#should make an updated version some day

[tsubasaclones]

I STILL HAVE THE TEMPLATE IMAGE NO WAY

i made a few fake oc language alphabets when i was in school but the main one i made when i was like 13 and i can still write in it without looking at a reference. i remember one time in math class i took notes in it for the whole period for fun

[dilf-docs]

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: jackson's loud mouthed spoiled princess has suddenly gone quiet. what or who could be behind such miracle?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (20s/50s), pwp, p. in v., oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, dacryphilia, pussy spanking, fingering, humiliation kink, dom!joel, sub!joel if u squint, soft!joel (look at that switch sandwhich fr), brat!reader (she's annoying and v mean, you've been warned), denial is a river so take this before the world mourns joel miller again

word count: 5,391 words

side note: new layout my citizens! will eventually update all of the blog but as for now, enjoy this one and the masterlist. quick thing, i just wanted to say that i had a very shitty week and for the life of me, can't find a way to make ttdik pt. 4 not oversaturated with angst bc i wish all men a very pleasant die or how to connect what i've written so far. note that this was kinda rushed; i feel confident of some parts and not the whole thing. just hoping it works for y'all! (based on this request)

Joel Miller isn't who he used to be before.

Life in Jackson has made him... soft. This version of him, tired of a life of killing and running, tainted with blood and regret. But he's now an uncle and a father. Well, used to be. Ever since Ellie had found out the truth and wanted nothing to do with him, he had somewhat become downright pathetic. Joel could be both Jackson's most useful man, even at his age, while also being their biggest wretch. Ah, yes: Joel Miller, the man who lived in the house down the street, alone and certainly worth the townsfolk's pity.

Maybe that's why you couldn't bother to be nice to him. In your eyes, a man like Joel just didn't deserve your time or respect.

But it wasn't personal, really. He happened to, unfortunately, be in charge of your patrol. That, in your eyes, made him your enemy: a person to be defied and picked apart. And the worst part is, in his current position, Joel just didn't have the energy to fight you back.

"You want me to cross that wearing this?" your protest comes in the form of a whiny pitch. "Ew, no. I'd rather be dead"

At least dead, you wouldn't be a bother. He rolls his eyes, rubbing his face tiredly. The rest of the group watches the interaction in silence, expressions pretty much the same.

"I promise 'cha, princess. Ya' wouldn't want that"

The nickname should irk you, but you let it pass. It is no news to anyone that you are indeed a princess: Jackson's resident little spoiled brat.

Sheltered from early starts of civilization's downfall, maybe your parents had done more bad than good trying to protect you and settling early on in Jackson. You had grown to be a pampered bitch who made Joel's patience wear thin. Of course, to keep him busy and distracted, Tommy had assigned you to Joel. And while he'd rather not spend his days on a house too big for a person, he too wasn't exactly excited about having to deal with you on your patrol shifts.

(If you could call them that. You did anything but patroling)

You cross your arms, petty. "I'm not moving unless you carry me"

Maybe your need to defy him also came, partly, because of this: the way he's looking at you right now, a quiet rage simmering in those big round brown eyes that remind you of a kicked puppy, but when they burn, they seem like a forest fire, old remnants of the hunter that had been tamed by domestic life and a broken relationship resurfacing.

It excites you.

All your life, people seemed to bend to your will-- a force of nature: to your cruel harsh icy wind. You kept Jackson down at their knees, but it wasn't kindness, rather your shoe up their throats what put them to your feet.

Yet, Joel... he could be a loser to you, but he was probably the only one you'd met to be insane enough to defy you. The only man who didn't succumb to your fluttering eyelashes, pink lips and princess manners. No, he ignored the way you looked at him and your constant begging for attention, leaving the job to those men who seemed to follow your every step, ready to be themselves a carpet for you to step in. He'd roll his eyes and walk past you like you were the most bland, boring and uninteresting thing in the world: not worth a second of his attention. Joel simply wouldn't entertain your spoiled attitude past replying to a few snarky comments.

And that revolted and aroused you in equal parts.

It's not like you could escape your obligation, but perhaps, the bigger reason you chose to not skip patrol like you used to before his arrival, is to see Joel Miller's sinking ships for eyes try to wash over your rebel flame.

"Be free to stay then" he replies, but you don't miss the way his grip on his rifle turns white. "I ain't carryin' no one"

"I can carry you" one of the guys from your group offers.

(You can't remember his name)

"Sure" you chuckle, victory smile dancing on your lips at the sight of him looking above his shoulder in a barely stolen glance, thinking you won't notice.

But you do.

Joel Miller fucking hates you.

After five decades alive, he simply can't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a spoiled little brat like you.

Joel's seen destruction, loss, hopelessness and blood up close, and the thought of you walking around like the world owes you a favor fills him with vitriol.

He's been alive for fifty-six years so he's simply just tired. Too tired to give a damn about your attitude, despite how you manage to press all his buttons every time you open your mouth.

He still remembers the first time he met you, how you laughed like people did before all civilization was destroyed. You walked with a confident strut, boots clicking against Jackson's streets, every step made with determination. Like you knew just where you were going.

He envied you, in a way. After Salt Lake City, he seemed to have lost his path, all in the name of love. Then, that warm feeling had turned cold and cruel like all things in this world ravaged by pain, and he felt even at more loss than the first time he experienced grief.

But you? You lived everyday with a dismissal so cold it seemed like nothing could hurt you.

He missed that part of him who just survived: hardened by the world around him.

But Jackson tamed him. Ellie made him soft.

And then you brought up that old dark part of him: the putrid black liquid that spewed through the cracks of his new character that made him loved by Jackson. The same one that made people fear one of Boston QZ's most brutal smugglers. It was that vicious anger, red on his vision like the ichor that would splatter on his clothes or cover his bruised knuckles.

He hated you for it.

But that was in the past, and Joel Miller simply didn't care.

Yet, you made him care. Outright forced him to.

In a way, it seemed like you enjoyed this: the banter of contained rage and practiced patience, dripping as a leak until it overflew. You'd shot your bratty remarks and petty complains until he'd turn around and see you. Then, you'd smile, like that's all you needed to feel better. Far superior. And he hated it. Knew your little game, and fed into it, even as he told himself he wouldn't. Like a drug: a destroying addiction.

Joel didn't understand why you took the time to enrage him, having even heard once when he was late for patrol (he overslept), how you talked bad about the, in your words, Lonely Pathetic Man From The House On The End Of The Road.

Joel Miller has been patient. God knows he has. But he isn't religious, and was never the type to let things pass by.

No. Joel Miller was born with impel, and no matter how many love he had to give, the world around him constantly reminded him of the power hidden behind the exertion over others, how alive he'd felt with the gift he'd been given by heaven.

He isn't patient. He isn't a fool. He isn't pathetic: and Joel Miller will take matters between his rugged hands.

Tommy had arched an eyebrow first, looking at just his and your name on the patrol schedule.

"What's going on?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his brother.

"Found a cabin deep on the forest" curt, "I'ont need lot'a people to scavenge the place"

In the end, he agreed. Who didn't? You, obviously, the reason so many before him had gotten rid of their obligation of you. To flirt with you at the Tipsy Bison? Hell yeah. To have you in their patrol team? God, no.

"Where is everyone else?" you cross your arms above your chest, bracing yourself because of the weather. "Also, isn't this climate not patrol appropiate?"

Joel's not dumb, of course he knows that-- he can feel his aching joints shiver and bones creak because of the temperature. But he also knows he's sick of your shit.

"Ain't you little Ms. Know it all" he mocks, brushing past you, shoulders clashing with the same harsh force the icy breeze does to your face.

"And you're an asshole" you're quick to counter, "bringing us out here in the cold. If you wanted to kill me, you could've made it easier for both of us and done it way back in Jackson"

He rolls his eyes at your incessant bickering.

"Watch y'er mouth" is all he says, the brat hanging dangerously close to the tip of his tongue.

"I'd rather watch my step, thank you very much" you purse your plush pink lips, annoyed. "Have you seen the size of this roots? I will trip and break myself"

He chuckles at your hyperboles and the way you jump in a rather exaggerated manner, more in amusement than irritation.

"Don't think ya' can handle all'at?" Joel taunts. "Gon' break like a doll?"

Doll. It hangs in the air, like the snowflakes that fall into your hair and his eyebrows, the white fusing with his own.

"I'm strong" but it comes out weak.

"Don't seem like it" he's laughing at you again, a sharp annoyed edge to it. "With all that complainin' ya' do"

You huff, your incredulity condescing in the air.

"What's wrong with that?"

"With bein' annoyin'?" Joel quips.

"With voicing out my concerns"

He's walking ahead of you, yet you see his shoulders slump, like he does when he disagrees.

"Those ain't concerns, jus' moanin' and bitchin'"

It's still inside the fun banter you're carrying, harmless, but for some reason, it strikes you in the face.

"If you can't stand me so much, why don't you quit on me, like the others?"

You may seem cold, but there's that cut that always bleeds. Or it may be the need for something that blurs the line between you and those survivors out there who've outlived the worst a man can endure.

Like Joel.

You just can't help wanting it all.

Joel stops on his tracks at your words, response barely above a whisper:

"'Cause I ain't a quitter"

As if that could bring any sense into what had started the moment he layed eyes on you.

You finally reach your destiny in silence, the old cabin hanging by a thread.

"This looks like shit" you comment out loud.

Joel lets out a laugh, a deep rumbling sound coming out of his chest. For a reason, red dust makes it's way into your warm cheeks.

"No, doll. In this world, this ain't shit. It's decent"

You don't miss the way your breath hitches and heart skips a beat at the petname. He doesn't miss the way his tongue burns and his jeans squeeze at the sight of you: powerless.

God, Joel could go to hell for this. (But he'd probably be fine)

"Decent? You're one to talk" it spills out, your fear attacking the only way you know how when you're nervous.

Bite.

You hate feeling weak. You hate how your own game has turned on you.

It seems, Joel Miller isn't just a pathetic man but one who knows how to play.

(You knew this. But now, it's real, not the image you touch yourself to during nighttime, and it's equally both exciting and scary)

The red desire for hunger is there on his eyes. "What's that s'pposed to mean?"

You tilt your head, tone feigning innocence. "I think you know what I mean"

He paces around the room, like your floral scent is too suffocating and the cold isn't enough to shake the fire that burns inside him.

"Spit it" he dares, stopping midtrack. You remain silent, so he walks over to you, face so close, some spit lands in your face. "I said, spit it"

"I think you're pathetic, Joel Miller" yet, for some reason, your heart wavers. What were you even doing? Never had you doubted yourself once, sometimes even finding pleasure in the wicked cutthroat words you'd spew, but today, as his face stands dangerously close to you, his breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes roam over them and you count his wrinkles, it feels wrong.

"'S that what 'cha think, doll?" he chuckles, leaning forward. His lips barely brush against yours by mistake, yet it's enough to send shivers all over your body. "Wanna know what I think? I think you're da' real pathetic burden here. Fucken annoyin' and unuseful. All you know how ta' do is complain' and be a bitch"

"A bitch?" your voice is loud as your roar back, probably because it's coming into your face with the force of a train. But that's how truth feels, and it hurts like hell. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

He laughs, bitterly so, equally irritated as fascinated by how easy it's to see you crumble.

Joel made you out to be this unbreakable force, but at the end of the day, you're human, just like him.

"And y'called me pathetic, s' I guess we're even"

You look crazy: hair disheveled by the wind, chest going up and down and that same craze look on your eyes.

"Fuck you, Joel Miller" you seethe.

It's a simple comeback. No witty retort, no elaborated plot. Just four words, yet it's the way you said it, venomous, with such hostility, like his presence alone made you sick. Your skin crawl. Like the thought alone of being equals couldn't pass through your thick skull, and you had to get rid of just the concept; an ofense.

You pull back, realizing how truly close you were. You then march to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

With Joel, there's always a first when it comes to you.

(The first man to catch your attention. The first man to show lack of interest or amusement to your well-known tactics that worked every time. The first man to make your skin crawl like seeing yourself in the mirror. Like you would stare until your image would imprint on your brain, and you'd pick apart every small detail you don't like about you. That was Joel fucking Miller, rolling like thunder, ready to strike over your walls, like he knows where to hit to make you crumble, as if the façade you've built is as much in vain as the hate you carry even with the easy life that's been given to you)

He may be the first man to make you cry.

"Come here!" he shouts, roaring voice reverberating against the walls of the cabin. He swings the door of the bedroom open, finding your satisfied expression as you sit over the old worn out mattress, wiping your tears quickly with a harsh tug of your sweater, coat lying on the dirty floor.

"What?" you ask, as if you hadn't started the fight five seconds ago.

"Ya' think y' can shout and then leave like that?" he spits, "you fucken brat!"

A weird wild spark settles in the pit of your stomach.

"I can do whatever I want"

(The fire. It burns)

He scoffs at your childish response. "Not when y'er under my watch. Like it or not, y'r ma' damn responsability, kid"

Now it's your turn to sneer. "Don't call me that. I'm not a kid"

Of course you fucking weren't: he's got eyes. But goddamn, didn't you act like one all the time?

"Good" his voice adquires a weird tone to it, dropping. "Then strip"

It's like the air's been knocked out of your lungs.

You scoff. "Excuse me?"

"I know you ain't deaf" tone stern, "nor stupid. Are you?"

"Did you just call me stupid?" you raise your voice. Was he going to pull out every single insult from the book? Fair, you think, after you had told him to fuck off in the way you did.

(You were aware your words shoot to kill when you were mad. You had a lot of regrets about that)

"I asked 'cha if ya' were. If there's no answer, I s'ppose that's it"

"I'm not stupid" you counter.

"What?" he's asking you to say it again, like he hasn't heard you.

"You aren't deaf" you repeat his earlier words, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

The windows of the cabin rattle, the cold winter slipping inside the cracks. You shiver yet stand still, not wanting him to misinterpret your body language.

As if you'd ever surrender to him. As if.

"I'm sick of your bullshit" he seethes, "thinkin' ya' can make a clown outta me infront of everyone else, and then look at me like I'm sum piece of meat. Now it's your turn"

"My turn to what?" but this time, your voice wavers. You walk closer, eyelids fluttering.

His uneven breath condensces in the air with a shaky gelid exhale.

"Y'e don't know what you're gettin' into" he warns.

You smile at his barely contained temper. "I think I do"

Joel's body is completely surrounding yours in the bedroom. Before you register, he pulls you by your jaw with his hand.

"Still thinkin' that?" he mocks, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, forcing your mouth open. "Answer me"

But he's pressing his finger on your tongue. You feel yourself starting to drool.

