’s huge.

“I still haven’t given up,” he says as the Princess stretches open her jaw. “I want you to know that before you eat me.”

If she cares about that, she gives no sign before swallowing him whole. Again.

He wakes up in a cabin, ceiling and walls decaying into dirt. Shoots of new plant growth emerge from the floor, and the door looks to have been torn in half, already swinging into the basement.

…Maybe it’s past the point of no return now.

This Princess is far too stubborn to let him free based on talking alone. He needs to do something. Fight her, maybe. But how is he supposed to do that on his own? Her head is as big as his entire… him!

He needs to make a tactical retreat. See if there’s anyone else out there who can act as backup. Imaginary Hunted was helpful. Real Hunted would probably be enough to give him some force behind his words.

The door to the outside is still intact, and fits much more nicely in its frame than the other door, even before it was ripped apart. A quick try of the handle reveals it to be locked.

That’s fine. There’s more than one way out of a cabin.

Despite the clear collapse of the windows, the one on the left still looks plenty large to climb through. He’ll just slip out, fetch the first person he sees, and pop back into the cabin to finish what he star—

A force bars him from stepping more than halfway through the opening. He stands back, checks on the state of the window (folding in on itself, full of dirt) just in case it’s smaller than he thought (it isn’t), and tries again.

Again something stops him. The window may be little more than a hole in the wall letting in air, but he can run his hand across some sort of force. It won’t let him out.

No backup, then. That’s fine. He didn’t really need any help, it was just… it would have been helpful! Help is always helpful.

The only way out is down, back to the Princess. Does he need her to escape just as much as she needs him?

If he does, he’d best not let it slip. Let her think he still has the unambiguous upper hand.

She’s absent from view when he reaches the basement again. He swears the space is getting bigger and more exposed each time he comes down here, but she doesn’t seem to have any issues spotting him.

It’s fine. He’ll wait until he can pinpoint her location—which is to say, he’ll wait until she attacks him again—and then strike. Show her he’s more than just words.

And after that… he’ll think on his feet.

Shapes flicker at the edges of his vision. They’re probably tricks of the light—or lack thereof—but it doesn’t keep him from turning to look at them, trying to catch the Princess before she can catch him. They vanish every time.

There. A shift in the air. The Princess is about to attack. He needs to get out of the way, to keep himself intact. He needs to stay alive long enough to prove he’s not worth preying on.

He needs to show he can bite back.

As the Princess launches herself towards him, he ducks, slashing out with the blade. It connects with something, though he can’t tell what, and she connects with him in return, leaving a gash in one shoulder.

There’s blood on the edge of his blade. He actually did something!

The silhouette of the Princess looms over him, silent. He can’t see where he managed to wound her before she disappears back into the gloom.

“I don’t want to threaten you, but there’s more where that came from if you keep trying to eat me,” he calls out to the Princess. Still no response. Hopefully she hasn’t given up on taunting him. If she’s still talking, there’s at least a chance he can establish some sort of rapport, but with this silence…

Again the air shifts, and again he strikes as the Princess comes crashing down on him. There’s a sting in his other shoulder, and a spray of loose feathers—some black, some white. Probably all his, unless the Princess is hiding something he can’t guess at.

It’s only been a couple minutes, but already his energy is failing him. Is it the blood loss? He hasn’t been that badly injured. It can’t be the loops catching up to him, can it? His wounds reset every time, so he shouldn’t be exhausted just because he’s done a little dying.

The Princess doesn’t give him enough time to figure any of that out. She lunges again, and Opportunist can only feel his blade lodge into something hard and rip from his hand before there’s a crunch all around him, and everything goes dark, and he dies.

Again.

He wakes up in a cabin, if it can still be called a cabin after all the deterioration it’s gone through. The log walls, if they’re even under there anymore, are covered in dirt, and plants fill the edges of the space. The table that should be there is gone, replaced with a stump with the blade lodged into it.

Maybe he is tired. It’s been, how many go-arounds? Five? Six? That’s a lot, and even he has to admit he can’t keep this up forever. The Princess had more of a point than he’d like to admit.

Fighting her was a good idea. But it won’t get the Princess to cooperate with him, not unless he gets a lot better at fighting in the next few loops. And even if he technically might have infinite chances, does he really want to take that long?