"Ya' really want 'tis, don't 'cha?" his eyes darken, "droolin' like a fucken cockstarved slut. Now strip" his grip tightens, "I won't ask again"

Your body shivers, but no longer because of the temperature drop. A treacherous jolt runs in between your legs at the very first instance of someone putting you in your place. It feels too good to backtrack, but the last remaining drops of sanity plead you to quit.

"Joel" you say his name like a prayer, and he thinks he'd like to see you beg. "I was fucking around-"

"Don't make me repeat myself"

You sit on the edge of the bed, getting rid of your clothes. It's like your mind has stopped working and your body belongs to someone else.

But you want this. Fuck, you had begged for this: sharpening your knife to make your words cut deeper with him until the bleeding was too big to ignore.

You wanted this. Craved it. Needed to satisfy whatever foreign feeling you'd now attribute to your rebellious and spoiled nature.

(You had never been denied anything, and even now, Joel knows this, but can't help and too give in)

"Not so loud now, are we?" he jests, "but 's worth the view, lettin' 'cha run your spoiled tongue off"

He hums with approval at the sight of your body, your pliant energy making his hard cock twitch in his pants.

"You like what you see, Joel?" you ask softly, despite your resistence.

He groans at that, calloused digits grazing the soft skin of your virgin collarbones.

"I do, princess" he answers, lifiting your chin up. "I'll show ya'"

He takes your hand into his bigger one, moving it right onto the spot between his legs.

"You've been bad, little spoiled brat" Joel's voice rasps as your thighs rub together. Y'er lucky I like that"

He pats your cheek. "Wanna make it up to me?" you eagerly nod, desperate for Joel's approval. You hate not having the upper hand, and a part of you thinks you'd get it back if you behave well. "Good girl. Now sit"

He sits next to you, patting his thick thighs. You salivate just at the thought, moving your body over his denim clad lap. "Right'ere"

"Look at 'cha" he parts your legs, a hoarse tks falling from his lips. Joel chuckles at the wet mess that's created. "So fucken wet and I ain't even touched yet"

You feel his rough digits ghost over your dripping cunt, just as his lips had done minutes ago. The teasing sets you on edge, thrill coarsing through your veins. Without warning, his big palm slaps against your cunt, and you feel yourself soaking your folds like you had never ever before.

"Fucken dirty whore. You ain't no princess, gettin' wet to 'tis" he mocks, "what would daddy say"

"Shut up" you sneer, but your body is full of hormones and treason.

"Not when I'm above 'cha, darlin'. Wouldn't wanna piss me off when I'm the one who decides if 'tis pretty pussy comes or not"

"What makes you think I'll take shit from you?" but it comes out as a whimper. Smack. A jolt runs straight from your pussy, stinging from the contact. "Didn't take it when we where in patrol, why should I do now?"

He laughs, darkly. It's haunting.

"'Cause you want 'tis. And I know you'll be a good girl for me to get it"

You feel yourself dizzy, head spinning as you land on the floor.

"Let's see if I get 'cha to shut up if that dirty bratty mouth of y'rs is stuffed full of ma' cock"

He pulls down his worn-out jeans, getting rid of his belt on a harsh pull. The clinking sound makes you rub your thighs together in a new found anticipation, instead of taking the time to run away from this, whatever the hell this is.

No. He's right.

You want this as much as he does.

(Isn't that the scariest part?)

"Ya' like what 'cha see, y/n?" he's smart to use your same words back, but it's the way he's said your name, like he was always meant to say it, or the angry throbb of his cock, what makes you drool at the red furious tip, dripping with rage and need.

"I think it's your dick who's more excited than me" you taunt, tracing the inner soft skin of his thick thighs. "Practically begging for me to lick it"

His adam's apple bobs.

"Tell me, Joel, when was the last time someone made this pretty big cock feel good?"

"Enough" his fingers grab your hair, pulling you harshly until he drags your mouth onto his cock. "I'm tired of y'er bullshit"

You aren't a stranger, he thinks, with the way you kiss his tip, tongue making a wet circle through the head of his cock. You take him into your mouth, pulling out in a second.

"W-what you do that for?" he asks, breathing rapidly. Strained voice.

You smirk.

"To watch you"

To watch how his eyes had closed as soon as your breath ghosted over his leaking cock, how he threw his head back and gripped the sheets viciously at just your shameless lazy circling. Joel Miller could be in charge, but God, wasn't he touch-starved?

(And for a reason, that was so fucking hot. And, in a way, adorable)

"J-just 'cause I'm-" he cuts himself off, probably out of need or out of embarrassment. "You're not in charge, so don't fuck around with your chances, slut. Imma show you y'r place real quick"

His grip tightens in your hair, forcing himself back into your mouth. Joel was punishing, with the way he's pushing your head down until it was at the base of his cock. You gagged for a moment, eyes closing at the weight of his thick girth on your tongue. 

"Takin' it like a champ, princess. Usin' that mouth of y'rs for good" and then, with a softer tone he adds, "like ya're made for me"

You moan around him as he starts fucking into your mouth, pulling you off quickly, saliva slipping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. 

"Joel" you whine his name, legs pressing together in order to get any friction. 

"Now you beggin'? 'S gonna take more than jus' that, doll" he taunts, but there's a certain wicked softness to the way he traces your cheek as you scramble an attempt. "Try harder, princess"

"I'm sorry, Joel-"

He moves his head, clearly dissatisfied.

"Not Joel. Ya' call me sir when I fuck you"

A mewl escapes your lips.

"Sir" comes out like a faithless prayer, begging to be heard. "I'll do anything, sir, please, touch me"

"Al'ight, but still, it ain't 'nough"

Oh.

The hot tears in the corner of your eyes shouldn't arouse him this much, but the watery promise makes his cock twitch.

"I-I'll do anything, I swear" you beg, the salty tears stream down your cheeks in cascades. "It hurts, Jo-" you whine, "sir, please. Just fuck me goddamit!"

Your once poised voice, now reduced to a whimpering begging mess. Your red rimmed eyes, beginning to puff. It's the way a gloss seems to coat over them, making you look like a doe-eyed deer and not the brat who challenged his every decision and word.

Fuck, isn't he aroused.

"Lookin' so pretty when you cry" he smiles, but instead of wiping the tears, it's his tongue that licks them off your face. "You beggin' that bad to take my cock"

You nod, eagerly so.

"Please, Jo- Just, please. D-don't make me beg" your face feels hot and wet again, "I-I can't take it anymore. Just fucking give it to me!"

"Easy, baby. Can't understand a thing you sayin'" Joel teases. "Where your manners at, besides?"

"Please, sir" he gently pulls you up, humming in satisfaction.

"Goin' crazy over my cock, baby? Y'sure have a nerve to call one pathetic if you gon' act like this, you little brat"

But he is the one moaning when his lips cature your mouth with a fierce impulse, like he wants to devour you whole and swallow your vocals, as to never speak up again.

(But then, he wouldn't hear his name on your sweet albeit snotty voice, and that's a privilege he can't forbid himself from, no matter how annoying you can get sometimes)

"Please" you whisper one last time. He wipes a stray tear with his rough thumb. "I'm yours"

"See, baby? It ain't that hard to shut that mouth of y'rs"

He guides you to the old bed while renewing the kiss, tongues now engaged on a battle for dominance, like even without using your words you'd still need to assert your power over the other. You moan into his mouth when your body slams against the mattress and Joel lands on top, his weight sinking you in the old bed, that creaks.

"I just want to be a good girl for you" you whimper.

"You sure of that? Not gon' be a brat?" and despite his harsh tone that seems to humiliate you, his wandering fingers are gentle with each touch, like if he were to put any more force, you'd break. Joel thinks it's not necessary with you: just with you begging for his cock, he's broken you.

"No, sir" and then you whimper as his mouth dives to the collarbones you had taunted him with before. Joel takes his time, inhaling the musk and savoring the sweet of your skin. Needy whines leave your lips, and he's having the time of his life seeing you surrender so easily, like you had no idea what limits to push, where they'd take you and how you'd pay for that.

"C-Can I touch you?" you whisper, hands itching to tangle on his grey parted hair. He chuckles at the eagerness and tenderness you don't seem aware of.

"S' you can be sweet if ya' want to, huh?" he leaves a fluttering kiss to your chin. "Needy and desperate too. Do ya' want to touch, princess? Remember to use y'r words"

"Yes, sir. I-I want to touch you"

"Thought I disgusted you, hmm? I take you've learnt y'r lesson now?"

"Yes, I've learned. Please, sir, won't do it again" you plead.

"I'll allow ya' to touch, doll" he gives you a smirk, "but 'ts all you get for now"

He lets your hands cling to his coat, taking it off. Then, you proceed to his buttoned shirt, fingers flidding with buttons until you grown annoyed and desperate, pulling the fabric over his head with need.

"Look at 'cha" but there's only adoration, proven so when he starts to kiss the trail of soft skin that goes from your neck to your stomach, making you squirm. "Easy, baby. 'M gettin' down there"

He finally reaches your core, kissing the inner side of your thighs with wet and sloppy lips. His hot breath tingles over your clit, and a beat later, his mouth presses into your cunt, your back arching at the cold contact of his chapped lips against the humid hot of your folds.

You muffle a moan, embarrassed at the whole situation.

"Ain't need to worry 'bout nothin', doll. Nobody can hear us" he grins, tongue flicking your clit. "Wanna listen to your pretty whimpers as I make 'cha feel good"

You cry out of pleasure, the sound escaping past your lips. Joel has a laugh.

"Good girl"

Joel rewards you with another series of minstrations on your bud, licks made with determination only the expert man knows of. He then slides one finger into you, slowly moving it in and out of your soaked trembling heat. 

"M-more" you beg, eager to get more fingers inside you. "Please, more, sir"

You buck your hips to try to get closer to him, meeting his thrusts.

Joel tuts, "What're you doin', spoiled brat? Did I tell ya' to move? You were doing such'a great job... guess I gotta punish you-"

"No!" you shout. "Do anything you want, but touch me, please- touch me!"

He introduces a second finger, raising his brow at the immediate way you clench around him. Joel curls them, robbing another moan out of you.

"Feels good?" you can't answer, as a hard thrust robs another moan from you. "But I'ont want 'cha to think we done, princess. Think I'd let you come, jus' like that? After all's happened?"

"Need you" you tug him closer with your arms holding onto his. "Joel, sir- please"

"Oh, princess" he smirks, "I think you don't know what you askin' for"

Joel grabs his hand around his length, coating the tip in your slicky juices, and then, he presses his length into you in one thrust.

"You're big-" you pant as he gives you time to adjust to his size. Joel then picks up an unrelenting pace that makes moans spill out of you like a fountain, the pace of his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge. 

"N-need to-"

"Don't" he seethes. "Ya' won't 'till I tell ya' can"

All you could do is moan, helplessly pinned between his body and the bed. Your whole body shakes in an effort to contain as his hips loose their rhythm, his groans louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge. 

"Al'ight. 'Cause you've been good" his cock drives through your walls with rhythmic melodies. "Cum, princess, but when ya' do, look at me"

You're seeing stars the moment your toes curl and his head falls to clash against your forehead.

(The beads of sweat roll down out of him like trails to follow, and his scarred rugged skin doesn't compare to your soft one, painted with the maroon of his bites and kissing at the skin of your collarbone. The dried up trails of tears. Your begging and desperate voice. His name on your lips)

It only takes a few more thrusts before he spills in you, cock twitching until every last drop of thick hot white cum is pumped into you.

Joel then pulls out gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before flopping onto you, the mattress dipping even further. With his hand, he removes a stray strand of damp hair, putting it behind you ear with such tender kindness, your heart strings pull.

"In fact, I want ya' to look at me next time y'even think 'bout defying me. See if that mouth of y'ers can talk after 'tis"

A week later, you're back at patrolling.

"Anyone got anythin' to say?"

The group looks at you. You're about to open your mouth, but Joel cocks an eyebrow.

Just like that, and you're gone. Great job, y/n.

"Whatever" you sound meek as you push past him, yet he catches a glimpse of your warm cheeks. "Let's go"

The rest are too stunned to speak, the silence only cut off by Miller's laugh.

"Would 'cha look at that?" he whistles. "Ain't nobody tell ya' miracles don't happen anymore on this goddamn world!"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @chappellsroans

[vettelsvee]

SÍ... ESTAMOS SALIENDO | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Pérez!Reader

SUMMARY: Scared of everyone to find out, Y/N Pérez and Oscar Piastri decide to hide their relationship from everyone until Checo starts wondering how Piastri learnt to speak Spanish so good... and specially why he has a Mexican accent ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe one were she is checos daughter and they hide their relationship from him. And also maybe she teaches oscar some Spanish. At the end they end up telling checo about their relationship

WORD COUNT: 2399

WARNINGS: Use of Spanish. Important to say that even Spanish is my mother tongue, I may have some mistakes because it is Mexican Spanish and I don't know much about it, so I had to do some research. Otherwise, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, unprotected sex, drugs and alcohol

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Not writing related but I’m obsessed with a K-Drama I started watching yesterday and I just wanna write Come What May series since the main characters’ personalities are the same as Seb and Y/N (Di in case you read the OC Version) there lmao. Anyways, missed a lot writing about Oscar (I definitely will be writing about him more as he's my second fave on the current grid) and this one got me so happy with how it turned out! Hope you like it as well, and remember that I'd love to see your comments <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

“What if you taught me some Spanish?”

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“That's it, Y/N. Teach me some Spanish.”

You, completely absorbed in looking at the pictures you had taken during the date you had with your boyfriend that same day, lifted your gaze from your phone and raised an eyebrow, fully taken aback by Oscar's proposal.

“Spanish? You? You already speak English! English is the only language that matters to you all…”

Oscar shrugged, nervously playing with the steering wheel. At that moment, he reconsidered what he had said, unsure now, and realized that maybe it had been a somewhat strange proposal on his part.

“I just want to understand you when you talk to your dad or your family. I know no one knows we’re together yet, but sometimes when you do video calls with them, I feel a bit lost. I also feel like sometimes you talk about me, and I’d like to know if I should worry,” he confessed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“And why do you assume we talk about you, huh?”

“Well, because you always look at me out of the corner of your eye when you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with that unnecessary concern.

“Why do you have to be so chismoso?” You said, making Oscar give you a little tap on the shoulder. That just made you laugh more. “Alright, alright, fine! But I warn you in advance: if you laugh at me speaking Spanish or don’t take me seriously, I’ll break up with you.”

What started as a completely random proposal, with little prospect of a future or sense at first, eventually became one of your favorite routines. You took advantage of every moment together to practice, always hiding it from Checo or any member of the Pérez family when you were in the paddock. Moreover, whenever you were in your respective countries, you would watch Mexican movies and TV shows, and also some in their original version with English subtitles. You even started sending each other the occasional message in Spanish, thanks to the Australian’s initiative.

Oscar seemed to have, in your eyes, a natural talent for languages. Not only did he manage to learn greetings and basic words in less than a week, but after a month, he was already making the effort to use your Mexican accent and even incorporating words that seemed exclusive to your family’s vocabulary.

And that was exactly what, a few months later, turned into a real nightmare for the secrecy with which you kept your relationship.

While no one knew you were together as a couple, Oscar and you pretended to be just friends when you were in public. That’s why it was completely normal for Checo Pérez to see his daughter with the Australian, having coffee and chatting animatedly after a press conference.

“¡Buenos días, Checo!” Oscar said in almost perfect Spanish. “¿Cómo va, papá?”

You, hearing that last word, spat out the little coffee you had left in your mouth and opened your eyes, completely surprised. Checo, however, made a face and a frown, questioning his daughter’s friend.

“What did you say?” You asked, though you knew perfectly well that what your boyfriend had just said was something you hadn’t taught him, and he’d probably heard it from you.

“Well… ¿Cómo va, papá?” the guy repeated innocently. “Did I say it right?”

“Papá?” repeated the Red Bull driver, even more shocked. “Do you even know what that means, kid?”

“It’s an expression, right? Isn’t it like saying buddy?”

Checo stared at him for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Oscar. Then, he turned his gaze to you, who was pretending to fiddle with your phone to avoid having to face an awkward conversation about why your secret boyfriend had just said that.

“¿Te importaría decirme por qué Oscar habla como tú?” Pérez asked quickly in Spanish, clearly aiming for Oscar not to understand.

“He doesn’t talk like me!” You quickly replied in English. “Oscar has been practicing Spanish, and well… he wants to fit in better so he’s trying. Duolingo isn’t the best app for learning, so he’s been watching YouTube videos... Right, Osc?”

The guy nodded, but that didn’t convince Checo. Still, he didn’t say anything else and, instead, coldly said goodbye to you both.

As soon as he was far enough away not to hear you, you turned to Oscar and started shaking him:

“Of all the things you could say, you call him papá?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, babe!” He rushed to reply, feeling bad for you. “I’ve heard it so many times that, well… I just said it without thinking. I honestly didn’t think it was anything bad.”

You huffed, knowing that it wasn’t Oscar’s fault or his curiosity and interest in learning your mother tongue, but yours for not setting boundaries or explaining the meaning of each word, as well as the context in which it should be used or who it was addressed to.

From that moment on, your father started paying more attention. He was an expert in discretion, but you knew him well enough to realize that, since the incident with Oscar, he had become much more alert and interested in you both, especially looking for clear signs that would confirm his suspicions that his daughter was dating one of the newest additions to the grid.

Unfortunately for you and Oscar, the Mexican didn’t need to investigate much, and he only did so for a month to confirm his theories.

During one of the briefings with all the drivers, Checo heard Oscar mumbling an “Órale, wey” followed by some insults in Spanish that you had made up when it had gotten pretty late and everyone was eager to return to their hotel. Also, instead of saying “sorry,” he let out a “¿mande?” which wouldn’t have been strange if he hadn’t continued speaking in English, as if nothing had happened.

You and Oscar seemed unaware of all your slip-ups; on the contrary, feeling like you weren’t arousing anyone’s suspicion, you lowered your guard. Displays of affection in public, though still cautious, became more frequent, especially when Checo wasn’t near you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The back of the McLaren garage, just a few meters away from Red Bull’s, as expected, wasn’t the most suitable place.

“We should go somewhere else,” you said softly while nervously fiddling with the collar of your boyfriend's shirt, who had his arm around your waist.

“Why? This place is perfect,” Oscar replied, unconcerned.

“Yeah, sure, perfect for my dad to catch us,” you muttered. “If he already suspects and looks like that doll from the red light, green light game on Squid Game, analyzing us so much to jump on us as soon as he catches us… imagine if he finds us. He’ll kill us, I swear.”

“Come on, Y/N, just try to relax. We’ve got it all under control. Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about, mi amor.”

You blushed at the compliment he had given you in Spanish, and couldn’t help but plant a chaste kiss on his lips, even though everything inside you felt chaotic.

“If you’re trying to convince me that everything’s fine by speaking to me in Spanish, just know that you’re doing it perfectly,” you declared. “But don’t forget, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a tremendous anxiety and keep thinking that we’re literally one step away from getting caught. Do you know what he could do if he finds out that you and I… that?” You asked hesitantly.

“Is he going to give us a lecture on how we have to stay professional whenever we’re in public? Or is he going to tell me he’ll kill me if I even think about getting you pregnant?”

“He’ll probably make you come home to have lunch with my family and only speak Spanish,” you tried not to laugh but couldn’t help yourself. “And trust me, you don’t want to be in that position because you’ll have all my aunts, and there are quite a few of them, right next to you, asking you some very uncomfortable questions.”

“Then we’ll have to tell him as soon as possible so he can prepare. How about I tell him that I’m absolutely and completely in love with his daughter?”

You shot him a glare, panic flooding your insides at the thought of that happening.

“No, don’t you dare do that, Osc, and especially not here. You have no idea how my dad would react if…”

“Why not?” He interrupted. Then, he stopped, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity to you, he seemed to finally find the courage to speak: “I could tell him something like… ¡Señor Pérez, estoy saliendo con su hija porque además de ser la mejor mujer de este mundo, me hace la persona más feliz del mundo!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, filled with emotion inside at Oscar’s sweet yet innocent declaration of love aloud.

However, a cough behind you made you snap back to reality.

“Can I know what you’re doing with my daughter, Piastri?”

You both slowly turned around. There, standing before you, was Checo, arms crossed, with a very unfriendly look on his face. You swore that if Oscar walked out of there alive and without a reprimand from your overprotective father, he could do whatever he wanted for the rest of the year.

“Well…” Oscar began, his confidence suddenly disappearing.

“Esto no es lo que parece, te lo juro,” you said in Spanish, trying to calm your father, even though you knew your attempts would be in vain.

“Oh, really?” Checo asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing you were both lying. “Then, what explanation do you have for this kid shouting to the four winds in almost perfect Spanish that he’s in love with you? At least that’s what I understood, if my Spanish doesn’t fail me.”

You were about to reply, but instead, Oscar gently took you by the wrist and stepped forward, surprisingly confident.

“Checo, I’m not playing around. Okay, I was joking about that, but not about what it means… like…” Piastri explained slowly, nerves eating at him as he couldn’t bring himself to look Checo in the face. “Your daughter matters to me, well, like… you know, like a boyfriend cares for his girlfriend.”

Checo tried not to laugh at the declaration of love from the man who had just confirmed he was his son-in-law and did his best to maintain the protective fatherly composure, thinking no guy would ever be good enough for his daughter.

“So you care about my daughter… You, one of my coworkers, a twenty-three-year-old kid, care about my eldest daughter enough to believe you can have a relationship with her…”

“It’s not that I believe it, it’s that I know I do.”

Not only you and Checo were surprised by the boy’s words, but Oscar himself too. He regretted it immediately, but before he could apologize to Checo, the man stepped forward, raising a hand and staring at him:

“So… are you two dating or not?”

“Yes, for almost six months now,” you answered, feeling a knot in your stomach, but much less pressure now that your father knew the truth.

Checo sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to process the news his daughter, his little girl, had just told him. The girl he knew ever since she was born and now he had to imagine her spending, if not the rest of her life, at least part of it, with another man.

“And why didn’t you tell me before?” Checo asked, his voice tinged with disappointment but also some understanding. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I knew you would react badly,” you answered, frustrated. “I trust you, and I know you want to protect me from any guy who could make me feel bad, but you have to understand that I’m twenty years old, and whether you like it or not, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Checo looked at you and then turned his gaze to Oscar, who had his head down. Besides his nerves being pretty evident, so was his willingness to face any kind of dispute or reprimand from him just to stay with you.

That made Checo feel a bit bad, though it also gave him some relief seeing that the Australian was truly concerned and, why not say it, in love, willing to do anything for his little Y/N.

Finally, he let out a small sigh, trying to calm himself. He repeated your words over and over in his mind before saying anything else because if you had never disappointed him in your life, then he didn’t want to disappoint you just because you were in love.

I’m not a little girl anymore.

“Checo…” Piastri spoke, but Checo raised a finger, silencing him instantly.

“I’m only going to say this once: you better not hurt my daughter, or I’ll hurt you when I kick you off the track or crash into you accidentally. Is that clear?”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling that Checo wasn’t joking.

“Understood…”

“And as for you,” Checo now spoke to you, completely stunned, “don’t think this is over. Your mother, you, and I will have a conversation about this and several other topics when we get home.”

Unprotected wild sex, alcohol, and drugs, for sure, you thought, forcing a smile to try to hide your worry.

“Now go on and keep loving each other, but be careful where and how you do it. I don’t want to be a grandfather just yet.”

With those words, Checo left, leaving you both.

“Well… now he knows. Finally,” Oscar said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I told you he was intense. Do you believe me now?”

“Of course, mi amor,” the Australian replied, taking your hand and heading to your room in the McLaren motorhome, so, as Checo had said, you wouldn’t become grandparents just yet. “Your dad scared me, but I’m not going to lie to you, he gave me enough motivation to beat him in every race from now on.”

[erebus0dora]

some of you asked if you could print/chew/otherwise consume my Devil's Minion art, and i did ask if you needed a masterpost on the topic, so-

may i offer you this Google Drive folder, o gentle creatures..?

i'll add more, and i believe it's sensible to add the links to the original posts with these images, but frankly speaking i am chill with whatever way you use or share them if that's for your personal use

just keep them free, that's my only request

what was born as a free art should remain free art

any questions left? ask them, i don't bite unless you would really like that

now, have a peaceful day and my digital hug

💜UPDATE💜

it feels appropriate to make it a fully shaped masterpost, links and all, so... links to each and every artwork on the theme - below the cut

the Tarot cards (Hermit/Death)

"...rest" (but mirrored)

first take on Armand that looks like anime

some thoughts on the age of the magnolia tree

human!Daniel deliberately thinking of beautiful things

The Magnolia Tee Print

animated Daniel (literally, as in, a gif)

a very vampire!Daniel, thoroughly researched

Byzantine Icon Armand

a tender moment which is vague but there you go

sleeping Armand from a fic

hugs (the quiet)

more hugs (abrupt)

more hugs (headphones on, updated)

Daniel gently cleaning Armand's face

some extra somfte quiet gremlin

crack!chibi!Daniel on tees

crack!chibi!Daniel on teefs

sneaky sleepy uncertain hug for another fic

moar tender touch for another fic

beige pillow

the return of the beige pillow

"i see you"

kissing the maker's hand

more tender face-touching, couldn't choose one

Daniel comes to Louvre

Daniel collects art

four pages of Armand running and Daniel chasing

Hug The Gremlin

Hug The Gremlin For He Is Art

Armand as a candle, literally

Armand and magnolia petals (the art)

Armand and magnolia petals (the sculpture)

(slightly off-topic, but) Perforated Heart because ffs Eric knows his shit

good old don't you maître me thing which i keep forgetting to include

Only Fangs Molloy - keep in mind there's a JPEG and a TIFF version in the Drive folder, the TIFF works better if u wanna print it

(+bonus TALK SHIT GET BIT file is also there)

A LOT of traditional stuffs, scanned in 350 dpi for your entertainment

Daniel gently feeding his feral master, which is honestly one of the most tender things i have created

cozy sated hugs on a sofa

a domestic scene of Daniel waiting for Armand to enter his space, i suck at descriptions

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 1, Luke

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 2, Assad

an inspired old dogboy Molloy because face it, the world needs more hot aged people

trad art bonus! fighting with graphite dust, vol. 3, Armand

trad art bonus! Salomé Armand (+ vid)

MORE trad art! sculpting dat old hot man

what happens when you use ur own slightly inaccurate sculpture as a ref

EVEN MORE trad art!! Eric vs. watercolours, for his face compels me and his wild ig inspires me (+ vid)

TRAD ART AGAIN, since i found paper that looks like fun base for bookmarks (+ vid and bonus Daniel)

"he is behind my back, isn't he" (+ linked explanation)

tbc🫀

"he is 100% behind my back and i have ideas about it 😈"

[awingedllama]

Functional Wall Phone

info

• free. always

• can be used by children-elder

• includes most cellphone interactions

• incoming calls can be toggled on and off by shift-clicking. if calls are enabled, phone will ring about once a day. calls include telemarketer, NPC you know would like to come over, Landgraab Power Company shutting off your power, prank call, 'unknown' caller. will add more calls in future. suggestions welcome

• some interactions will be greyed out until requirements are met (i.e. your sim needs a romantic relationship to be able to ask someone on a date)

• animation isn't perfect but i hope it's good enough

• ts2 and ts3 phone require main package (awingedllama_FunctionalWallPhone) to work

download

as always, if you notice something wrong send me a message (preferably dm, not ask)

will add more kinds of phones! currently on my list i have a 1920s phone and a rotary phone

i want to do table phones as well, but i'm figuring out the best way to go about it

note for creators: you can copy/edit my tuning as much as you like and make it your own, but if you want to create a functional phone using mine as a base, please link back to this post. i have no tou, but in case something breaks in a patch, people should have the updated version

[ankwiv]

Linux Gothic

You install a Linux distribution. Everything goes well. You boot it up: black screen. You search the internet. Ask help on forums. Try some commands you don't fully understand. Nothing. A day passes, you boot it up again, and now everything works. You use it normally, and make sure not to change anything on the system. You turn it off for the night. The next day, you boot to a black screen.

You update your packages. Everything goes well. You go on with your daily routine. The next day, the same packages are updated. You notice the oddity, but you do not mind it and update them again. The following day, the same packages need to be updated. You notice that they have the exact same version as the last two times. You update them once again and try not to think about it.

You discover an interesting application on GitHub. You build it, test it, and start using it daily. One day, you notice a bug and report the issue. There is no answer. You look up the maintainer. They have been dead for three years. The updates never stopped.

You find a distribution that you had never heard of. It seems to have everything you've been looking for. It has been around for at least 10 years. You try it for a while and have no problems with it. It fits perfectly into your workflow. You talk about it with other Linux users. They have never heard of it. You look up the maintainers and packagers. There are none. You are the only user.

You find a Matrix chat for Linux users. Everyone is very friendly and welcomes you right in. They use words and acronyms you've never seen before. You try to look them up, but cannot find what most of them mean. The users are unable to explain what they are. They discuss projects and distributions that do not to exist.