He needs to end this, and he needs to do so before he can die a single time more. Which means he needs to be a little clever about things.

No more talking. No more fighting. He’s just going to draw her out and trick her into breaking down the door before she can get her claws on him.

He’s still taking the blade, though. If things go bad—they won’t, but if they go bad—he needs his second option.

The stairs are no longer stairs, but a sloped tunnel that narrows as it descends into the earth. How long have they been deteriorating? Did he just never notice them changing, or is this entirely new?

Doesn’t matter. What matters is winning.

When he steps out into the expanse of the basement, the Princess is nowhere to be seen. Neither are the plants that should be filling the space, or even the grate in the ceiling—just a featureless gloom. When did those vanish? 

He’s completely exposed, and she could be anywhere. He’ll have to be quick.

“Yoo-hoo!” he calls out, voice echoing faintly throughout the space. The Princess shows no response. “I think I’m ready for you to eat me now! Just, I’d like for there to be one little caveat—”

The sound of thundering footsteps comes from somewhere deep within the basement, and Opportunist turns and breaks into a run, sparing only enough breath to finish speaking: “You’ll have to catch me first!”

He can feel the Princess gaining on him, floor shaking with every time her feet hit the ground. But she’s clearly massive, and while the tunnel may be wide enough to allow him through with little trouble, she should be slowed down enough for him to get into position.

The entire tunnel shudders as the Princess slams her shoulders against its opening, and Opportunist nearly loses his footing. The cabin is nearly there. A little further and he’ll be—

He bursts into the cabin proper and stands in front of the door, ready to leap away as soon as the Princess emerges. Any second now.

Any second now…

Any second now…

She isn’t leaving. Is this some sort of trick? It has to be a trick, right?

“I’m right at the top of the tunnel!” he shouts down after the Princess. “Come and get me, unless you’ve given up?”

There’s still no response. He hazards a peek down the tunnel.

The Princess was, in fact, caught up by the tunnel’s small size. So much so that only her face is visible, framed by a few clawed hands and some part of a wing, all wedged into a space much too small for her.

She stares up at him, wriggling as though trying to advance—no. She’s pushing in on herself. She means to make her way backwards out of the tunnel, but it’s too narrow even for that.

Her face is hardly human anymore, and her hands certainly aren’t. A trio of antlers rise from her head, blood fresh on two of them. It looks… painful.

It’s a trick. It has to be. If he comes closer, she’ll eat him and…

She can’t get out on her own, even if she were to swallow him whole. And neither can he.

He takes a few steps forward. The Princess tries to squirm away. She can’t.

He raises the blade and brings it down on the dirt of the tunnel wall.

The Princess watches as he carves away at the soil, leaning away to allow him access to each wall of the tunnel. Dirt rains down on her, covering her stray feathers, but she doesn’t make so much as a move to attack him.

Having loosened a ring of soil around the Princess, Opportunist steps back.

She creeps forward, straining against the tunnel. One of her arms breaks free and claws at the dirt he’s yet to address, raking away the walls.

Little by little, the tunnel is chipped away, and little by little, the Princess advances until her head and shoulders have emerged into the cabin. Opportunist barely has enough room to stand between her and the door.

The Princess rears up as much as she can in the relatively cramped space, and Opportunist dives out of the way before her full weight lands on the door.

Soil collapses onto both of them, Opportunist losing sight entirely as it covers his head. This is it, then? He’s going to die inches from freedom because of a landslide?

Something grabs him from his shoulders and hoists him out of the earth. He twists his head upwards to see the Princess, fangs around him. So that’s it. He’s going to die inches from freedom because she’s going to eat him.

The Princess gently lowers her head, setting him on the ground before releasing her jaws.

She’s not going to eat him. Is it because she already has what she wants?

The woods around them resembles a thick jungle, undergrowth barely making way for the path and tall trees rising overhead. Behind them is the fallout of a massive landslide, a tree jutting out sideways from the heap of loose earth.

He stares up at the Princess. She’s… massive. She wasn’t that big when he first saw her. That much he’s certain of.

The Princess stares back down at him.

Then she bounds off into the woods, tail flicking behind her. Her form vanishes within moments.

At least she isn’t eating him.

“Nice meeting you!” he calls after her. “Talk again sometime?”

There is no response. Oh well. You can’t win over them all.