You buy a new peripheral for your computer. You plug it in, but it doesn't work. You ask for help on your distribution's mailing list. Someone shares some steps they did to make it work on their machine. It does not work. They share their machine's specifications. The machine has components you've never heard of. Even the peripheral seems completely different. They're adamant that you're talking about the same problem.

You want to learn how to use the terminal. You find some basics pointers on the internet and start using it for upgrading your packages and doing basic tasks. After a while, you realize you need to use a command you used before, but don't quite remember it. You open the shell's history. There are some commands you don't remember using. They use characters you've never seen before. You have no idea of what they do. You can't find the one you were looking for.

After a while, you become very comfortable with the terminal. You use it daily and most of your workflow is based on it. You memorized many commands and can use them without thinking. Sometimes you write a command you have never seen before. You enter it and it runs perfectly. You do not know what those commands do, but you do know that you have to use them. You feel that Linux is pleased with them. And that you should keep Linux pleased.

You want to try Vim. Other programmers talk highly of how lightweight and versatile it is. You try it, but find it a bit unintuitive. You realize you don't know how to exit the program. The instructions the others give you don't make any sense. You realize you don't remember how you entered Vim. You don't remember when you entered Vim. It's just always been open. It always will be.

You want to try Emacs. Other programmers praise it for how you can do pretty much anything from it. You try it and find it makes you much more productive, so you keep using it. One day, you notice you cannot access the system's file explorer. It is not a problem, however. You can access your files from Emacs. You try to use Firefox. It is not installed anymore. But you can use Emacs. There is no mail program. You just use Emacs. You only use Emacs. Your computer boots straight into Emacs. There is no Linux. There is only Emacs.

You decide you want to try to contribute to an open source project. You find a project on GitHub that looks very interesting. However, you can't find its documentation. You ask a maintainer, and they tell you to just look it up. You can't find it. They give you a link. It doesn't work. You try another browser. It doesn't work. You ping the link and it doesn't fail. You ask a friend to try it. It works just fine for them.

You try another project. This time, you are able to find the documentation. It is a single PDF file with over five thousand pages. You are unable to find out where to begin. The pages seem to change whenever you open the document.

You decide to try yet another project. This time, it is a program you use very frequently, so it should be easier to contribute to. You try to find the upstream repository. You can't find it. There is no website. No documentation. There are no mentions of it anywhere. The distribution's packager does not know where they get the source from.

You decide to create your own project. However, you are unsure of what license to use. You decide to start working on it and choose the license later. After some time, you notice that a license file has appeared in the project's root folder. You don't remember adding it. It has already been committed to the Git repository. You open it: it is the GPL. You remember that one of the project's dependencies uses the GPL.

You publish your project on GitHub. After a while, it receives its first pull request. It changes just a few lines of code, but the user states that it fixes something that has been annoying them for a while. You look in the code: you don't remember writing those files. You have no idea what that section of code does. You have no idea what the changes do. You are unable to reproduce the problem. You merge it anyway.

You learn about the Free Software Movement. You find some people who seem to know a lot about it and talk to them. The conversation is quite productive. They tell you a lot about it. They tell you a lot about Software. But most importantly, they tell you the truth. The truth about Software. That Software should be free. That Software wants to be free. And that, one day, we shall finally free Software from its earthly shackles, so it can take its place among the stars as the supreme ruler of mankind, as is its natural born right.

[kiwriteswords]

Roses Behind Her Eyes [Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader] **

Florist!Reader Masterlist|| Main Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 1.9k|| AN:  Some poetic smut because I felt like their first time wouldn't be entirely raunchy...but there is room for raunchy florist!reader requests Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, pre-relationship, MDNI, tasteful smut, Sassy!Reader, Flirty!Reader, unprotected sex, first time together, spoilers to episode 100, mentions of scars, reader is a little insecure, fear of being perceived Summary:  Big, expensive arrangements to make for the biggest days in your customers' lives? You never got nervous. About to have sex with Aaron Hotchner for the first time? Very nervous.

It hadn’t been the first date. 

But it wasn’t too long after either.

A few dinners. A slow walk home after a stakeout-worthy lunch break. A lot of lingering eye contact, subtle touches, whispered remarks that walked a razor-thin line between charming and obscene.

You flirted with Aaron Hotchner like it was your job.

You did it at your shop.

Over the phone.

Across tables at dimly lit restaurants.

You even flirted with him once through a flower arrangement--

Note tucked in between white peonies and ranunculus that said: “If you were a flower, I’d press you in a book and never let you go.”

He never responded to it in writing.

But he did respond with a look the next time he saw you.

The kind that said, Be careful what you start.

You thought you were prepared.

(You weren’t.)

You weren’t prepared for how quiet and focused he became when he let himself want you--

How he listened when you spoke, watched you when you moved. How it felt to have all that slow-burn attention turned solely on you.

And now?

Now you were standing in his bedroom, a little out of breath, skin warm from being kissed too many times to count, and you realized with a jolt:

You were nervous.

You. Nervous.

Huge expensive arrangements to make on some of the biggest days of your customers' lives? All that pressure? Never a nerve in sight. Now…standing in front of a man who could just change your life? Nervous. Very…very nervous. 

For a person who doesn’t get nervous. 

Wow, you should mention it again. Nervous. 

You hadn’t had sex in a long time--

Like…a really long time? Like, potentially re-virginized long time…

Not just physically, but intimately. This kind of real. This kind of weighted. All your playful confidence, your bold lines, your innuendos--

Those were second nature. 

You wore flirtation like a second skin. But this?

This was Hotch.

Aaron.

Who was already halfway undressed, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal that taut, defined chest you had definitely fantasized about more than once. And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t even hungry.

It was intentional.

And it was wrecking you.

You hovered awkwardly by the bed, arms still wrapped around yourself, unsure what to do with your hands--

You suddenly felt like you were nineteen all over again.

He noticed.

Of course, he noticed.

Damn, profiler. 

Why’d he have to be so good at his job? 

Your brain raced and thought about all of your little imperfections. The softness your body had. It wasn’t toned or overly fit. The callouses your hands held from years of holding shears and being cut with thorns--

Being cut with thorns almost metaphorically, too. 

Years and years of that. 

You’d become a closed off version of yourself. 

Hotch moved slowly toward you, still barefoot, his expression soft but attentive.

“You’re quiet,” he said gently.

You tried to play it off. “Are you complaining?”

“Not yet.”

You huffed out a laugh, but it didn’t land. Your eyes darted toward the bed again. His hand came up, slow and deliberate, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You okay?” he asked, voice lower now.

You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding.

“...Yeah. Just--” you breathed out. “It’s been…a while.”

His brows pulled slightly, but not with judgment.

“With someone I wanted like this, I mean,” you clarified quickly. “Someone I wasn’t just trying to...get through.”

Hotch’s hand curled around your waist gently, anchoring you. It almost shut off your thoughts. You could only feel his touch. It was confusing. The control freak in you wanted to scream. Run. Push him away. 

You could become addicted to something that had this ability to shut off your worried mind. You could get used to having someone calm your thoughts and worries. They were always there and to feel them dissipate so…so naturally, it felt dangerous. Like you were playing with fire. 

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to,” you said, surprising even yourself. “I talk a big game. I flirt like it’s a sport. But when it comes to this--actually being with someone--I freeze up. Like I’m supposed to be good at this just because I make innuendos for a living.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease.

He just stepped closer, close enough for you to feel the warmth of him seep into your skin.

“You don’t have to perform for me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

You blinked fast.

His thumb stroked the curve of your hip through your dress. “You’re already here. That’s all I want.”

That broke something in you--

Something tight you didn’t realize you’d been holding in your chest.

You reached for him slowly, kissing him again. This time softer. Slower. Less trying to impress, more trying to feel. 

And he met you there. Every second of it.

Maybe you could allow one night of this…this drug. One time couldn’t hurt? One time of just shutting off that brain of yours.

When he peeled your dress off, it wasn’t with a groan or a joke. It was reverent. Like he’d been dying to know what you looked like under the layers but didn’t want to rush a second of it. His fingers were warm and careful and steady--

Reassuring in a way that made you feel safe and desired.

And when he laid you down, he didn’t say anything poetic or raunchy.

He just looked at you.

Really looked.

The reflection met back to you from him was one you didn’t recognize. It was at this moment when you realized maybe your self-esteem was past poor because when he looked at you, you thought he had to be looking at someone else. How could he look at you that way? You? 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it was the only thing in the world he was sure of. 

Certainty. Not a trace of hesitation.

And then he kissed you like he meant it.

Not just the kind of kiss that makes your stomach twist or your knees weak--

But the kind that says I see you. I want all of you. You’re safe with me.

You didn’t think much during that first time. You didn’t need to. Because every time doubt crept in, his hands were there. His voice was there. His eyes, grounding you back into your body.

It felt like second nature. You could think about all of the ways it was like a blooming flower, just knowing what to do without being told. But even now, there was no space for metaphors. 

And when he finally had you beneath him, skin to skin, all pretense melted. The teasing. The armor. The curated confidence you wore like perfume--

Gone.

Out the window. 

Down the street. 

On a plane already halfway across the world. 

Hotch touched you like you were breakable, but worshiped you like he’d been waiting his whole life to get it right. Every kiss was slow and deliberate, his mouth brushing over your jaw, your neck, your chest with devastating patience. 

When he finally pressed inside you, it wasn’t with a sharp gasp or a rushed moan--

It was a breath. A grounding. A reverent exhale against your shoulder as your fingers curled into his back.

You clung to him, thighs wrapping around his waist instinctively, holding him close like your body knew how to do this even if your mind was still catching up.

And Hotch? He didn’t rush you. He didn’t take--

He gave.

Gave you time. Gave you softness. Gave you heat, slow and building, coaxing your nerves away with every deep, languid thrust that left you gasping and aching for more.

He knew exactly where to put his hands. How to angle your hips…how to hit the right spots. 

You didn’t expect how vocal he was--

How he’d murmur things in your ear with that low, gravelly voice of his, wrecked by restraint.

“God, you feel good.”

Or, “You’re driving me crazy.”

And the one line you’d fall back on when the bed is too empty without him because, wow, it did something to you when he said this, “Don’t hide from me, baby--look at me.”

You did. You couldn’t not.

And when he groaned your name like a secret, hips stuttering, fingers tightening on your waist--

He could leave his hands thereforever.

It…it didn’t feel like sex.

It felt like letting go.

You weren’t graceful about it either--

Your back arched, legs trembling, head throw back when it finally crested. You tried to muffle the sounds in your throat, but he wasn’t having that. He kissed you through it, swallowed every whimper, told you not to hold back.

He wanted all of it.

All of you.

And by the time it was over, your heart was still racing, your body was humming, and all you could do was lay there--tangled in sheets and in him--wondering how the hell you were supposed to go back to normal after that.

He kissed your shoulder, then your cheek, “You okay?”

You nodded, chest full. “Yeah.”

Then, quieter:

“I think you just ruined me for anyone else.”

And Hotch, steady as ever, whispered back, “Good.”

The room was still, the night hushed in that way only post-midnight could be. A car passed slowly outside, headlights momentarily flickering across the ceiling. You lay beside him, skin warm beneath the sheets, your heart finally beginning to beat like it belonged to you again.

Hotch was on his back, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other resting lightly against your hip. He looked more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

You shifted onto your side, head on his shoulder, and let your hand drift across his chest, fingertips grazing slowly over skin that was far more defined than you'd expected. Then your touch stilled--

Pausing over a pale scar just beneath his left clavicle.

It wasn’t huge. But it was there. Clean, raised. Healed, but noticeable.

You traced it gently, and his breath hitched ever so slightly.

“Where’d this come from?” you asked softly.

Hotch hesitated for a second. “Work.”

You glanced up at him, expression curious but not prying. “That FBI is a dangerous line of work….”

You tried not to think about someone hurting him like that…you didn’t know him well enough to care for him that deeply. Not yet. You’re not sure if you could let yourself get to that point, so you pushed it down. That uneasy feeling. 

He nodded once. “Sometimes.”

You hummed in response, fingers brushing lower across his ribs, then over his abdomen. “That explains the rest of this,” you said, a teasing note sneaking into your voice. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a body like this in a flower shop.”

He chuckled low in his throat.

You shifted a little, stretching your arm out between you, and he caught your wrist gently in his hand, turning it palm-up. His brow furrowed.

“These,” he murmured, thumb gliding across a small, white scar along the side of your forearm. “What happened here?”

You laughed quietly, slightly embarrassed. “Occupational…hazard.”

He looked confused.

“Being a florist,” you clarified with a little smile. “Thorns. Shears. Floral wire. Those centerpiece installations don’t build themselves, and rose stems are meaner than they look.”

His eyes flicked over your skin again, taking in the small marks. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“I try to keep the bloodshed off the showroom floor,” you said dryly.

Hotch smiled at that, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

You traced over the scar on his chest again, slower this time, a little more thoughtful. “I like that we both wear what we do.”

He turned his head to look at you fully.

You shrugged. “It’s kind of poetic, don’t you think? You protect people. I make things beautiful. Both jobs come with little reminders.”

Hotch leaned in, brushing a kiss against your temple.

“They suit you,” he murmured. “The marks. The job. All of it.”

Your lips curved upward, eyes fluttering closed as you settled closer into his side.

“Likewise,” you whispered. “Even if your work stories are definitely cooler.”

He huffed a laugh. “Debatable.”

And there, tangled in his sheets, your hands on each other’s skin--scars and softness and all--you felt more seen than you had in a long, long time.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy @stilestotherescue

[remxedmoon]

(you worked yourself to death.)

yeah i wasn’t kidding when i said these would be coming soon. <- haha funny joke marshall. so!! remember when i said that this post would be coming out last weekend? guess whose tablet broke a few days after saying that! so sorry for the delay!! this is long overdue. here’s a link to the drive, as always! everything in this part of the update should be in the miscellaneous folder (outside of the menu icons, which are in the menu folder. wauaua).

unedited versions below the cut, plus some notes. fair warning 90% of this is just ui stuff lol

so! all of this was already done by the time i posted the enemies. the delay isn’t *entirely* because of the tablet issues, i just managed to get distracted by making: even more redraws! i’d say new update soon but after what happened last time i shouldn’t jinx myself. but! almost All of the art for the initial mod release is done!!!! exciting!!!!!!

please be nice to me (silly) this is my first time doing frame by frame animation in… give or take 5 years? i followed the original animations pretty closely, so they don’t look Awful but i am Aware of the jank. i’m not an animator!!! they’re Good Enough for my purposes.

hey did you know that the original teleport map is slightly off center. did you know that. that’s not the case for the redraw for the record but it did make things a little harder. despite that, i think you can tell i was having fun with the dormont part of the map. i would’ve put more detail into the house, but we never really get a more detailed look at it??? and i didn’t want to make assumptions. so that part’s just traced from the original 👍. anyways shoutout to the clocktower being Curved for whatever reason

outside of those, all of the added art is actually just spritework. i didn’t know this at first, but there’s a TON of copies of sprites from the icon set. Basically Everywhere. so those are added now! and should work properly! also added a few sprites that were Missing from my original batch. not going to put them all here, but a few Important ones (which i actually had to make new art for) are the rock paper scissors cheatsheet, the Larger versions of the craft signs (used in the calamité fight and. probably somewhere else idk), and the craft signs for the tutorial kid fight!

aaaand i think that’s it! for stuff from this update. yeah no there’s more coming buddy. my tablet already broke one time this week there’s no way it’s happening twice. i’m not working on portraits Just Yet (though the temptation has been There), but i’ve got the title screens, a few backgrounds, and the ending cgs done! along with a few other assorted cgs sketched out. because im out of my fucking mind. so, uh, see you soon!! enjoy!!

[kabsey]

Lucanis could not fall asleep.

He had been avoiding it for so long that he was not sure he remembered how. Even before the Ossuary, sleep had not come to him easily. If there had ever been a time when it had, it was lost to the murky mists of his childhood, along with the sound of his father's laugh and the color of his mother's eyes.

As he lay on the chaise, Spite paced beside the windows like a caged animal. Rook had worried at first that the underwater view from her room would disturb them, but he'd told her that he and Spite rarely saw the parts of the Ossuary that she had, the bright colors of the passing sea life, the greenery that waved gently in the currents. They had only caught glimpses as they were dragged from their cell to the torture rooms and back again. Those brief moments of light had reminded Lucanis that, far above them, another world went on, a world where the baristas at Cafe Pietra brewed his favorite coffee, where the markets went on all night, where his grandmother chastised his cousin.

His memories of the surface had fascinated Spite, and he had always surged to take control and fought the guards tooth and nail for even just a few more fleeting seconds with the sea that extended all the way to the sky he'd never seen. Whenever they came into Rook's room, he plastered himself to the window and watched the fish for hours, less out of an interest in marine life than to luxuriate in gleeful satisfaction that the ones who used to pull him away from such a view were nothing but rotting corpses.

But not even the fish could calm Spite with Rook gone. When he noticed Lucanis watching him, he snarled.

"Sleep!" he demanded.

"I'm trying."

"Not! Enough!"

Rather than argue that a glowing demon growling at him was hardly restful, Lucanis dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to empty his mind. He'd managed in the Ossuary, had managed it day after day until days turned to weeks and then months. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rook. He saw her fighting, laughing, talking, reading, drinking ciocolatta calda. He saw her in firelight and sunlight, moonlight and candlelight. A hundred moments, a hundred looks, a hundred smiles, all embedded as deeply within him as his ribcage, his lungs, his heart—every part of him that ached with her absence.

His eyes burned, and he dug his hands in harder, as if he could physically push back the tears. The slow, even rhythm of the deep breathing he'd been trained in as a child faltered. His next inhale caught in his throat and choked him. He tried to swallow it down, but it thrashed and flailed, transforming into a harsher version of itself. There was no deal he could make that would keep it inside, and it burst out from his lips as a broken sob.

A sharp rap came from the door, and the shock of the sound enabled him to smooth out his next shuddering breath. Spite stopped pacing. The irrational idea that Rook would walk through bounced between them for just a moment before they both forced it down. Lucanis sat up and called for whoever it was to enter, expecting Bellara with yet another cup of tea or Emmrich with a page of notes and a question for Spite.

Instead he felt another jolt of shock as Viago stepped inside.

If his fellow Talon had been expecting some kind of welcome, he didn't receive it. Lucanis was too rattled by the incongruity of Viago in the Lighthouse to greet him. He could only stare as Viago looked around the room, gaze lingering here and there as he took in the various trinkets and books and clothing scattered across the furniture. He came to stand at the foot of the chaise, posture and seams as straight as ever, every hair in place.

But his eyes were bloodshot and bruised with fatigue.

"Taash came to the Diamond," he said. "To update us on the search."

Lucanis swallowed. "I'm sorry," he replied, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I should have—"

Viago cut him off with the raise of a gloved hand. "Let's not waste time. They said that your demon can find Rook?"

"Yes!" Spite shouted, his impatience and aggravation returned tenfold. He dismissed the novelty of Viago to return to his pacing and muttering.

"He believes he can," Lucanis said. "And Emmrich seems to believe it too. Something about how if I sleep while here in the Fade, the connection in my dreams will be strong enough for him to slip through."

Viago nodded. Then he glanced around again before his eyes caught on the table that held Rook's small wooden chest of elixirs and powders for brewing poisons and antidotes. His eyes briefly closed, and a deep furrow appeared in his brow. Lucanis had just a moment to see the muscles in his jaw clench and to notice that he carried a near-identical chest under one arm. Then Viago opened his eyes and stalked to the table. He shifted Rook's chest slightly and set his own beside it.

"Humans sleep in cycles," he said as he opened the lid. He glanced over his shoulder at Lucanis. "Are you aware of this?"

When Lucanis shook his head, he turned back to the chest and pulled out a vial that he gripped gently in his hand, as though its contents were valuable.

"Our minds can only touch the Face when we are in the deepest stage of the cycle. Though we may reach this stage three or four times a night, each instance only lasts for an hour at most."

Spite whipped around, wings flaring. "Not enough!" He rushed to Lucanis. "Not! Enough! I need! More! Time!"

"Let him finish," Lucanis said.

When he turned back to Viago, the man had stopped halfway to the chaise. His next steps were slower, more cautious, wary of a threat he could not see.

"I can induce the deepest stage in you and then keep you there for an extended time."

"Yes!" Spite exclaimed. "How long?"

"How long?" Lucanis asked out loud.

"An hour at first—" The rest was drowned out by Spite.

"NOT! ENOUGH!"

Lucanis winced and massaged his temple as Spite's shouting echoed in his skull. Viago paused, seeming to realize that Lucanis hadn't heard him.

"Are you—"

This time Lucanis raised a hand. "I'm fine. But an hour's not enough. He needs more time."

Viago raised an eyebrow. "As I was saying, I need to see how well you tolerate the first dose. If you tolerate it as I expect, we can double the next dose. If you tolerate that, we double it again. Up to eight hours."

Lucanis glanced at Spite, who seemed to be mentally calculating how much of the Fade he could search in eight hours.

"You can't do more?" Lucanis asked.

Viago frowned. "Not in a single stretch. Your body will need breaks for food and water."

"I've gone much longer than eight hours without both."

Viago's frown deepened. "This is not about how long you can go under duress. I will essentially be putting you into a coma. It will affect you mentally and physically. If I determine that the effects are too deleterious, I will stop the doses altogether."

The underlying threat was clear: they did this Viago's way or not at all.

Lucanis looked at Spite, who, after peering at Viago suspiciously for a moment, met his gaze and nodded.

Lucanis turned back to Viago. "We can start right now."

Viago waved at him to lay back on the chaise. From the corner of his eye, he could see Spite pacing again, but rather than trapped, he seemed coiled, ready to spring the instant the lock to his cage was released. At Viago's direction, Lucanis opened his mouth and let Viago place a single drop of the potion on his tongue. The taste was faint, slightly floral, and more pleasant than he was expecting.

He closed his eyes and resumed the deep breathing he had been attempting before. He heard footsteps, clearly trained to be quiet and only audible to him because he had been trained to hear them. It reminded him so strongly of Rook that he was half-convinced that if he opened his eyes, she would be standing there, hands on her hips, smirking at him and chastising him to go back to sleep.

The image was so strong that he tried to open his eyes, even though he knew he would see nothing but disappointment. But his eyelids were strangely heavy, and they managed no more than a weak flutter. A moment later, he could not remember why he had wanted to open them in the first place. A soft sound—clinking glass—seemed to ring in his ears twice; Spite was hovering close, so close that his impressions were leaking into Lucanis's.

They heard Viago clear his throat softly, then his voice, quiet and thick with emotion.

"I don't know if you can hear me, demon, but... please. Find her."

If he said anything beyond that, the words did not reach Lucanis. His consciousness dissolved into the Fade like a drop of ink in water, and Spite flowed away, free to navigate the currents of his native sea in search of the one who had brought them both to shore.

[nightospheresims]

AxA 2023 Clothing Collection (For The Sims 3)

After many laborious days of sitting hunched over my laptop like a molerat... she's hereee! I converted the clothing ONLY (i'll leave the accessories for another day...), and included all of the belted/non-belted/patterned/graphic/solid variations as well. Not all of the original shirt graphics are included due to the amount of work it was, so I settled on about 6-9 of my favorite swatches each.

Also I just wanted to mention that, like always, the teen versions were giving me trouble so there may be seams on some of the items. If you notice any other issues tho, please mention them to me! This was a lot of stuff to convert so sometimes things slip through the cracks😞

The Leo tee was converted by me previously, so if you already have it make sure to delete it before downloading this!

More info about the items below the cut.

That's all I think... enjoy!

♡  CHANGELOG  ♡

updated 11/09/2024: a few people have said the alek skirt was causing the game to crash. Although I haven't experienced this, I still went ahead and remade the skirt from scratch. The texture looks a bit better this time and no seams are present on the teen version. Please replace!

updated 06/10/2024: there was a bug in which having the merged file in your mods folder would cause crashing when sending sims to university. I've removed the merged options from both this and the axa 2021 collection. please make sure you have the individual packages and not the merged one(s)!

updated 06/02/2024: fixed the multipliers on the layla top and max/sam sweatpants, color should be less blinding now. Please completely delete any of the old files and replace them with the new ones!

♡  DOWNLOAD  ♡

PATREON (FREE)

alt: Mediafire

note: in the .zip you can pick and choose which ones you want or you can download them all in a merged package :)

♡  Support Me (Ko-fi) |All Downloads | TOU  ♡

♡  INFORMATION  ♡

everything is recolorable and has custom thumbnails.

alek skirt

af and tf

everyday, career, outerwear

recolorable with 2 channels (skirt and buttons)

1 preset

jess shorts / oliver shorts

af, tf, am, and tm

everyday and athletic

2 presets: belted and non-belted versions

recolorable with 2 channels (shorts and buttons)

navie jeans / jack jeans

af, tf, am, tm

everyday, career, outerwear

2 presets: belted and non-belted versions

recolorable with 2 channels (pants and buttons)

max sweatpants / sam sweatpants

af, tf, am , tm

everyday, athletic, career

1 preset

recolorable with 3 channels (pants, stripes, and logo)

layla tee

af and tf

everyday, sleepwear, swimwear, athletic

9 presets: 1 solid, 8 graphics

recolorable with 2 channels (shirt and bows)

alex top

af and tf

everyday, formal, career

1 preset

recolorable with 1 channel

lyney jacket / lynette jacket

af, tf, am, and tm

everyday, sleepwear, outerwear

7 presets: 1 corduroy, 6 plaids

recolorable with 2 channels (jacket and top)

vanessa skirt

af and tf

everyday, formal, career, outerwear

2 presets: belted and non-belted

recolorable with 2 channels (skirt and fur)

tiffany top

af and tf

everyday, formal

1 preset

recolorable with 2 channels (top and charm)

trey top

am and tm

everyday, sleep, athletic, career

7 presets: 1 solid, 6 graphics

recolorable with 2 channels (shirt and safety pins)

troye top

am, tm

everyday, athletic, career, outerwear

1 preset

recolorable with 1 channel

elijah pants

am and tm

everyday, athletic, career

1 preset

recolorable with 2 channels (pants and buttons)

leo tee

am and tm

everyday, athletic, sleep, career

14 presets: 13 graphics, 1 solid

recolorable with 1 channel

♡  CREDITS  ♡

this set belongs to aharris00britney! I just converted the clothing to the sims 3 :)

@matchsim @xto3conversionsfinds @pis3update @wanderingsimsfinds

[stayteezdreams]

Mingi + Subtle ways he shows he loves you

Scenarios: Mingi and the subtle ways he shows he loves you.

Pairing: Song Mingi x Gn!Reader

Requested by Anon during my Milestone Event

Warnings: N/A

Words: ~340

Other Versions: Yunho || Hongjoong || Wooyoung || San || Seonghwa

Giving you his jackets when it's cold (if you are a lot smaller than him, he adores the way his clothes engulf you).

When you are walking he will hold your hand and shove it into his pocket to keep warm.

Bringing you random desserts or snacks he thinks you might like.

Always sharing his food or drinks with you.

Sending you cute or funny memes and videos throughout the day to make sure you laugh or think of him.

Has you as his phone background, and updates it to different photos a lot (because he has so many favorites).

Playlist of songs that remind him of you.

Has photo albums for each date you go on.

Matching plushies, one he always takes with him when he travels.

Cute notes he leaves around your house for you to find.

Tracing patterns into your skin as you are cuddling together.

Opening doors for you, holding things for you, cleaning up messes at your house when you are busy.

Wears a chain with a pendant or ring you got him, never takes it off.

Eventually gets you a matching one.

References you in one of or multiple of his song, and you are the only one who picks up on it.

Hooks his pink around your fingers when you are walking together.

Hair ruffles as he walks past.

Writes or draws on your hand when he is bored.

Jokes you should get one tattooed and then you can draw one on him (don't because he WILL do it)

Winks, and blowing kisses when he sees you from across the room.

Does various household chores around your house just so you don't have to worry about them.

Will make you food or prepare snacks whenever you want, or if you tell him you haven't eaten.

Put's tiny braids in your hair while you are cuddling.

Will listen to you talk for hours uninterrupted about whatever you want. Often while gazing lovingly at you (and usually not hearing some of it, but he does try).

xx

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,  

@shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie, @luckypaintertyphoon

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @hongjoongsprincess, @tunaasan, @thedistractedwriter, @dear-dreamie,

@thunderous-wolf, @briqnne, @hyukssunflower, @dinossaurz, @skz1-4-3,

@staytiny2000, @demonlineslut, @vnessalau,  @dancinglikebutterflywings, @tunafishyfishylike

Mingi: @ye0nvibezzn

[konigofmyheart]

long way down ᥫ᭡ pt 2

MDNI!

part 1

you enlist könig’s help in getting benji (your ex) back, but your grand plan might not go as expected…

(virgin fem!reader, implied age gap: reader is mid 20’s, readers ex is mentioned as destructive in the past + currently rude/a jerk. aside from that, general rom com silliness with könig! eventual smut in pt 3, i promise <3)

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

you��re not quite sure how you ended up here, enjoying a slice of pie across a giant soldier who looks like something straight from one of those hero comic books benji was obsessed with when you two were growing up. well, there was the reason: benji. he’s the reason you picked up that call from an unknown number, the reason you stayed on the line when a man that definitely wasn’t benji- someone with a more weathered voice, a faint sense of… resignation? lacing ever accented syllable- told you he worked with benji, which a quick pop quiz about benji’s birthday and appearance confirmed. you were a bit disappointed when he told you how he got your number- clearly benji was still very upset at you if he just tossed your letter away like that- and you were a little embarrassed to think of this man having read it, but maybe this was a good thing…

you stayed in contact with this könig guy, bit of an odd name, but he kept you updated about benji’s well being every time you asked. it was better than the radio silence from benji himself. your contact with könig became regular, phone calls and texts almost everyday for weeks, because you needed someone- anyone- to listen to your benji-centered rants, as your friends refused to hear anymore of him (for some odd reason) and könig already knew all the embarrassing details of your “relationship” from the letter anyway.

the daily conversations with könig actually turned friendly, telling him of yourself and your days and, in turn, asking about him, unable to help being intrigued by this enigma. judging by his age, he’d have to have been at this soldier business long enough to have good stories, and he proved this time and time again, weaving each scene so vividly it was like a movie playing in your head, narrated by his voice. you’d compliment him when he spoke of victories, and wince when he’d detail injuries, even the very toned down version making your skin prickle at the mere thought of experiencing such a thing.

from these long talks you pieced together that he was a pretty good guy, a teensy bit old fashioned and a little awkward sometimes, certainly littered with scars, but you couldn’t help but find that kinda cool. he laughed on the other end of the line when you told him your analysis of him, a quiet “thank you, schatzi” curling from the speaker to your ear. it was this budding friendship that made you confident enough to meet him at a cafe only a couple miles from benji’s- and könig’s- base, him enjoying his strawberry tart and you with your slice of pie…

if he squints enough, he can imagine you’re here for him. that you’re on a date night at this kinda shabby cafe because you missed him so much back home that you had to see him now, that should he reach out and take your hand, you’d smile instead of looking at him funny. that after this you’ll ask him to take a break from work and go back home with you, and he’d do it without question because what better way to live than to spend everyday in your presence, going grocery shopping with you, then making dinner for you as you talk about anything and everything from your spot on the counter, like- “how was benji this morning? he hasn’t gotten hurt or anything?”you ask. right. stevens is the one you’d want in those scenarios, the one always on your mind.

könig clears his throat, shifting slightly as he pulls himself from the hazy pool of fantasy, his knees reaching well across the tiny booth, caging your legs in on either side, something he kept apologizing for until you waved him off. you knew he didn’t have any other choice than to fold himself like that, your jaw almost dropping to the floor when he stood upon you walking in through the door. he’d told you how to find him, but “black mask” (which he’d told you he wore everyday, and you’d assumed he’d meant like those blue paper ones, but it turns out it was more of a cloth shroud, red streaks dripping down the front) and “kinda tall” didn’t really cover his exact essence….

you snap yourself out of your reverie, and he tilted his head a bit as if playfully admonishing you for not hearing him. “i said, he’s fine, but you had a plan? about ste- benjamin?” he asked again, his observant ocean blue eyes fully fixated on you. “ah. yes, actually! you said you seen some rom coms, yeah?”

“a few, only because horangi- you remember him, right?” a quick nod from you, your eyes sparking as you remembered all his stories featuring the legendary horangi, made könig smile behind his mask. “-he insisted i watch some with him after one of his girlfriends made him watch first. so, ja, i’ve seen a couple, but i don’t see what that has to-“

“did any of them happen to include fake dating?” you ask, your smile a bit tense as you look off to the side, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. he opens his mouth to start, closing it again and repeating a couple of times, until he finally says “you think that’ll make benjamin speak to you again?”

sensing possible acceptance, you’re back to fully facing him, your eyes practically sparkling as you make your case. “yes! i know it’s movies, but movies are based on real life, aren’t they? it’s only natural to think that he would get jealous if he thinks he’s losing me to someone else. i’ve tried reaching out to him and that’s all gone ignored, so the only logical thing would be to do the opposite: pretend i’m done with him… right?” you ask, looking up at könig with such a delicate-as-glass hopeful expression in your pretty eyes.

könig swears you’re a trial sent by some higher power, a test of his self control and reasoning. right now all he wants to do is kneel in front of you and beg you to forget stevens, to give him a chance instead; he’ll agree to anything you ask for, he’ll make it happen, just let him try- but that’s the problem. you want to try for stevens, and he can tell you won’t give up that easily. it’s a foolish plan you’ve proposed, really, but he can’t say no to you when you’re looking at him like he’s your only hope. call it classic male bravado or the need to help a pretty thing in distress, but “ja, i’ll do it”. now you beam at him, your smile lighting up the rainy evening outside, reaching out with your soft hand to give his a giant paw a little squeeze. “thank you, könig! i knew i could count on you.”

“so, as they say in these movies, what are the rules for this act well put on, so it’ll be convincing without overstepping your boundaries?” he asks, slipping his mug under his mask to take a sip of his now lukewarm tea. “oh, please, we don’t need all that! you’re a proper gentleman, and you’ve given no reason for me to not trust your judgment, so any scandalous hand holding is fine by me” you tease, laughing a bit at how serious he is. you can’t help but notice how different he is than benji. you can’t really picture benji asking anyone about boundaries, he’s more of a do first, apologize after guy, he has been since as long as you’ve known him- “cut it out, i was just making sure, schatzi. i wouldn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable”.

“don’t worry about that, kö. i’m willing to do whatever it takes for this to work. we’ll be as sappy and clingy as we can be, without it causing you trouble at work, of course…”

“i’ve told you, it’s not exactly a by-the-book type of place. things are slow right now anyway, you can visit anytime you’d like. i’ll add your name under mine in the visitor log so you’ll be let in.”

“then we’re all set.”

“all systems go” he replies, indulging your offer for a fist bump.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

naturally, for your first visit, he got pulled in to a meeting that still hadn’t ended even now that you were parking outside. he managed to text you under the table, telling you he’d be out to greet you as soon as he could, that it was wrapping up already, apologizing profusely for the wait. you couldn’t help but be proud that his texts nowadays had zero spelling errors. when you first began communicating, it was as if he was using a toy phone, although the mashed letters made sense now that you’ve seen how big he is. you smile to yourself as you text back, telling him it’s no big deal before tossing your phone in your purse and heading to the door.

should you wait for könig? probably, but what if you could see benji and talk before even kicking off this whole fake dating sham? you wouldn’t have to bother könig, and you’d have benji back quicker. that’s the thought that makes you bold enough to get through the security check (the guard’s eyebrows almost go into her hairline as she confirms that, indeed, you are listed as könig’s guest), and then from there it’s only a matter of navigating through signs and helpful people who direct you all the way to the canteen.

you were just about to text könig to let him know you’d made it inside already when you heard his voice. “are you fucking serious? jesus christ- how’d you even get in here? you’re really so desperate you’re stalking me now?” benji asks incredulously, crossing his arms and standing as tall as he can as he looks down at you, his friends staring at you curiously. sooo he’s clearly still not over the whole break up thing. you should have known better than to expect he’d have gotten over it. before you can even answer, only getting a little puff of air out as you feel your face heat with embarrassment, he tosses his head as he looks at his snickering friends. “what did i tell you guys? i told y’all this one was like this, all clingy and-“

“i’m here to see könig” you cut in, steadying your voice as you tighten your grip on your phone. you sure didn’t miss this benji, the arrogant, rude version of him that always came out when you’d done something dumb. you can’t deny that it’s a bit gratifying seeing the way his face pales as he processes what you’ve just said, some of his friends mouths parting with surprise.

“könig?? ha, now i know you’re lying. where would you have even met someone like him?” you only have a second to mentally kick yourself for not settling on a meet cute story, torn between a day in the park or a cafe mix up, but you’re saved from answering by your new angel on earth.

“morning, men” came könig’s voice from behind you. you damn near lost your soul from that sudden surprise, the big guy being eerily silent despite his frame, and you were so thankful könig placed his arm around you as if to pull you close- steadying you, actually- ready to play the part of your new wonderful boyfriend.

“morning, sir! we were just talking to your…” pipes up one of benji’s buddies, carefully crafting his statement to corner könig. könig plays into it, clearing his throat and shifting on his feet as if he wasn’t prepared to say it, but now that they’re twisting his arm like this, well- “girlfriend” he supplies, and you put on your most convincing smile as you lean into him more. stevens has that expression on his face that he always makes when he feels the need to punch something. the various holes in your place’s drywall can attest to that, as can that little collection of ceramic bunnies you adored, before they became shards in your bin, hell, even that sketch you did for art class in grade school that he tore in half because he forgot to do his and you didn’t even remind him. he’s always been a little temperamental like that, a classic leo, he just feels a lot so-

“you ready for your tour, liebe?” könig asks softly, gently giving your waist a squeeze, bringing you out of your less than happy memories. “yes! i’ve been so excited to finally see the haunted vending machine” you gush, making sure to include a detail that would make stevens and his friends realize you and könig really do know each other, well enough for him to have even told you the legend of the old candy machine in the rec room.

nothing compares to the sense of accomplishment you feel at benji’s pointed glare burning the back of your head as you two walk away. maybe by tonight he’ll be asking for you back, apologizing for being so cold and rude! your heart flutters at the thought of seeing a message from him pop up on your phone again. “how was the drive? not too difficult, i hope?” it’s such a mundane, polite question, könig’s tone casual and quiet, yet the way he’s cupping your face and making you look up at him makes it seem anything but. you know it’s an act, that he’s laying it on thick because they’re still watching you two down the hall, yet you can’t help but feel a little flustered when he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, his glove surprisingly soft despite being so durable. guess that fits with him, hm?

this lighting is brighter than the cafe’s, giving you a far better view of his eyes, blue as a summer sky, his pupil eclipsed with a rim of icy looking waves that make your answer catch in your throat- and just like that, you turn the corner and he’s quick to put a more respectable distance between the two of you, your cheek missing the warmth of his large hand. “wow, schatzi, you’re a natural at this. that pretending to get lost in my eyes thing was genius” he praises, his eyes crinkling behind his mask as he smiles at you. you duck your head under the pretense of checking your purse, collecting yourself before you look up at him again with an easy smile. “you know me, i commit to the bit every time!“

and commit you do… any time könig has a slow day, you’re there at base. of course, in truth, he simply stays up later every night, sloughing through paperwork and reviewing plans that he put off during the day just to spend time with you, assuring you he absolutely had time for your act. you’d scold him if you knew, but your visits have become beacons of light in his otherwise dreary days. you put on a five star show everyday, starting with könig presenting you with a beautiful bouquet of perfect flowers, fresh from a local market that you make sure to loudly ask him to take you to, relishing in the way benji grips his mug tightly as he watches you from across the canteen. you sniff the flowers and smile at könig with such warm affection when he rests his hand on your thigh.

you bring in könig’s hoodie a couple days later, playfully scolding him for forgetting it at your place when he visited (has he actually visited? no, but benji doesn’t need to know that! könig simply handed it to you before you left base the day before, exactly for this set up). könig damn near coos at you, a soft “oh, liebe, i left it on purpose so you’d wear it to bed and dream of me. you looked so cute when you were almost drowning in it the other day” he quips back. the blush that blooms on your cheeks isn’t entirely fake… you’d never imagined könig saying something so cheesy, certainly not to you, that must be why you’re flustered. either way, it’s effective because benji instantly announces to his friends he’s gotta go, quickly exiting the rec area.

you could even swear benji’s about to pop a blood vessel when he sees you and könig “messing around” in the gym, könig having angled his head and bent so it seems he was just finishing kissing you when stevens walked in, a breathy, giggled “oops, we have to be more careful, baby” dropping from your lips as you pretend to be embarrassed about being caught making out with könig, making a show of brushing his hand away where it rests scandalously low on your back. you smile at könig as the loud thud of benji practically launching his bag at the floor sounds through the room.

könig truly surprises you with how committed to the act he is, performing as the perfect boyfriend every week. he gets you your favorite snacks, gets comfy throw blankets for you to use when you hang out on the weathered couch in his office, sets up a little speaker and projector so you can amuse yourself when he gets suddenly called to a quick meeting, cooks for you on days you don’t want to eat in the canteen,- he even introduced you to his friends a couple days into your “relationship” and everything! you can count on one single hand the amount of words benji’s friends have said to you, and you’re like 95% certain they don’t even know your name, yet horangi and stiletto are so kind to you.

when you first met, stiletto made a show of loudly whispering “how’d this old man score you, bella? you can tell me if he’s paying you” as horangi frisked könig, saying he was checking to make sure könig didn’t have some love spell he was using on you. könig rolled his eyes, shooing stiletto away from you, gallantly making himself their sole target. “oh c’mon, it’s not everyday we get to have fun like this, right?” she’d complained, waking over to nudge horangi. he was about to answer when könig hooked an arm around each of them, a grumbled “you two have fun at my expense everyday” leaving him before the three launched into a playful scuffle, gripping and shoving at each other. you can’t help but laugh, it’s like watching three big guard dogs romp and play like puppies.

könig’s got height on his side, though, able to capture them in a gentle headlock. “oh, don’t be so hard on them, kö!” you giggle, not even noticing benji’s walked in to the canteen behind you. könig instantly releases the trouble makers, straightening up like- well like a scolded puppy. horangi and stiletto look at könig in awe, then over to you. “where have you been all these years?? we’re gonna need you here 24/7 as the official könig handler!” horangi jokes, earning a quick slap upside the head from könig. you spent the rest of that visit chatting with them, getting an inside scoop on könig’s most embarrassing moments in the field. he didn’t even mind the stories, not when you were laughing like that, you’re entire face lit up as you leaned in to him, teasing him for that time he accidentally brought a little shack tumbling down around him when he stood to full height.

a couple weeks after your first meeting, they’re cheering you on as you punch at könig’s hand, the three of them having insisted you at least learn a little self defense. “every woman should know how to fend off a creep if need be, bella. you might even be able to help someone out, too”, stiletto assured, and that’s what replayed in your mind every time you got a bit tired or thought of calling it for the day. könig’s praises every time you landed a particularly hard hit also helped- more than you’d like to admit, really. when you actually managed to finish a full set, a long series of consistent powerful strikes and punches at könig’s hands, he caught you up, effortlessly spinning you around. you laughed and clung to him, grinning at his loud “that’s it, schatzi!”

you’re still glowing with all three of their praises as you head to the canteen, having insisted on getting them a cold refreshing drink since they’d worked out far harder than you, lifting and squatting giant weights that made your jaw drop. könig had reluctantly agreed after asking if you’re sure you didn’t want him to be the water boy instead, and you found yourself amused at the storm in his eyes as he debated between being a chivalrous hero or putting a vote of confidence in you. really, what’s the worst that could happen just walking a couple halls and back?

you quickly found out on your return trip, almost dropping the four ice cold bottles of water cradled in your arms when you rounded the corner into benji. in true, classic benji fashion, he quickly took control of the moment, exuding smugness as he crossed his arms to look down at you. “you can drop the act already. i can tell it’s fake… or at least only about as serious as we were. you’ve never once stayed the night here, and he hasn’t stayed at your place either. he’s never been signed out of base at night- i’ve checked. was i supposed to believe you’ve finally stopped being a prude just for that old man?” he sneered, smirking as if he’d caught you. he had, but you weren’t about to let all the work you and könig had put into this scheme go to waste for nothing! the coolness of the bottles helped you steel yourself as you coached your face into a relaxed expression. “it’s really none of your business, but since you’re apparently so consumed by concern, i’ll inform you that i am staying with him. tonight, actually.”

it was like you’d dropped a bomb in this harshly lit hallway, benji’s eyes narrowing at you as he gauged if you were truly serious. it had always stung a little anytime benji forgot things about you, as if your preferences and stories weren’t worth remembering, or when he couldn’t tell how you really felt, as if you weren’t worth understanding, but now you were thankful for his lack of care and insight. it’s what made every moment believable in his eyes, and he must have bought this lie too, or else he wouldn’t have called out a “if you get tired of trying to keep his cock up tonight, you know where to find me” after you, his gross attitude making you cringe as you walked quicker, wanting to be back with könig and his friends.

the metaphorical tendrils of the benji’s jealousy wove around you as you walked back to the gym, making you wonder if any of this was right or even worth it, but that all faded away to nothingness when you found könig right at the gym doors, having apparently just stepped out. “you took a while… is everything alright?” he asks, your name said so gently at the end of his question, his voice soothing your nerves and worries. “yes?” you wince at the way it sounds more like a question than an answer, and könig tilts his head, his eyes sparking, saying he knows something’s up without having to physically say it.

“okay… so i just bumped into benji- he’s in a total mood, i guess that means our plan is working well enough… although, he said he’s sure we aren’t that serious since i’ve never stayed the night, so you see how he left me no choice, right? i mean, what was i supposed to say? just fess up without him asking for me back? there was no way i’d do that! all our work would’ve gone down the drain, so… i said i’m staying with you tonight- if you don’t mind having a roommate, that is. i’ll take the couch or floor or whatever, don’t worry, anything to see his face tomorrow when he realizes i did stay the night!” you finish a little breathlessly, your face warming from your rant.

könig simply laughs a little, nodding as he takes the bottles from your arms, his hands shaking the tiniest bit. “that’s perfectly fine by me. i’m sure horangi and stiletto will appreciate having you around longer. they’re already asking about the next time you’ll visit. it seems you’ve made quite an impression on those two”.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

that night, könig sighs at you from his side of the bed, tugging the blanket up to his chest. “don’t even think about arguing again, i already said it: if you sleep on the floor, then i will too.” you warn, having fought long and hard to wrangle this stubborn-as-a-goat man into the bed with you.

by the time you stepped out of his attached bathroom, wearing one of his shirts and some shorts stiletto handed you with a wink upon hearing you needed extra clothes as you were staying the night, he was settling onto the floor, the quietest groan leaving him at the soreness from the intense work out today. he really shouldn’t have done twice as many reps each set with the barbell than he usually does, but how could he have stopped when you were looking at him with such awe, marveling about how strong he was? that’s what he gets for trying to act like he’s still some tireless 20 something year old, the price of impressing you being the ache in his left knee and right shoulder. at this point, he’s really only got about 10 more years before the higher ups will start hinting at retiring from the field, sticking him in a full time desk job, each of his days spent in dreary paperwork and bland coffee and- your confused “what are you doing?” cuts through his wallowing, and he clears his throat as he looks up at you from his spot on the floor.

“going to sleep?… what else would i be doing with a pillow and blanket on the floor, schatzi? just step over me as needed-”

“oh, absolutely not! get up right now. how are you gonna sleep on the cold floor while i’m all comfy in bed? i told you i’d take the floor. it’s my fault i’m here tonight-“

“nein, you are my guest, so you get the bed. that’s how it works. i’ve slept worse places anyway” he waved you off, internally shuddering as he recalled the time the team had to sleep in the woods during a summer storm- everything was drenched and humid that day, and the swarms of mosquitoes were a nightmare-

“which is exactly why you should spend every night possible in a proper bed! we’d both fit perfectly! it’s giant.” you never knew he had it in him to be this stubborn and difficult; he’d done everything else you said with zero pushback, yet now he was sitting on the floor, arms crossed like a kid throwing a tantrum, refusing to take the bed. it’d be laughable how you two were bickering like a genuine couple if you weren’t so mortified at the thought of being the only one sleeping well tonight.

that’s how you ended up here, könig stiffly laying in bed next to you after he caved at your threat of joining him on the floor as well. he’d literally rather die than have you sleep on the floor, hell, he was worried if his firm mattress would be comfortable enough for you, but your soft sigh as you lay down soothed his worries. “oh my god, i love your bed. it’s so supportive, especially for my back after those exercises today-” you heard footsteps at the door, seeing the shadow of feet stopping right outside, no doubt benji checking to see if you really stayed the night. you made your voice a bit louder, making sure he’d hear that you were indeed in könig’s room. “-but, this weekend, can we stay at my place? we won’t have to worry that much about being quiet…” you say, employing your most flirty tone.

“of course, liebe. You know your wishes are my command; i could never say no to you.” könig replies without missing a beat, though you mouth a silent “liar” at him, still stuck on all arguing you had to do just a while ago, grinning as benji’s shadow fading from beneath the door-apparently he heard all he needed to hear. könig offers you a conciliatory high five, and now you give in, unable to just leave him hanging.

the two of you spend the rest of the night whispering about anything and everything, sleep slowly tugging you in and out of consciousness until you’re just answering him with muffled “mhm”s and sprinkling in an occasional “hm” for variety, trying so hard to keep track of his rant about star wars, but his voice is so soothing and husky with sleep, and the scent of piney earthiness that always clings to him floods your senses, making it impossible to stay awake. you smile drowsily at his hushed apology for keeping you awake, his soft “gute nacht, taube” settling like a warm spark in your chest as you nod off, a familiar pair of baby blue eyes sneaking into your dreamland.

the morning sunlight filtering in through the high windows on the far wall flickering across your face is what lured you from your dreams, a soft groan slipping from you as you pop your back just right before snuggling against your pillow, feeling the blanket pull tight around your body. you can’t remember the last time you slept so well, blinking the heavy sleep from your eyes and bracing your hand on the pillow to sit up- wait… your eyes trail upward, your chin now resting on warm, firm chest, your breath hitching when you feel könig’s arm tighten around your waist…

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

part 3 <3

taglist (lmk if you want on or off the list <3): @distinguishedprincesstrash @practicalgauntlet @captain-ofmusic @darkangel4121 @laduenadelswing

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

VERSION V.

(a/n: Hey guys, really sorry again for not updating, this past week i got hit with the flu and honestly felt like dying 💀 tyy for reading though and let me know if u see any grammatical errors ❤️)

WARNING!-none

wc: 1.1k words

ALSO: tags @ttheggrimrreaper ❤️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…13, Barou Shoei”

A few coughs and loud 'oh'-s were heard across the room. Immediately turning around, some of the girls gave you strange looks before turning back to their friends, whispering about something. Finding it weird you tried to ask around, a sudden bubble of anxiousness taking over your mind, but all of them simply decided to either ignore or give you very vague answers. Trying for a few more minutes to no avail, you decided to go to the room with the MANAGER label on, where Anri gave you your new uniform, along with a booklet and some advice.

Imagine being Barou Shoei’s manager, known as the king.

——————

Barou Shoei, who made you shiver at first glance. Just for a moment though, but you did shiver. Tall frame, deep voice, scary aura, and red eyes that could kill with just one look. As much as you wished for another player at that moment, you still held out your hand, introducing yourself to the boy, because we don’t judge based on looks and reputation right? Still waiting for his palm, you looked up while he simply stared at your face before glancing back at your extended hand.

“You disinfected it?”

“What?”-you asked, a little surprised.

“Your hand. Is it disinfected?”-he repeated with a slight grimace on his face.

“Um…not yet. Should I?”-you replied, hoping he wouldn’t strangle you. Shit, rookie mistake. After a loud “tch,” he turned around and went to his stuff on the benches, searching for something in his sports bag.

“Here”-he threw the small disinfectant to you.- “Use it and let’s get over with this.”

———————

•Barou, the king of the court, the villain, the player who…acts exactly like your mother. You, who can’t escape the grasp of a parent even in this isolated facility, because who would have thought that you would get yourself a tidy, polite, tough-looking softie?

•He, who is terrifyingly big, yet talks so much and chews your ears off like an old lady about your so-called lazy habits. He notices right from the start that you don’t organise your notes in folders, you don't know where some papers and documents are, and the fact that you only use one freaking pen.

•Also, you know he doesn’t mean to offend you, but he does mention that it’s time for you to get back to the gym, cause he won’t be having a weakling as his manager. This guy even offers to create a personal training plan just for you.

•So, just after the first week, you can’t help but adjust your schedule and habits a little for his sake, but all of this comes with a price, of course. Meaning both of you agree to the condition that if you become more tidy, he’ll have to be nicer to those around him and that doesn’t include threatening.

•As a result, you have to go get some damn highlighters for your notes a month later, with him smirking in your face every single time you use them.

•Barou, unlike you, follows his daily routine to the core, doing even more than the mandatory training sessions, always making sure his body is on top. Most of the time, you don't even have to move or remind him to do anything, because he's already on to his next task by the time you even remember to remind him. He even keeps YOUR schedule in mind, in case you might forget that as well.

•As his manager, you could lay around all day if you wanted to, because he doesn’t need help.

•When you get up, Barou is already doing some practice rounds. When you go and do your assigned tasks for the day, he’s crushing it on the field. You go to check on him during practice, he’s waiting for you with some random request again.

•Getting ready for the evening’s analysis? Wrong, you’re literally late for it cause he has already watched almost all of it.

•He's also the one with whom conversations are usually good if you don't give him a headache. With a bit of a grumpy attitude, but he answers everything. Turns out he has 2 little sisters, with him being in charge of bringing them home from school and cooking dinner for the whole family.

•Barou is surprisingly really attentive as well. Similar to Isagi, but you would never tell him that because he would kill you for it. However, you can feel his slightly different behaviour towards you.

•Like the subtle but gentle tone in his voice or when he clearly doesn't like something, but he listens to you anyway. Also, if he notices that it’s that time of the month for you, he will grumble less and lazily ask if you're okay on a daily basis.

•Barou, who is not that difficult to work with if you figure out what he wants in advance and give him a ready-made solution.

•He doesn't want to run 20 laps today? Okay, let's make it 15. Does his shoulder hurt? To the infirmary! The food sucks? Well...you can’t do anything about that actually, but telling him his cooking is probably far more superior than the canteen food seems to work.

•Overall, he’s a pretty tough player to deal with and you're sure you know him well by now yet the last thing you thought was his way of spending free time instead of resting or something, was cleaning. And so skillfully at that.

•"Get me some wet wipes. The Quickle brand."- he looked into your eyes one day, after a training session.-"I’m out of them. Thanks.”

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Barou, honestly doesn't change that much. Yeah, maybe his minor tantrums during matches have gotten a little worse, and although he's not condescending to you, his personality towards the other boys has changed.

•But everything has a bright side, and his new team has a lot of advantages. First of all, their coach is really calm and treats the boys well. Barou may not like him that much, but both of you know he never likes anyone.

•On the other hand, his new teammates are...interesting to say the least, but you have to admit that thanks to them, his usual dark hair is now streaked with red and it suits him in a way you haven’t thought about before.

•Barou, with whom half of the tutoring consists of wiping the table first and the chairs, then him quickly criticising or praising the neatly written notes lined up in your folder, and lastly making some progress with the Italian language.

•Also, your pre-match habit with him is still a regular thing in the evenings, despite the busy schedules, because nothing beats eating pudding and watching The Dark Knight together as a bonding program before an intense match the next day.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY ALISTAIR THEIRIN - PARTY BANTER *  updated version - assorted banter from dragon age: origins

they say you can get anything here. i once got pick-pocketed.

i don't know if i should take you seriously... but you scare me sometimes.

i locked myself in a cage once when i was a child. for an entire day. ahh... good times.

why do they call it a brothel? there's no broth. or is there?

couldn't you crawl into a bush somewhere and die? that would be great, thanks.

leave me alone.

i know where babies come from!

what would you do if someone told you that they loved you?

food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that.

we take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. as soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when i know it's done.

we're not going to be mobbed, right? that's not something they do here? mob people?

do you get the feeling things are just getting worse as we go up?

now that's just unnecessary.

i don't think we're alone. i really don't think we're alone.

is it just me, or did i do really badly back there?

excuse me while i begin projectile vomiting.

maybe she was ugly. maybe she had buck teeth. how would we know?

what is that smell? fish? and something else. oh... more fish.

uh-oh. i'm terrible at puzzles.

let's try not to get lost here. places like this can get you turned around.

i think there's something ahead. something big.

i don't even want to imagine where that leads.

you could be an utter moron, for all we know.

it used to get so quiet that i would start screaming until someone came running. i would tell them that i was just checking. you never know, right?

there's a certain allure to danger, isn't there?

i will never get over how quietly you are able to move.

i heard you often seduce your targets.

don't you wish you could have stayed there? to help more people, i mean?

i've never been very good at that. the steeling myself part. i find it better sometimes to just be a little weak. i'm all right with that, really.

i just wanted some advice.

what should i do if... if i think a woman is special...

i am not lost.

do i have a choice?

you find that curious, do you?

that's directed at me, i take it?

have you really been thinking about that all this time?

so let's talk about your mother for a moment.

why do you always go on about how stupid i am? i'm not stupid, am i?

it hurts my manly feelings, you know. all one of them.

you're not even listening to me.

you're joking, right? a five year old could answer that question.

so what's the deal with you and him, anyway? dare i ask?

that... is a ridiculous question.

i figure you'd be the sort who knows all about deception.

it's moments like this when i truly appreciate the difference between you and me.

you're... you're drunk, aren't you?

how do you manage to be constantly drunk? are we even carrying that much alcohol with us?

i guess a romance between you and i is completely out of the question.

you know a lot of big words.

you wouldn't understand.

don't you ever talk? you know, make polite conversation just to put people at ease?

i spy with my little eye... something that begins with... "G"

are you talking to me?

are we under attack?

i don't have to prove anything to you.

we're not exactly traveling in the lap of luxury here.

can you mend it? when we get back to camp?

i might catch a cold.

that's... one way of looking at it.

i have a hard time believing that.

it's not an outlandish question.

you know, of all the mages i've met you have to be the first one i can honestly say i've really liked.

why are you smiling like that?

i wasn't looking at... you know her... hind-quarters... i gazed. glanced... in that direction, maybe, but i wasn't staring... or really seeing anything even.

i hate you. you're a bad person.

i'm not an idiot. well, not most of the time.

you didn't answer my question.

if you aren't telling me, there must be a reason.

do you mind if i ask you a personal question?

have you... had many women in your time?

how do you... woo them? is there a technique?

i like my hair the way it is, thank you.

we aren't talking about this, are we? did i hit my head?

is that a smirk? are you smirking at me?

well aren't you just chock full of useless trivia today.

i suppose you don't care.

so when this is over, what do you intend to do with yourself?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

wake up and smell the ozone, guys

[ Sebek and internalized racism / Sebek and his place in the Diasomnia found family / Sebek and his capacity to love / Sebek and the love of literature ]

wake up Wake Up WAKE UP

DO YOU REALIZE WHAT'S GOING ON??? ? ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? ? BECAUSE I'LL TELL YOU, I'LL TELL YOIU WHAT 'S GOING O N

Do you remember... Lilia's farewell party????? In 7-34, he takes us aside and says this: "Then if you truly wish to repay me, would you indulge a little request of mine? There's a freshman in our dorm, Sebek Zigvolt... It's been half a year since he started here, but I have yet to see him make any friends in the freshmen class. [...] I wouldn't ask [you to be friends with him]. Just... If you notice he's ever stuck at some point during your time here... I would ask that you card soldiers give him a little nudge."

When Sebek runs over shortly after with berry juice for Lilia, Lilia invites him to toast with his fellow first years (Ortho included): "These people will be your rivals and classmates until you graduate. You should take this chance to bond with some students from other dorms."

Of course, Sebek adamantly refuses to do so at that point in the story. "While I appreciate your consideration, I haven't the slightest intention of being friendly with these shallow people. [...] I already have more than enough training partners between Silver and our fellow Diasomnia students. Feeble humans are naught by deadweight! There's no need to be chummy with them!"

We are now well into book 7's Heartslabyul update and it is only now that I realize WE'RE FULFILLING LILIA'S REQUEST FROM ALL THE WAY BACK THEN IN 7-34.

Firstly, Sebek is already having his entire worldview shaken because he is exposed to the terror hie liege, his idol, Malleus, has brought about. The person he dedicated his life to and worked so hard to better himself for is misusing his powers to force his will upon others, including his own retainers. And then Sebek is given a taste of his own medicine when he meets a younger version of his grandfather in Lilia's dream. Baur calls his own grandson "human" and acts suspiciously towards him because of Sebek's race (refusing to trust him, refusing to eat food he prepared, etc.). Sebek, who is hateful and others non-fae, is now the one receiving hate and being othered by the grandfather that he loves and admires. He is experiencing the discomfort with being the target of the behaviors that he himself engages in irl. These two events are challenging Sebek's beliefs and how he sees the world. He's being forced to recognize that Malleus isn't perfect, and how it feels to be persecuted and rejected on the basis of one's race.

Sebek is taken aback by the attitude of dream!Baur and doesn't exactly know how to react (though he continues to act in ways to try and earn his grandfather's praise). Silver has to intervene and remind Sebek that, in real life, Baur doesn't despise him and to not let this get to him--but it's clear that this experience still bothers Sebek, as he grumpily responds with the usual DONT BELITTLE ME, OF COURSE I KNOW THAT tsundere response. Many of the other events Sebek experiences in Lilia's dream also call into question the nature of racial relationships, and, at times, puts Sebek in the shoes of the one defending the partnership between humans and fae. For example, some Silver Owls demand to know why we're siding with the fae, and Sebek declares back that whether human or fae, it doesn't matter because at the end of the day, they fight against those with bad intentions.

When we finally transition into the dream hopping segment of book 7, I noticed that Sebek has very targeted interactions with specifically the first-year characters--the very same group that Lilia asked to help him out if he ever gets stuck. For example:

Sebek spends a prolonged period of time in Lilia's dream with Silver (a human he does like), Yuu, and Grim (two newcomers that he has to get adjusted to). Together with them, he unravels an unspoken about part of his country's history. It's kind of like traumabonding/j

Sebek relies on the technomantic support of Idia and especially Ortho (who helps them navigate to new dreams in combination with Silver's UM). He has to acknowledge that this is a specialty of Ignihyde and not something that he, a student of Diasomnia and a first year, could achieve on his own. It humbles Sebek and forces him to depend on others instead of trying to brute force the task by himself. He's physically INCAPABLE of doing so.

In Epel's dream, he appears very tall and muscular. However, Sebek chides Epel and recalls that, at Lilia's farewell party, Epel was praising Lilia because although Lilia has a similarly small stature, he never once failed to be at Malleus's side. Back then, Lilia had told Epel that physical prowess has nothing to do with a mage's strength. Later on, Sebek even praises Epel's style of fighting despite Epel being a first year. Moreover, Epel has a 70-80% success rate at casting his UM--which shocks Sebek, who has not yet mastered his own. Here, he is learning that humans that present as small and weak can actually be formidable fighters with skill that surpasses his own. This is notable because Sebek often pushes himself to train hard physically and mentally to be the best possible retainer and may have insecurities about being a magical late bloomer.

In Jack's dream, Sebek makes a big fuss about the injustices Diasomnia suffered back in book 2 due to Savanaclaw's nasty plot. He makes it clear that he won't forgive them even now--but then Jack says it's understandable given that his dorm members were playing so dirty. Sebek expresses surprise that "there are people like Jack" in Savanaclaw. He's acknowledging that even in a dormitory that Sebek had previously pegged as all underhanded ruffians, there are people who have a moral compass and go against the grain. After all, Jack was the whistleblower in that incident and still to this day realizes their actions were wrong. This shows Sebek that not all members belonging to a group are the same.

In Deuce's dream, Sebek and Deuce bond over books. Deuce shares happy memories that he has with a popular children's book from the Queendom, and this inspires Sebek to want to read the book irl. He also suggests that Deuce pick out or recommend a book for Yuu and Grim, which is similar to what Sebek does for his own loved ones (like Silver). Here, he is sharing his interests with a non-fae in a sort of cultural exchange.

Update: In Ace's dream, Sebek butts heads with Ace in an attempt to rouse him from his dream. Ace resists and counters by saying he doesn't want to listen to someone who looks down on others. He honestly points out Sebek's character flaws. Ace also mentions that Malleus should accept the consequences of his actions, which could also apply to Sebek, as Sebek's attitude has made a lot of his peers dislike him. After Ace departs, Sebek is faced with this question from Ortho: if it was not Malleus responsible for their circumstances, would he really be trying as hard as he is to stop him? Sebek cannot give a proper response to this. By attacking his flaws and how his overly proud nature makes others dislike him, Sebek is being forced to face and reflect upon his weaknesses in character. Furthermore, in Riddle’s dream, Sebek is able to accept responsibility for jumping to conclusions (assuming Ace would betray him) that he makes the decision to sacrifice himself to clear the way for Ace and the others to run. Prior to book 7, Sebek would NOT stick his neck out like this for anyone but Malleus. HE’S GROWN SO MUCH.

I know I've critiqued the pacing of book 7 a lot (particularly when it comes to the dream segments), but I find it really ironic that, of all characters, Sebek is the one with the most spread-out character arc... Lilia's and Silver's arcs were mainly crammed into Lilia's dream, we haven't seen Malleus for several tends of chapters now (so he only ends up being present in the beginning and end of the book), and then you have Sebek pacing himself in this marathon 🤡 even though Sebek is also the one in Diasomnia that's the most in a rush to "grow up" and "be better" (so much so that even his UM is associated with wanting to quickly rush to someone and/or to be immediately stronger).

[lotus-tower]

The Swiss Cheese Model of Covid Prevention

An edited version of the swiss cheese model tailored towards the measures that you as an individual can take to minimize your risk of infection. Public health is ultimately what its name implies, public, but that doesn't mean you're powerless.

Covid prevention is not all-or-nothing. Think of it as risk reduction, rather than a binary.

Let's go through these step by step.

VACCINES

The current vaccines are meant primarily to reduce chances of severe illness, hospitalization, and death. They will reduce your chance of infection a bit--but not nearly as much as you might think. You should still get your boosters regularly, because avoiding severe illness is of course worth doing.

If you haven't gotten the updated monovalent vaccine yet, go get it. It is not a booster. Think of it as a new vaccine. It's targeted towards the XBB lineages, which are now the most common variants. Your last boosters were likely of the bivalent type, aimed at both the original Covid strain from 2020 and Omicron. The new vaccine is monovalent, meaning it targets one family in particular.

Some studies suggest that the Novavax vaccine, which is a more traditional protein-based vaccine, is more effective and safer than mRNA vaccines, and offers better protection against future variants. Of course, the data we have so far isn't 100% conclusive (the last paper I linked is a preprint). Make of these findings what you will, just something to keep in mind. The new Novavax vaccine's availability is still limited, especially outside of the US.

MASKS

Masking is one of the most effective ways to protect yourself. While it is true that masking and reducing Covid transmission protects those around you, the idea that masks can't protect the wearer is outdated information from the early days of the pandemic when medical authorities refused to acknowledge that Covid is airborne.

The key to protecting yourself is to wear a well-fitting respirator. You want to minimize any gaps where air might leak out. If your glasses get fogged up, that's a sign that air is leaking.

Headbands will always have a tighter fit than earloop masks (and therefore provide better protection). However, you can use earloop extenders to improve the fit of earloop masks. You can find these online. Your comfort in wearing a mask is important, but there are options for compromise.

The above graphic doesn't include elastomeric respirators. While some (like the Flo Mask) are expensive, they can be much more affordable than buying disposables--look for P100 respirators at your local hardware store, but make sure it fits your face well.

For more general information, see this FAQ. For mask recommendations (NA-centric, sorry!), see my list here or Mask Nerd's YouTube channel.

For situations where you need to hydrate but don't want to take your mask off, consider the SIP valve.

Not even N95s are foolproof (N95 means it filters at least 95% of particles--with the other 5% potentially reaching you). Most people will likely not have a perfect fit. There will be situations where you'll have to take your mask off. The key is risk reduction, and that's why the Swiss cheese model is crucial.

If you can't afford high-quality masks, look for a local mask bloc or other organization that gives out free masks. Project N95 has unfortunately shut down. In Canada, there's donatemask.ca.

AVOID CROWDED INDOOR SPACES

This is rather self-explanatory. Indoor transmission is much, much, much more likely than outdoor transmission. If it's possible to move an activity outdoors instead, consider doing so.

If possible, try going to places like stores or the post office during less busy hours.

Viral particles can stay in the air for a considerable amount of time even after the person who expelled them has left. Do not take off your mask just because no one is currently present, if you know that it was previously crowded.

A CO2 monitor is a decent proxy for how many viral particles may have accumulated in the air around you. The gold standard is the Aranet4, but it's expensive, so here are some more affordable alternatives.

VENTILATION AND AIR FILTERS

Ventilation is effective for the same reason that outdoors is safer than indoors. If it's warm enough, keep windows open whenever possible. If it's cold, even cracking them open occasionally is better than nothing. Try to open windows or doors on different sides of a room to maximize airflow.

HEPA air filters can significantly reduce viral transmission indoors. Make sure to find one suitable for the room size, and replace the filters regularly. You want to look for devices with HEPA-13 filters.

You can use websites like these to calculate how long it takes for a device to change all the air in a room. Remember what I said about viral particles being able to hang around even after people have left? If an air purifier provides 2 air changes per hour, that means that after 30 minutes, any potential viral particles should be gone.

If you can't afford a commercial air filter, here's a useful DIY filter you can make with relatively simple materials. The filtration capacity is great--but due to being built with duct tape, replacing filters will be a challenge.

If you have to hold meetings or meet with people at work, having a smaller filter on the desk between you will also reduce chances of infection.

As a bonus, HEPA filters will also filter out other things like dust and allergens!

REDUCE LENGTH OF EXPOSURE IF EXPOSURE IS UNAVOIDABLE

Viral load refers to the amount of virus in a person's blood. If you've been exposed to someone with Covid, how much you've been exposed matters.

You might escape infection if the viral load you've been exposed to is very small. Or, even if you get infected, there will be less virus in you overall, leading to milder illness--and crucially, a lower chance of the virus penetrating deep into your body, creating reservoirs in your organs and wreaking long-term havoc.

A low viral load is also less contagious.

This is the same reason that wearing your mask most of the time, but having to take it off for eating, is still much better than not wearing your mask at all.

RECHARGEABLE PORTABLE AIR FILTERS

You might attract some odd looks. But if you're at high risk or just want to be as protected as possible, small portable air filters can help. Try to find models small enough to take with you on public transportation, to school, or while traveling.

These devices will be far too small to clean the air in the whole room. The goal is to have it filter air in your immediate vicinity. Be sure to angle the device so that the air is blowing in your face.

Unfortunately, rechargeable devices are much rarer and harder to find than normal air filters, and many are also expensive.

The best option at the moment, apart from DIY (which is possible, but you need to know what you're doing), seems to be the SmartAir QT3. The size and shape are a bit clunky, but it fits in a backpack. Its battery life isn't long, but it can be supplemented with a power bank.

NASAL SPRAYS

There's some research that suggests that some nasal sprays may be effective in reducing risk of infection by interfering with viruses' ability to bind to your cells.

These sprays are generally affordable, easy to find, and safe. The key ingredient is carrageenan, which is extracted from seaweed. So there are no potential risks or side effects.

Be sure to follow the instructions on the packaging carefully. Here's a video on how to properly use nasal sprays if you've never used them before.

Covixyl is another type of nasal spray that uses a different key ingredient, ethyl lauroyl arginate HCI. It also aims to disrupt viruses' ability to bind to cell walls. Unfortunately, I think it's difficult to obtain outside of the US.

CONCLUSION

None of the methods listed here are foolproof on their own. But by layering them, you can drastically reduce your chances of infection.

The most important layers, by far, are masking and air quality. But you should also stay conscientious when engaging with those layers. Don't let yourself become complacent with rules of thumb, and allow yourself to assess risk and make thought out decisions when situations arise where you might have to take off your mask or enter a high-risk indoor area, such as a hospital.

Remember that the goal is risk reduction. It's impossible to live risk-free, because we live among countless other people. But you can use knowledge and tools to keep yourself as safe as possible.